tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-53410886944551596332024-03-12T20:18:45.196-05:00RAISING GIRLRaising Girl is a collection of personal essays by author Aly Zain. She is a creative director, artist and writer in Minnesota.Aly Zainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05968138044230110859noreply@blogger.comBlogger24125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5341088694455159633.post-79483367182458292942017-01-20T21:06:00.010-06:002022-11-16T14:22:41.712-06:00Why I'm Marching.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">T</span>oday, as the inauguration of the 45th president was happening live in Washington D.C. I sat at a dining room table ironing vinyl letters to the front of a cotton t-shirt. The girls and I are marching in the Women's March tomorrow afternoon in Atlanta. We'll be wearing shirts that we made.<br />
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When I became a mother I always knew I wanted to be the kind that had long conversations with my child. I enjoy being generous with how I inform her. Only now, she is 2 and catching the meaning of things faster than I can frame my explanations. I struggle to know which conversations we are ready for.<br />
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I see my role in parenting as a steward. As the person who illustrates what a choice looks like. The adult who makes moral responsibility appear on a blank page. I am the one who can draw kindness and make it real, for my daughter who eagerly waits to see what she can make out from the strokes I am placing in front of her eyes.<br />
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As her mother I am the steward of her right and wrong.<br />
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From the comforts of our home, where the tv chirps the rhymes of Daniel Tiger to the beat of a dishwasher being unloaded, and the chaos of our day is trying to get the toddler to eat her fish sticks instead of cramming them into the pocket size hole in her booster seat, the 3 bedroom world she knows well is control by us; it has minnow size rights and wrongs. It's out there that my explanations feel inadequate. Out there, where the questions get a little harder to answer as her eyes grow wider. In this very real world, I feel cheated of words for how to respond when she asks me about the man on the park bench, and if he is sad.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">But that doesn't mean I stop talking. I'm convinced this bold and uncertain world is ever in need of our motherly conversations.</span> <br />
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When I heard about the <a href="https://www.womensmarch.com/">Million Women March</a> happening in D.C. I was moved and excited, because I believe this march is a conversation that needs to be heard. Because when hundreds of thousands of women, men and children plan to show up in their cities to unite and voice their concerns, you better believe I'm going to pay attention. Because our explanations can only serve us if we are truly willing to listen. Because I'm not going to pretend I know your story. Because my best explanations include everyone. So yeah, I'm marching. And though I couldn't physically make it to Washington, uniting in my own city of Atlanta with <i>my </i>neighbors and friends feels pretty darn awesome too.<br />
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I watch my 2 year old collect new understandings at an exponential pace. This makes me realize that I too must continue to engage intentionally with the things that are hardest to understand about our world. I have to show up and at least try.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Because what scares me more than a difficult question, is the silence of misunderstanding.</span> <span style="font-size: large;">As a country, we can't afford to have that happen.</span><br />
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I'm looking forward to the day when Florence reaches the age that we talk about history. We'll talk about the Women's March that happened on January 21, 2017, and, as her mother, I can say I was there.<br />
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Aly Zainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05968138044230110859noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5341088694455159633.post-31442633948637351232016-10-06T13:04:00.004-05:002022-11-16T14:35:39.845-06:00Glasses Shop<br />
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<br />This is my second sponsored blog post, and I really only say yes to working with brands and companies that I, myself, love and feel good about sharing with all of you. Today, I'm collaborating with <u>www.glassesshop.com</u> to show off how to get away with wearing non-prescription glasses.<br />
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My mom has been a glasses wearer for most of her life, and as a girl growing up my mom was my beauty icon. On her, glasses were an endearing attribute, one that I loved because, for me, they symbolized her and all the beauty that I saw in her. As a kid, I never needed glasses, which most would consider lucky, but to my 10-year-old self, it came as a bit of a disappointment.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Now, that I'm a mom, and a maturing lady, I decided that if I want to change the way I look or take on a new style, or look a little more like my own momma, why shouldn't I? So, I ordered myself a pair of <a href="http://www.glassesshop.com/eyeglasses">glasses</a>; a cool transparent pink, <a href="http://www.glassesshop.com/eyeglasses/fz0867">wayfarer style pair</a>. I wear them as an accessory, mixed in with some denim and a little bit of dirty, no shower hair :)</div>
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They have a great variety of <a href="http://www.glassesshop.com/">glasses online</a>, as well as <a href="http://www.glassesshop.com/sunglasses">prescription sunglasses</a>. And for someone who impatiently awaits mail/packages, I was stoked to see them arrive at my door in one week! If you want to get your hands on some of these frames, RaisingGirl readers can use the code: GSHOT50 to get 50% off eye glasses and sunglasses with free lenses (sale frames excluded).</div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Photos by: <a href="http://www.iwdff.com/about/">Stefanie Meyer</a></span></td></tr>
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It's good to be a little daring with your style, get out of your box and wear glasses if you want to. Dye your hair purple if it makes you feel more alive. I'm a big advocate for expressing your self with fashion. You do you. Let's see what Florence takes from that as she gets older...</div>
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<br />Aly Zainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05968138044230110859noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5341088694455159633.post-35378254165232392952016-10-04T12:42:00.007-05:002022-11-16T14:24:44.997-06:00Tracking My Cycle with Clue <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Between the ages of 18-24, I didn't have a regular menstrual cycle. That's 6 years of my life, my womanhood, that I lived without a clue as to what was happening with my own body.<br />
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After seeing a nutritionist and getting some help with a long-term eating disorder, my body resumed its normal cycles, and I finally had a period again. After being clueless for so long, I now have this deep appreciation for my period. Many women probably laugh to hear me say, my period is sacred. But, the truth is, for me my period signifies that my body is on track, it's a reminder to myself that I have come a long way from the unhealthy girl I was for years. And, of course, my period will always be connected to my journey to having Florence.<br />
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A few months back, I discovered <a href="https://www.helloclue.com/index.html">Clue</a>, a company in Berlin that makes tracking your period and ovulation accurate, fast and friendly. And guess what?! <a href="https://www.helloclue.com/app.html">They have an app</a> and, ladies, it's free. I think I love my period even more, now.<br />
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I used to track my cycle by making little black "x"'s in the corners of my planner days. Clue helps me track <i>all</i> the things that come along with my periods like pain, mood, fluid, and sexual activity. There's even an option to enter good hair vs. bad hair days because we all know that is a real thing, am I right?! One of my friends who is a creative entrepreneur uses the app to track her motivation/productivity on a daily basis to help her identify patterns that affect her workflow.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The best thing about using the Clue app: it empowers me by providing a simple way for me to track my own period and see a complete picture of how my cycle affects me. </span><br />
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What I Love about Clue:<br />
-user friendly<br />
-simple icon-based design<br />
-tracks emotional side effects, as well as, physical ones<br />
-it's free!<br />
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Do you track your period?</span></div>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5341088694455159633.post-7991732207644893592016-08-28T13:12:00.009-05:002022-11-16T14:25:07.112-06:007 Tips for Dealing with Anxiety<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>Balance is something I talk about a lot. One thing that most people don't realize is that balance looks different for every person. Depending on the needs of your body, the work you do, the diet you eat, your relationships, and your money; you are the best person to decide what things help you feel balanced. </span><br />
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<span>I've noticed that especially since I became a mom staying balanced in my head, body and spirit has become a lot more complicated, but even more necessary. My need for a release after a rough day is non-negotiable. I've started to see a few things as essential to my well-being as a person first, and a mom second. When I take the opportunity to prioritize what makes me feel better it, absolutely, trickles down into my mothering. </span><br />
<span><br /></span><span><span>M</span>ental illness runs in my family. We've got anxiety on one side, and depression on the other. I guess my feet were placed in the valley where the two things come together - I deal with both.</span><br />
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<span>My first experience with depression started in college. It was during that time that I started to realize that I had all the symptoms. I went for days without sleeping and had no appetite, except for sugary things. I couldn't concentrate on any of my school work. Deadlines were physically crushing me. I have this memory that I consider to be my rock bottom. It's an image of me sitting in my idling car in the grocery store parking lot. I was hunched over the stirring wheel, letting the tears push through my eyes. I didn't know where to go, there was no where to go, but my urge to escape from this unexplainable sadness was so real. It made me numb from head to toe. If you've ever experienced anxiety or depression, you can understand that this pain is hard to talk about, even now, five years later. </span><br />
