Family, Holidays, Cooking, and NESTLÉ® – #JuntosConNestle

Many thanks to NESTLÉ® for agreeing to sponsor this post. 🙂 Though I am being compensated, all views and opinions are my own. Please see the disclosure on my “About Me” page for more details.

When I was younger, I was a small and skinny child. My family and doctor both worried about my apparent inability to gain weight, to the point where my doctor told my family to not deny me any food I asked for, whenever I asked for it. It didn’t matter what I was putting in my mouth, he said, as long as I gained weight.

After that appointment, a new drink came into my life – chocolate milk. Hot cocoa was no stranger to me, but the thought of putting cocoa into cold milk fascinated me, partially because both the chocolate and the milk were powders! I had so much fun watching them mix together in the glass before we added the water – I’d try to point out any familiar patterns or shapes, like numbers and letters, that the powder would make. At my next doctor’s appointment, I had gained enough weight to not have to worry about my health, and I know now that it was largely due to the chocolate milk my family gave to me.

101_0377 (2).JPG

Twenty years later, I was in another doctor’s office, listening to another doctor’s orders, only this time it was my son whose weight gain was cause for concern. Unlike my mother, however, I didn’t have to ask family in another country to send me that special powdered milk – I just had to drive to the nearest Walmart and pick up a can of NESTLÉ® NIDO® Fortificada.

Of course, the holidays are fast approaching, and that means lots of sweets: candies, cookies, cakes, fried bread – all things a small child loves, and all things that can wreak havoc on a healthy diet. Luckily, not only can I mix up a glass of chocolate NIDO®, it can also be used in place of milk for your holiday sweets! In fact, I have a recipe that I use NIDO® in, and it tastes delicious! Buñuelos are a Mexican sweet, primarily made during the holiday. For those of you unfamiliar with them, they’re kind of like a smaller type of pastry that’s often found at fairs or carnivals.

YOU WILL NEED:

2 cups of flour
½ cup NESTLÉ® NIDO® Powdered Milk, reconstituted (4:1 ratio, ½ cup water, 1/8 cup NIDO powder)
A pinch of salt
A pinch of baking powder
2 eggs
¼ cup butter
1/8 tsp vanilla
Cinnamon to taste
Oil for frying.
Cinnamon sugar mix.

Before starting to make the buñuelos: Heat the frying oil in a pan.
1. In a bowl, mix the dry ingredients (flour, cinnamon, salt, baking powder) together.
2. In a sauce pan, add the reconstituted milk, butter, and vanilla. Heat until butter is melted, and stir together.
3. Beat eggs together.
4. Once the butter has melted, temper* the eggs with a small amount of the butter/milk sauce. (*For those unfamiliar with the term, tempering is when you add a small amount of hot liquid to a colder liquid prior to mixing them together, to bring up the temperature and prevent curdling). Mix eggs and liquids together.
5. Mix liquid and dry ingredients together in a bowl. If the mixture is too wet or sticky, add more flour. Roll the mixture into balls, size depending on your preference.
6. Depending on preference, use either a rolling pin, tortilla press, or your hands to flatten out the dough into circles. Drop the circles into the frying pan and fry until golden brown on both sides, flipping once.
7. Dust with cinnamon sugar, and serve warm! Enjoy with your family. 🙂

I hope you enjoyed this post, brought to you by NESTLÉ® NIDO® Fortificada. It’s easy to be #JuntosConNestle this holiday season. As always, thank you for stopping by, and have a good one!

My family and I love buñuelos, as you can see. 😉

Advertisements

Cooking When You Can’t (or Hate It)

(This blog post coordinates with the following video on my channel.  Enjoy!)

Hello, my name is Kari, and I have a confession to make: I hate cooking.

I hate cooking so much that I actually refused to learn when I was a teenager.  My dad would try to show me different recipes and insisted that I cook at least one meal a week for the family, but I full-out refused to commit any of it to memory out of sheer spite.  After a helping of my infamous “macaroni and cheese soup” (overcooked noodles), my mother informed me that I wouldn’t be forced to cook again.  A few years later, when I went to college, I subsisted mostly on dining hall offerings, pizza rolls, and rice.  It wasn’t until I moved back home and started working at my retail job that I started to cook anything outside of those major dishes.  I learned very quickly that I wasn’t great, but I was passable, but I was the best at baking and making sauces.

