Wednesday, March 11, 2020

What a Wonderful World

There are only two times in my life that I remember very vividly holding my mother’s hand. During both of these occasions, I was exhausted, in pain, and lying on a hospital bed. 
When I was in the fourth grade, I severely broke my left ring finger. By severe, I mean that I broke an entire actual piece of bone off my knuckle. I had to have two surgeries: one to put pins in my finger, and one to take them out. I’ve never been able to remember much about that first surgery, but I’ll always remember the second; it took place on my brithday, and my doctor had offered to play “Happy Birthday” for me, on his harmonica. Had I not been too tired that early in the morning, I might have reminded him of his offer. I opnened my eyes after the surgery to see my mom leaning over my hopsital bed. She was holding my hand and brushing my bangs aside. I remember her tearing up when she saw me awake, and leaning down to give me a hug. I remember the way she smelled most of all; she’s had the same perfume—or similar—my whole life. Each Wednesday, when she brings Louie home from their playdate, he smells just like her and suddenly, I’m taken back to those two hospital beds where I needed my mom more than I ever had. 
I don’t believe that my mom and I ever held hands again, until last year, on the night of March 15th, and into morning. 
On March 8th, 2019, Louie’s due date, I went to my doctor’s office for a check up. I had just felt my very first Braxton Hicks contraction and I was so sure that it meant my body was preparing for labor. I was endlessly excited. However, I was endlessly disappointed when my doctor told me that I was only a fingertip dilated and my cervix was hard. In the words of J.R.R. Tolkien(but not nearly so sinister), “The way is shut.” I wasn’t giving birth any time soon, I would need to be induced. He gave me a week. 
I cried alone in the bathroom behind a clsoed door every night that following week. I was so embarassed at how upset the thought of being induced made me. I wanted to do it on my own, and more than anything, I wanted my baby right now.
Ryan and I tried everything to try and induce labor, during the days following up to my induciton date; from me running up and down the stairs for twenty minutes at a time, to eating an entire pineapple in the hopes that the acid would soften my cervix. We had no such luck with any of the Old Wive’s Tales that my Google search had to offer. All I got was a mouth full of sores, and more tired than necessary. 
On March 14th, at 8pm—on the dot—I called the hospital to tell them to expect me in for an induction, just has my doctor had told me to do. By this time, I had surrendered to whatever needed to be done. Ryan and I were giddy. This was it! This was the big day! He could be born in a matter of hours! We packed our things in the car and drove across the street to the hospital. 
At exactly 9pm, I was given a pill, vaginally, and the nurse said “Good night!” Ryan settled in on the fold out bed by the window and I sat with my thoughts in the hospital bed, wondering when it would start. Nurses came and went. Hours went by. I twiddled my thumbs. I relayed my birth plan: no epidural. natural birth. No C-section. Skin to skin. Breastfeeding. And then I began to feel uncomfortable. Ryan fed me suckers and ice chips and we talked and talked. 
Eventually, the doctor came in to break my water. It had felt like a big water balloon popping inside me. And eventually, I was put on pitocin. 
Then I was in pain. 

I’ve heard women talk about pressure on their tailbones, or in their lower back, or in thier hips. I felt it everywhere. My teeth hurt. We tried to go for a walk around the halls. I tried standing at the edge of the bed. I tried siting on my knees with my face in a pillow. I was asked if I’d like a birthing ball, or if I would like to take a shower. 
Then my parent’s came to bring Ryan food. They came two times. The second time, they didn’t leave until I finally heard Louie’s cries. 
I labored naturally for thirty-two hours. 
When my parents brought dinner for Ryan on March 15th, my mom took Ryan’s place at my side. I hadn’t wanted anyone in the room beside Ryan and the necessary staff when I gave birth, but as I was nearing the height of labor, I clung desperately to my mother; her hand, her perfume, her voice. She stood by my side and soothed me with images of trees and beaches. She breathed through each contraction with me. I crushed her fingers harder and harder, each moan getting louder as the contractions intensified. 
At one point, a midwife empoyed at my doctor’s office came into my hospital room before she went home after a long shift. I was feeling massive discomfort in my ribs, and she suggested that I try to relieve the pain by emptying my bladder. She and my mom practically carried me to the bathroom, where I immediately started screaming as soon as I sat on the toilet. The midwife looked excited and said “Those sound like mommy noises!” they lifted me from the toilet and she ordered Ryan to put some music on for me. It was starting for real. I chose “Wake Up”, by Arcade Fire. Things began to happen. But as it turned out, twenty hours into labor, my body still did not want to let go of my baby. I was only at six centimeters dilated. I remember looking back at the machine that was pumpin pitocin into my system and quickly reminding myself never to look at it again. It was set at a 12. 
I was exhausted, and what little medication they could give me only made it worse. I quite literally passed out between contractions. Once medications began to wear off and I was somewhat coherant, the nurses instructed me to give little pushes every few breaths. It helped to take focus off of pain and focus instead on breathing. But it wasn’t much. 
About an hour and a half before Louie was born, a nurse realized that during labor, Louie had shifted and now had his head turned to my right. The pain of laboring on my side took me back to the hospital bed in fourth grade. I wanted my mom to take me home. I wanted her to tell them to make it stop. As a matter of fact, my dad told me that I did tell her to make it stop. I almost broke my mother’s fingers as I howled like a wounded animal. 
Then, finally, I had the irrisistable urge to push. It came on suddenly, and I knew right away what it was. “I need to push!” I screamed. I had never felt an urge quite as strong. There was a flurry of activity around me; my moms fingers in my hair as she pulled my hair back up into a ponytail, Ryan standing in the corner completely at a loss, a nurse standing before me, her face inches from mine, yelling at me in a strangely calming tone to focus on my breath, and the sound of the door slamming to keep my screams from leaving the room. I was suddenly being told to lift my feet into the stirrups. It took every bit of my concentration to do as the nurses instructed and ignore the urge to push until it was time. 
Then, he came gliding calmly into the room. It seemed to me then, that everything slowed down. Everyone was quiet. We were all holding our breath. The doctor nodded at my mom and the nurse beside me. And then I pushed. 
Between pushes, I heard my doctor say to Ryan, “She’s really good at pushing.”
“Yeah. She’s a tough one.” Ryan replied, he looked at me with so much pride in that moment. 
“She must be.” said the doctor. “She’s been in labor for 32 hours with no epidural.” 
After twenty minutes of determination, and a bit of anger, and a bit of desperation, the doctor told me “Push! Push! Push!” then suddenly… I was empty. 
There’s no other way to describe it. “He’s pink!” I hear the doctor exclaim. I looked down between my legs to see a baby in his hands. My baby. I was shocked. I looked to Ryan in shock, and saw everything I felt mirrored in his face. It was as though my body had gone numb; every bit of my focus was now on the cries that I had dreamt of for nine months. I had wanted nothing more than to hear those cries, and there they were. My mom kissed my forehead and whispered, “I’m so proud of you.” she was sobbing. I had no tears. I thought I would cry, but I was still so shocked. It had taken so long, yet it had happened so fast. 
“Do you want him on your chest?” they asked. 
I began ripping desperately at my hospital dress, my hands shaking and weak. 
Then he was there. His cries stopped and he was there on my chest. Both of us comforted and content. I remember sighing in relief. How good it felt to finally feel him there in my arms. To feel his little feet kick on the outside. To touch his tiny fingers and kiss his little head. 
My mom kissed him over and over again and as she leaned over both of us. “He looks just like you! Look how angry he is! he has your nose!"
Ryan stared in disbelief as Louie’s fingers wrapped around his right index finger. 
It was all so beautiful. 
Louie was born at 1:06 AM on March 16th, 2019. It would have been my Great Grandma Zeltha’s 100th birthday. He weighed 8lbs. and 10z., measuring 21 1/2” long. By some miraculous coincidence, Pandora had started playing Louis Armstrong right before my last big push. Louie was born to the words “what a wonderful world.” 
And it is. It really, truly is. 
Louie’s first brithday is in five days. Writing this, it feels as though it was only yesterday, as cliche as that may sound. We’ve been through so much since Louie entered our lives, and I can’t imagine how it could get any better than this, but tomorrow, I’m sure, I’ll be proved wrong as I have been day after day after day. 
.
.
.
.
My next post will be going live on March 25th, 2020. 
As of right now, blog posts will be biweekly, on Wednesdays. If you’ve been reading long enough, you’ll know that’s subject to change. I’ll be announcing the date of new posts at the end of each post, the top of the blog home page, my Instagram bio, and Instagram stories. So you can’t miss it!
.
Be sure to subscribe so that you are first to know when a new post has gone live!
*subscribing is only available as an option when you’ve selected “view web version” at the bottom of the page. 
.
Blog: @smalltown.squirrel
Art Page: @thesquirrelshollow
Personal: @sh3rlc3