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<span>Thankfully, I got some help that year. I went on medication and it helped me curb my depression through the roughest patch. I was able to graduate and enjoy my final semester. Since that painful winter in college, I've done a lot of research. Mostly, I've studied my own patterns and made notes about the things that positively correspond with my mental well-being. I needed to understand how to shape my life in a way that allows me to manage my mental health everyday. </span><br />
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<span>Going into motherhood, I knew I was up against a big challenge. Depression and anxiety are very common experiences for women and their postpartum journey. What was I up against as someone who dealt with these things <i>before </i>pregnancy? I resisted from letting myself feel total doom, but I also didn't want to be blindsided again.</span><br />
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<span>Through some analysis, I've found 7 things to be vital tools for helping me curb my anxiety and depression. I can almost always link my ups and downs to how well I've been taking care of myself. I find that when one or more of these gets way out of balance I can start to feel my anxiety revving up. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span><b><u><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif">My 7 Therapies</span></u><span> </span></b></span><span> </span></span></div>
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<span><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><b>Sleep.</b></span></span><br />
<span>Lack of sleep has by far been the hardest part about motherhood for me. Since adolescence I've always needed A LOT of sleep. Like ideally, 12 hours. I know, it sounds crazy but I've forced myself to get used to having less sleep and I just don't feel as good. I've also noticed that lack of sleep is the number one trigger for my anxiety. </span><br />
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<span><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><b>Limit Caffeine.</b></span></span><br />
<span>I just have to. For me, that means almost zero coffee, even decaf still has enough caffeine in it that it bothers me. I have to watch chocolate too. Caffeine is </span><b>definitely</b><span> linked to my anxiety. It also hugely affects my ability to sleep deeply. </span><br />
<span><span><br /></span><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><b>Move Everyday.</b></span></span><br />
<span>I've been a jogger since I was an early teen. I started doing it to lose weight in middle school and then kept it up. Now, it's my biggest mental release. Honestly, going for a run is my quickest most effective therapy. If I start to feel anxiety creeping up, I grab for my running shoes, load Florence into the stroller and get moving. </span><br />
<span><br /><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><b>Eat for Your Body Type.</b></span></span><br />
<span>There is an amazing book called, <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Chemistry-Joy-Three-Step-Overcoming-Depression/dp/0743265076">The Chemistry of Joy</a> by M.D. Henry Emmons and Rachel Kranz, which uses Ayurveda medicine to teach you what foods are best for your body type. Before I read this, I ate fine but once I made the connection between certain foods and how they made me feel, I've been able to use food as a way to balance my mind and fuel myself with the nutrition appropriate for someone with my body type. </span><br />
<span><br /><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><b>Find Your Outlets.</b></span></span><br />
<span>My ideal setting for decompressing is a quiet room, by myself, with a sketch pad and some colors. I draw to relax and escape. It's a perfect tool for me when I need to turn off my thoughts. Ideally, find an outlet that is easy to create for yourself and free, so it's at your fingertips when you need it most. </span><span> </span><br />
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<span><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><b>Water.</b></span></span><br />
<span>I'm not talking about drinking it. For me, being around a body of water makes me feel at peace. Since I don't live close enough to walk to water where I live in the city, I take a shower or soak in the bath.</span><br />
<span><br /><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><b>Stillness. Prayer. Meditation. Breathing.</b></span></span><br /><span>If you have a mind that tends to race, like mine, you need to implement some form of stillness in your routine. I'm a restless person so I'm constantly moving, and because of that I often feel unsatisfied but exhausted at the end of the day. Call it yoga or whatever you want, but finding time to slow down, close your eyes and breathe can change everything for the rest of your day. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><b>What tools do you use for dealing with anxiety and depression? </b></i></span></div>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5341088694455159633.post-84650998410136481202016-08-08T12:59:00.003-05:002022-11-16T14:25:32.505-06:00Finding Your Personal Style Post Motherhood<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">L</span>ast week my favorite podcast, <a href="http://beingboss.club/">Being Boss</a>, did an <a href="http://beingboss.club/podcast/episode-83-find-your-style-tiffany-ima">interview with Tiffany Ima</a> on finding your style. Hearing her advice was an answered prayer. I found solutions for so many of my style issues and I could not wait to write this post. </div>
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After motherhood, I was at a total loss when it came to my own sense of style. As someone who finds a lot of joy and confidence in expressing myself through fashion, this was confusing for me. My closet hadn't changed at all before and after having Florence and my shape hadn't changed dramatically either. So I couldn't really explain why I just felt awkward in my old clothes.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Until I realized, after being pregnant and now a parent, how I feel about myself has fundamentally shifted, and I decided my style needs to as well. </span></div>
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For years I've been a consistent closet purger. I like to be able to see everything in my closet. I find that if I can narrow down to the few things I always want to wear then getting dressed is way more simple and I'm more willing to try new combinations because the choices are not overwhelming.</div>
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I have a tendency to immediately then start buying new things to fill up all the space I just created. Instead of taking the time to consider what I actually want to add to my wardrobe, I just refill it with things that seem like a good idea, or that I like the idea of and in a few months my closet is all congested again. </div>
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So this time, I followed <a href="http://tiffanyima.com/#authority">Tiffany Ima's</a> advice and after doing my closet cleanse I came up with a few words to describe my new style and created a <a href="https://www.pinterest.com/alysonrosezain/closet-cleanse/">Pinterest board</a>. The three words I chose are: <b>sexy</b>, <b>comfortable/relaxed</b>, and of course, <b>minimalist</b>. </div>
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I love this because now I have a goal for my style and I have some guidelines for when I'm shopping that will help me be happy in the long term. No more quick fixes with closet fillers. I actually want to take my time and slowly build my new, mom confident wardrobe.</div>
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Do you share my style problems? What are your solutions? I'd love to hear how you've embraced your post motherhood style.</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5341088694455159633.post-44056985544299116182016-08-02T19:10:00.004-05:002022-11-16T14:25:41.733-06:0018 Months // Growing Pains<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">I </span>laid in bed the other night thinking about Florence, as I do so many nights. I still had the bedtime song we sing playing in my head, "Elmo sings you a song, a kiss on the cheek...". I thought about the food she didn't eat for dinner, bits of pasta and chicken scattered around her placemat, a mess I lazily leave to clean up in the morning. I remember how today she said the word "mermaid", clear as day, my heart violently applauding her from down the hallway. </div>
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With my head on the pillow, it hit me that I know all these things, <i>only </i>I do. </div>
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I started to think how if something happened to me, where would all these special and specific pieces of knowledge go? If one morning I just didn't wake up? Of course, there is Papa, but it's me that is home everyday. It's me that sings our favorite songs and decides when we go or stay. Me that knows that "oosh" means shoes and "eesh" means cheese. I am the key to the box of her most intimate moments. For now, at least, I know all of it.</div>
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So I wrote out a list titled "Florence 18 Months, Everything You Need to Know". I used every remaining page in my notebook. </div>
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Today we visited the home where Flori will be starting daycare in a few weeks. Just two days a week. Really, just one full day and one half day. Really, just 12 hrs. This is a step that feels gigantic for me. One that I've been inching towards everyday since I first held her. For her, it's like moving up in shoe sizes. She'll do it and it's only me that can see the old, smaller pairs sitting on the shelf. </div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I realize it's less that she needs me, it's more that I am scared to miss out on knowing every detail.</span></div>
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But I know too, that I can do this. I will be okay. I do believe there are gifts hidden in these changes ahead of us, in getting a few hours to work quietly in my studio. The mental clarity I'll have a chance at with those few afternoons to myself will pay off. It's a step we both will grow into. These are the growing pains that I knew would one day come. I just didn't remember how much they can ache. </div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5341088694455159633.post-56535898878919793102016-07-14T13:30:00.003-05:002022-11-16T13:57:27.083-06:00Summery Makeup Style<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Doing a post on makeup feels a little out of my box, if I'm being honest about it. I can't remember now exactly why I had the idea to talk about it in the first place, but I actually really enjoyed putting this one together. </div>
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Growing up I didn't feel entitled to wear makeup. For one, I was athletic and I never had friends or sisters that were much into getting dolled up, so I never learned how to wear it or buy it. And then from my own place, I felt compelled to seek beauty in other ways which then I could only understand by rejecting parts of my femininity. I thought that you had to be <i>either or</i>. Athletic and ungirly or feminine and makeup wearing. For years, I just stirred clear of that feminine territory. </div>
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It was a confirming moment for me when, at nearly 30 years old, one of my best friends told me she likes wearing makeup because it makes her feel more adult. I totally agree. In the past few years I have embraced my femininity in a way that makes me feel free to express my body. Makeup has been a fun part of my maturing. It's been an outlet for me to embrace a side of myself I didn't understand before. </div>
