An End to a Beginning

I'm not going to tell you that being a parent is hard because you already know that, if you are one.

We get up at 3 a.m. and wipe our kids spitup and drool and butts constantly.

Despite the horror of the first month of parenthood there are lots of pluses to welcoming a newborn, not just their cuteness and sweetness.

This week marks the official end of breastfeeding for me. And while it is a relief, it's also very sad. Nursing was my time to bond with Levi - to get up in the middle of the night and snuggle with him in my favorite blanket while I watched reruns of "The Hills" and "Lost" as he fell back asleep.

While I most of the time nursed with one eye open and a scowl on my face from being sleep deprived, I would look back the next day with warmth and gladness that I was, at the time, able to give that special gift to him.

Going back to work made it more and more difficult to keep it up, I admit. And when he started sleeping through the night and required less feedings, I selfishly did not want to get up every three hours and pump. So, invetiably, over the weeks and months my supply dwindled.

I often felt guilty, and still do, for not keeping up with it better. And I do think that if I was a stay at home mom I would have done it much longer.

For me, ending nursing means the end of a special bond. One that I cannot ever get back with Levi, or recreate. And while I found it quite miserable at moments to be out in public leaking all over the place, knowing that he needed me for for nourishment made me feel special.

I also feel like my role as sole supplier and filterer to Levi, has ended. He depended on me while he was growing inside me, and still he was connected to me once he was born, getting his fill from me, and most of the time, only me. This commitment, including pregnancy, has made it over a year long, and it does feel good to be "normal" again.

It is indeed bittersweet.

There is a feeling of freedom with letting this go. A liberty to eat what I want, when I want, and have as much caffeine as I want. Not to mention a glass of wine in the evening without feeling guilty.

He is a fast-growing boy now with no more newborn qualities. He is fiercely fidgety with a quick, erupting desire to crawl. I see him becoming a character more and more every day, purging his nursling ways.

I miss those days so much.

But I'm also excited to chase him around the house one day soon - to see the next chapter of him. To read him books and tickle him til' he laughs so hard it hurts.

A Birthday of Dreams

This past weekend I celebrated my 29th birthday with my family, including our nearly five month old son, Levi.

I have wanted a child since as long as I can remember.

And last year on my 28th birthday the miracle I dreamed was living inside me. This year, I got to celebrate it, for the first time, as a mother with him.

It is such a blessing to be able to share Levi with my family and to give Isaac, and them, the blessing of his life. It is so much fuller, so much brighter, so much better with him in it. And I'm always excited to see what God will bring us next.

Here are few pictures of our time together.

We had dinner at Tony's on Sunday night.

I love Mom.

And then we went back to mom and pop's for cake and presents.

And in typical Weaver fashion I got a 75th birthday card.

On Monday, we went to Middleburg for some shopping and strolling.

And Levi got his first balloon.

And then someone got tuckered out on the way home.

My last year of 20s. Depressing... 

A dissapointing haircut doesn't mean a disappointing experience.

I got my haircut today at Fair Oaks Mall at a place called "Regis." Have you ever been there? I hadn't. I don't really spend a lot of money on hair cuts, or my hair period. But Isaac encouraged me to treat myself since it's my birthday tomorrow, so I did.


I gotta say, it's kind of well worth it.


My sisters always spend money on their hair, but I can't justify it. I don't think that any specialy salon will give a look better than Hair Cuttery or Great Clips. And I can buy a perfectly good box of Loreal dye at home and do it myself.


When I went to Regis, though, it sort of turned my image of that around and reminded me again of how much I love fashion and styling.


It was really cramped in there, with stylists roaming everywhere. The girl at the front desk had a bit of an attitude when I walked up, but since there was no line and no wait, I decided she was nice.

She had blonde highlights and makeup that looked as if it was tattoed on - it was cakey and bright and not believable. But she had a cute figure and I could tell she wanted to be high quality.


There were two older ladies who wore clothes like older ladies do, with patterns of cheetah prints on their shirts and shiny silver and gold belts. Their glasses with dark frames and stretch pants so tight you could see their underward lines.


Another guy, who I didn't realize was such until he turned around (and I'm still not quite sure, to be honest), was giving another guy a buzz cut in the back corner. He resembled Michael Jackson with his black hairdo and had tattos everywhere. He was clearly eccentric.