Thursday, February 27, 2020

Healthy Groceries on a Healthy Budget



Let’s just start with a disclaimer: I am not a health guru. I am not a finance guru. I am not a guru. 
Actually, the idea for this post came when Ryan and I sat down to dinner two months ago and realized that we fed our baby better balanced meals than we fed ourselves. Writing this post went hand in hand with trying to figure it out myself: how do we eat healthier with our current budget? Call it a challenge, if you will. 
Having become an avid Google search bar enthusiast after Louis was born, I naturally headed to Google to gather information. In an article that I read, it was suggested that the average family of three in the U.S. should spend $550/month on groceries. Our family spends $100/week, which is just under the suggested monthly budget. When we decided to balance our diet better, we were absolutely sure that we wanted to keep to our $100 weekly budget. 
So how do you do it? We all know that to be “healthy” is expensive, right? Well, actually, that’s a myth. There are several ways to cut costs and eat better at the same time. Here’s how we do it: 
1. Meal Planning
This sounds like something that only a housewife in an apron and lots of time to spell out words like “asparagus” on a letter board should do. 
Actually, it takes me ten minutes. You can use a letterboard, or craft up a pretty menu over the weekend, or whatever you like—or it can be as easy as the notes app on your phone, which is exactly how I do it: 
How is this helpful? By planning your meals, you’ll eliminate unnecessary trips to the grocery store, but most importantly—you’ll be better able to utilize your grocery list. 
For instance, because I planned for a vegetable tray as an appetizer during our dinner party with my little sister on Friday, we will then have more than enough vegetables to use for the meals planned Saturday, Monday, and Thursday. We will also have the orange juice needed in my favorite breakfast smoothies, having already needed to buy orange juice for orange chicken. Breakfast for dinner on Sunday is a popular tradition in our family, and it’s convenient to have bacon and eggs on hand when Ryan wants to liven up his instant raman, or when I want to prep mason jar scrambled eggs to have at the ready for breakfasts all week. Let’s also note that because we are making pepperoni pizza on Tuesday, we will have the makings on hand for bagel pizzas in the air fryer. 
Meal planning not only helps you to make the most of your groceries, but also helps you to be sure to use all of your fresh produce before it wilts or goes bad. less food wasted = less money wasted! You can make a number of recipes with just a handful of well-planned ingredients.
Aside from the economic value of planning your meals, it makes for one less thing I have to worry about each night, therefore eliminating the “what do you want for dinner?” Conversation, and the scramble to find the right ingredients after searching pinterest for a recipe for far too long.(This is not shaming. This is relating. I have done this.)
2. Plant vs. Processed
Now I know this is a vegan/vegetarian slogan. I’m not either of those, but I do agree with the message. It’s far better for your gut, and for your pocket if you try to eliminate processed foods as much as possible. (it also tastes better!)
An example: 
We have pizza night every single Tuesday. (If you have followed me for a while on instagram, you know that our pizza toppings are pretty wild! You also know that I have not been documenting pizza night all winter! That’s because dinner is at 5 and the sun used to be gone long before dinner was ready(bad lighting for pictures). However, I will be sharing pizza nights in my instagram stories once more, starting next week!)
Anyway. Long parentheses. 
We have pizza night every Tuesday. A year and a half ago, we used to buy storebought, easy, processed pizza dough. It’s great! Super tasty, super easy, super simple. But you wouldn’t BELEIVE how super simple, easy, and FAST it is to make your very own pizza dough from scratch, AND—its tastes loads better, while also being much cheaper. 
Having a huge 15 pound bag of flour on hand at all times has given us plenty of opportunity to explore the world of homemade. What I think is so strange is that everyone used to make all their own food. Why did we stop? When it’s so easy? Now, I won’t knock processed, store-bought, or even freezer aisle foods because my favorite pizza of all time(besides that peach Prosciutto pizza I made last fall) is still and always going to be frozen Red Barron pizza. 
But remember—Ryan and I were trying to figure out how to enjoy the things we love in a healthy and cheap fashion. So homemade is where its at, Folks. 
Some other food items that I will never be buying ready-made at a grocery store ever again, because they are all too easy to make at home: 
  • taco seasoning: did you know that this is so so SO easy to make?? Actually, in my opinion, it’s been tastier too. 
  • orange chicken: the ingredients are super simple, the frying is a bit miserable(I’m sure there are better ways than the technique we use) but it tastes x1000 better than anything I’ve ever had frozen, or at a fast food asian restaurant(Panda Express)
  • terriyaki sauce: actually, I’ve been making this for at least four years now. I’ve tried several different recipes in those four years, but I’m never going back. 
This bolded number is also a great topic to bring up the zero waste factor: home made goods produce less waste. More often than not, you are paying for the plastic that your food is wrapped in. When it’s something as easy as making your own sauce, or quickly whipping up your own pizza dough, it doesn’t cause you, the consumer, any more hassle to just make it yourself anyway. It’s cheaper, it’s better for the environment, and it’s better for your gut. 
Personally, Ryan and I are making it our goal to find the perfect sandwich bread recipe so that we can eliminate the need to buy store-bought bread in a plastic bag, and to lower the amount of money we spend each week to keep up with the shared obsession that my son and I have with sandwiches. One of the best things about home-made food(besides the fact that it’s tasty and satisfying) is that most ingredients for things such as bread come in bulk sizes, so you won’t have to keep buying flour, or yeast, or salt, or sugar every week. There are so many foods that you can make in your own home, more than even I am aware of. Choose home-made where you are comfortable! But at least give it a try, I”m sure you’ll notice a difference in your grocery budget! 
3. Portion Sizes
This is not going to be about dieting. 
When Ryan and I realized that our baby ate a better balanced meal than we did, we also realized that we could get by on less chicken when we prepared our favorite chicken terriyaki, if we simply added some greens; thusly decreasing our demand for chicken each month, and increasing the amount of money we would have available to spend in our grocery budget for, perhaps, the cheese island. 
But aside from a balanced meal, there is the matter of leftovers; reading the serving size for any recipe is essential for this tip. My least favorite food is leftovers. I’m really not a fan of eating the same thing for lunch every single day.(note that for lunch in my menu plan, i have written “soup leftovers” guess who ate all of that? Not me. Big waste. Ryan is struggling to keep up with it all on his own.) 
This tip isn’t an easy fix; it’s more of a learn as you go. Over the four years of our marriage, I’ve learned what it takes to feed both Ryan and myself. I know that, typically, he eats more than I do. I’m a very petite woman and he’s a very broadly built man. Knowing how much will fill us up at each meal has helped to decrease the money we spend on groceries each month. Our leftovers are looking very sad these days, being able to fit in a very very small Tupperware, to be eaten later as a snack. 
Our goal, when coming up with a meal plan each week, and shopping for groceries, is to have a near empty fridge by the next shopping day. Less food is being thrown out, therefore, less money is being wasted. Try to eliminate the leftovers where you can during your week, and see how it saves money, or provides you with more healthy snacks to munch on throughout the day because you didn’t end up putting them in your chowder… that your husband is now frantically trying to eat before it goes bad. 
(Or, another option: freeze your leftovers! Eat them next week! Buy fancy cheese instead!) 
4. Rotate Your Grocery List
Let me be honest, it does get pricey. If you try to do it all in one shopping week. Which is why I am a firm believer in rotating my grocery shopping list. Fruit is better frozen for smoothies, so I have no issue with buying more fruit than necessary for one week(to freeze any leftovers), so I can buy more vegetables(to also freeze) the next week. Our grocery list is always on a rotation. I’m sure your’s is too, if you buy things like toilet paper, hand soap, hair care products, makeup, etc. SO why not do it with food too?
This is a short tip, because I’m still not an expert and I don’t know anything about the mechanics of your family. This tip, if anything, is being written as a reminder to myself to practice rotating items on our grocery list. 
My hope, by doing this, is to always be stocked up on blueberries for Louis, I always want Ryan to have broccoli to put in his instant raman, I always want fresh fruit in my smoothie to go alongside my egg burrito in the morning, and I want to have enough food in my family’s personal stores to always be able to feed anyone who comes by our home to either be comforted, entertained, or sheltered.
By rotating my grocery list in the past two months, I’ve been able to do just that. All of it. I’m still learning. In fact, I am still learning all of these tips, myself. As I said above, this post is just as much for me—if not more—as it is for my readers. 
So. How do YOU keep it under the budget, but also healthy? I’d love to know, because I’m always up for learning! Comment below! Also, keep scrolling to find the recipes for our menu this week. And, as always, be excellent to each other, to your body, and to your bank account. 
.
.
.
.
.
.
My next post will be going live on March 11th, 2020. 
As of right now, blog posts will be biweekly, on Wednesdays. If you’ve been reading long enough, you’ll know that’s subject to change. I’ll be announcing the date of new posts at the end of each post, the top of the blog home page, my Instagram bio, and Instagram stories. So you can’t miss it!
.
Be sure to subscribe so that you are first to know when a new post has gone live!
*subscribing is only available as an option in desktop mode
.
Blog: @smalltown.squirrel
Art Page: @thesquirrelshollow
Personal: @sh3rlc3