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As a makeup minimalist, I generally use just four products, which I'll share with you. Part of my minimalism comes from still not having a lot of experience with makeup, so I stick to easy basics that give a nice pop and hardly take any time to apply. I also just like the look of light, airy makeup.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">1. Facial Oil (john masters organics)</span><br />
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Because I spend a lot of time under the sun playing with Florence, I use this <a href="https://johnmasters.com/products/skin-care/pomegranate-facial-nourishing-oil.html">nourishing facial oil</a>. It keeps my face feeling rejuvenated after being exposed to sun rays and being in and out of chlorinated pools. My skin is also very dry, even in the summer. It's definitely a middle to heavy oil I wouldn't recommend it unless you're on the dry skin end of the spectrum. I use it at the end of the day, after I've washed my face or showered. However, for a dewy summer look, I apply it on my eye lids and creases when put on mascara.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">2. Blushhhhh (Gabriel)</span><br />
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Blush is by far my favorite piece of makeup. I love a rosy cheek look, especially for the summer with sunned skin and freckles. This one I like a lot, it's called <a href="https://gabrielcosmeticsinc.com/shop/gabriel-blush/">Apricot by Gabriel</a>. You can buy it at Whole Foods.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">3. Mascara (L'Oreal)</span><br />
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I have a hard time finding great mascaras. I loathe a clump prone mascara. This <a href="http://www.target.com/p/l-oreal-paris-voluminous-original-mascara/-/A-13697439">Voluminous stick by L'Oreal </a>works pretty well. I also prefer a finer applicator. I'm still searching for a perfect mascara.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">4. Lip Color (Aveda)</span><br />
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I'm a solid fan of Aveda products and I especially love their <a href="http://www.aveda.com/product/5336/16334/Makeup/Lips/Nourish-Mint-Smoothing-Lip-Color/index.tmpl">lip sticks</a>. My favorite color is this pinky coral, Peruvian Lily. I also like to mix lip colors, do you do this? I have a light nude pink that I mix for a lighter look.<br />
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Thanks Instagram friends for encouraging me to lean into my feminine side and share my makeup routine! I've also been totally inspired this <a href="http://www.noirettediary.com/">makeup wizard woman</a>, my cousin-in-law, she's incredibly talented and fun. </div>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5341088694455159633.post-88606887707648336422016-04-25T12:04:00.002-05:002022-11-16T14:26:18.524-06:00DIY Play Scape <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Hey friends, last week I made this play scape for Florence's animals and a few of you asked me to put it up on the blog so you could be inspired to make your own. One of my favorites of all of Flori's toys are her sets of animal figurines. Out of desperation, I bought a little pail of these mini ones at the airport a few weeks ago on our way back from Utah! We recently went to the zoo with my sister and nieces and seeing the animals there got me thinking I want to make a little "zoo" for Flori's animals. </div>
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So I went digging through my craft supplies to see what I could conjure up. I just used a flat piece of card board (an insert from something) and cut pieces of felt out for the "terrain". I also had some of these green grassy balls and craft moss (you can get at Hobby Lobby or Michaels). I found some craft pebbles too, which are Florence's favorite thing to try and pull off. </div>
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Arrange all your pieces to make your own play scape and then use a hot glue gun to secure it all in place. It's a fun and cheap little project to play with! Share pics with me on IG of how yours turns out!</div>
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happy zoo building :)</div>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5341088694455159633.post-26224747879699422262016-04-12T11:38:00.004-05:002022-11-16T14:26:32.114-06:00When the Sun is Out<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Florence and I just got back from spending a week with my sister in Utah. She has three amazing girls. And, though I don't get to see them more than once a year, I still love the connections I have to each of them. It's been quite special to see them grow and change. They're a fuller version of themselves each time I see them again.<br />
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The best part of being an aunt is that you're not the parent, and therefore, you can just be a grown up kid. During the week with my nieces, we spent time making music videos with that app, Musically. It's a favorite past time of mine now, if you've never played with it, you probably should. We jumped on the trampoline and drove their big family four-wheeler around the neighborhood. We watched Frozen (my first time, wow) and ate ice cream. We painted nails and read books and talked about boys. I love their individualities, as sisters and as girls. It reminds me of how each child comes in to the world with a different lens, it's beautiful to nurture to their unique beings.<br />
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This is a photoshoot I did with my 12 yr old niece, one of the last days of our visit. She was my first niece, and I lived with her for a short time when she was 2. I remember wondering what kind of person she would grow up to be, as I played with her, a barely walking human then. At 12, she's bright and witty and loves basketball. She draws and writes stories. She's incredibly caring and her sisters look up to her with both eyes. I'm so excited to see where her heart is led as she continues to grow. <i>You're a sun, my girl, I'll always see your place in the sky. </i><br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5341088694455159633.post-37190899273886054502016-03-23T11:26:00.003-05:002022-11-16T14:26:42.049-06:00Atlanta, the peach of my eye<br />
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The spring time in Atlanta, with its budding trees and warm sidewalks, is the time of year when I go back to that first impression I had of this place, one year ago. You see, this week marks our one year anniversary in Atlanta, when we made that first big decision as two young parents, to move. Here. </div>
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The red lights are longer. Sidewalks are often broken into crumbs where tree roots have won. My car stereo has 6 different stations of hip hop programmed into it. And, regrettably, left turn lanes have become a luxury (something you only treasure in their absence). When we first moved here all these things stuck out to me, all the small revelations that are enough to remind you've come from some place else. Until inevitably, they fade, absorbed into the carpet of the places we've been and will go.</div>
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It was easy to jump into thinking that this last year has gone by with little else to focus on then the raising of our girl, this has been <i>her</i> first year, and we have absolutely felt our biggest transformations because it of. But for the stride we've made as a family, we owe credit to Atlanta. Going into our move here my approach was like, "I'll pretty much be house bound for a good year with this little baby, so it doesn't really matter where we live". I was <i>so</i> wrong. Atlanta mattered. Atlanta is where I (we) needed to be this whole house bound year.</div>
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Why? We needed Atlanta because we needed to start something together. We needed a risk. And distractions. We needed to be the three of us standing on our own. We needed to wake up and see a skyline with unknowns. We needed discussions provoked by a big city, in the South. And grocery store lines that have different stories to tell. We needed grace in the form of something that was uncertain. We needed to muster trust like no other. And really go with it. We needed to see that community can happen suddenly, sometimes. And it makes a new place feel so unexpectedly like home.</div>
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Now my skin is [even] thinner. I've acclimated to winters that dip only to the 30s. For a few short days. I sing along with the radio and its hip hoppin' beats. Florence knows the streets we walk to get to the park from our house, she points and pushes me to keep going until we can hear the kids playing at last. There are a lot of things we left when we decided to move here a year ago, and I know both Alex and I still feel a tug, now and then, from the life we left in Texas. But Atlanta was written into our geographies for a reason. And that reason has only felt like one big blessing. One big peachy, Southern blessing. </div>
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I'm putting together a list of some of our favorite Atlanta things, so keep an eye out for it!</div>
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xo</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5341088694455159633.post-76647485434121512412016-02-01T10:56:00.003-06:002022-11-16T14:26:50.815-06:00Monday Inspiration // Creating a Date Night<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Now that Florence is one, Alex and I decided we wanted to get serious about making some time for us. Going into parenthood, we both wanted to be intentional about not letting our relationship slip away. Of course, we knew things would change and that many of the things we used to do together as a couple wouldn't be realistic with an infant. The biggest thing we didn't prepare for was how tired the both of us are at the end of the day that even when we want to make time for each other, it's hard to. Most weekends the most we feel like doing is sleeping in and lounging around the house-which is totally fine but it's easy to forget what it's like to look forward to something together. To learn something new together (besides parenting stuff). It's incredibly revitalizing to step outside of the house and out of the parenting bubble for a breath of air and do something that is centered on the chemistry of two.<br />
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So to make this happen we picked a set day every month, no excuses. As soon as we decided this, I found a babysitter in the neighborhood. And booked her for our first date.<br />
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And when Saturday night came around we were both tired. I considered calling the sitter to cancel. I nearly forced myself to change my clothes and brush my hair, but we had committed to this night and I wanted to see it though. So we went out. We walked to a local brewery we'd been curious about. We played darts. I had a soda. An older woman gave us tips on how to win at ping pong. We made jokes and ate popcorn, and it was everything we needed, and nothing fancy. And the funny thing is, when we got home later that night, I actually felt I had more energy, not less.<br />
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Now, we're both set on making the next 11 dates happen over the next year. I'm excited about it. We both are.<br />
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<i>What do you do to keep your relationship balanced? Date night ideas?!</i><br />