And my guy, the one doing my hair, was Asian. Short. With his shirt unbottoned in the front and a green necklace hanging down in between the V. He was so nice.

I felt pretty relaxed sitting there having someone else treat me. I closed my eyes while he blow-dried my hair, opening them from time to time to check on the progress and glance at the "Allure" magazine in my lap.

Isaac had taken Leaves off to one of those areas in the middle of the mall where they have plastic cars and trains that kids can climb all over. I can't believe that one day he'll be climbing them too!

Back to the Salon.

As I looked around at the various people doing hair and noted their passion, and listened to the runway-like music going, I got a small dose of what it must be like in the real deal - the real runway. Models being primped and prepped and trying on different outfits and heels and wearing all shades of lipstick with diverse characters dressing them.

Fashion excites me. Hair excites me. Style excites me. I love wearing lipstick and earrings, accessories, and clothes that are jagged. And today in that salon, I was reminded that it really is something important to me in my life. Not in a consuming way, but a way that helps women, helps me, feel better about myself.

Who knows, perhaps I am in the wrong industry!

The funny thing about this whole thing is that I really didn't care for my hair cut, lol. Not because Rency did a bad job or that he didn't do what I asked. I just don't think I like it very much. Though it's healthier, I feel like too much was cut off and that I look frumpy. I hate short hair!

I know it'll grow soon enough, but the waiting is rough.

Off to Middleburg with my men tomorrow - cross your fingers that the snow melts!

Continuing to cut expenses...

As a follow-up to a previous post, Isaac and I have decided to cut more expenses.

As I mentioned before, we got rid of our gym memberships. Let's face it, there is no time to go to a gym anymore! But NO. Seriously. I think even if we did have time, we probably would cut the expense anyway. There is plenty I find that can be done at home and outside that doesn't require a gym.

We also had gotten rid of cable the last time I talked to you. It has been about three months strong now with Internet and Hulu alone. We absolutely love it. I don't even realize that real TV is available to society at this point.

Another plus side I find with not having cable is that because setting up my laptop to connect with the TV (if I want to watch on the big screen) is so much work when I'm busy with Levi in the evenings --

having to FIND the laptop, plugging it in, connecting the modem cord to the laptop, connecting the speaker cord to the laptop, and so on...

-- I don't even bother to have anything on. And if I do, I just turn on reruns of "Friends" from tbs.

So in a nutshell, there are nights when I don't even have the TV on at all, except for after he's asleep and I settle down to watch one of my shows.

And not that I think introducing kids to TV is bad, but I might have a feeling or two about getting them hooked on it so early on that they don't remember how to play independently. But who knows, my whole thinking on that might change in the future when he is bored and antsy and I have nine million things to do that don't require entertaining a toddler for three hours!

We also ended Netflix. We really don't have much time to watch movies, either. I can think of several nights when Levi has gone down to bed on a weekend night and our alone-time was upon us, and I fell asleep an hour in. :(

There are so many shows on Hulu that I am still behind on as it is!! Although I will be renting The Twilight Saga: Breaking Dawn Part 1. Nerd much?

The newest addtion to our pile of cut expenses is the Dodge Charger. It was a sad day for Isaac, but I think his happiness of being debt free from that outweighs the sadness. It was a HUGE relief off our shoulders.

One step closer to our goal...

He is now driving around a 99 Accord - stick shift - with one of those purchased CD players you can buy at Best Buy. Talk about a downgrade. Back to being a weiner at the station, lol.

But there is so much freedom in not owing anything.

Yeah, I have to watch my shows a day later, I have to go to Redbox to get a movie, and I can't turn on Fox News for background noise with the push of a button, but I really don't care. I like it. And I like knowing that we have these choices to make if we want to.

Country music is where my heart is right now.

I started watching Lost, but I decided to write first instead. It’s one of the times where I have something about to roll off the tip of my tongue and if I don’t get it down, I’ll lose it.

I rarely get to watch Lost anymore. By the time I get to sit down in the evenings I’m so pooped that all I want to do is sleep.

