Interview with a Four-Year-Old

My daughter turns five-years-old today. It's surreal because the time has gone by so quickly, yet in some ways it's difficult to remember what life was like before she was in it. 

In an attempt to capture her likes, dislikes, loves, and ideas, I sat down with her throughout this week and asked her about some of her favorite things. 

Q. What is your favorite color?
A: Pink and purple and orange. I think just every color of the rainbow is my favorite. 

Q: What do you like to eat best?
A: Pizza and pasta. And broccoli and strawberries. Oh, and icee pops, popcorn, and Starburst. And chocolate.

Q. Favorite songs?
A.  “Jingle Bells,” “Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer,” and “Rocky Top”

Q. Favorite movies/TV shows?
A. Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty. Scooby Doo and Superhero shows.

Q. Favorite sports?

A. Soccer and gymnastics and swimming.

Q. Favorite subject in preschool? 

A. The alphabet.

Q. Are you an early bird or night owl? 

A. Huh? (After I explained) I like to stay up late. 

Q. What do you want to be when you grow up?
A. A ballet teacher, a weather reporter, mail deliverer, or an artist like my dad. 

Q. Best friend? 

A. Everbody!

Q. Best part about having a birthday? 

A. The piñata. And being a whole hand! (five years old :) 

Q. Favorite vacation spot?
A. The beach and Disney World.

Q. Favorite books?
A. Berenstein Bears and Junie B. Jones books. And Even Mosters Need Haircuts, and Even Aliens Need Snacks.

Q. Favorite animal? 
A. Bunnies and my dog, Shelby. 

Q. Favorite things?

A. Rainbows and unicorns and superheros and princesses! 

And just like that, my sweet Ellie was five. 

"feels like some kind of ride but it's turning out just to be life going absolutely perfectly" storypeople.com

The Chocolate Chip Cookie Meltdown

Last weekend Laddy, Ellie and I ate lunch at Panera. We had no idea one chocolate chip cookie would cause such drama from our normally very generous daughter. She’d eaten about three quarters of it, with Laddy and me both grabbing a bite, and he’d brought the rest to the car to see if she wanted to finish it. That was the beginning of the meltdown.

Laddy: “Ellie, would you like the rest of this cookie?”

Ellie: “No thanks.”

Laddy: “Are you sure?”

Ellie: “I’m sure.”

Laddy: “You’re finished then?”

Ellie: “Yes. Finished.”

Laddy: “Okay. Since you don’t want it, I’ll eat it.”

Ellie: “NO! I don’t want you to have it.”

Laddy: “Ellie, if you don’t want it, it should be fine for me to eat it.”

Ellie: [crying] “But I do want it! I want to save it!”

Amy: “No. You’ve already said you don’t want it three times. You're finished.”

Ellie: [screaming] But I do! I’ll eat it now!”

Laddy: [trying to make a point about sharing] “No, Ellie. That’s not the way we act. You already said you don’t want more, and now I will eat this last bite.”

Laddy popped the last piece of cookie into his mouth.

Ellie: [hysterical] “That cookie was my friend! That poor, poor cookie!”

Laddy and I tried to keep from totally cracking up because the entire event was so ridiculous. And honestly, she hadn’t thrown a fit like that in a very long time. Thank goodness. A few miles down the road Laddy pulled into a parking lot to run an errand. Ellie and I hung out in the car so she could calm down, and I had great hopes that I could rationalize with her.

Amy: “Ellie, if you don’t want something you should want your family or friends to have it. Your daddy’s going to be back in just a few minutes. If you’re a smart girl you’ll tell him you’re sorry for acting like that and you love him.”

Ellie: "Well, [in a very matter of fact tone] I guess I’m not a smart girl.”

Life Lessons

It’s strange how one lesson often morphs into two. Or three. It catches me off guard sometimes when I have to switch directions. Having a child certainly keeps me on my toes. 

No smoking.