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<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">photo by <a href="http://www.bluebirddaystudio.com/">Bluebird Day Studio</a></span></i></div>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5341088694455159633.post-30857407110036586572016-01-10T18:10:00.010-06:002022-11-16T14:27:12.358-06:00A Brief on Motherhood, One Year In<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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This year. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">This year has been: 365 taped-together miracles. Of nurturing. Of unexplainable beauty. Attachment. Untethered love. Immense sacrifice. Quietening guilt. Catastrophic joy. A year of being lost and, eventually, found. One year after Florence's birth, I am beginning to recognize myself again. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Motherhood has changed me with the gravity of its demands, emotionally and physically. My heart is saturated with joy and glee - the best of loving a tiny person. My peace, my sense of self, and my mental health are dangling off the other end of the scale, in the desperate hope of something that resembles balance - the constraints of loving a tiny person. </div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I have had to let go.</div>
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The past year is a pile of days that cannot be tidied, only bundled into a messy lump I dare not to pick up for a while, afraid that I'll set them all loose, scattering my life into mayhem once again. Some days ring so loudly in my ears, I want to set them to rest for good. Others remain smooth and whole like pebbles in my palm. I carry those days around with me, polishing my favorites. When I do look back, though I rarely do at this stage, I find relief to be stronger than nostalgia. Though, I'm convinced time will eventually flip that. It feels healthy that we're here, standing over two feet tall, with hair and teeth that need brushing (Florence) and a mom (me) that has a chance to brush her own.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We are one. And right now, that is everything.</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5341088694455159633.post-32106071571667752862015-10-20T17:43:00.002-05:002022-11-16T14:27:53.434-06:00Teabook<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="text-align: left;">If there were a season in which I remained forever, it would be the fall. I want to be remembered along with the mornings that have turned cold and burst with the big bright sun. I would spell my name in the wind blown debris as it moves along street curbs and fills up decorative lawn bags. The kids walking home from school might notice me drifting between their steps hoping to get caught on the lace of a shoe. I'd settle in along with the rest of the world as it slows down for evening dinners around hot food and rolled up sleeves. The moon would be my final face, it's heavy emergence quiets all who stare long enough, dismissing the need for words. </span></div>
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<span style="text-align: left;">I can't help but be moved by the fall. Isn't there something so energizing about seasonal shifts? For me the fall is a new start, a time to shed old skin, empty your closets of all the things that have crept in over the months. </span><span style="text-align: left;">Perhaps my Minnesota origin comes out in the fall. It knows that life contains long winters and falls that aren't long enough. </span></div>
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One of my favorite rituals, that always signals the oncoming of fall for me, is drinking tea. I used to only think of tea as a cold remedy or sweetened summer beverage, I had no idea about good tea. Then during college I had friends that worked at tea shops and a good friend that spent a lot of time in China and they taught me about good quality tea, how to brew it and how to drink it. I've been hooked ever since. </div>
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Recently, I got to try tea from this really neat start-up, <a href="http://www.teabook.co/">Teabook</a>. They ship different loose leaf teas to your door every month. I love this because since moving to Atlanta I haven't been able to find a source for high quality, unique teas. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaTU1SHXKkd8oFPqsJMKY6_MhuuFZ95yeAcArKHlW1nHMCfUsj2baHV-4dDiZ2B9PW4T_yf7lARyptyppHCVFkVxgP6pmDKXsKKyX-Pl_tZ6r0GIldmVnfiNP5ePJT2XISgAs8-raag4w/s1600/teabook_door.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaTU1SHXKkd8oFPqsJMKY6_MhuuFZ95yeAcArKHlW1nHMCfUsj2baHV-4dDiZ2B9PW4T_yf7lARyptyppHCVFkVxgP6pmDKXsKKyX-Pl_tZ6r0GIldmVnfiNP5ePJT2XISgAs8-raag4w/s640/teabook_door.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Here's a quality comparison between a standard black tea off the shelf at the grocery store (left) and the black tea I got from Teabook (right). Higher quality tea will actually look like dried leaves instead of the fine "dust" and broken up tea in low quality.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi96JvvEV0Dx7RWesm7niyInGYk93D90j90kKyKPD5857qOv-15r4C9vfoqdKaNOqcy43ZXR-XkpL2fN4hr9uvUkvHm6dxUo5Pb-R1MnZN6KgcgsOXM_OUUT08967rsZVinagwfSHSqS8U/s1600/teacomparison.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi96JvvEV0Dx7RWesm7niyInGYk93D90j90kKyKPD5857qOv-15r4C9vfoqdKaNOqcy43ZXR-XkpL2fN4hr9uvUkvHm6dxUo5Pb-R1MnZN6KgcgsOXM_OUUT08967rsZVinagwfSHSqS8U/s640/teacomparison.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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The first good tea I tried was a green tea, so I think I'll always be a green tea lover. Teabook sent a Dragon Well in their box last month and it blew my mind. It's buttery and smooth and keeps me going through the afternoons with Flori. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3io4wdTWIqtnShO4PHJ8ZefUsUbuzXGCi7CQiOJjVK6fXWzAWikXAkdm9gkYiJKWkxddDJYy0-K700lizAVvfbOuDKDS301lwZQm3Oxh-CWanjQlI0TARuSE0fxfg9Um-CFpeKaqZCts/s1600/tableshot2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3io4wdTWIqtnShO4PHJ8ZefUsUbuzXGCi7CQiOJjVK6fXWzAWikXAkdm9gkYiJKWkxddDJYy0-K700lizAVvfbOuDKDS301lwZQm3Oxh-CWanjQlI0TARuSE0fxfg9Um-CFpeKaqZCts/s640/tableshot2.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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They also sent a beautiful glass tumbler for steeping. Gotta love the easy, on-the-go aspect!</div>
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The tea stays incredibly fresh sealed in these little packets...</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfGJz3ljs1WblKFOnHrxQwtDGfVXZHSuh-VBWHGgjdab1ENxVxKeVjiuPnWuFtWriI7OT-n46ix1PwikCTmsOB33-i6ZDiDRYwt_DARMtuVDScehGJhVfXUDW5bp_I6cqXETwzqEFROWU/s1600/teashelf.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfGJz3ljs1WblKFOnHrxQwtDGfVXZHSuh-VBWHGgjdab1ENxVxKeVjiuPnWuFtWriI7OT-n46ix1PwikCTmsOB33-i6ZDiDRYwt_DARMtuVDScehGJhVfXUDW5bp_I6cqXETwzqEFROWU/s640/teashelf.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">This post is created in partnership with Teabook. So grateful for the chance to work with such an inspiring company! Thanks for spreading our world with good tea :)</span></i></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5341088694455159633.post-59884231727831871352015-08-27T17:16:00.005-05:002022-11-16T14:28:09.439-06:00The Lob<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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With the move to Atlanta I've had to search for a new stylist. I adored <a href="http://www.happysalonaustin.com/">my salon</a> in Austin and always was overjoyed with my haircuts there. It takes a good omen to find the right person to cut your hair, so when you do you hold on for life, right? Unless they move away, or you move away. SAD.</div>
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I've been meaning to write a post called, "On Getting a Bad Hair Cut". The first one happened for me in July. The second one happened two weeks ago. Since overcoming my immediate hair trauma, I've reached a place of positivity. And like with most unseen mishaps, there are a few good lessons to be learned in a bad hair cut. </div>
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What I've learned about getting 2 bad haircuts now:</div>
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<b>Be assertive. </b>If you are sitting in the cutting chair and you start to sense that this hair cut is going in the wrong direction, <i>say something</i>. You can say something like, "Just want to make sure we're on the same page..." The truth is you're the customer and if you're feeling insecure, the stylist probably is too. It's also good to clarify specifics about what you want before the cut begins. I've realized I leave a little too much room for interpretation and end up feeling disappointed. Being too vague is one of my biggest struggles. In life. </div>
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<b>Bring that phoooooto! </b>So I've learned that I don't have great vocabulary when it comes to hair. <i>"Like layered but not choppy. Not flippy. More whispy than full, but not too flat."</i> A photo can say a lot of things I can't.</div>
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<b>Give it a few days. </b>With both bad hair cuts, I ended up warming up to them (or getting used to them). It challenged me to get out of my box and try something new. I also learned new ways to style my hair that have helped me accept and/or mask the cut.</div>
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Along with my search to find a great stylist in Atlanta, I've also struggled to find the right hair cut for the mom me. The few qualifications were: shorter, easier, and still flattering. Which, in other words, is called The Lob (the long bob). So here is my testimony to The Lob. It's flirty, but still mature. It's flattering for most face shapes. It works for most hair types (really thin or really thick might be hard). </div>
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For a fancier look, I like to do loose messy curls and pin one side back.</div>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5341088694455159633.post-63510147377460611262015-08-24T13:52:00.001-05:002022-11-16T14:28:35.682-06:00Monday Inspiration // Natural Wipes<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Last week I watched the <a href="http://wnyt.com/article/stories/s3886778.shtml">video</a> that's gone viral about the Huggies wipes. It was the final push to get me to finally try making my own baby wipes. Ever since I saw <a href="http://vanillaandlace.blogspot.com/2015/05/make-your-own-baby-wipes-what.html">this</a> post, I've been inspired to try it out. I'm very weary of long ingredient lists, especially when it's going near my little girl. I had already purchased a large box of Huggies wipes that I kept thinking, <i>once I get through these I'll make my own. </i>But each time I'd pull them out to use, I'd have a little bit of regret. I knew how much happier I'd feel using my own gentle ingredients on her body. I'm thrilled with the result and even get a little excited each time we get to use them! They smell like sweet mint.</div>
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<b>1 Roll of paper towels (Viva brand is recommended)</b></div>
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<b>1 3/4 Cup boiled water, cooled but still warm</b></div>
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<b>1 Tbsp Coconut Oil</b></div>
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<b>1 Tbsp Witch Hazel</b></div>
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<b>1 Tbsp Castile Soap (I used Dr. Bronners Peppermint)</b></div>
