Day 26

     After an insane week of rehearsals and performances, "The Wizard of Oz" is over and I'm cuddled up with my boys.

Lazy Sundays are the best.

     Yes, one is in a cranky mood and covering his ears because the smoke alarm was too loud (something dripped in the oven) and the other is naked (he vomited all over himself), while I'm unshowered and sleep deprived. However, I think this may be one of my most favorite photographs of me with the boys. It's so real- this is what Sunday mornings look like and I love them!

Day 25

     It was only a matter of time before I posted a picture of breastfeeding. After all, my life pretty much revolves around feeding this kid.

  I'm beginning to think Lucas has an eye for photography.

     Nursing is something I personally feel very strongly about- even more so with Ben and his diary allergies. However, I could quite frankly care less about how anyone else feeds their baby! No judgement here if you formula feed or if you nurse well into the toddler years. Each family gets to make that choice on their own and I would never pressure or shame a mother over their decision.
     When Lucas was born, I was so uncomfortable and afraid of nursing in public. I felt like I had to hide every time I fed him- in the back of the car, in a bathroom- hidden so as not to offend others. And I was very insecure about his weight gain and whether or not he was getting enough to eat. Nursing made me crazy and I'm sure there were at least a dozen times I wanted to give up. As time passed by, I got more comfortable and learned to respond to the needs of my son. I realized I was doing everything just fine and I needed to calm the heck down.
     Now with Ben, I've reached a whole new level of comfort. I nurse where ever and whenever he needs to eat and I generally do not use a cover as Ben likes his open space. I'm so proud of how far I've come and I've learned that it really isn't as big of a deal as we make it out to be. Last week I had conversations with teenagers while nursing Ben and either they didn't realize or they didn't care. I love how I've been able to bond with and nourish my children and how I don't let that hold me back from living a "normal" life like I did in the beginning of my breastfeeding experience.

     A woman's body can do some amazing and beautiful things! Why should we hide this?

Day 24

     Most mornings I wake up and imagine I must be some sort of rock star.

     I feel like I'm constantly hungover. There's usually vomit. I may or may not be topless. My body aches. And I never know where the bruises all over my body came from.

Yes, I just posted a close up shot of my bruised thigh. 

     I wish I had attended an epic party the night before, but it's all the result of a toddler who likes to sneak into our bed, a baby who still nurses at night, and walking into various objects/furniture at 3am when woken by the crying baby. What's worse is that Ben doesn't even have teeth yet. All the photos I have of myself from the first 3 years of Lucas's life include bite marks on my neck and arms. So I have that to look forward to!

     Still, these marks indicate an active life with children and I don't need to be self conscious or explain them to anyone.

Day 23

This #tbt is one that I've thought long and hard about. It's not the picture below that I want to talk about, but what happened in the years beforehand that lead me to this place. Sharing this post is probably the hardest thing I've done thus far on this blog. I honestly don't know how some of my readers will react. Please know I am OK. 

Rich was one of those music friends who gave me a sense of belonging- he was everything to me during those formative teenage years

     I often count my blessings that I am not a teenager in this day and age. I cannot imagine what life would be like growing up with Facebook, Snapchat, Instagram and whatever other social media sites/apps exist. I barely made it through middle school and all I dealt with was playground taunting, handwritten notes and three-way phone calls.
     Around the end of 4th grade I began having issues with weight and self esteem. I can vividly recall moments during those preteen years where my appearance was ridiculed and mocked. As a ten year old I learned I had "gross blubber belly", I was "fat", "fake" and "ugly". It snowballed from there and I began to hate myself. I'd refer to some of my diary entries but I shredded all of those in my 20s. I read them while cleaning out my room one day and had to destroy the evidence that I ever felt so terribly about myself.
     As a young teenager I didn't know who I was or where I belonged. I tried to shadow the people I thought were cool and as any unpopular kid can tell you, that usually doesn't work. I wasn't finding my place in middle school and my self esteem was dropping further. I knew I was a joke. I heard it. I saw it. I felt it. It's an experience that stuck to me and won't ever leave.
     I hit rock bottom in eighth grade. I won't go into details, because quite frankly, what would that accomplish? But I will admit that I seriously contemplated ending my life. I felt worthless and couldn't see how I would ever belong. Something stopped me from taking action and I will never forget that moment, sitting at the kitchen table, when I realized I was worth the struggle and that I would find my place.
     I'm sure it's no surprise that when I entered HS, I found the place I needed to be- the choir/band room. The friends I made through my musical endeavors lifted me up without even knowing it. To you all, I simply cannot express my thanks for being there. Of course there were typical teenage-drama moments, but I knew these kids were my "family" and would be there for me. I never felt that desperation that haunted me in eighth grade once I found my place in music.
     I share this story because times are so different for kids now. Rumors once whispered on the playground are now posted on the Internet for all to see. Kids are ridiculed by acquaintances and Internet-strangers alike. My heart breaks for children who grow up where this is the norm.
One of those kids is an 11 year old named Michael Morones who was viciously bullied. Rich, my date to the junior prom pictured above, is producing a benefit concert for a foundation set up in the wake of the young man's suicide attempt. He's 11 years old and felt his only way out was to end his life. This tragedy is immense and some good must come out of this heartbreaking situation. Please visit these websites to read about the Michael Morones Foundation and the Broadway Battles Bullying Benefit Concert on April 14th. There will be many talented Broadway performers and I'll even be singing in the choir.
   