Wednesday, February 12, 2020

Five Ways to Date Yourself

Listen up: You are important. 
You shouldn’t just make it aparent to others that you are important and valid either; you should matter to you, too. 
Number one on your self care to-do list should be making yourself feel loved, and only you know how to do that best. So instead of pining for the day that your true love buys that necklace in the window, or wishing someone would show up on your doorstep with a bunch of flowers and a big box of chocolates this Valentine’s Day—Girl, you go do that for you. A good friend told me: “Dating yourself should be like dating another person” you are in a relationship with yourself; it’s one of the most important relationships you’ll ever have. 
So how is that done? Well, what do you need from you? Is it to feel like you’re that special someone? Do you need a break? Do you need something tasty to eat? Do you need to feel pretty? 
Here’s some inspiration: 
1. Take Yourself Out to Eat
There’s a great big list of things you can do alone, and eating is one of them. Eating in public seems shameful. I know that feeling: walking into a restaurant and asking for a table for one and pulling out your book to read while you wait to eat alone, as everyone stares at you and the server gives you an apologetic look like they just feel so bad that you’re alone. But it’s not. There are so many great things about going out to eat by yourself(especially if you’re an introvert like me) You don’t have to keep a conversation going, you don’t have to worry if there is food in your teeth, you don’t have to worry about bad breath at the end of the night, and you can shamelessly play on your phone all night long, completely oblivious to the rest of the world while enjoying your solo meal immensely. 
And sure, if you’re in a relationship, you might hardly find yourself in this situation. However, if you do, I highly reccomend it; it’s the most peaceful restaurant meal you’ll ever experience. 
If you’re currently single, just do it. You do not need someone to take you out to eat, you do not need to invite anyone to dinner with you in order to eat at your favorite restaurant, and you don’t have to order doordash to avoid dining alone. Dine alone. It’s okay. I promise. 
2. Buy Yourself the Damn Flowers
Six years ago, when I was just a young and inspired teenager, starting my first job at McDonald’s, a married coworker said, sadly, “I only get flowers twice a year; once on my birthday, and once on Valentine’s Day.” She clearly wanted more than two flower bouquets a year. She clearly loved recieving flowers. She clearly believed that she was worth more than two flower bouquets a year, and it made her sad. 
My advice: go buy yourself some flowers. Not as a “Well if you wont, then I will.” but do it because you want them. Do it as a kind gesture towards yourself. 
And if you’re not currently in a relationship—just buy the damn flowers. Don’t stare ongingly at the bouquet of your favorite flowers and wish with all your heart that a mysterious and handsome figure will appear to shower you with roses(honestly, you could pick a better flower to dream about too) reach your hand out, grasp the bouquet with purpose, stride confidently toward the self check-out, and buy the damn flowers. Just because you want to. You don’t have to wait for a romantic gesture to recieve something pretty. 
3. Go See a Movie
This seems just as scary as number one because—who goes to the movies alone? Somebody who’d like some quality “me” time, thankyouverymuch. 
In my opinion, of all the date ideas, this one belongs on the solo date idea list the very most. The very first time I went to see a movie by myself, I was so nervous about what other people would think of me being alone. Let me tell you something very important: nobody actually cares what you’re doing. It was the best movie theatre experince I’ve ever had, to date. My absolute biggest pet peave is when someone tries to talk to me while I’m watching a movie, or even a video on YouTube; going to the movies alone is complete bliss. Also, no need to have that awkward conversation about drinks and popcorn, because you’re obviously buying. 
Again, don’t wait for someone to take you out to see that movie you’ve been dying to see. Take yourself to the movies. Easy as that. 
4. Watch the Sunset
Watching the sunset alone is almost unheard of. It’s so unromantic. But actually, it leaves lots of room for your to think uninterupted as you gaze at the changing colors of the sky, and perhaps take time to write in your journal. You do not have to wait for a relationship to experince beautiful things. Watching the sunset doesn’t have to be romantic. watching the sunset is something that should be done by anyone and everyone. It’s peaceful, thought provoking, and inspiring. Couples aren’t the only people who should experince these feelings. 
I know the bolded words say “watch the sunset” but know that you are allowed to do so much more on your own. Go see beautiful places. Go enjoy the great outdoors. DOn’t wait around for a partner to experience the Earth and all of her sunsets and sunrises. 
5. Do Something Kind For Yourself 
You don’t have to take yourself out to date you. Stay in. Set up the best bath in the history of baths; complete with bath bombs, face masks, candles, body scrubs, essential oils, a favorite drink, soft music, flower petals, expensive chocolates, and a delicious snack(obviously a cheese board, because that’s how queens do it) 
Stop waiting. If you’re in a realtionship, don’t wait around for that one day that someone sets up a romantic bath scene for you to come home to after a long day at work. If you’re currently single, never use the “I can’t wait until I’m in a realtionship and they…” mentallity. Just do things for yourself. 
write yourself a love note and tuck it away in a favorite book to surprise yourself.
Buy your favorite ice cream on the way home from work, because you had a long day. 
Ignore all the chores and curl up with a good book, or a binge-worthy show. 
Write down everything you love about yourself. 
Treat yourself to a spa day. 
Buy that outfit your’ve been eyeing for months. 
Just do things for yourself. You deserve it. You try so hard every day, and you really appreciate it, so tell yourself so and run a bath. 
I promise I wouldn’t write any of this without some knowledge of it myself. I’ve done every single on of these things listed, and I’ve loved myself even more for it. Spending quality time with loved ones improves your realtionship with them—stop forgetting your most beloved: yourself. You need some quality time too. 
Be excellent to yourselves. 
.
.
.
.
My next post will be going live on Feb. 26th, 2020. 
As of right now, blog posts will be biweekly, on Wednesdays. If you’ve been reading long enough, you’ll know that’s subject to change. I’ll be announcing the date of new posts at the end of each post, the top of the blog home page, my Instagram bio, and Instagram stories. So you can’t miss it!
.
Be sure to subscribe so that you are first to know when a new post has gone live!
.
Blog: @smalltown.squirrel
Art Page: @thesquirrelshollow
Personal: @sh3rlc3