When we're driving down the road and see someone smoking I ask Ellie to promise me she’ll never smoke. I really paint a horrific picture of cigarettes. In hindsight, the message of smoking equals badness may have been a little shortsighted.  Not long ago she and I were walking on Market Square, and she pointed (yes, pointed) to a gentleman who was smoking and said, “Oh no, Momma. Look at that man smokin' that yucky cigarette. I bet he stinks and is gonna get sick. I’ll never do that will I?” I’m fairly certain he heard her (Ellie hasn’t fully mastered the method of whispering.) but he graciously turned in the other direction. I was horrified. We talked about how pointing at a person is never okay. Ever. And I explained how smoking is a bad habit but that doesn't make the person who's smoking bad. Then, I still made her pinky swear she’ll never smoke. 

No hablo espanol.
A few months ago Ellie and I were shoe shopping at Dillard’s. I could see that she was mesmerized by two young girls who were speaking Spanish. It still plays out in my memory in slow motion, but it actually happened so quickly there was no way for me to intervene. My kind daughter who just wanted to say hello was somewhat overconfident in her Spanish speaking abilities. She can count from uno to diez, and she's watched about 400 episodes of Dora the Explorer, but that really doesn't prepare one to carry on a conversation. She walked over, smiled, and said something like, “Si, click clack, blue, me, si si.” I literally stood there with my mouth open in complete shock.  Once I gathered myself, I asked Ellie to come along and embarrassingly nodded a quiet apology to the mother. While I was literally dragging Ellie out of the store without any shoes, she innocently asked me, “What did I say to those girls in Spanish?”

Life lessons also work in the other direction. I’ve learned so much from our sweet girl. I’ve relearned how to see things I’ve taken for granted for years. There’s such beauty in the clouds, the moon and stars, and these mountains that hug us every single day. She genuinely finds splendor in leaves and acorns and sticks. How this girl loves her sticks. Sometimes the lesson goes beyond how clearly she sees certain things and poignantly shows how she feels about them. Oh, how blessed I am to be her momma.

Pray without ceasing.
Ellie and I were driving to meet Laddy. Off the Interstate at Western Avenue stood a man holding a sign. She asked me what it said. I was torn between whether I should read it truthfully or just make up that he was wishing us a nice day. In the final second I opted for the truth, and it broke her heart. And mine. She wanted to stop and help him. She wanted to go get him food and give him money from her piggy bank. I tried my best to explain how we really had to be careful and just couldn’t stop. I told her how we do help those who are less fortunate. I explained how we are able to give and to whom, and how there are places for him to go and get help. After about 10 minutes of unsuccessfully trying to change the subject she perked up and told me she'd figured out how we could help him. Then, she prayed the simplest, most sincere and precious prayer I’ve ever heard. And she was at peace.

“…and a little child shall lead them.” Isaiah 11:6

Confessions of an Artwork Hoarder

In 2013 I've resolved to make a sincere effort to reduce clutter and chaos in our home. I was inspired by a William Morris quote: "Have nothing in your house that you do not know to be useful or believe to be beautiful." This makes sense to me, and I've made some progress by cleaning out some cabinets and drawers. I've given away a few things and made a couple of trips to local donation centers. And I've been feeling pretty good about myself until I realized this week I've saved nearly every piece of art, scribble, letter, writing effort, project, etc. my preschooler does at school and home. And I've done this for four year. I treasure it all, but let's be honest. It would be impossible to keep it all. 

I've stored it in a few places and decided to bring some of it out tonight just to see. Wow. I'm not sure there's any other way to describe how I feel seeing it all like this other than overwhelmed. I'm overcome with wonderful memories, and pride and a little nostalgia and sadness that my sweet girl is growing up so quickly. It's an impressive collection. But I'm faced with the question of what now. How do I part with it? How do I choose? Where do I even begin? (And I thought the closets would be difficult.) 

I mean how in the world could I get rid of this campfire pic of glued construction paper "fire"and sticks?

Or Ellie's interpretation of her dad, Spring, or Planet Earth?     