     But most importantly, treat each other well and instill kindness in your children so that no family has to endure what Michael's family is experiencing.

Michael Morones Foundation

Broadway Battles Bullying

Day 22

     A timely post has not been a top priority these past few nights. Wednesday was a perfect example of why we can't have it all. Or at least why I can't.

I just got home from the final dress rehearsal for Wizard of Oz. With Ben. And he hasn't slept in 8 hours.

   
     What am I doing? How can I give 100% of myself 100% of the time? It's just not possible.
   
     Tonight I showed 50 high school students how having a baby changes everything. I had an arsenal of supplies- a chair, two carriers, a stroller, toys, food- and none of it mattered. Ben wanted my complete attention and I couldn't give it to him. He somewhat tolerated the setup in the beginning, but by the end he was in a complete meltdown that lasted through most of the car ride home.
     The students were great and they tried to entertain him, but it became increasingly clear that I needed help with the makeup & hair as well. I delegated responsibilities to the students, which is one of the more difficult things I've done.
     I don't ask for help. Ever. So the fact that I asked teenagers to help with my son and my responsibilities as supervisor of hair and makeup really upset me. And neither went exactly as I wanted, but missions were accomplished.
     So as I looked at the clock when I pulled into my driveway, the gut reaction was to berate myself for not getting it all done tonight. My gut reaction needs to be "you seem overwhelmed, why don't you call someone and ask for assistance?" I need to be kind to myself not only in regards to physical appearance, but also life in general.

     And now I will be kind to myself and pass out!

Day 21

     When I was younger, my friends frequently commented on the roundness of cheeks. One friend in particular used to tell me I looked like a Cabbage Patch Kid. In hindsight I'm sure she meant it in the kindest way possible, but when you are an overweight kid who is already self conscious, it's hard to take any comments about your "round" appearance in a positive way.
     I think I grew into them as I got older.
   

Wait, was this post about my enormous cheeks or my enormous nose? 

     On three separate occasions in the past two days, Ben began to panic as he was falling asleep. The first time I was exhausted from feeding him, so I leaned down and put my cheek to his. Almost instantly his body relaxed, his breathing slowed and the crying stopped.
     Physical contact with his mommy's face was all my baby needed. Those chubby cheeks that embarrassed me as a kid were now comforting the chubby cheeks of my perfect little boy. Cheeks that looked just like mine.

It's amazing that the human touch can be so powerful. Maybe I am supermom after all!

Day 20

     I always thought I had "the look" down pat. When students misbehave, I just give them "the look" and they get it together. If my husband starts making fun of me or gets on my case, I just raise my eyebrows and he backs off.
     Tonight I inadvertently took a picture of myself giving "the look" toward Jim as he had a conversation with his brother. It turns out people weren't backing off because of my serious expression.
     Apparently they were shocked by my ability to age 10 years in just a few seconds.

Well at least you can't see my crow's feet. 

     Wow. I had no idea my face did this. To be fair I'm on my 4th or 5th sleepless night (I've lost count at this point) and I had done some demo makeup on my face for the play tonight and didn't wash it off very well. But no matter what, the truth is that I am getting older.
     I never thought much about my skin aging because I wear sunscreen and take care of myself. Plus, I still get occasional adult acne and old people don't get acne! I guess I'm going to have to confront this. Do I start to seriously invest in the anti-aging skin care products or do I take my lines for what they are- signs of a life well lived?
     I don't know that I can definitively answer this question, but my gut response is that my lines are beautiful because they are real and they reflect my experiences. I wouldn't be doing myself any favors by erasing the evidence of the passage of time.

This is my face. This is me. This is honest. This is beautiful.