Don't Stop Dating



It’s that time of year where love is oozing from every which-where like a grilled cheese sandwich of affection—and twice as cheesy.
(Ryan said, “You have to go with that line; there’s so much cheese, I got constipated just reading it.” So here we are, Folks.)
What with the stenchy little cloud of romance that February is, it seems to all disappear by the 15th. Red and pink hearts are instantly replaced with pastel rainbows and bunnies with baskets of eggs in their furry clutches. Heartbroken teenaged girls who never recieved a teddy bear, and mournful women who saw nary a rose have magically forgotten that the day of love has gone and passed. Husbands and boyfriends wipe their brows and smile at a calendar, knowing that the day is good and gone for at least a year. High expectations for assorted chocolates and cards fo proffessed love have been forgotten. That red thing is hung back on its hanger at the back of the closet until its next appearance, 365 days from now. 
But shouldn’t love be celebrated every day? 
If you’re like me, Valentine’s Day is jus another day. (could this be that my first boyfriend bought me a hersheys chocolate bar and a pack of gum for Valentine’s Day? Probably. But my husband flew to Colorado to spend less than 24 hours with me on Valentine’s Day too, so… it’s probably the disappointing and unromantic weather.) However, several millions of people flock to the stores and flower shops to impress their loved ones on this ONE DAY, every year. 
Don’t be the couple that dusts off their finest outfits for a night out on the town for the first time in a year, just because its a holiday to celebrate love. Why? Because you shouldn’t have stopped dating each other in the first place.
So many people forget that the fun doesn’t stop after you get married, or settle in with a partner. You chose that person because you love each other, but love shouldn't end at the bedroom door, and shouldn’t be designated for Valentine’s Day. If you feel as though you’re just going through the motions, it’s time to try a little harder(reminder that if an effort is expected by you, chances are it’s expected FROM you too). Just like with that resolution you made last month, your relationship needs your attention too. It needs to be worked on. Don’t allow the romance to become a couch potato.
So how can you ensure that you don’t stop dating? Well… just don’t stop being “two crazy kids in love". Here are some important bullets to note: 
  • PDA is not gross, and PDA is not a “new couple” thing. Hold hands, cuddle, hug, kiss even when you aren’t at home. 
  • Keep flirting and making each other blush/laugh with those pick-up lines
  • You know that hug them from behind and give a kiss on the cheek thing? Yeah, still do that.
  • Always say “I love you” and not just when you end a call, or leave the house—ALWAYS. 
  • Talk about everything under the sun. Communication is key, but I’m talking just…well, talking. 
  • Stay up late together. Don’t just stay up late at the same time. Stay up late doing something together, even if it’s crackers and cheese at midnight. 
I’m not going to pretend to be an expert at relationships, and that’s not what I’m doing here; I’m simply relaying what I value about my own relationship, and what I believe makes it a successful one. Have you ever watched a product review on YouTube? Yeah. This is my product review of relationships: it’s healthier when you continue to date each other. Cultivate it, and not just with a lousy once a month date night to dinner at the same restaurant, in the same outfit as last month, eating the same food. 
Here are five of my very favorite no-hassle date ideas(perfect for parents, busy people, or poor college kids):
1. The $5 Movie Bin
You don’t have to go out to the movies. 
This is one of my favorites because I really love the process; pumping tunes on the way to WalMart, sifting through old movies, that “What?! You haven’t seen this??” and the “Holy cow! I used to watch this so much that my grandma banned it!”(True story, Never Ending Story on repeat.) and you get to bring your own snacks. Some of our favorite snacks include: makeshift smore’s(marchmallow fluff, teddy grahams, hersheys drops) microwave popcorn, cheese board, 1min. microwave skookie, and favorite $1 bag of chips from WalMart. Actually, I think the best part is that pants are optional. No pants=awesome. *great way to stay up late together
2. The Ol’ Walk Until You Drop
This has always been a fan favorite with Ryan and I. 
You simply step out of your front door, pick a direction, and walk until you get too tired. Probably a name for it—urban hiking? We’ve found ourselves so far from home sometimes that we don’t get home until it’s nearly dark outside. The great thing about doing this in a city is that there are restaurants and cafes to stop at if you get too hungry. When we go on road trips, we have amazing conversations that we call “road trip talk” walking talk is really good too. *great way to talk about everything under the sun
3. Sit Outside and Watch it Together
You don’t even have to do anyting. You don’t have to move, you don’t have to talk—just sit for a while. Watch the sunrise, the sunset, or gaze at the stars. Just take some time to watch the outside together. *great way to spend quality time together, and do a bit of that PDA
4. Eat Something New
Trying something new with Ryan is one of my absolute all time favorite things to do. Whether its cheese, soup, sandwiches, unique pizza toppings—I love eating new things with my best friend. It’s a tasty little adventure, and it doesn’t have to be expensive either. Sometimes, we like to walk through a grocery store until we find one or two things we’d like to try(this is best practiced when you’re starving, beacuse EVERYTHING looks tasty)
5. Read a Book Together
We try to do this every night; I’ve read roughly eleven books, and counting, to Ryan. I guess you wouldn’t call this a “date” but it’s how we continue to date each other. We love to snuggle and we love to talk, and I love to share things that interest me. Reading is one way we do all of that at the same time. It’s a hobby we share and do together. If you can find a hobby that you love to share with your person, it’s high on my reccomendation list. Quality time is always a good time, and it’s easy to share that time together if it’s doing someting you love. 
How do you date your spouse/partner? I’d love to hear in the comments; we are always looking for new ways to spend time together. 
Remember this upcoming Valentine’s Day that it’s not your only chance to date each other. It’s not the only night that romance is allowed. 
Don’t stop dating, and be excellent to each other. 
.
.
.
.
My next post will be going live on Feb. 26th, 2020. 
As of right now, blog posts will be biweekly, on Wednesdays. If you’ve been reading long enough, you’ll know that’s subject to change. I’ll be announcing the date of new posts at the end of each post, the top of the blog home page, my Instagram bio, and Instagram stories. So you can’t miss it!
.
Be sure to subscribe so that you are first to know when a new post has gone live!
*subscribing is only available as an option in desktop mode
.
Blog: @smalltown.squirrel
Art Page: @thesquirrelshollow
Personal: @sh3rlc3