But then I ended up with a man who loves to cook, and whose oven was broken.  The stovetop was his playground, and specifically frying things.  I hate heat (even campfires make me uncomfortable), and I’m terrified of oil spattering up and hitting me in the face, so I stopped cooking again.  Once our was born, I was too tired or too busy to cook even my basic rice or pasta dishes.  Due to our conflicting schedules, my husband would often cook for the kiddo and himself, while I would subside on fast food.  A few years ago, once I became a stay-at-home-mom, I realized that I’d have to pick up the slack on the days when my husband couldn’t cook, so I started up again.  I still hated it, but I found a few things to make my life in the kitchen an easier thing, and I’m here to share them with you.

Learn What Works For You

I use my slow cooker maybe once a year.  I know, I know.  Right off the bat, I’ve broken the cardinal rule of easy cooking: always use a crock pot, slow cooker, pressure cooker, what-have-you), but before you beat me over the head with yours, let me explain.

I’m sure that most of you would agree with the statement that having a crock pot has made your life so much easier.  You just toss a meal in the pot, set it up, and let it cook for a few hours while you do other things.  It’s fantastic, at least in theory (for me); you see, I am a “fiddler”, constantly wanting to mess with all of my things while cooking.  I hate to cook, which means I want it done quickly – so of course, I’m constantly tasting, checking, poking, pacing.  If I’m not actually “doing” something in the kitchen, I can very easily forget about the food, or even forget to turn it on – and even if I do everything properly, what’s to say I won’t wait eight hours, then come back, only to not be in the mood for what I made earlier?  Sure, I’ll still eat it, but I probably won’t eat as much as I would if it was something I wanted right that moment, and we really don’t “do” leftovers in this house, so a lot of that food will go to waste.  That’s also why we shop for groceries on a daily- or near-daily basis, too: I pass the grocery store at least twice a day every school day, so I can easily stop in either after I drop off or pick up the Kiddo.  It stops waste, and it means we’re eating what’s being cooked, which stops a lot of the hard feelings when a meal is cooked but not eaten.

The Internet is Your Friend

Look, I used to think I couldn’t cook, and for a while that was true.  The advent of Pinterest has made me believe that 98% of those who currently “can’t cook” simply aren’t trying to do so.  Harsh, but true, and I’ll admit that I was that way.  The internet has made recipe searching a breeze – want to know how to make flan?  Google it!  The first result is too complicated?  Go back and find another recipe!  I do this all the time, and I especially love taking some of the things from the “fancy” recipe and inserting them into the “easy” recipe, to make it just a little more decadent.

Familiarize Yourself with Your Tools

I don’t even mean in the proper way – I used a meat tenderizer to mash potatoes, because my potato masher was giving me a headache.  What I mean is, make a few simple things (I recommend boxed mixes for cakes, muffins, etc.) and just learn your way around your kitchen from scratch.  This will help you see what you use vs. what you have.  Have 800 baking pans, but only use 3 (plus two cookie sheets)?  Maybe it’s time to cull the herd a little.  Have a mixing bowl, but you were slapping batter out of it?  Might be time to get a bigger one.  Just stuff like that.  Once you’re familiar with baking, perhaps move into easier stove-top dishes, like macaroni & cheese or five minute rice.  Just get yourself familiar with what you have and how you use it.

On that note, familiarize yourself with the basics of your pantry.  Learn how to make a roux, pay attention to the difference salt can make, see what happens when you swap milk for cream or vice versa.  Just make these changes gradually (no more than one or two DIFFERENT types of changes – so if you swap your liquids, don’t make any other texture changes like using applesauce in the place of eggs, or if you decide to add a flavor, don’t add anything else with a strong flavor), that way you can pinpoint any errors.

Get a Core Set of Recipes

Look, we’ve all that this happen: no matter how hard we try, we’re either guilted into or voluntold that we have to bring a dish to the company potluck or Grandma’s holiday dinner.  How many times has this happened last-minute, or simply forgotten about until the last possible second?  Until I followed my own advice, I used to Google for a recipe and hoped it turned out – sometimes it would, and sometimes, I’d be so frazzled that I’d mess up something big, or (like my favorite “oops”) I’d be measuring out sugar, only to have my kid and my dog run into me at full speed, causing me to drop the bag into the recipe and dump it everywhere, and leaving me with nothing to serve because I didn’t have time to Google anything else.  I cried.  It wasn’t pretty.