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<b>3 drops Tea Tree Oil</b></div>
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<b>3 drops Lavender Oil</b></div>
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<i>Cut (with scissors or knife) roll of towels in half. Depending on container shape, you can either keep them in the roll shape or fold them accordion style-my container wasn't tall enough to keep them in the roll so I folded mine. If you keep them in the roll, just remove the cardboard roll from the center and pull your first wipe from the center to start. </i></div>
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<i>In a separate bowl, mix together all the ingredients (I used a wire whisk). Pour the liquid mixture over the paper towels in their container, drenching towels evenly. </i></div>
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<i>Put on the lid and let them soak for 10 minutes then flip them upside down to absorb extra liquid. </i></div>
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<i>*The measurements in this recipe are for one half of the roll of paper towels. So just repeat to use the second half. </i></div>
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I'm trying to think of the best way to carry around a stack of these homemade wipes in my diaper bag. I may just use a ziplock or a smaller tupperware. Any ideas?</div>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5341088694455159633.post-76712876050129624102015-07-21T10:30:00.003-05:002022-11-16T14:28:54.363-06:00Closeness<i><br /></i>
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<i>It occurred to me, this is the closest I will ever get to another human being. Right here, heart beat to heart beat. </i><br />
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When Florence was younger and tinier and lighter, I wore a Baby Bjorn. It enabled the dishwasher to get unloaded. It was a part of our first dancing experience together. I'd bounce bravely down the grocery store aisles while subtlety flaunting my hands-free baby wearing situation. But the truth is-it's always sort of hurt my shoulders. My neck feels strained after the first 10 minutes. I've loved the idea of wearing it, of carry her right on me, but I've never been fully comfortable. It always felt a bit cumbersome. So I kind of gave up carrying her around on my chest. We became custom to the stroller for our daily excursions. And I never looked back at the baby wearing route.<br />
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Until now.<br />
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She's 6 months old. She's a whole 15 pounds. I love every ounce of that joyful little body. I love holding her on my hip and feeling her legs straighten in excitement when we move to music. Her hands will flap wildly sometimes making knots of my shoulder length hair. She often reaches up with both hands to hold the corners of my mouth, we'll get still and just look at one another as if to say <i>there you are.</i><br />
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Before she was born, I had decided we'd have her sleep in her crib from the very first night onward. I wanted to establish her bedroom as a special place where mommy and baby nurse and play and then eventually, we get quiet and baby sleeps. I thought it was doing her a favor to teach her independence, to teach her how to enjoy her own space. I also knew I would be a better parent if I had my own space, and we both were sleeping. <br />
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***</div>
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I dropped Florence off at the church nursery last week. It had been many weeks since we've tried it again, the separating. I want to teach her it's okay when Momma leaves; Momma will come back. I want her to see that she can trust others and learn to enjoy their company. And so, we use nursery time once a week for practice.<br />
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At the end of the service I headed back up to the nursery for Florence. I found my way to the infant room and popped my head in. She was sitting in a saucer seat, there were residual tears under her eyes. The caretaker reassured me that Florence had been happy and content playing in her seat for the majority of the time, it was only when they picked her up to change her diaper that she lost it. She then said, "She's a very independent baby. She's happy to be left alone." My throat tightened a little. "She is, huh? Independent you say?" And suddenly I didn't want her to be the independent baby.<br />
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I started to recount all the little things I had done to promote this self sufficiency; and in a moment I wanted to take it all back. <i>I should have let her sleep next to me when she was a newborn. I should have gone in to her room when she was crying that one time. I should have worn a carrier more often. I shouldn't leave her with anyone yet, she's too young! What if I've created long-term trust issues? What have I done?</i><br />
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The thing is, as a parent, you never know if what your doing is the best thing for your baby. You glide on what you <i>hope</i> is the best thing. And often, I find myself changing my mind all the time about what is best.<br />
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So, now. I've started going in to her room more often when she cries. I hold her just to hold her.<br />
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The truth is, she's perfectly fine. I've never denied her my love or affection. I've coddled to each one of her needs. I've been there, always. And frankly, she's just an independent kid. She naturally sings to herself alone in her crib when she wakes up. She calmly plays in her discovering world. I've never forced independence upon her. She is as content as any other baby, she just lasts a little longer without needing my entertainment. After all, that was me as a kid too.<br />
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This past week we've been borrowing an ergo carrier from a friend. Trying it out before buying one. And every single time we've worn it, Florence falls fast asleep. She bobs around excitedly for the first 20 mins until gradually her movements slow down, her hands drape heavily from her little loose arms that dangle at my sides. And she sleeps. It's the sweetest thing. It made me realize how much she still craves Momma's closeness. And I'm desperate to give it to her. </div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5341088694455159633.post-67496611455380948312015-07-13T14:33:00.000-05:002015-08-27T17:21:41.085-05:00MONDAY INSPIRATION // Head Wraps<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXw_rWDsBgJ8bqoXDKVOub5mUVeDhTMxMJxlpC4PNWSkKf5QFp64pVGUnVOY9bZ3bY1491ceiSiUE_b8YifYS_v5fvToCiTmSJHoUk28ybRGYTiZez5KsVFl_eWlEruZt7lAMRvlb5YIA/s1600/IMG_2138.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXw_rWDsBgJ8bqoXDKVOub5mUVeDhTMxMJxlpC4PNWSkKf5QFp64pVGUnVOY9bZ3bY1491ceiSiUE_b8YifYS_v5fvToCiTmSJHoUk28ybRGYTiZez5KsVFl_eWlEruZt7lAMRvlb5YIA/s400/IMG_2138.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Grecian Two Twist</td></tr>
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Lately, it's been SO hot. Like unbearably sticky and stale. I'm in survival mode here and rushing to pull any amount of hair up and away from my neck and shoulders. But, I'm so bored with the pony tail. The top knot has run it's course (for now). So my new inspiration is head wraps.</div>
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Since we moved to Atlanta, I've been in awe of all the cool stylish women walking around with their hair wrapped up into artistic bundles. I'd pass them thinking to myself, <i>if only</i>. If only I had the hair or the scarf or the training-I'd wear one of those. </div>
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Well I got smart and I youtubed it. And, most of the wraps are surprisingly simple to do. And, they're a pretty cute look, even on this white girl. And best of all, they're keeping my hair where it needs to be: UP. </div>
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Here's my favorite tutorial on <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FbGOK-0POAE">15 different ways</a> to wear a head wrap. Above, I'm sporting the Grecian Two Twist. For best results use a thin, fairly long scarf so you can get a good tight wrap. Have fun and enjoy!</div>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5341088694455159633.post-82672274684067128972015-07-07T14:15:00.001-05:002022-11-16T14:29:30.436-06:00We Love These Wooden Toys // Soopsori<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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In this last month, playtime has become so fun. Florence's tactile skills have just accelerated opening up a whole new world of toys. I've always loved the idea of wooden toys, their refreshing organic feel appeals over the mass of overly loaded bright plastic ones. Regardless of my stylish preferences, it's usually the tacky ones that get the most use. Florence's recent favorite is the plastic bag of diaper wipes. Lovely. </div>
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However, we've totally won with these super pretty blocks from <a href="http://www.soopsori.sg/">Soopsori</a>. <i>They're bomb</i>. I'll set her on the floor with these and she practically attacks. My favorite game is, of course, to stack them and then let her knock them down. Her favorite game is, of course, to try to fit the biggest one in her mouth.</div>
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We were gifted our set (which is a mini version of this <a href="http://www.soopsori.sg/eco-friendly-wooden-toys/37-wooden-blocks-66pwith-wooden-box.html">one</a>) by my friend who saw me oogling over it in a the coolest little gift shop in Austin, <a href="http://takeheartshop.com/">Take Heart</a>. I do admit, they're not the cheapest toys, they're more of an investment toy. They'll definitely be handed down through the years. Made to last!</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5341088694455159633.post-64783166523587669792015-06-23T14:18:00.003-05:002022-11-16T14:29:40.487-06:005 Months<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: right;">Photos taken by <a href="https://instagram.com/sihamhamdan/">Siham Hamdan</a></td></tr>
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Wow. I get so emotional looking at these pictures. I've looked at them seriously too many times. There is no other way to capture the pure joy and gratefulness we hold for our little girl. She's five months now, going on six, and I'm starting to feel the wheels of time speed up. I'm not going to get all sappy about it though, because the constant change and growth, the new sprouts of hair and first bulge of a white tooth, it's all the beautiful parts of raising your child. The fact that we can't bask in the glorious stages as long as we want to makes us appreciate them so much. The events may reel by faster than we want but the pace also keeps us surviving the sleepless nights and the screaming car rides. Amen for the baby years!<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5341088694455159633.post-2541755435378144012015-06-08T22:01:00.002-05:002022-11-16T14:29:57.778-06:00How a Baby Changes Your Relationship<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0hM35cu1V1_7kKNe6tr8ul4Tlz5rfRyPMyl0yS5AnrZLNaYnfFYgq6kko6ZakDDEbTLNXIYXIZxec7qecMaFFS6_fMCgtV5tyvelga7_jLiESymZ2KmFKgeQViiF8qXiE0EQBLT1qGoE/s1600/IMG_0368.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0hM35cu1V1_7kKNe6tr8ul4Tlz5rfRyPMyl0yS5AnrZLNaYnfFYgq6kko6ZakDDEbTLNXIYXIZxec7qecMaFFS6_fMCgtV5tyvelga7_jLiESymZ2KmFKgeQViiF8qXiE0EQBLT1qGoE/s640/IMG_0368.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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We make ourselves stretch tired arms through the blankets to get closer even if it's just for a "good night". We go on walks, take turns pushing the stroller, we laugh and listen to our small girl babble in the straps below. Dinners are gathered around the coffee table, legs crossed on the floor, Florence bouncing in her jumper next to us. Bath time now replaces happy hour beers and long evenings without bedtimes. Groceries have become our weekly outing. Our living room hears a lot less indie rock and a lot more "wheels on the bus". </div>