Wednesday, January 29, 2020

5 Tips From a First Time Mom




While I had my head in a toilet four times a day for nearly five months, and suffered from what was diagnosed as “right flank pain” for two of those awful months (Thanks for that, Kiddo) Little Dude has been seemingly perfect, since the day he was conceived.
I say “seemingly” because for every perfect, beautiful smile, for every milestone reached with perfection and grace, and for every easy nap, theres been absolute terror. That fateful night in November when nobody was getting any sleep for a sore mouth and an angry baby, is still ingrained in my mind. I fear for more such nights in our future. But through all of the kitty bum hairs pulled, the pieces of cat-tower carpet ingested, the horrible four month sleep regression, the deplorable sleep regression of eight months, the time he pooped on me in the tub, the calm pizza night in December turned nightmare when he shoved peanut butter up his nose, the surprisingly convincing tantrums over apple juice, and the complete lack of interest for any vegetable(Especially the orange ones, and carrots in particular) I repeat “he was pink he was pink he was pink he was pink he was pink he was pink he was pink” in my head all day long in remembereance of the first thing my doctor said upon pulling our son into this world: “He’s pink!” 
Birthing a baby was the worst and hardest thing I’ve ever done, but he was pink. it feels like my nipples are being slammed in a car door when he bites them, but he was pink when he was born. I guess you could say that’s my deep breath. 
However perfectly our champion sleeper has been at breastfeeding, self soothing, eating new things, learning new things, even teething—don’t for one moment believe that it all came that easily, or without its own set of struggles. (yes, I did just call my son an It.) we’ve struggled in more ways than one, with more than just parenting since we became parents. Many a stress bath has been taken, and many a tear has been shed by this little mommy. (and even the Daddy) I’ve always tried to be one step ahead of the game--google open, notebook at the ready, instagram post after instagram post carefully tucked away for when I need it, suggested parenting books bokmarked and highlighted, and trying my hardest to rememeber everything I’ve been told about being a parent—but there’s always that one thing that gets you like the monster under the bed, waiting for that unblanketed foot. And my unblanketed foot may be different from yours. That’s where our list of tips begins: 
1. Every Baby is Different
Firstly, I want to start by saying, its not just babies. it’s everyone. Everyone is so completely, vastly different, and we’re beginning to see that more and more in our society today, as people feel more and more empowered to do, say, think, or believe what they will. But even with all this “wokeness”, acceptance, and love… people seem to forget the tiny guys: our babies. (And a WAY overlooked attachement to the tiny guys: their mommies (More on that later))
The reason why this is my number one tip, is because this is the very first thing I said to myself when I was pregnant: “Evaery baby is different.” (Or, AKA, every pregnancy is different) and you wouldn’t believe how many times I’ve had to explain that to myself, and others. So many people (Even other women!) tried to tell me that there was only one way a pregnancy could play out, one way to deliver, one way to feel pain, one way to be tired, one way. ONE. Which simply is not true. There’s a reason your doctor will repeat it to you like a mantra “Ommmmmmmeverypregnancyisdifferentommmmmmmmm” because it’s the truth, and it is just as true for born babies as it is for the unborn ones. Our tiny guys need different things, have different interests, develope at differring rates, sleep different, eat different, poop different, cry different—they’re all so very different from each other. I just want to get that across: DIFERENT. 
But different isn’t bad, and different isn’t scary; I have personally been called barbaric for the method of sleep training that my husband and I chose to use, because another mother could not fathom letting her own child cry for more than five minutes at a time. Now, if you don’t agree with the way I parent: I don’t care and I wont argue with you, because I know your baby is different(I also think its absolutely barbaric when women put each other down, instead of raising each other up.)
One very VERY important aspect to this school of thought—Every Baby is Different—is that you do what’s good for your baby. So many people will give you tips, tricks, and advice(some unwarranted, some welcome) and you might think “Oh that’s the only way.” but it’s not. If your baby needs to be cuddled to sleep, do it. If Cry It Out is the only thing that works, do it. You may run into judgment or name calling, you may feel like you’re doing things wrong because you’re doing things differently, but in the end, understanding that every baby is different will make you a much better parent with a much happier baby. 
2. Don’t Fall for Scaremongering
This seems to be a fan favorite on social media. We’ve all seen it, and I’m sure a majority of us have fallen victim to it in our own lives. One place it runs rampant the most: mommy communities. 
Theres a fun app I’ve been using for a few months called “Peanut” its basically a tinder, Iinstagram, Facebook for mommies. It can be a really useful app—I’ve received some fantastic and much needed advice on menstrual cups—but it can also make you afraid to let your baby so much as take a breath of air. 
On that app, I’ve seen people say(word for word) “Stay far away from Johnson and Johnson, it causes cancer and kills babies”, “Putting shoes on babies makes them disabled later in life”,“I know vaccinations cause autism, and SIDS, but…”,“Cry It Out is Barbaric and dangerous” and so on. And on. And on and on. 
I don’t know what it is about people wanting to claim that your baby will literally DIE if you do this or that. Being a mom is terrifying. Sharing your parenting style or your baby’s diet is scarrier and more nerve-racking than sharing your religious or political beliefs. Someone, somewhere, no matter how purreed your food, how BPA free your bottles are, how soft souled your baby’s shoes, or how easily your baby puts themselves to sleep is 100% sure that you need to know that your baby is going to DROP DEAD. 
Listen. It’s not true. Take another read through on tip number one. Every baby is different, every cirumstance is different, and different isn’t scary. 
I know that you’ll scroll past a list of "horrible things that will happen to your baby if you do these five things” on Facebook. I know you’ll run into a Debora who’s daughter’s best friend’s neice’s son is autistic because of vaccines(NOT TRUE!!!) Or a Becky who is 100% sure that formula fed babies aren’t smart or strong or healthy(NOT TRUE!!!). I know you’ll be told at least once in your life that your baby is going to choke and die at their highchair because your eyes left them for thirty seconds, MAX. Don’t fall for it! You know your baby, in and out, sideways, and upside down. 
There are so many different things that people will say to shock and scare you, and they know that moms are the most vulnerable to judgement and scaremongering. 
If something scares you, if something makes you nervous, and if you have to think twice about making a decision in your baby’s life—ask a proffessional. A real, college graduate professional. Don’t ask social media for parenting advice, and don’t let Amanda tell you that your baby is going to “catch” cancer from Johnson&Johnson products. Take care of yourself out there. 
3. Take Care of You
While we’re on the subject, let’s talk self care. What does that look like for you?
Steaming hot stress baths, face masks, creamy lotions, essential oils, and a nice little drink of whatever you like are all really great tools for self care! But what I’m talking about here is checking in with yourself. Are you okay? Are you suffering day to day? What aspects of parenthood are making you miserable and how can you make it better? 
Here are some important bullets to note: 