I have a lot of time in the car by myself during the week. At least a half hour to and from work every day, which amounts to five hours a week. I do a lot of stuff in there. Sing, praise, pray, talk on the phone, listen to my favorite songs over and over and over again. But one thing I do love to do is listen to country music.

I enjoy Christian music too, but I have to be honest and say that from time to time it gets a little old. I mean so do all stations, but there’s something about the Christian station that does bother me after listening to it day in and day out. The people almost seem too peppy sometimes like they are living in a fantasy world where flowers constantly bloom and people frolic in meadows. They’re voices are almost too peppy! Can I say that? It is good to some extent, I know – to have that spirit over your head all day long.

But let’s face it. It is not all flowers and meadows is it? Some days I just get darn mad at the driver who is riding my tail or the person who uses the turn lane to go straight. Hello??

And instead of hearing another DJ on WPER recite an “encouraging word of the day,” I just want to belt out a good old meaningless song!

And that is where I turn my dial and treat myself to a little country music.

I never was a country-lover growing up. Couldn’t get into it – songs, ranch-style living, movies, nothing. I loved (and still do) the city – the idea of a New York life living and working in hustle and bustle hearing the sound of my stilettos clacking on pavement with my starbucks coffee in hand. I just love it.

My ideals and ambitions have changed a lot since then, though, and while I still adore the thought of the New York City life, I feel as though my heart has moved into the country.

 Now I dream of raising a family in open spaces and going to football games on Friday nights with a cup of hot chocolate and a pair of furry boots on my feet, my kids bundled up in jackets too big for them and muddy foyers the next day with dogs running around the house spreading dirt everywhere.

It is funny how desires change over time…

Every day, usually in my car, there is a brief moment that I stop and remember my old aspirations…

Wanting to go back and go to a college that had a cheerleading team.
Wanting to become a dancer.
Wanting to move to New York and become a famous columnist.
Wanting to earn a degree in Physical Education.

Or

Even thinking that I will never cheer in that high school football stadium again.
Never do backflips for a roaring crowd.
Never go to another state championship – never decorate another locker for the hype.
Never practice pitching in mom and pop’s backyard for my softball games on Saturdays.
Never have another sleepover where I stay up late and giggle with girlfriends.

My car is where is where I dream and where I remember.

And country music helps me do that – even if just for a moment.

It also helps me unveil the fact that I will have so many more memories just like, or somewhat like, those above with my son. And it may not be my softball game that I pitch for, but he could be the pitcher for a game in which I watch and supply the team brownies for.

The game that I invite all his friends over to watch movies in my basement for.

The group of friends that I host a sleepover for and make cinnamon rolls for in the morning.

Country music brings me alive in a different way than Christian music does – a good, pure way though. A way for me to embrace my childhood, but get also excited about the future – my family’s future.

Growing up is so hard. And it is inevitable. But I am embracing it. Embracing being a mom. Embracing family-life. Embracing change.

The Unfortunate Mishap

It was 1:00 a.m. and there I was. Curled up in a ball on the bathroom floor hoping for either the discomfort to subside, or for someone to lift me off the face of the earth so I never had to experience that feeling again. I reached for the lid, lifted it up, and surrendered my dinner.

Throw up bouncing off a car door and into the street. A face planted on the bathroom floor, a body sprawled out in agony. A bathroom sink catching glimpses of a face in misery. A teacher getting vomit for lunch. Groans and moans coming from the bedroom followed by decrepit paces down the stairs.

That was us. That was us at 1:00 a.m., 3:00 a.m., 8:00 a.m., 12:00 p.m., 6:30 p.m., and so on yesterday.

What in the world happened? We don’t know!

All we know is that we have been churning and burning and hurling and burling for the past 48 hours.

Some of us have stopped. Others just began.

Saltines, gingerale, chicken noodle soup, and Nyquil have been purchased around the Warrenton, Manassas, and Woodbridge globes as we were sights to behold.

A sister, two brother-in-laws, two nephews, two nieces, and a husband later, this treacherous beast of a bug caught a hold of all of us and has been giving our intestinal and bowel systems a workout since Tuesday morning.

I know that’s probably TMI, but I wanted to make my sisters laugh and I’ll do just about anything to make that happen.

Beware of this awful wintry animal before it comes to get you.