It was after one of those fiascoes that I decided to simply search for simple recipes on Pinterest and Google.  I went in without any specific plan in mind, simply the knowledge of what I did best (baking and sauces) and went from there.  I ended up choosing five recipes that I loved, were quick to make (generally under an hour from conception to plating), and that played to each of my strengths.  Once I had my five recipes decided, I worked for about a week to get to the point where I could basically make each of them in my sleep.  It has been such a lifesaver to know that if I mess something up, or if I need something to take to an event in a few hours, I have five recipes I can whip up in a matter of minutes.

I’ll confess something, here – if you and I met on the street and you asked me how to make my alfredo, I wouldn’t be able to tell you.  It’s pretty much pure muscle memory at this point.  Oops?

Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff

My husband is an incredible cook – absolutely incredible.  I adore him and his cooking.  He literally spends so much time thinking up new dishes or flavoring things, and I can’t even come close to his creativity in the kitchen.  He made a marinade out of FROG jam & red pepper flakes the other day, and I honestly believe it was the best thing he’s ever made – and he came up with that on his commute home.  I can’t do that on a regular basis, and that’s fine.  I can’t cook at his level, but I have my strengths (I’m a much better baker, and we often play off of each other when it comes to cooked sauces).  If I spent my time comparing myself to him, I’d feel like a failure…  So, I’ve learned to let it go.  It took a while, but it’s honestly been the biggest help with regards to cooking while hating to cook – I found a lot of my dislike stemmed from the fact that I’d compare myself to other people.  I can’t cook steak and potatoes like my dad, I can’t cook at all like my husband, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.  Nope, I can’t, but I can make some pretty awesome sugar cookies without breaking a sweat, and I have yet to mess up a cheesecake recipe, so I’m doing pretty good, I think.

Anyway, I just want to share some of what I learned when I intentionally made changes in my mentality.  I still hate to cook, but now it’s less of a chore.

(If only I could figure out some way to apply these tips to doing laundry and washing the dishes…)

As always, thanks for stopping by, and have a good one!  🙂

Mom Life: Why I Halved My Wardrobe

Hey yall!  Yesterday on the vlog, I talked about my wardrobe choices (you can read the corresponding blog post HERE), and I mentioned that I planned to go through all of my clothes and pare everything down.  This post is actually going to be a kind of behind-the-scenes look into why I did this, which was basically by asking myself a few questions and going from there.  If you’re interested in picking my brain, or maybe you’re just looking for your own motivation, keep reading.

Why start this whole thing at all?

Well, I’d been asked quite a few times about my style choices.  I don’t think it was malicious in any way, but it comes down to that first impression, and on the outside, I tick a lot of boxes for a specific category of person:

  • Young mom (I was 21 when I had my son),
  • Young wife (married at 21),
  • Stay-at-home mom,
  • Wears skirts all the time,
  • Wears hair long.

Seeing it listed out like that actually made me realize: wow, I really do give off an impression of living my life a certain way, and I can see how it might be alienating to some people.  My posts were simply a way for me to clear up any misconceptions, hopefully in a way that wasn’t abrasive to anyone in particular. 🙂

Why cut down my wardrobe?

Honestly, for the videos.  No, really.  Over the last few years, ever since I started phasing pants out of my daily life, I’ve been removing items of clothing from my closet on a pretty regular basis.  This was just one of those times, and it was borne out of the idea for a video.  It also came from the knowledge that I’ve moved into a sort of “uniformity” in my wardrobe – I found myself wearing the same skirts about once a week or so, the same shirts about once a every two weeks, the same dresses, the same sweaters and cardigans, and there were items of clothing in my closet that I hadn’t touched in over a year.

Now, I originally planned on moving into a capsule wardrobe, and maybe I will in the future, but as I started going through my things, I realized that I really do wear a lot of the clothes that I have, and as such, it would be pretty pointless (at least for me) to remove them.

Do I plan on continuing this, perhaps with the parts of my wardrobe that I didn’t bring on camera?

No.  My PJs, underthings, and leggings aren’t really that interesting, trust me.

What if I regret this, or what if I just toss it in a bag and let it rot somewhere in my house?

I actually donated everything the day after I filmed, thanks in large part to a local clothing bank that constantly needs inventory.  I knew they’d accept it, and I knew that if it stayed too long, I’d pull things out and back into my closet, basically undoing all of my work.

Lastly, do I plan on keeping my wardrobe small?