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This is the way life looks with three. We've found more joy than we ever prepared for. We've become simple in ways that a parent must. We've dared to keep making our days inspiring. We can testify that babies change things. Here's how we keep finding each other through the change. </div>
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"I made you mashed potatoes, they're in the fridge". This is kind of how our love looks these days. I think a baby simplifies your love for each other. At the end of a long day, the love you need is a back rub or a spare 30 minutes for a shower and combed hair. <b>Simple acts of love become the ebb and flow of everyday relationship.</b> I think it's a beautiful part about having a baby, there are constantly opportunities to serve your partner. "Babe, will you bring me a glass of water", is something I would never would have asked for from Alex before, I would have gotten up to get it myself. Parenthood is very humbling. What you realize very quickly is, <i>I can't do this alone</i>.</div>
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<b>Not much else matters.</b> Babies have this amazing ability to turn everything upside down with the snap of their fingers. I have days when I get caught up in my thoughts and I put pressure on myself to <i>start this </i>and <i>do that</i> and then she calls. A small yelp is all it takes to get me across the room, swooping her up, smelling her wrinkly neck rolls. It's amazing how everything else stops so suddenly, and there we are mom and baby rocking back and forth in our our breast feeding world. I have a friend who told me that every time her boyfriend and her get in to a fight, one of them will pull up a picture of Florence on their phone and raise it up in the other's face, kills an argument in a heartbeat. There's something about that innocent set of eyelashes blinking up at you that melts away the useless, pointless energy in our lives. Babies remind us what's actually important. </div>
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Entering into parenthood is kind of like the first trip you take with your serious boyfriend/girlfriend. Everyone tells you, <i>it'll either make you or break you</i>. <b>And it does break you, except in parenting, there's not such an easy way out-so you lean into each other, harder. </b>And that's how it <i>makes you</i>. Because every single decision now is for the family. When you say something you wish you wouldn't have, you're so much quicker to apologize. You're faster to admit you might be hard to love somedays. You make more of an effort to be kind and generous. There is something about keeping the family harmonious. It's so much different than a relationship with two adults-that third dynamic drives everything towards good. </div>
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I felt that this post would be enriched by a couple other parent's perspectives. I've asked two other new moms to tell us a little about how a baby has changed things for them. Here's what they had to say.</div>
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<span class="im" style="color: blue; font-family: inherit;"><i><b>How has your time with your guy changed since baby came?</b></i></span></h3>
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<span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><u>Emilie</u>:</i> <i>The first thing that came to mind is intimate time. When there is a moment that we are both free and the baby is sleeping, usually one or both of us wants to sleep too. There is a lot less down time. Every moment needs to be used efficiently. I don't even like to watch Netflix unless I am nursing or folding laundry, etc. </i></span><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">I feel like I am nursing during most meals, so Chris puts a lot of them together, and brings food to me while I drape a napkin over the baby. This relates to the next question, but I did not realize how much I miss having a meal that I can just concentrate on eating, or rather, not need to concentrate on anything at all!</span></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><i><u>Hannah</u>: </i><i>Honestly, Scott and I have always
been pretty low-key. Our evenings before M usually involved eating dinner
together and then winding down with a TV show on Netflix - we still do that
now, but M is with us. Our social life with friends is still something we
pursue, definitely, but it depends on if I'm in the mood to nurse in public and
deal with trying to get M to go to sleep in a loud bar/restaurant. We tag-team
these efforts so that we still maintain a good relationship with our friends,
but it's certainly more work.</i></span><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: inherit;"><u>Emilie</u>: We definitely want to hold on to going out with friends (who don't have babies). Since she is little we have brought her to some parties, and our friends pass her around, but as she gets more of a schedule, it is becoming clear that we will not be able to have as many late nights with friends. Soon we will have to get a babysitter if we both want to attend an evening social activity.</span></i></div>
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<i style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><u>Hannah</u>: <span style="color: #1a1a1a;">Hmmm…. personally, my get-things-done
attitude. I have ALWAYS been a busy-body (the type of person that has to have
something to do even while watching a movie) and that has </span><span style="color: #1a1a1a;">certainly</span><span style="color: #1a1a1a;"> had
to change since M came along purely for my sanity. I basically can't make a
to-do list for the day, even if I REALLY want to, because inevitably things
WON'T get done and then I end up feeling very frustrated and overwhelmed. </span></span></i><span style="color: #999999;"><i style="font-family: inherit;">Relationship-wise, I
suppose having the freedom to be intimate whenever we wanted is gone. M has to
be asleep otherwise I am too distracted with worrying about her to enjoy
intimacy.</i><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></span></div>
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<i style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><u>Emilie</u>: Our relationship with our parents has deepened significantly. We understand them better, and to an extent, they understand us better, because we so acutely share the emotions of parenthood. </span></i><i><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">I have come to respect motherhood as a lifestyle, my body in it's capacity to nurture life, and as </span><span style="color: #222222;">grandiose</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"> as it sounds, a deeper respect for all living things. My baby's life is so precious to me that I value the lives of others much more deeply. </span></i></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"><i><u>Hannah</u>: </i><span style="color: #1a1a1a;"><i>For me, learning to slow down. She
has forced me to abandon my to-do lists daily. Some days we literally spend the
whole day snuggling on the couch because she is just having a rough day and I
am slowly learning to soak that up instead of be frustrated by it. </i></span></span><i style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #999999;">For us, I feel that we have a renewed
sense of working together to achieve a common goal. Not to say we don't lose
our patience with each other, but for the most part, we tag-team to take care
of M and that has been really positive for our relationship. I am learning that
he respects me in this roll as "mom" and I love watching him be a
dad.</span></i><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><u>Emilie</u>:</i> <i>Sleep, body self-consciousness, make up as a form of cover-up, pottery and breakables at floor level, attempts to create a sophisticated home decor. </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><u>Hannah</u>: </i><span style="color: #1a1a1a;"><i>In my life, my need for alone time
has had to be put on the back-burner, which has been exhausting. As a true
introvert, I need space and being her life source has not allowed for that much
at all. I do find myself getting more easily flustered at the end of the day
and at the end of the week - I think purely because I haven't had time to
myself. </i></span></span><i style="color: #1a1a1a;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">For Scott and I, intimacy has been
the hardest adjustment. It took me WAY longer than 6 weeks to heal - I didn't
start feeling even okay until about 10 weeks and then I didn't feel
good enough to even enjoy sex until probably 12 weeks. We have had to change
our sex life some, as noted above, as well as be more communicative about what
feels good for me as that has changed too. We are working through it, though,
and will probably be better lovers in the end for it.</span></i><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: inherit;"><u>Emilie</u>: We work together. She has consumed our attentions, and share a love for her that is unique between the two of us. </span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #1a1a1a;"><u>Hannah</u>: </span><span style="color: #1a1a1a;">Again, a sense of shared purpose has
been strengthened. When Scott gets home from work, he takes M off my hands so
that I can do something to unwind, like cook dinner or tidy the house (I know,
strange, but those things really do help me relax). We find ourselves talking
about what we want her to experience, as well as things we can't wait to do as
a family. It's fun to work together on this parenting thing ;) I feel like we
both, out of necessity, have had to learn how to be more patient with each
other and with M. I find that we both try to pause before we react in an effort
to keep things calm and be less reactionary.</span></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: inherit;"><u>Emilie</u>: We had our first fight in which I raised my voice and became accusatory. I was surprised that it was rooted in my deep protectiveness of our daughter. Though Chris would do anything for me, and anything to improve my life as the mother of his child, I felt that he was not acting as though he would do anything for the child, who had suddenly become more important to me than my own life. </span></i><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">For example, I feel as though everyone who has come to visit and help us, and Chris too, have taken care of Linnea so I could sleep. But I felt like they were doing so at the expense of her comfort. I would much rather have woken earlier to prevent her from being hungry for any longer than needed, but I felt like people were trying to 'protect me' from tiredness in a way that I did not want to be protected. </span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: inherit;"><u>Hannah</u>: <span style="color: #1a1a1a;">Other than our sex life, we have
basically switched rolls professionally and that has been challenging for me.