  • You are a person
  • Your life is not over because you are a parent
  • You are not a bad parent for putting your needs first
I’ve seen parents bashed, judged, and called names for taking time for themselves. 
“You’re a parent now, you don’t get to take time for yourself.” WRONG. How in the world can your possibly take care of little human beings if you don’t even take care of yourself? 
When I quit my job in August, last year, I was in a really dark place. I won’t go into detail, because I’m not ready to share, but I want you to know that it’s okay to admit that you can’t do it. I was so terrified of quitting my job and being a “quitter” I had said over and over again that the SAHM life just wasn’t for me, and I would never ever do it. I was a working mom and I was going to die a working mom. I was tough and I was a provider. 
We found out, the hard way, that the working mom life just wasn’t possible for me. 
And that’s okay. Admitting that took bravery. It took a different kind of tough, no matter how quiet the confession. 
There’s a strange stigma on mental health, and I’ve had to deal with that my wohle life. However, I’ve never felt more misunderstood than as a mom with PPD. For some reason or another, people beleive that it’s a mother's job to be unhappy. Some will tell you that only your children’s happiness is important, you’re only a good mom if you cry yourself to sleep every night, you can only raise excellent children if you break your back doing it. 
Over the past months, since I quit my job, I realized that it was the very best thing I’ve ever done for my family. I took care of myself, and it helps me to take care of them. If I hadn’t whispered to my husband that night in August, I don’t know if our family would have survived; I hadn’t realized how hard my husband was suffering too. 
It’s okay to admit that things aren’t okay. It’s okay to ask for help. It’s okay to take care of yourself, however you’ve got to do it. It’s true that your family needs you, but they need a healthy and happy you. 
So go draw yourself a bath and stick that naked little baby bum in your lap while your pour nearly the entire bottle of bubble bath in the water. You deserve it. You don’t need to do anything to earn it—you just deserve it. 
4. Take a Break
You deserve a break too; even if it’s just a pretend poo. 
My husband says, “No need to elaborate with that opening statement.” But I do. I really, really do. 
So many of us are out here thinking that we rest when we’re dead. 
Here are some important bullets to note:

  • You are a person
  • Your life is not over because you are a parent 
  • You are not a bad parent for putting your needs first
And: 
  • You are not a bad parent for wanting/needing a break
  • You are not a bad parent for taking that break 
  • You are not a bad parent if your baby cries for five minutes
I have never ever been very good at handling crying. (and if you didn't know, babies... they cry) I am usually the person to go to in a crisis, but if the baby is crying, it's not me, Fam. 
The best parenting advice my mom ever gave, and I'm going to give it to you too, is: Put them down somewhere safe. Walk into the other room. Set a timer for five minutes. Every single time--every single time--I come back from that five minutes, and I've got the answer to the mystery issue within thirty seconds. It doesn't matter if you can still hear Baby crying in the other room, take that five minutes to gather your wits and breathe deeply.
What does your break look like? Is it a desperate five minutes? Is it a pretend poo while their tiny, hammy hands sneak under the bathroom door? Or is it a power nap while they munch on crunchies in the Johnny Jump Up? You decide, but take it.
You don’t have to wait for Grandma to come pick them up, you don’t have to wait for Dad to get off work, and you don’t have to count on Daycare as your sole form of freedom. Stop pulling your hair out and biting your nails. Take a break, Mamma. 
Don't fall under that pretense that you need to be with your angel baby every second of every day. Don't fall for it when Linda tells you that you're neglecting your child if you don't let them in the bathroom to poop with you. Don't panic when that Facebook post going around says they're going to have separation anxiety if you leave them to cry for a few minutes. (NONE OF THESE ARE TRUE)
YOU ARE A PERSON. Mom is not your life, Mom is a new hat you wear. 
You are doing a good job and I want you to know that. I also want you to know that your little attachment is removable; they're attached with some pretty heavy duty velcro, but they're removable. 
5. Find Your Tribe
This sounds like one of those corny inspirational planner stickers with all the boho painted feathers.
So inspire. Much relatable.
But man, is it ever important.
You can't do everything alone, whether you are single or you've got a spouse/partner--you need a "tribe"
Now, let me first tell all of you that my tribe looks very, extremely different than yours probably will. I'm an introvert. My tribe is mostly me. But I've let my husband in. And also my best friend, she can come too. That's my tribe. But those are the people that I know have my back when I need it. Those are the people I can count on to listen and to say things like "No way!" when I need it. Those are the people who will be there(Okay maybe not the best friend because she lives so far away come home I miss you) with a hug and a shoulder to cry on when I am just so frustrated with being a parent.
This tribe is your support group. They support you, you support them. Now more than ever, as a mom, you need this support group. You'd go crazy without them. You'd feel lonely without them.
Where can you find your tribe? Anywhere. Seriously. I know I've been claimed a few times, even as a caregiver, as a member of someone's tribe. It doesn't have to be someone you grew up with, someone you sleep with, or someone who birthed you--it can be anyone.
You can still be Miss Independent, just don't do it alone.
.
.
Lastly, enjoy being a parent, where you can. They're only little for so long; Louie was just an angry potato two days ago, I swear, but now he calls for Dadda, puts pepperonis on his head, and chases the cats on hands and knees.
Don't worry about being the perfect parent, because you wont be. Don't worry about who's baby is doing what and how she's recovering form giving birth and how did they get so skinny--do your best, and then do better tomorrow. You got this.
Be excellent to each other
.
.
.
.
My next post will be going live on Feb.12th, 2020*
As of right now, blog posts will be biweekly, on Wednesdays. If you’ve been reading long enough, you’ll know that’s subject to change. I’ll be announcing the date of new posts at the end of each post, the top of the blog home page, my Instagram bio, and Instagram stories. So you can’t miss it!
.
Be sure to subscribe so that you are first to know when a new post has gone live!
.
Blog: @smalltown.squirrel
Art Page: @thesquirrelshollow
Personal: @sh3rlc3
*I will be posting TWO POSTS on February 12th, so watch out for BOTH!