Not particularly?  I mean, if I find an item of clothing I really like, I’ll get it.  If I wear it a lot, I’ll keep it.  If I don’t, then I’ll donate it.  If I wear it at the expense of another item, I’ll decide which I prefer more after a few weeks, and donate the one I like the least.  I don’t have a set amount of clothing I want to own, I just want to make sure I like and I wear what I have, you know?

Well, that’s really it for the behind the scenes.  If there’s anything you want to know that I’ve missed, please let me know, and if you’ve decided to declutter your closet because of me, please drop a comment down below or let me know on my vlog.  Thanks for stopping by, and as always, have a good one!  🙂

Childhood Traditions: Thanksgiving

Hey yall!  It’s officially fall here in the Northern Hemisphere!  The days are getting shorter, the air is getting colder, and Christmas decorations are now in stock at most retail outlets.  For the US, Thanksgiving is fast approaching, and it’s caused me to think back on a few things that I did or didn’t do as a child.  I’d include my husband in this post, but as yall probably know just as well as I do that he’s not one for really paying attention to things, so…  This will simply be a post about my traditions.

1. Mommy & Me

My dad is a huge hunter, and opening day usually falls about two weeks before Thanksgiving, so my mom and I would often have Thanksgiving alone.  It wasn’t that we weren’t invited places, we just kind of enjoyed having the time to ourselves & not having to travel (our family was about 3-4 hours away).  Obviously, just by virtue of me being a stay-at-home mom, there is no way a 2-person Thanksgiving with my mom could anymore.

2. Bird Was the Word

With only two people, there was no way we could come close to eating a full turkey, and getting turkey meat from the local deli was usually super expensive.  The first year my mom and I had our special “just us” Thanksgiving, my mom happened to stumble across a couple of teeny tiny birds in the back corner of the local grocery store freezer.  It was the first time I’d ever heard of a cornish hen.  Honestly, I’d recommend them for any small family that wants semi-normal Thanksgiving meal.  I haven’t had a cornish hen in ages, but I recently saw some at Kroger, & I’m thinking about picking them up for our Thanksgiving meal here at home.

3. Hap-pie Birthday!

My mom’s birthday is usually relatively close to Thanksgiving, so she almost always gets some sort of birthday pie during the pre-Thanksgiving sales (usually some sort of BOGO deal).  Her favorite pies are Dutch Apple and Razzleberry, both from Marie Calendar, so to me, both of those taste like this time of year. 🙂  This is something we still generally do, but it’s no longer limited just to my mom’s birthday, mainly because if she wants to celebrate, we have to arrange some sort of get-together.

4. Expect the Unexpected

The good thing about having a small Thanksgiving is the fact that it can be easily changed.  This may not seem like a tradition, but it was always in the back of our mind in the days leading up to Thanksgiving, and it would be easy to move our meal should something else come up, like my Dad requesting our presence up north, or some sort of activity taking place on Thanksgiving that required the whole day (like a training day for my mom, or, once I was old enough, my work schedule).  Towards the end of my childhood, this became more and more common, and we actually started moving our Thanksgiving to Wednesday specifically for this reason.  Now, my family’s Thanksgivings are often on Black Friday (if they don’t go up north), which is nice because my family lives out and away from most of the stores.

Anyway, I know there are only four traditions, but I wasn’t trying to share everything, otherwise this post would take forever.  What sort of family traditions did you have growing up?  Do you or your family still participate in any of them?  If so, how have they changed over the years?  Let me know down below!

As always, thank you for stopping by, and have a good one! 🙂

How Educational/Parental Contact has Changed Over 25 Years

I thought this would be kind of cool to do.  My husband graduated in 1993, I graduated in 2008, and our son is currently in Kindergarten (Class of 2030!).  From the time my husband graduated to the time I graduated, the ability for parents and educators to contact one another changed exponentially, and even now, just nine years later, it’s still changing in completely new and honestly, totally unexpected ways.  You couldn’t have told me, in 2008, that I would basically be able to text my son’s teacher, and in 1993, you wouldn’t have been able to convince my husband that you’d be able to send a letter instantly, through the phone lines, from one machine to another.

So, I thought I’d do a comparison.  This will also encompass my entire school experience, since I started kindergarten not long after my husband graduated, so I do remember some things from the 90s that are similar to what my husband dealt with.