How could I possibly part with this drawing of a carrot, her favorite veggie?

Or this Halloween footprint "ghost" the Pilgrim and Indian or these dictated letters to Santa?

 

I'm not sure. So I'm open for suggestions. All of her creations warm my soul, but there's only so much I can realistically keep. If I'm going to be on a TLC show it needs to be "What Not To Wear" not "Hoarding: Buried Alive." 

Banana-Nut-Chocolate Chip Muffins

It’s the weekend. Yay! If your family is like mine everyone wants something different for breakfast. These muffins are something we can all agree on.

Banana-Nut-Chocolate Chip Muffins

2 cups unbleached, all purpose flour (or whole wheat flour)
¾ cup sugar (or unsweetened apple sauce)
1 teaspoon baking soda
½ teaspoon salt
1 egg
4 mashed, very ripe bananas* (approx. 1 ½ cups)
1 tablespoon Canola oil
1 ½ tablespoons pure vanilla extract
¾ cup walnuts
¾ cup semi-sweet chocolate chips

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.  Use cooking spray on a 12 cup muffin tin. In two separate bowls, mix the dry and wet ingredients. Form a well in the dry ingredients and pour in the wet until everything is just combined. Don’t overmix or the muffins will become tough.  Divide equally, and bake for about 25 minutes. Enjoy!

* When my bananas get too ripe for us to eat, I peel them and put them into a freezer bag and then the freezer until I’m ready to make these muffins.

Arthritis: It’s not only a grandparents’ disease. Just ask my three-year-old daughter.

It started as a swollen index finger that never went away. Multiple x-rays, a ton of blood work, visits with a pediatric orthopedist, a cancer scare, an MRI, consultations with two pediatric rheumatologists at Vanderbilt Children’s Hospital and nine months later we learned her official diagnosis. By that time the swelling had progressed to all of her fingers on both hands and both ankles. Her rheumatologist explained she had juvenile arthritis affecting multiple joints. He spoke pretty straight to prepare us for what she faced while trying to reassure us it could be managed with long-term medication. My husband and I were overwhelmed, and to be honest we’re still trying to wrap our heads around it.

  

Although there is not nearly enough research being funded for juvenile arthritis, (Ellie is one of only 300,000 children in the entire country facing this.) we’re thankful it’s no longer the crippling disease it once was. But the reality of what could happen is terrifying. We desperately need answers and reassurance, but that’s not available.  There are no explanations for why her body attacks her healthy joints. The inflammation could go anywhere at any time. Our goal is to get it under control as soon as possible and get in front of the disease. The first round of medication she tried didn’t work, and her arthritis progressed. She’s currently taking three medications—one I crush up and sneak into apple sauce each morning, one she has to drink daily and one weekly injection that we were trained to give her. I’m not going to lie; it’s tough. We used to call her a rockstar after she’d take her medicine or get a shot. After a couple of weeks she looked at us teary-eyed and said, “I don’t wanna be a rockstar anymore.” She doesn’t understand.  How could she? She’s only three. The fact she has to comprehend arthritis and long term medicine makes me sad. I just want her to focus on being a kid.

I’m also very angry that it’s her and not me. I can hop right out of bed, but my sweet daughter can't. Our morning ritual is often long and can be frustrating. It’s difficult to be patient. I pray for understanding for her. And for Laddy and me. She calls weekends “getting up easy days” and that cracks me up. I like that better too.

We’re stressed about causing her unnecessary anxiety. The information we received encouraged us to be completely honest with her so she can learn to accept her condition, but it’s a lot. Hell, it’s a lot for me, and I don’t have to take the medicine or the shots. She sometimes asks if it’s “shot day” and we worry it’s stressing her too much. I wish I could fix it, but no amount of bear hugs or kissing it better will make it go away.