Wednesday, January 15, 2020

Vanished




12/12/2017
I had a dream. It’s all I can think about. It was such a beautiful dream, and I can’t bear to think that I might forget it. Though, I’m not sure that I ever could. 
He was so beautiful. When I dream of someone I’ve never met, I can never picture their face, but I saw his face as clearly as my own hands. He was so happy; the happiest human being I’ve ever met. He was so smart and I was so proud of him. 
He was my son. 
His hands were so soft and so small—I can still feel his tiny fingers when I close my eyes. I can feel his soft little temple under my lips as I’m writing this. His eyes are grey like most babies, and his hair is still deciding what it’s going to be: brown like mine, or strawberry blond like my brother. I can hear his little noises; they’re louder than the music filling my bedroom. Ive never heard his voice, yet I heard it clear as day last night. 
I don’t want to wait for him any longer. 
Seven months later, to the day, Louis was conceived. 
It wasn’t until he was lying before us in our bed, just a month after I gave birth, that I remembered this journal entry. I remember thinking that he looked so familiar, like I had seen him somewhere before. That’s when I frantically flipped through my journal for this entry and read it aloud to Ryan. When I was finished reading, we sat in silence for a time. 
Ryan told me that his mother dreamt about him for years before he was born. 
My aunt dreamt of a son for ten years, and finally he was there, just a year before Louie. 
I KNEW dreams like these happened, but, even after all the evidence, I had never expected them to be a real thing that could happen to me. It happened to other people and they told you about it at Thanksgiving dinner.  
Nevertheless, Louie had called me. Clear as a bell ringing. 
Just Louie. 
A pregnancy test(or two, for good measure) a nervous call to the Women’s Center, and a frustrating conversation about how you don’t get “assigned” to an OBGYN(for hell’s sake woman, just set me up with the next available OBGYN, I was just trying to be clever) and many sleepless nights later, I was only a week away from my first appointment. I sat awake, day and night, scrolling through Pinterest, as all newly found-out mother’s do these days, planning my baby’s nursery and pinning my favorite maternity outfits. 
But I soon found myself searching “twin nursery ideas” and I wasn’t sure why. I kept teasing Ryan that we were having twins. I started searching google for symptoms of a twin pregnancy. As my appointment grew closer, I grew more and more sure. I knew. There were two. 
The day we went in for our very first appointment and ultrasound, I was nervous. Because I KNEW he was going to find two babies. 
As I watched the screen light up with the black and white image of my womb, my heart skipped a beat. This was it. I clenched Ryan’s hand as he documented everything on his phone. 
It only lasted ten seconds, but I felt my doctor hesitate. We watched him skip over what looked like a little black hole. “There’s one baby.” He said, as he settled on Louis. He was kicking and wiggling and we couldn’t get a good read on his heart because he just seemed so excited that we could see him. For a moment, I forgot about that empty space. But it was still in the back of my head. “There’s one baby” I could feel my heart still sinking, despite my excitement. 
The doctor went back to the tiny black hole that was slowly chipping away at my heart. 
“It looks like you had a twin gestation, but the second sac is empty. This means that you must have lost the twin early on in the pregnancy.”
I wanted so badly to break down and cry but I kept telling myself “you’ve got one you’ve got one you’ve got one.”
That’s more than enough, right?
I said “Oh. Okay.” 
“The placenta just absorbs it. You won’t birth it.”
“Okay.” 
But I felt it. I knew. I knew I knew I knew. I wanted to throw a tantrum. I wanted to tell him that he must be wrong. 
But... it had vanished. 
Poof.
Vanishing Twin Syndrome is surprisingly common. It can occur without symptoms(aka: no bleeding), as mine did, but some researchers suspect that it can happen even before an ultrasound can detect it. 
Vanishing Twin Syndrome happens in 36% of multiple gestation pregnancies, and 50% in pregnancies with three or more gestations. 
Researchers don’t fully understand it. There are speculations as to why it may happen, in some instances it’s a matter of chromosomal abnormalities. Otherwise, the cause is unknown. 
The biggest mistake I made, that entire pregnancy, was playing it off like it didn’t matter that I lost one. I still had a baby. 
But I wasn’t okay. I was awake nights staring at pictures of two cribs side by side. I was still googling symptoms of twin pregnancies. I still felt like I had two. My body was confused and my brain didn’t want to admit the truth so that we could heal. 
One day, I decided that I should draw how I felt. So I drew this picture. It’s still unfinished.

When I showed Ryan, I cried. We both cried. We held each other tight and let ourselves finally feel the pain. Heartbreak over a miscarriage is of a different kind. It hurts terribly to miss someone you never met. To have loved them so fiercely and so all-at-once and to know that you’ll never meet them. 
Except, then we started to talk about Heaven. 
Ryan told me that he believes that when you die, someone is there to greet you, to accompany you through the gates of Heaven. He told me how his dad imagines that heaven would be every dog he every loved greeting him with slobbery kisses and wagging tails. 
He said “maybe our baby will be there to greet us” 
As comforting as that was, it still hurt. My baby was all alone, while all three of us were here together. They were waiting and waiting, and they were going to keep waiting for a very long time, all alone. 
However, I tried desperately to tell myself that it made me feel better anyway. And to do that, I had to talk about it. 
So I told my family about that conversation. 
And I don’t know how to tell you about nagging thoughts. How sometimes, in the middle of the night, they make you feel chilly and you have to pull your covers up to your chin to sleep. About how they don’t ever go away. How they appear while you’re brushing your teeth, or when you’re sitting alone on a bench. I don’t know how to tell you about the significance of the empty space beside you. And I don’t know how to tell you what it feels like when something is missing but you don’t know what that means... but you do. 
I don’t know how to tell you how relieved I was, how it felt like a great big sigh, how I felt the weight of that nagging and nagging lift and come to light when my mother told me 
That 
I was a twin. 
And suddenly, there was a bit of calm. The storm in my heart found a bit of relief, and all I could see were two hands, interlocked. Two silhouettes. Waiting. 
Together. 
There’s a certain longing that can’t be cured.
Would we have the same eyes? What would they think about? What do they sound like? What is their name? 
I suppose, after that dream, I should have known that two were not meant to be. After all, it was only Louie who came to me. 
Losing a baby, no matter how early, is hard. Losing a baby, even though you still have one, is still hard. It’s all beyond difficult. Coping with losing one baby and still giving birth to a perfect, healthy baby, is very confusing. You’re over the moon for the beautiful baby that you’ve just brought into this world, but filled with massive sadness at the loss of the other. Even if it did happen at six weeks pregnant, and even if you forget to remember that sadness until the midnight feedings.
My pain is not any less significant than that of a singleton miscarriage, and it’s taken me a long time to realize that. I loved that baby. And I never even got to feel it’s movements.
As I’ve scrolled through articles and studies about the loss of a twin and the affect it has on the mother and the surviving twin, I’ve seen so many of the different ways that people cope with the loss of a baby, or try to anyway. 
But only one thing helps me: 
My baby is home, waiting for me with my own other half, and I will reverently remember them in my heart.
And someday, when Louie is old enough, I’ll tell him about his twin too. 
7/14/19
I don’t know what their names would have been, or what they would have looked like, how they would have sounded, or what their personalities would have been like, but I don’t want to assign any of that to them. That’s their own secret, and someday I’ll be in on it too. I imagine they’ll both be there, waiting for me, when I pass away too. Holding hands. Smiling warmly. Waving me over to join them.
My father in-law says that heaven would be every dog he ever loved running to greet him with wagging tails. 
That’s not my heaven.
.
.
.
.
My next post will be going live on Jan 29th, 2020. 
As of right now, blog posts will be biweekly, on Wednesdays. If you’ve been reading long enough, you’ll know that’s subject to change. I’ll be announcing the date of new posts at the end of each post, the top of the blog home page, my Instagram bio, and Instagram stories. So you can’t miss it!
.
Be sure to subscribe so that you are first to know when a new post has gone live!
.
Blog: @smalltown.squirrel
Art Page: @thesquirrelshollow
Personal: @sh3rlc3

Wednesday, January 1, 2020

From the Top






re·in·ven·tion
/rēinˈven(t)SHən/
noun
  1. the action or process through which something is changed so much that it appears to be entirely new.

