Piled the Calhoun grandkids up for a quick shot in September – sweetest bunch of kids and Ava is so good with Maisy!
Oils for Dogs // Ditch the Doggie Itch
A Little Drops of Sunshine post.
Tis the season for lawn pesticides. I hate them. I recently came across a new reason to hate them: dogs that enter such green grasses come out itching themselves raw for the next couple of weeks.
Every morning I wake up at 5:30 with my daughter. We enjoy a meal together and then head out the door for an early morning walk. I saddle up the dogs, plop Maisy in the stroller and begin my daily spectacle I like to call a “one woman circus.” As we meander through the neighborhood there are various lawns that have tiny little signs warning living creatures to stay off the grass due to recent pesticide spraying. Usually I see these minuscule signs and firmly keep all my dogs body parts rounded up onto the sidewalk but I missed one time and over a week went by of dog itch, so bad that I started calling Sam “Thumper” as he pounded the floor on his follow through, until I noticed Sam was getting red and bloody under is arm pits. I turned to oils, my new knight-in-shining-armor, my Mary Poppins, my in-box veterinarian.
I plucked Sam off the floor and into the tub. I lathered up a dollop of Dr. Bronner’s peppermint soap with a couple drops of Young Living lavender essential oil and a couple drops of Young Living peppermint essential oil. I scrubbed him up for a couple minutes (giving the oils a chance to do their good work and get into his skin), doused him off, rubbed him dry, and sent him off happy as a clam. Little bugger hasn’t scratched once since!
FIRST STEP is to GET YOUR KIT, then I will meet with you (near: in person; far: Skype or Google Hangouts) to get you started using them for whatever ails you, and I send you off with a handy dandy handbook and some other awesome materials! Happy lawn pesticides and greener grasses season everyone! May you find some respite with this natural remedy 🙂
RESOURCES
Essential Oil Guide: FAQ and Getting Started
Buy some oils and/or get the starter kit… [HERE]
Oils for Scars
A Little Drops of Sunshine post.
SCARS.
Maisy had a terrible diaper rash a couple of months back. I thought the rash lingered still but after a few more days of observation realized it was actually a “scar” on her bum. I felt even more terrible about the terrible state of her diaper rash and that it was actually so bad as to mar her perfect skin. Thanks to essential oils I did not remain in sorrow! Instead, I started applying lavender, neat, to the damaged areas every diaper change that I remembered to do so (so several times a day). A week or so later and I am overjoyed to report the wounds are now barely visible! A few more days of lavender and she’ll be good as new 🙂
I use lavender as a part of my night face lotion every day (rub a little raw shea butter together with 3-4 drops of lavender). I love it because it heals my face overnight from scabs or redness obtained from zits, the sun or any other daily wounds and I wake up with a radiant (though perhaps otherwise groggy) complexion.
Lavender is also great for stretch marks.
SUNBURN.
My brother used lavender on sunburn and it cleared right up. I used some on a sunburn I got yesterday and it’s gone today, settled into a nice tan instead.
IN THE END, if these don’t work for you I have plenty more ideas and options where these came from! First step is to GET YOUR KIT, then I will meet with you (near: in person; far: Skype or Google Hangouts) to get you started using them for whatever ails you, and I send you off with a handy dandy handbook and some other awesome materials! Happy sunburn season everyone! May you find some respite with your bottle of Young Living lavender essential oil 🙂
RESOURCES
Essential Oil Guide: FAQ and Getting Started
Buy some oils and/or get the starter kit… [HERE]
Postpartum Surprises
-written January 28, 2015
So here’s the thing, I am wholeheartedly convinced that only other moms will actually understand what I am describing below. This is because only a mere 7 months ago I would come across descriptions of motherhood like I’ve laid out below and think I totally understood what that was like, or what that felt like, but, as it turns out, I had not even a speck of an idea what actually went down. I could, and possibly should, just skip attempting to adequately describe indescribable states of being and feeling as I have experienced since I gave birth but I simply can’t help it. To me, these things are incredible! Despite the way they come across I am actually attempting to describe the wonder I have experienced in these things. Not the pain, not the sleep deprivation, not the discomfort. No, the wonder. I find all of this, even the blood and guts, supremely fascinating. Call me crazy but I guess it’s a little of my dad, the science teacher, coming out in me. The things a human body can, and will, do to survive and, more importantly, preserve the life of one’s offspring is astounding. I absolutely love that I have gotten to be present in such a primal state of human nature as this! Here are some of the wonders I’ve experienced as a new mom in a sort of segmented bullet form, without the bullet, format.
Immediately post birth it feels like someone popped a balloon in your stomach. Baby and guts come out and suddenly your body does not know how to stand up straight unsupported by that beach ball of a belly and in that moment you realize that somewhere along the way your body started supporting itself on that huge mass that was your belly. I felt deflated, like a wilted flower.
New mom = waterworks. If you, fellow mom, did not experience the need to cry at everything, or nothing at all, please do share. Please note, I was formerly a prideful tearless wonder and in the months immediately following birth Maisy would simply look at me and I would cry.