The number of doctor’s appointments that has become our new normal is overwhelming. It includes monthly bloodwork at Children’s Hospital to make sure the medication to help her arthritis isn’t hurting her liver or kidneys. And who knew the inflammation could go into her eyes? We visit the ophthalmologist every three months to ensure her eyes stay safe. For the time being we’re going back to Vanderbilt every six weeks until the doctors can get the correct combination of medication for her. 

Mostly, I’m a worrier. I’m troubled about the pain she feels that she never ever complains about. It’s both good and bad that she doesn’t whine a lot. I’m not sure I could deal with her crying all the time, but my heart breaks when I think about the rheumatologist explaining that the stiffness and discomfort she feels is her normal. I’m concerned about unknown future flare-ups. I’m worried people may treat her differently. I don’t want her to be known as the kid with arthritis.  I want them to see her as the absolutely incredible kid she is who loves coloring with markers, playing outside, gymnastics and Scooby Doo. I’m nervous about the potential side effects from the medication. Thankfully her only side effect so far has been exhaustion. Her fatigue seems to be getting better, but it can come and go without much warning and usually is most prevalent the day after her shot. I’m worried about the possibility of future bullies who may make her feel self-conscious. And I’m concerned I won’t be able to adequately balance when to rescue her from pain and when to push her to do more or try harder.

Our daughter has proven to be incredibly brave. She may be shaky when she rolls up her sleeve, but she is one tough little girl. She doesn’t scream or throw a fit. Her palms may be a little sweaty, and she may feel nervous, but even at three years old she refuses to let it get the best of her. She’s my hero. Last week she thanked us for taking such great care of her. If she’s not crying, we certainly can’t…at least not in front of her. We took turns leaving the room for a minute to get it together.

When I step back for a moment I’m so incredibly grateful her diagnosis is not life threatening. One glance around the waiting room of Children’s Hospital, and you find yourself counting your blessings. We’re learning to take it day by day and minimize the what ifs. We’re gradually accepting our new family dynamic while refusing to allow this to define our amazing daughter. We recently registered for the Knoxville Jingle Bell Run/Walk next month in hopes to gain more awareness for juvenile arthritis and hopefully raise additional funds for research. If you’d like to join or support our team please visit: http://knoxvillejbr.kintera.org/ellieselves

We’re also striving to enjoy the little things in life just a little more. Ellie calls everything from rocks to sticks “treasures” and loves to collect them all. I admit it used to annoy me to constantly discover these treasures throughout my house. Not anymore. My husband and I are now following her lead. We’re simplifying. We’re working to laugh more and worry less. We’re giving more and getting less. We’re trying to breathe more and obsess less. We’re sunset watching, star gazing and collecting all types of leaves and acorns. We’re seeing the beauty that’s all around us more clearly now. And we know everything will be okay.

“You have to accept whatever comes and the only important thing is that you meet it with courage and with the best that you have to give.” Eleanor Roosevelt

Not My Best Mom Moment

I blame my sister. She taught my niece about the importance of brushing her teeth regularly and properly by telling her she had to brush off the sugar bugs to keep them from causing cavities. It worked perfectly, and my niece has gorgeous teeth today. Genius, right?

Until about two weeks ago it worked for me too, but out of the blue my daughter completely lost interest. She'd rather play, read another story, watch another show, or do just about anything to keep her a safe distance from her toothbrush. This drives me crazy. I'm sort of a fanatic about brushing my own teeth, and I definitely want her to develop healthy oral hygiene habits. Lately she's tried to negotiate with me. She's said, "I'll only brush them just a little bit, Momma," and "I want Daddy to brush them," (He is obviously not very thorough.) and my very favorite, "Okay, I'll brush them, but I will not use toothpaste." 

I really wasn't on my A game with patience earlier this week. I was tired... tired of negotiating, tired of bribing, just plain tired. So when she took both hands and covered her mouth refusing to open for me to brush away those sugar bugs I didn't have the energy for another debate. I calmly placed her toothbrush back into the cup and left the bathroom saying, "That's fine, but your teeth will become rotten. Would you like to see what that looks like?" She did. 