Scott was a student for the past 4 years and I was the one bringing home the
money. I never imagined that those rolls switching would be so hard for me</span><span style="color: #1a1a1a;">. </span><span style="color: #1a1a1a;">It
hasn't been difficult for him, I suppose. He always wished he could be the one
working instead of me, so he is really enjoying this new phase of his
professional life. However, it has been so challenging for me to accept my new
roll as a mom. I find that sometimes I am resentful and even jealous of Scott being
able to pursue his professional career, but when I think about going back to
work I know that I would rather be here raising M - it's tough, haha. I guess
the challenge for Scott on that front has been figuring out how to support me
in this new roll, making sure I feel appreciated and needed and purposeful.</span></span></i><br />
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</span>
<br />
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<span class="im"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<span class="im">
</span>
<br />
<div>
<h3>
<span class="im">
<b><i><span style="color: blue; font-family: inherit;">What has helped you both get through those hard/stressed days?</span></i></b></span></h3>
</div>
<span class="im">
</span>
<br />
<div style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
</div>
<div style="color: #222222;">
<i><span style="font-family: inherit;"><u>Emilie</u>: We discovered that after a day that I am home alone with Linnea, I need time that Chris holds her and I do something, like the dishes, or grocery shopping, to re-charge and to feel like an effective individual. </span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></i>
<i><span style="font-family: inherit;"><u>Hannah</u>: <span style="color: #1a1a1a;">Tag-teaming. That and doing something
together either after M has gone to sleep or on the weekends doing something as
a family. When I think about our most stressed moments as parents, usually when
M is screaming or won't go to sleep, we take short "shifts" in
getting her to calm down. And I mean SHORT shifts - when she's at her worst we
take 5-10 minute shifts trying to get her to calm down. Usually it doesn't take
more than 30 min to an hour to get her calm again, so while one of us is
dealing with her, the other is taking deep breaths and unwinding. When we
finally get her calm, we try to do something together whether that be watching a
show on Netflix or sitting on the couch together while we each read something
of interest to ourselves. Sundays are a nice day for us to do something as a
family during the day, like go for a walk around our neighborhood or grab
brunch somewhere new.</span></span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #1a1a1a;"><br /></span></span></i></div>
<div>
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<h3>
<b><i><span style="color: blue; font-family: inherit;">What has surprised you about your spouse as a parent?</span></i></b></h3>
</div>
<div>
<b><i><span style="color: blue; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></i></b></div>
<div style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
</div>
<div style="color: #222222;">
<i><span style="font-family: inherit;"><u>Emilie</u>: Just how much he loves her. He makes up songs, and does crazy things to make her smile. She has become his muse.</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></i>
<i><span style="font-family: inherit;"><u>Hannah</u>: <span style="color: #1a1a1a;">Scott has always been a sensitive,
compassionate man. Watching him embrace that all the more with M has been such
a joy to witness. He also lets his silly side show more, which is fun :) He is
always telling M how beautiful and smart she is - I love seeing how he is
already starting to build a trusting and encouraging relationship with her.</span></span></i><br />
<div style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">
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<span class="im">
</span>
<br />
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<h3>
<span class="im">
<b><i><span style="color: blue; font-family: inherit;">Has your love/trust changed for your spouse?</span></i></b></span></h3>
</div>
<span class="im">
</span>
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<div style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
</div>
<div style="color: #222222;">
<i><span style="font-family: inherit;"><u>Emilie</u>: I am more confident in his love. </span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></i>
<i><span style="font-family: inherit;"><u>Hannah</u>: <span style="color: #1a1a1a;">I know now more than ever how much he
respects me as a woman. When I was working, I didn't necessarily need him to
tell me that he respected me - I felt respected and needed at work. However,
when I became a mom my self-confidence and sense of purpose (and honestly my
pride) took a surprising dip. After being honest with Scott about this he told
me how much he respects me and appreciates my roll as a mom. He makes sure to
tell me that often, especially after a hard day. That, in turn, translates to
me loving and trusting him more :)</span></span></i><br />
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<h3>
<i><b><span style="color: blue; font-family: inherit;">After a long day, what is the best thing your partner can do for you? </span></b></i></h3>
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<div>
<i><b><span style="color: blue; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></b></i></div>
<div style="color: #222222;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><u>Emilie</u>: Easy-- hold the baby, and if need be, get her to fall asleep. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><u>Hannah</u>: <span style="color: #1a1a1a;">Take M off my hands. Starting at about 4:00 in the
afternoon, I am just </span><span style="color: #1a1a1a;">done.</span><span style="color: #1a1a1a;"> Done with dealing with her crying, done
with changing diapers, done with being covered in spit up, done with being a
walking boob. The first thing he does when he gets home is reach his arms out
and take M from me and I feel such a huge lift (literally and figuratively) off
my chest. I can feel myself take a deep breath when Scott gets home because I
know I am going to have a break. I love being M's momma and staying home has
been a good thing for me overall, but man, at the end of the day I am just </span><span style="color: #1a1a1a;">done.</span></i></span><br />
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<i><br /></i>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>***</i></div>
<i><br /></i></div>
<div>
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">Thank you so much Emilie and Hannah for sharing a glimpse of your precious lives with us! It's so reassuring to hear how </span><span style="color: #222222;">similar our needs are as mothers, and how a baby pushes the boundaries of our relationships, always making us more on the other side of it. </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"> Emilie Maierhofer lives with her husband, Chris, and daughter Linnea in Detriot, MI. Hannah Key is mom to Maxine Gean and lives with her hubby, Scott, in Houston, TX. She also runs her own amazing photography business, </span><span style="color: #222222;">read her blog <a href="http://thefreckledkeyphotography.com/blog/">here</a>!</span></div>
<div style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: Times; font-size: small;">ps. This </span><a href="http://wheremyheartresides.com/2015/05/05/when-love-is-a-relay/" style="font-family: Times;">post</a><span style="color: black; font-family: Times; font-size: small;"> about parenting and love by one of my favorite bloggers is so good. </span></div>
</div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5341088694455159633.post-84155955577069304332015-05-25T16:21:00.004-05:002022-11-16T14:30:30.173-06:00The Dream Boy List<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTSFEInWFmkfrDYVmMt5CO7CuwbLcCIDeWHf8YbUhdiibUKDS1SYkrj6bnVrAAvh5ByrPqnZUHRqQYI2zNPHs96xicVsmzQY4mOXFVni9MBQAp__sQ3kM6AqywfdyJFXbVry2Ni0dcQKM/s1600/IMG_0120_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="624" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTSFEInWFmkfrDYVmMt5CO7CuwbLcCIDeWHf8YbUhdiibUKDS1SYkrj6bnVrAAvh5ByrPqnZUHRqQYI2zNPHs96xicVsmzQY4mOXFVni9MBQAp__sQ3kM6AqywfdyJFXbVry2Ni0dcQKM/s640/IMG_0120_2.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
In high school my girlfriends and I wrote a list of the things we wanted in a man. We called it the "Dream Boy List". It's merely 10 pages were lined with elaborate qualifications for the perfect dream boy that our 16 year old hearts were holding out for. Of course, the list detailed each and every one of our absolute non-negotiables. It included important characteristics like, "wears hemp necklaces and converse shoes", "listens to Dash Board Confessional" and "is fit but not <i>too </i>fit", as well as some more minor qualities such as, "is kind to children", "isn't awkward" and "treats his mom well". It was a master list. We spent countless afternoons with our feet kicked up, hair flattened out on the bed delighting away at our curated dream boy. We had no idea what men are really like. We had no idea what love is really like.<br />
<br />
In college my list had evolved a bit. This time it wasn't typed out and stapled pages for girls to pass around at a sleep over, but I had a mental list. I had a visual outline. I'd know if it "felt" right. I had learned a few things in my dating years. Red flags are pretty easy to spot. Texts but doesn't call. RED FLAG. Only calls late at night. RED FLAG. Doesn't ask you anything about yourself. RED FLAG! Asks you to drive <i>and </i>gives you the wrong directions <i>and </i>wants you to pay for your own movie ticket. RED. FLAG. I was getting closer to cracking the man code, but I still held tight to my superficial ideals. I still wanted him to dress in retro t-shirts and have unkempt hair and like camping.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
***</div>
<br />
When I met Alex he had no hair. It was buzzed down to a dull brown stubble. He was wearing sports clothes. He had never been camping.<br />
<br />
<b>The thing I didn't know before that I know now is that it's actually the unexpected things that keep you, the things that sneak up on you when you're not looking.</b> It might have been that Detriot Tigers hat or the manly beard that first got you, but it's the Dad that donates to the boy at the door whose raising money for his baseball team that keeps you. The boyfriend who cleans the house to welcome you home that makes you collapse into him. It's the things you <i>can't </i>anticipate that you actually fall for.<br />
<br />
When people who haven't met Alex ask me what I like about him, often I find myself sputtering off silly things, but truly I think that's when you know you've got something good. The big normal stuff becomes lost next to all the tactile, intimate moments you've shared. Your view of them becomes something no longer separate, but almost a part of your own reflection, impossible to depict with any real amount of clarity.<br />
<br />
The night I gave birth to our daughter, Alex was by my side. In the months leading up to that night, I had gone through the various scenarios in my head of how <i>he </i>was going to handle this humanly chaotic, intense process of child birth. I warned him that it would be quite grotesque, that I would probably be quite frantic and moody and everything that a laboring woman should be. I knew medical things made him nervous. He nearly fainted in the hospital room while visiting after my dad's heart attack. I gave him the pre-approval to excuse himself out of the labor and delivery room if he needed to. But that night he didn't need to leave the room. He didn't get nervous or anxious or worn out. He stayed and smiled and spoke only enough to keep me remembering I could do this. <b>In my desperation, between the wails and the moans, I remember looking down at his hands around mine thinking, these were meant for loving me. </b><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