Here’s the deal: I’m different now than I was a year ago. Let’s all just admit that giving birth is traumatizing(if not, wow, teach me your ways) and nobody comes out the other end of it feeling like themselves.
Yes, “I’ve changed” as cliche as that statement is, it’s true. 
I realized, when I chose this topic to write about, that this isn’t the first time that I’ve reinvented myself.
 I’ve reinvented myself several times since birth—even since starting this blog. And it’s not a bad thing. That’s something I’ve been teaching myself: it’s not a bad thing. 
I think a lot of negativity, surprisingly enough, hangs around the act of reinvention. Several, if not most, people associate reinvention with some terrible life event that sets you back and makes you want to curl up in a ball in the corner and cry until the strong hand of reinvention extends itself and pulls you out of your misery. (i.e. breakups, family deaths, job loss, etc.)
Thats just not what it’s been for me in the past few years.  In fact, it’s been a little less violent and a little less dark. (I mean, my kid was violently pushed into this world and that quite literally left a mark on me, but that’s not what I’m getting at here) 
Each time I’ve felt the need to reinvent myself, as of late, it’s been a slow and silent process. It’s been somewhere along the lines of waking up one morning and realizing: “I haven’t been enjoying these things the way I used to because I have been changing into a different person, and it’s time to accept that person.” 
It feels like identity fraud to continue in the same direction when you aren’t the same person as when you started. 
For example: my art has changed drastically from when I first started painting and drawing, to now. My art used to be centered around nightmares and longing and depression, but over the past five years, it’s evolved into bright illustrations of the mountains, life, and mostly bears, to now friendly black and white illustrations. I can’t continue to create art the way that I used to if my source of creativity isn’t the same. My life went in a different direction and I became a different person for it. I don’t create the same way. 
Since I was a sophomore in High School, my mantra has been “everyday, in every way, I am getting better.” Now, you can’t get better without a little reinvention and redirection. If that’s dyeing your hair blue, or moving across state lines, or learning a new hobby—it is what it is. When you don’t let new little versions of yourself leak through, it makes you feel anxious and full of regret; “man, why didn’t I just buy the jacket?”
That’s why I have decided now to embrace it when I change; when I shed my old skin like the cold-blooded, sun-bathing reptile that I am, and become a newer, better version of myself. And sure, we all go through those phases where we look back and go “why did I cut my hair that short? What am I WEARING?”  But think about it: that haircut made you who you are today. You still have that outfit because you’re deeply connected to it and can’t bring yourself to throw it out, even if it is from the cringey early 2000’s, when everyone was wearing skirts over jeans.
I decided to look up the psychological effects of reinventing yourself. And I did that, but I soon realized that self reinvention isn’t a study, and nearly no one has written any articles on the psychological science of it. Well, not that I could find any; not with the hundreds of articles and blog posts titled “15 ways to reinvent yourself” that stared me down while I tried to do some research for you.
While I wasn’t able to find any scientific articles on reinventing oneself, I was able to find some good, meaty articles about why change is good for your psyche. 
What I found(and I’ll share the links at the bottom) was that resisting change in your life in any way, brings on massive amounts of unhappiness. I mean, obviously, that’s the punchline in most romantic comedies, right? 
The thing is, that change allows us some space for reinvention, and provides opportunity to take chances and better our lives. 
Change can happen instantly or gradually. It can be something we decide on our own or something that’s been decided for us (natural causes) but change is very important for personality developement. 
Personality developement isn’t nearly as complicated as it sounds; you don’t have to monitor this by any means, because our brains are hardwired to present new opportunities for change and personality growth/developement. You simply just accept the change, accept the transition into a newer, better you. That’s what we call “character development.” 
At the beginning of your story, right, you’re just some kid from your small town. Then, you learn about love. You learn about life vs death. You lean about sorrow. You learn about happiness. You experience anger. You learn to trust, or to be wary of those around you. In the beginning, you started out as a blank canvas(another cliche), so awkward and unsure of how to play your given roll. Gradually, as you play your part, you have become this intricate masterpiece full of personality that may have survived several plot twists along the way, gained new friends, and learned new skills. 
You’ve become pretty cool. A fan favorite. Obviously. 
The thing about life is—and I’m only saying this like I’m an expert on it because I’ve experienced a decent amount of it myself—it’s full of change. And change is so good. Change is what survival is about. Those who don’t adhere to change and its many lessons don’t adapt. And those who don’t learn to adapt... can’t survive. 
The really cool thing about change? It’s all up to you. How you let a situation change you, help you to grow—it’s your call.
Don’t be embarrassed by how you change and where you end up when all is said and done; life isn’t about keeping up with the Joneses and all the Jessicas on Instagram. Life, when you get right down to it, is about living. Simple. 

So... lets take it from the top. 
Hi. I’m Sherice. I write this goofy little blog, and I named it after the pet name that Grandma Rallison gave to me the day I was born.
I’m an introvert, but thats not a bad thing, and I have come to love that part of me more and more each day.
I have two cats with Latin names and a baby who’s spirit animal is a brown bear(he growls too, it’s fitting) I didn’t enjoy being pregnant, and I’m not one of those “women are Godesses” types. Giving birth traumatized me for months afterward(because 30+ hours in labor with no epidural will do that to you) but I still want more(someday is not today, Guys.) 
I have always wanted to be an astronaut, but more than likely, I will become an architect. 
I am a minimalist in my own right, and I wear the same five outfits every week. I’m not ashamed! Just simple.
My bucket list consists entirely of US national parks. That’s it. That’s all I want to do before I die, but it’s not a short list. 
Once, I woke up in the middle of the night and decided I was going to start a blog and I got so inspired that I wrote six lists and started three new Pinterest boards, pinning somewhere near 1,00 new things in one hour. 
I start over every few months, but I think that’s just the complicated way of saying “exciting” 
I’ve experienced quite a bit of change, a few “new beginnings”, and some reinvention in my own life. I only continue to get better for it. 
While I’m in the middle of this current new beginning, I’m going to cross off some buck list items, achieve some goals, and write some fire blog posts for all my readers because that makes me happy. I just don’t feel like going full pause on life anymore, all because I wake up feeling new one morning. I realize I do that way too often. 
So yeah. Here I am. One more time, from the top. 
Be excellent. 
And while you’re at it, comment your introduction down at the bottom so we can all say hi! 
.
.
.
.
My next post will be going live on January 15th. 
As of right now, blog posts will be biweekly, on Wednesdays. If you’ve been reading long enough, you’ll know that’s subject to change. I’ll be announcing the date of new posts at the end of each post, the top of the blog home page, my Instagram bio, and Instagram stories. So you can’t miss it!
.
Be sure to subscribe so that you are first to know when a new post has gone live!
.
Blog: @smalltown.squirrel
Art Page: @thesquirrelshollow
Personal: @sh3rlc3



What a Wonderful World

There are only two times in my life that I remember very vividly holding my mother’s hand. During both of these occasions, I was exhauste...