In my exhausted, if not slightly crazy state of mind I googled "rotten teeth photos" to show my three-year-old. (I agree, not my proudest parental moment.) Before I even saw her eyes grow huge I knew I'd gone too far. I don't believe in fear tactics, and that's exactly what it was. I tried to convince myself it was a here-are-the-consequences-of-not-brushing-your-teeth educational opportunity. In reality it was more of a let-mommy-scare-the-hell-out-of-you-so-you-will-just-do-what-I-ask tactic. It worked, but I was immediately ashamed. And I felt even guiltier as she walked straight to the bathroom for an extra long brushing session. 

Since then she's eagerly allowed me to brush and then taken her own turn without one word of protest. I really feel terrible, and I still blame my sister. 

My Daughter the Comedian

Kids are smart. And hilarious. My three-year-old is especially funny when she's not trying to be. Sometimes we shouldn't laugh, or at least we shouldn't laugh in front of her. But that's easier said than done. 

After spending a lot of time trying to conceal my blemishes before work one morning: “I’m so sorry you have those boo-boos on your face, Mom.”

After telling me her tummy hurt I encouraged her to sit on the potty: “Mom, I believe this poop is taking a nap.”

Just out of the blue one day: "You're a very good cooker, Mom, and Dad's a good picker upper."

While channel surfing one night and pausing on a TLC preview of the 600 lb woman: "Her big!"

When trying to teach her a song my mom taught me that spells B-I-B-L-E, and she promptly corrected me. “No, it goes B-I-N-G-O, Mom!”

While cleaning off Shelby's muddy paws for what felt like the 100th time one day: "I feel ya, Mom, that dog gets on my nerves sometimes too."

When I asked her to wash her hands before dinner one night: "Let's do this. My hands are filthy!"

While eating breakfast one morning when I must have still been tired and maybe just a little grumpy: "I believe you need more of that mommy coffee today."

When we were trying to convince her to pee in the potty: "I'm sure a Popsicle would help me do it."

While resting on the couch one night: "Let's not be lazy, Mommy. Let's get up and dance!"

While hanging out at home one evening: "When do you guys think you can clean this mess up?"

Just before the opening kickoff of the Superbowl: "Go VOLS!"

One night when she didn't want to sleep by herself in her bed: (through tears) "But we're a family, and families are supposed to stick together!"

A good effort before bath time one night: "We don't have to wash my hair tonight do we, Mom?"

One night as I placed dinner on the table: "I'm not hungry for this at all. I think I'll just have Popsicles."

When my husband didn’t fully shut the bathroom door, and she peaked through the door: “Wow, Dad, that’s cool. I didn’t know you had a squirt gun like that!” 

Thankful for a New Perspective

I am truly blessed. I have an amazing family, and all of my needs are met along with many of my wants. My very own version of the American Dream is in full swing, yet I can be such a Debbie Downer when things aren’t perfectly smooth. Most of my life I’ve been waiting for what’s next and striving for more. In high school I thought about college and choosing a major. In college I wanted to get married and begin my career. During my first few jobs I was always on the search for the next best thing.

Life is messy and hard, but ironically that’s also the beauty of it when put into perspective. Shame on me for not always being able to see the bigger picture. I’m determined to work on living in the moment and appreciating things for what they are. This is life. It’s going on right now, and I certainly don’t want to take it for granted. I must stop looking for what's next or what's to come and instead look at what's right in front of me. I’m trying to see things differently and turn the challenges of everyday life into situations I’m thankful for.

Bedfellow
My husband and I often have a visit from our daughter in the middle of the night. Sometimes she never even makes it to her bed at all. She doesn’t yet know three’s a crowd especially when she insists on bringing a few of her favorite lovies. There will come a day when we’ll want to give anything in the world to have her sleeping between us. For now, it’s not hurting anything so I want to be grateful for each and every snuggle.