Postpartum lady bits are no better than bloated road kill. Seriously did not know what was what downstairs for many many weeks. Sorry dudes. TMI I know, but I have to share because I was mostly aghast at the state of those things (and, of course sore, but that goes without saying.)
A feeling of cleanliness lasts minutes. Showers have never been so glorious. Especially the uninterrupted variety when I have a husband at home and awake to be on Maisy duty while I get to bask in the refreshment of hot water droplets streaming across my perpetually stinky body. If it’s not spit up, blood and gore, or your average daily stink, it is the excitable milk production unceasingly leaking onto your clothes for what seems like forever. I also had an oversupply so my body took something like 5-6 months to finally stop leaking through breast pads within the hour and onto my clothing. I woke up every morning in a puddle of my own milk. Talk about a glowing mom right? Oh wait, that’s not a thing. You can only glow when you’re pregnant. Isn’t that just the darnedest?
The haze. I didn’t know I’d entered a haze until I came out of it. They aren’t kidding when they say there is a state the female human goes to when in labor and then, apparently, afterwards to care for their new little human. I thought I was enjoying new motherhood but it wasn’t until I healed up enough to feel like my innards weren’t going to fall out through my vagina that my brains finally started to come back. And then, about a couple months later, I pulled the rest of the way out of the haze. I remember the moment I realized I was in a haze. I was on my way to my second wedding photography gig after Maisy’s birth. I was trying to pay attention to my directions and drive like a normal person. I had a glaring moment of clarity what it must feel like to be an old person as I was overwhelmed, to say the least, by the whole world of things one has to pay attention to while driving. There are other cars in front of you, behind you, to the sides of you… I had this unsettling worry that no matter how carefully I thought I looked every which way that I would still get sideswiped by some car that came out of the blindspot of my sleep deprived mommy brain. Every time I turned, or moved really, I was uttering quick prayers of protection and wishing on a star that I didn’t overlook some other raging machine. That day, I got pulled over and was given a hefty ticket of something like $200 (I blocked the number out for self preservation purposes) for “inattentive driving” because, despite my most earnest attempts to explain my brain to the officer, he obviously felt no compassion towards delirious and emotionally insane (yes, I was a blubbering fool) new mom. The worst of it was I still had to go and photograph this wedding. Hardest professional moment of my life. Despite vehement attempts at pep talking myself out of feelings and “boxing” up my whole morning into the “do not disturb” part of my brain, my mommy brain and wildly imbalanced emotions had me sobbing all the way to the getting ready spot, through the halls, into the elevator, down the hall, right in front of the bride’s hotel room, then back down the hall (because I clearly wasn’t ready yet), and finally back in front of the door as pulled together as I was going to manage. Later on I blamed my red eyes on allergies for the bride. Probably the only moment in my whole life I’ve been thankful for a bad few days with some allergies.
Don’t poke the bear- the mama bear to be specific. That’s a phrase I’ve heard before. I didn’t realize how “mama bear” is precisely the only way to succinctly title the monster that wakens inside of me even at the mere thought of Maisy being in danger’s way. I actually feel like there’s a bear inside me roaring at any threat that crosses Maisy in my mind. For example, one day I was driving to yoga class. It was a drizzly evening and I was driving an unreliable vehicle. I had a moment when I thought the gas pedal might not stop accelerating. To be fair, it lasted a millisecond, but in that millisecond my mind jumped wildly through possible means to preserve the life of my child. The best I came up with was that I was going to have to unhook her carseat, wrap my body around the front of said carseat, and throw the both of us out the car door and cling to that hunk of safety plastic like I was some annoying duct tape residue. Josh made fun of me later, “did you ever think to just wait until the car ran out of gas?” My reply, “no, all I was thinking was that I probably would be going 90 some miles an hour and speeding through stop signs and red lights risking collision if I didn’t get us both out of the car when we were going a more reasonable 55 miles an hour.”
Motherhood is a beautiful, crazy thing and I love it.
Ta ta for now!
Hardest Experience Of My Life
– written April 8, 2015
Life happens in the moments when you’re called to be greater.
At 12:30am on Tuesday, March 31 (Janesville, WI) I woke up to a stubbornly awake baby after merely falling asleep 30 minutes prior and a meager 1.5 hours remaining on my sleep watch before the alarm would sound to alert me to get my fanny out of bed to catch a plane with my nine-month-old. We caught that plane with nothing but smiles and sweet I-love-yous on our lips (although in Maisy language it sounds more like “da-da” right now).
At 6:50pm on Wednesday, April 1 (Parker, CO) I entered the kitchen emotionally shredded. My dear friend Nicole wrapped me in her arms and I sobbed and mumbled something about how it’s so hard to listen to your baby scream at you when you know her ear hurts but you’ve already done everything you can for her. It was one of those moments when all I wanted to do was cry as I held my hurting baby, but it wouldn’t come until my pain was met with compassion.