***</div>
<br />
There are things that I would put on my list now, if I was to rewrite that dream boy. My new list would include an archive of things like,<br />
Responds to me in Spanish when he's half asleep.<br />
Makes up a dorky new nickname for me on a daily basis.<br />
Will always beat me at Geography even though I have a degree in it.<br />
Will always win at Risk.<br />
Makes eggs for breakfast everyday. Everyday.<br />
Gives me history lessons about the city on our afternoon drives.<br />
Wears flip flops in the shower.<br />
<br />
These are the things I never knew I'd want. I couldn't have written them down in a list. Their value would have been unknown to me then.<br />
<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5341088694455159633.post-53328593658843981332015-04-19T19:48:00.001-05:002015-04-19T19:55:07.971-05:00Weekends that are sweet<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjtvnix__EPeQH4K5GS1FGASjn3MdRq1oeTthc3saV-yQJ0jvqYrOlrY7BF93amlWGFQJk3Fmu7qXnxmH1M9-713HywGKIBiP0q-RPvQLyAXsGZJ-H0ctBo0JwrQXkHS-0OUxUbcrLZm0/s1600/IMG_8014.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjtvnix__EPeQH4K5GS1FGASjn3MdRq1oeTthc3saV-yQJ0jvqYrOlrY7BF93amlWGFQJk3Fmu7qXnxmH1M9-713HywGKIBiP0q-RPvQLyAXsGZJ-H0ctBo0JwrQXkHS-0OUxUbcrLZm0/s1600/IMG_8014.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Mmm hmm, this was one of those weekends, full of delicious moments-a <i>real </i>nap, a family outing to the bar (are we bad parents?!), a run in the rain, an eggy breakfast on Sunday. Maybe it's just been a good combination of all things coming together, catching up. We've been in Atlanta just over a month now and maybe, just maybe, things are beginning to connect? I've also done a lot of self pruning lately. You see, I'm a recovering perfectionist (a description I stole from Brené Brown's book, Gifts of Imperfection) so it is in my nature to be always looking for areas that need a touch up. But lately, my self critique has been healthy-like in the letting go/acceptance way. The phrase I keep saying in my head, "Get on with it". </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Listening to other people helps when teaching yourself a lesson. In my case, the same lessons over and over. You see, I love writing, but usually I hate it too. Because once something is written, there it is, just sitting there with a million little evil imperfect faces just smiling back at you, like "heeeey". Then you take it the next step and share that stuff with other people (yep, this is a blogger saying it) and it takes the anxiety factor to another level. But here's what I've learned about not doing what you love just because it's not perfect, if you don't start just doing it-you never will. I love what <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2014/10/16/momastery-glennon-doyle-melton-successful-women_n_5992298.html">Glennon Doyle Melton</a> of the <a href="http://momastery.com/blog/">Momastery</a> says about this too, " <span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px;">Waiting, she explains, is doing yourself a disservice. "It's a little teeny closet where you can hide and not get to the work of your life," she says. "It's a little too safe there."</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 21px;">I can't tell you how many times I've started a blog. At least 10. At night I have a so many ideas in my head and by the time I've finished scribbling them on a post-it, I'm ready to cross every single one off again,</span><span style="line-height: 21px;"><i> </i>"you're a bad idea, you are too". Well, I want to decide to be braver. To live with the bad ideas. To let them laugh at me with their sour faces, because at least I'm working on something, which isn't nothing. <b>So, my mantra: Get on with it. </b></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 21px;">What are you stopping yourself from doing? </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; line-height: 21px;">A few other things I'm allowing myself, </span></div>
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<li><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 21px;">to wear the same thing, often (<a href="http://adage.com/article/agency-news/creative-explains-wears-uniform-work/297975/">here's why</a>)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 21px;">to eat carbs because they're delicious</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 21px;">to be fine with an under-furnished, non-artsy apartment</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 21px;">contemplate bangs, even though I just successfully grew them out (why is that always the case?!)</span></li>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Stay tuned for my upcoming post series, <i>Wild Women.</i> Interviews with everyday women who lead extraordinary ordinary lives. </span></div>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5341088694455159633.post-47029848560893184512015-04-17T10:35:00.001-05:002022-11-16T14:30:58.987-06:00On Having a Family of Girls<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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They are three of seven. <b>My mother has seven granddaughters.</b> We have no grandsons, not one boy to rustle the feathers, to chase the shrieking white-haired sisters as they scurry through the grass. It's a beautiful evolution actually, a formation of swans in a stream. From the beautiful first born, my niece, Adelyn, to the newest granddaughter, my daughter, Florence, we've welcomed each little face as it emerges with it's own kind of grace and beauty. Nodding in amazement as the "sisters" of our family appear, one after another. Adelyn, Sierra, Lauren, Emily, Yahwen, Julie, Florence. </div>
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I wanted to surprise my grandmother when I found out I was pregnant. I flew to Minnesota and waited for her champagne Buick to greet me at the airport curb. I waited until we were out of the car before telling her I had news and she should sit down for it. I handed her our first ultrasound picture, the black and white marbled baby that would be her newest grandchild. She looked up at me through wet eyes and said, "Do you think it will be a boy?!". I did. I thought it would be a boy.</div>
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When Alex and I found out we were having a girl, I was a mess. I hadn't imagined what a daughter would be like. I was thinking trains and planes and dirt bikes. I was thinking he'd be a little Alex. I hadn't seriously considered my chances of having my own daughter, an almost sacred thought. </div>
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My great-grandmother ate butterscotch candies. She was the last living family member to speak fluent Norwegian. Her refrigerator was a mosaic of pictures, layers of Kodak faces, her grandchildren and great grandchildren, almost all of them girls. I believe she is the beginning of all this. The Lake Itasca. I remember studying the blue veins on her under-circulating hands, looking back they look more like a map of tributaries; she had the next generation of little women flowing on the backs of her hands. </div>
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I can't imagine holding any other little person, now. Florence is my girl. She was always coming. Last week at church we dropped Florence off at the nursery. I received a text about 15 minutes into the service, "Mom, can you come for Florence?". On the walk over to the nursery, I'm trying to consider the possible scenarios. Is she screaming? Is she hurt? Will she recognize me right away? When I get to the door I see one of the caretakers swaying around with Florence in her arms. She's crying a rather subdued cry, but it's insistent. I'm surprised that the lady doesn't hand her over to me right away, instead, she asks how to make Florence feel comforted. "Ah-umm", I stutter. I've never had to explain it in words, I've already forgotten my learning process. Now, my hands swaddled without thought, rocking is almost a habit. "I think she likes this", I say holding her upright against my chest. I bounce with my knees. But part of me knows it's not just the right hold or the bounce that calms her down. </div>
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As I go into her room to pull her awake from her nap, I peel back the blanket that has loosened and wiggled up around her warm cheeks. <b>I stand over her for a moment remembering what a fellow mom told me once, that every mother needs a daughter.</b> I smile. My daughter is number seven. </div>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5341088694455159633.post-77084573963145981852015-04-08T21:19:00.004-05:002022-11-16T14:32:38.057-06:00Atlanta, a first glance<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim8FlEnXOV4_vtH7UAal43nYdlDiBmlDBcjcOFf0ZNQD1SHU6vyyXeysnn7Rl9SngVcRXqL6Dss0JQVpKsbJtd4agnNwvEWMfn47VzpQee-ncF_Kqy6-sZfC4mqHQfv4DMglXqsjX1A8E/s1600/IMG_7919.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim8FlEnXOV4_vtH7UAal43nYdlDiBmlDBcjcOFf0ZNQD1SHU6vyyXeysnn7Rl9SngVcRXqL6Dss0JQVpKsbJtd4agnNwvEWMfn47VzpQee-ncF_Kqy6-sZfC4mqHQfv4DMglXqsjX1A8E/s1600/IMG_7919.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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I remember standing over the kitchen sink, looking across the counter at Alex, the both of us letting the fullness of our recent decision to move to Atlanta sink in. "Only two years", we both said nodding, agreeing our move away from our beloved city (Austin, TX) would be short-term. We packed up our 2 bedroom apartment in one week and watched it all be sloughed away into the backend of a moving truck. We boarded a one-way flight with toothbrushes and an air mattress, and 2 hours later we started life in Atlanta. </div>
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<b>It's pretty strange how abruptly life changes shape. </b></div>
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The first thing I fell in love with in Atlanta was the flowers. This one specifically, the yellow lantern magnolia. We have a pussy willow tree outside our balcony, it started blooming the day we moved in. It's a blessing we moved in March, in the spring. Who isn't motivated by the grass greening up and the birds singing again? Actually, the birds can quiet down a little on Saturday mornings, please.</div>
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One of our favorite spots is the belt line, a wonderful paved trail system circling the heart of the city. Once a railroad, the belt line is now a heavily used walking/biking trail that is revitalizing saddened areas of the city, the whole idea was <a href="http://beltline.org/progress/progress/project-history/">one grad student's thesis</a>! </div>
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The beer is tasting good. Something we've enjoyed about being in a new place is learning about the local microbreweries and ordering something new every time we go out. I'm limited to one pint since I'm breastfeeding, I milk that one beer like honey. We've liked what we've tried from <a href="http://sweetwaterbrew.com/">Sweet Water</a>. *Edit, we're both limited to one beer now, Alex has decided he's going to get that washboard stomach he's always wanted. </div>
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We live three blocks from downtown and although it doesn't share the warm buzz of Austin's downtown, there are some fun attractions. We're saving up for tickets to the <a href="http://www.georgiaaquarium.org/">Aquarium</a>, which is supposed to be pretty extravagant. </div>
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Amidst all the new surroundings, there's home. All my favorite moments are here. Mornings with Florence under the covers. Bath times in our sunny little tub. Humid afternoons with national geographic and microwave popcorn. And coffee table dinners (we haven't bought dining chairs yet). We're still in the first phase, but things are starting to feel right. I'm soon to do a little apartment tour, a glance into life as a stay-at-home mom, and how to make do with the furnishings you have. </div>
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