Anti-potty
My very intelligent toddler has decided to be completely disinterested in anything related to the potty unless it’s on her terms. It’s a control thing, and it drives me crazy. A wise friend told me that strong-willed children are better equipped to resist peer pressure later in life. I’ll buy that logic!

Short-order cook
Like clockwork, my daughter doesn’t want to eat what I prepare for dinner. Last night she said, “My tummy’s not feeling this. I want something else.” I really try to balance accommodating her tastebuds without responding to every whim. At the end of the day she’s a girl who knows what she wants and is not afraid to ask for it.

Let it snow
A few weeks ago I noticed it was a little too quiet and walked into the living room to find my daughter sprinkling milk on the couch, the entertainment center, the recliner, her kitchen, her train table and our dog, Shelby. I was furious. She was so proud. I asked her why in the world she would do such a thing, and she said she wanted to see it snow. By the end of the night I knew I had an extremely clean living room and a very creative and resourceful child!

Here’s to living in the moment and being grateful for it all. Happy Thanksgiving, y’all!

According to My Toddler - It's Important to Look Fancy When Going Out

On Saturday afternoon my husband and I decided to take our sweet daughter to a matinee. Ellie had her choice of seeing The Smurfs, Cars 2 or Winnie the Pooh. We were secretly hoping for The Smurfs, but Winnie the Pooh was the movie she selected.

We'd also told Ellie she could have some candy at the movies. She rarely gets candy so she was thrilled. She got even more excited when she happened to find one of her special dress up earrings in the car. She immediately wanted my help putting it on. "Oh, you want to wear your earrings?" I asked.

"Yes!" Ellie cheered. And then she looked at me as if she was about to share a very important life lesson. "These are fancy, and we're going out today," she explained.

I reluctantly put the oversized, pink clip on earring on her and asked where the other one was. She shrugged. "If you can't find the other earring, you'll probably want to leave this one in the car, right?" I was trying to coax her to come around to my way of thinking.

"Nope. It's beautiful, Momma," she explained.

I often find myself in situations like this with my precious toddler. She looked absolutely gorgeous and completely ridiculous at the same time. I have to decide whether or not the situation is worth an argument. I don't ever want to squelch her enthusiasm or individuality or creativity, but I also don't want her to be ridiculed. This Saturday, her "fancy" earring wasn't hurting anyone so off we went... one gaudy, dangling earring and three huge smiles.

Two Dinner Options: Take It or Leave It

It's hilarious now to think about how I expected to be exempt from the picky eating stage. Because I made the majority of my sweet daughter's baby food from scratch I really thought my blood, sweat and tears would magically give me some sort of pass on this phase. I thought wrong. She used to love spinach, brussel sprouts and sweet potatoes. And squash! Oh how she loved fresh squash. What happened? Now, she loves mac and cheese. She used to clap and cheer for fresh pineapple and oatmeal. Now she's learned she can be picky, and I think she senses refusing certain things gives her some sort of power. As if she needs more of that.

I want my child to be happy and healthy so I often find myself at a crossroads when she refuses to eat the dinners I've so lovingly prepared. I've tried the save-her-dinner-for-later tactic when she asks for a snack. But she'll still refuse it and will continue to let me know she's hungry. What kind of mother would I be to allow her to go to bed hungry?

I exaggerate when I say she only wants mac and cheese, but it's definitely a favorite. I don't expect her to have a mature palate at two and a half, but I do expect her to eat what's in front of her or at least try it. I try to be calm, but honestly I find it very frustrating. I definitely keep her in mind while meal planning and always have at least something I know she likes, but if it's not what she wants she'll pass. I don't want to end up preparing something completely different or caving and allowing her to eat dry cereal.

I feel like I'm in a lose-lose situation. I want her to go to bed on a full stomach, but I don't want to set the stage for her to think she can always manipulate the situation to get what she wants. So I'm asking for help, friends. Please share with me any tricks, tips or advice for having a successful, mac and cheese-free dinnertime with a toddler. I'm all ears.