At 6:30pm on Thursday, April 2 (Cheyenne, WY) I nurse my Maisy in the dark on the floor in the corner of a kids classroom at the church Citizen Way is performing at for the night. She just appears to have hit the lights out portion of her evening when suddenly she spewed all of the milk back at my breast. I froze, momentarily dumbfounded. Josh walked in and when I muttered something about the mess in the corner, on me and on Maisy he promptly cleaned it all up as I still just stood there dumbstruck. Another throw up and temperature taking later I decided to throw in the towel and to put my baby down for the night even though we traveled over 1,000 miles to see our man play a concert. Our hostess graciously broke from the concert herself to drop us off at her home only for Maisy to make another mess there. Eventually I snuggled my girl to sleep and prayed my heart out that she would be safe and heal through the night.
At 2:00am on April 5 (Morrison, CO) I woke to throw my stomach up into the hotel toilet. With a date to Red Rocks at 3:30 calling me I tried to summon the gumption to get myself together for van call. Instead, a little voice in my head called me to hang back and at 4:00 I was on my haunches at the toilet again, then again, and again… until my baby woke up for some grub. The moment I lay down to nurse her I knew I was doomed. She just barely got latched when I jerked myself up, ripping the promise of nourishment from her lips, and sprinted to the bathroom. I was a moment too late as what was left of my dinner comes flying out of my mouth… only some of which landed in the toilet. I spent the next eternity aiming my wretching accurately into the toilet while my baby screamed heart-wrenching cries my way. Only one other moment compares to the sense of helplessness I felt in this moment – hour 67 of back labor as I sat in the birthing tub knowing death would feel better but then the world wouldn’t get to know my baby girl (read my birth story here). Finally my anchor lifted off the bathroom floor and I dashed to Maisy. In a half a second she was soothed back to peace as I nursed her. When she woke again, this time for the day, I tried to get us pulled together to make the rest of the sunrise service at Red Rocks where Citizen Way was leading 12,000 people in worship on Easter Sunday. Instead, it took me 1.5 hours just to get Maisy and me dressed due to my wretched state. All the while I pondered how I was going to make it through the morning with Maisy to care for when I couldn’t stand up straight without then having to answer to another round of heaving. On the one hand I was trying to think of any way to get Maisy off my hands, not because I didn’t want her there but because I felt utterly inadequate and unsafe to care for her, but I could think of no one as I was far from home and anyone else I knew was otherwise engaged in the service at Red Rocks. So then I thought my best option was to drag my fanny out of the hotel anyway in order to pawn Maisy off onto someone at the service and then go hide in the green room myself and go back to sleep. But then I realized that was not going to happen either because I really couldn’t fathom how I was supposed to get my weak and feverish body to not only carry simply my own skin and bones but my 20 pound giant baby and all of her necessities out to the car, up all the steps to the Red Rocks Amphitheater, over to someone who can take care of Maisy (potentially making a scene with my nasty and disheveled looking self to do so as anyone I knew would be front and center at the service due to their wifely status), and then all the way down to the green room. I realized that was about as possible as trying to compete in Iron Man race when you haven’t trained a day in your life. I resigned to my fate of missing the whole affair and snuggled in with my daughter praying that she would play quietly and fuss free, she would be ready for a nap soon, and that when she did go down for a nap that she would sleep until daddy could get home to rescue me. She pretty much did just that and I spent the rest of my day sleeping on and off with nursing sessions sprinkled into my waking moments as Josh otherwise took charge of Maisy. That night I caught a flight at 8:10pm feeling fit to conquer the flight puke free thanks to a restful afternoon, lots of prayer, an apple, and some Young Living lemon oil in my water and Thieves oil on my feet (the better to kill all the bad bugs with my dear).
At 8:00pm on April 7 (Janesville, WI – back home) I realized that my milk had completely gone out – turns out 3 days of mostly not eating rids a mom’s body of any nourishment for her baby despite her fervent desire that her body provide no matter the cost to her own physical well being. So at 8:10 on April 7 I pulled a bottle of breastmilk from the freezer and warmed it for my little girl. When she was all fed and laid to sleep I sobbed into Josh’s shoulder and said, “no mom should ever have to do this.”
This trip goes down on my top 5 list of hardest experiences of my life. For the sake of absolute transparency and to give you some perspective on this whole experinece, the other items on that list are as follows: the aftermath from getting beaten and mugged in Africa, my first year of marriage, 72 hours of what felt like literally back-breaking birth, and moving into our first house with a newborn and a gushing birth cavity a mere 48 hours after giving birth to said newborn. And yet, I am thankful for this experience, and every other one from my top 5 list for that matter, because it is also a warm one. In this story I also got to spend gobs of quality time with my little treasure. I got to snuggle her tons and laugh a lot with her. It is actually some of the most concentrated time I’ve had with her – I virtually did not put her down, she was always in my arms. I love my little bundle, no matter how hard it gets, I’m just praying my milk comes back soon!
UPDATE since this was written: my milk is indeed back and I am now thoroughly stocked with natural remedies to ensure I don’t run out again 🙂
Musings of a Musician's Wife 