All Breasts Are Not Created Equally

I follow a local chiropractor's tweets and recently saw one proving how mothers can better bond with their babies. Before I even clicked on the link I immediately knew it was about breastfeeding. Two and a half years later the thought still makes my heart sink.

I'd read the research about the importance of breastfeeding, and to me there wasn't an option. Of course I'd planned to breastfeed; I wanted to do what was best for my daughter. I signed up for the class, read the books, bought maternity bras and had a supply of Lansinoh on hand. I thought I was prepared. I never expected it to be easy, but I knew it was the right thing to do. I'd never before heard of someone's milk never coming in. I didn't even know that was a possibility.

After my sweet daughter was born the nurse explained that typically babies have the most difficulties latching on. Not my Ellie. She latched on like a champion and continued to do so during our hospital stay. It wasn't until she was four days old that my husband and I became a little concerned. She seemed to be crying more, and my milk hadn't yet come in. I really felt nothing different. She continued to latch like she had been, but we began to realize she wasn't actually getting anything. Ellie's pediatrician confirmed she was losing weight but agreed that breast milk was best so we decided to give my milk a little bit longer.

I'll save you all the details, but overall I spoke with one lactation consultant by phone and met with two others in person. To this day I feel very angry toward them. The consultants agreed that though it's not normally recommended for new mothers, I should buy a pump and begin using it. So I did. I desperately wanted my baby to have what was best. Don't we all? I would pump for 25 minutes and only get about an ounce. I'd try to breastfeed Ellie first until she'd begin to get frustrated. Then I'd put the small amount of breast milk I'd pumped into a tiny bottle that was given to me by one of the consultants. This bottle had a very thin tube that was then taped to my breast so Ellie wouldn't lose the natural breastfeeding sensation. After that, I'd begin pumping again. "If you want it to work badly enough it will," I vividly remember one of the consultants saying to me. I grind my teeth at the thought of it. Of course I wanted it badly. I was obsessed with being able to feed my child. Only for whatever reason, I couldn't do it.

I was basically either trying to breastfeed or pump constantly, and she still wasn't getting enough. At one of Ellie's numerous weigh in appointments she was crying, and I was crying, and her doctor came into the room and offered some formula. Feeling defeated and hopeless and not wanting to starve my child I agreed to give it to her. Ellie sucked down the formula as fast as she could; it was obvious how hungry she was. That made me cry harder.

My husband is a good man. He'd been trying to gently tell me we should try switching to formula, but I'd been very adamant. If you know me well or know my family you know I come by it honestly; it's in my blood. But on the car ride home that day we agreed that changing to formula was the best option for our family. I was devastated, but I knew he was right. I'd done the best I could do. And I felt happy that our baby was finally full. I was also relieved that I could spend more quality time with her instead of being constantly hooked up to the pump. But I also felt ashamed, and I had so many questions without answers. My breasts were still duds. I'd read and heard so much about how sore they're supposed to get, and I still felt nothing. I'd prayed so hard to feel that pain and to be able to do what I was supposed to do and nourish my child. I couldn't understand why I was inadequate. I felt as though I'd failed at my first and most important role as a mother.

The formula quickly helped Ellie get back to her birth weight and then some. I was happy she was healthy, but continued to feel so guilty. And embarrassed. For over a year, at every well visit a nurse would ask whether or not she was breastfed, and I felt the need to explain that I'd tried. I'd really, really tried. I felt I was being judged at each and every visit. Maybe they were being critical. Maybe I was just paranoid. Why in the world didn't they just put that into her chart? It's not like I could begin breastfeeding at six months.

Having to answer the dreaded breastfeeding question is something that has haunted me so many times. Just two weeks ago I took Ellie to her first dental appointment. On the paperwork I had to complete was a question about whether or not my child was breastfed. I checked that she wasn't and didn't have as strong of an urge to add a comment that she wasn't bottle fed by choice. I'm now more at peace with the fact that I tried my best, but thinking about it still stings a little. And although I can't and would never argue with the research that says it is best I can tell you for a fact that it's simply not possible for every mother. Even ones who also want the absolute best for their babies.

Grocery Store Confessions

Confession #1 
I secretly wish bodily harm to the shopper who crowds me when I’m trying to pay for my groceries. Seriously, can they not wait two minutes for me to punch in my debit card passcode and get my receipt before they start eyeballing the gum and candy bar options?

Confession #2
Before I became a mother I seriously questioned the parenting skills of those who gave their toddler a cookie at the grocery store. I am now that momma and have even given my daughter a cookie before 10:00 a.m. That, plus a serious dedication to my list can get me at least through half of the store. (Mom, if you’re reading this, I’m sorry. I know you raised me better.)

While we’re talking about snacks, I’ll also confess to opening a package I haven’t yet purchased. It’s usually puffcorn (You know, the popcorn without kernels or hulls.) or string cheese. This is typically the go-to plan if my daughter and I go after work and school when a cookie just isn’t going to cut it. I actually carry large paperclips with me just in case I need to keep an item closed enough to pay and get it home. Don’t judge; it works.

Confession #3
There are now items that frequent my list that I’d never in a million years have even dreamed about buying before becoming a parent. A couple of these include Easy Mac and the more expensive frozen veggies that can be easily steamed in the bag. I’ve even bought those Bob Evans premade mashed potatoes. The horror, I know. (Mom, again, I apologize.) But with those potatoes, a pre-cooked rotisserie chicken, a bag of frozen steam-in-the-bag peas and a loaf of bakery French bread, dinner is served in about as much time as it takes to unload the groceries from the car.

I believe the rotisserie chicken is a Godsend to any momma or dad in a hurry to make dinner. I’ve used one as the base for many a good meal including: chicken salad with celery, grapes and pecans; chicken noodle soup; chicken enchiladas; chicken Caesar salad; chicken tacos; pasta salad with chicken; and more! It’s truly an amazing must-have-it-on-your-grocery-list item. (If you also happen to be an Ingles shopper their Smoky Mountain Bourbon-flavored rotisserie chicken is truly fantastic.)

Confession #4
I'm in coupon hell. Have you ever watched Extreme Couponing on TLC? It's incredible and crazy, and it drives me insane. But I’m also amazed. I'm willing to pay more than $0.75 to feed my family for the week, but it would be great to keep my weekly grocery bill between $100 and $125. It seems easy enough. Only, it's not. I clip the coupons in the Sunday paper, print some online coupons and try to shop for what's on sale, but obviously I’m missing something. I don’t follow all of the rules of the hardcore couponers. I’m not willing to go to seven different grocery and drug stores, and I will not spend every free minute dealing with the coupons. I also won’t be turning my basement or my guest bedroom into a stockpile room.

What I find most frustrating is the realization of how inexpensively I could shop if I didn't really cook at all. I'm sure I could find enough coupons for canned ravioli or boxed tuna casserole and cake mix to last us a while, but what about people who eat real food? Don't get me wrong, my cooking has slowed down quite a bit since I became a mom, but I do want us to eat fresh fruits and vegetables occasionally.

Confession #5
My sweet baby girl has recently become my grocery store bodyguard. A couple of weeks ago she berated a man who’d invaded my space. I was stunned. We were in the cheese aisle; shredded cheese was on sale two for $4. It was the large bags so Ellie and I didn’t want to miss out. We were making our selections when this man began crowding us. I guess he could sense how much we love cheese at our house, but I could have told him that we weren’t going to empty the shelves. He actually reached in front of and across me to grab some cheese. I was about to back up and just let the rude guy have first dibs when I heard my child. “Hey, Man!” she shouted and pointed right at him. “No way! Back off!” I froze. I didn’t apologize for her or ask her to. Shocked, I quickly grabbed a pack of sharp cheddar and Parmesan and headed for the checkout. I never looked back. And I completely missed out on the mozzarella.

If you happen to see us at the grocery store please just give us our personal space or you may have my toddler to deal with!