The 90s and Before:

Generally, if a teacher or a parent wanted to speak to one another, they’d send a note home or they’d call and leave a message on the answering machine.  Both options were a bit tricky, because notes could be lost and answering machines could be deleted or kept full (if there was one), but that’s just what happened.  If it was serious, the office would call every number until a parent answered, but that was usually only if there were serious injuries or threats of expulsion.  If it wasn’t too urgent, a letter was sent, which could take up to a week to get to the house.  Parent-Teacher conferences weren’t really a thing for me in elementary school, because really, unless there was something super important that was going on, parents didn’t want to be bothered by it.  Things were a lot less hands-on.

The 00s

Email became a huge thing at the end of the 90s and early 00s.  With dialup, it wasn’t always certain if a phone line would be tied up by internet usage, and since most parents tended to work in a business setting, email was more likely to be checked than answering machines.  Also, the popularity of cell phones grew, and so did voice mail, but like answering machines, those could be full or not set up.  Interestingly, when I was in high school, social media was becoming a much larger thing but didn’t quite have set rules, so it wasn’t uncommon for teachers to connect with their students or students’ parents on Facebook (not on Myspace, because that was more for the teenaged crowd), but Facebook was the first social media to really appeal to all ages, and it showed.

The prevalence of email and social media definitely led to the increase of interference or “helicopter” parenting – some parents grew so used to having a lifeline attached to their children that it wasn’t anything for them to email a future boss or college professor, or “check up on them” while at work or in class, which has been an open source of resentment for the employers of these children.  Even if a parent wasn’t trying to be over-involved, a lot of times, the teacher would bring them into things that really didn’t involve them – for example, a lost piece of classwork or some sort of interaction for homework (which, for those of us with working parents, often went into the gradebooks as a zero, and into the email inbox as a “concern”).  The children of these parents often end up dependent on them for both motivation and consequences, which means when they are finally forced to face the world alone, they flounder.  It was a lose-lose situation for those of us who grew up in that time.

Emails also led to the downplaying of Parent-Teacher conferences – before, those were likely the only times a parent and educator would end up in contact, but now, it was easy to connect!  No more relying on a child to pass a note, or a voicemail/answering machine that could be full or disconnected.  It’s quite impressive to realize that this change came about during the 12 years that I was in the educational system!

The Teens

The app has brought about a new way of living.  There are apps for everything – for exercise, for socialization, for cooking, and even to keep track of your period and pregnancy symptoms!  Apps are an integral part of daily life in the 2000-Teens, and no where is it more obvious than in the educational system.  Laptops and Ebooks are often used more than physical texts, apps keep students honest and engaged in their learning, and, even in elementary school, apps are used to keep parents and educators connected.  With an app, sending a message to your child’s teacher is as easy as sending a text!  It doesn’t stop there – unlike emails, which were often limited in the types of attachments they could send or accept (thanks in large part to the preventative measures implemented by school systems), these apps can often send pictures, flyers, and update you on your child’s behavior immediately.  It’s not exactly like being in the classroom, but it’s pretty close!

That said, I can see how this can both keep the helicopter parents at bay and enable them.  It’s nice to know what’s going on in my son’s classroom, but it feels so intrusive.  At the same time, it’s now expected to want to use these apps – my child’s teacher actually spoke to me about my reluctance to use the class app, because I hadn’t signed onto it for over a week and it gave her a notification!  It is a great way to keep up to speed…  But is it too much?  It worries me – is this actually hindering my son’s growth, by keeping him reliant on me to police his actions?  Do I really need to know every time he gets in trouble at school?  The lines have blurred, and I don’t think I like it.

I’d love to hear your thoughts about parent/teacher connectivity, as well as your experiences with any of the methods mentioned above, as well as anything I may have missed.  Please feel free to leave a comment down below, or you can hit me up on Instagram, Youtube, or Twitter.

Thank you so much for stopping by, and have a good one! ;0

Secondary Infertility: The First Years

The first year my husband and I struggled to conceive, I was twenty-one going on twenty-two.  I had spent five years attempting not to conceive, four months knowingly pregnant, and six months doting on my son and dealing with an early-term pregnancy I didn’t even know was there until it was gone.

Six months after our son was born, two months after the loss we barely knew, we decided to try again.  Honestly, even though it’s only been five years, I can hardly remember anything about that defining moment.  I know we didn’t really sit down and talk about it, but that’s because that isn’t our style; we tend to “wing it”, as evidenced by our entire relationship.  I know that, if we did “talk” about it, it was basically, “Well, do you want another kid now?” “Yeah.” “Me too.”  I do know that, pretty much from six months post-partum, we were trying, though.  Well, as much as a new family of three can really try for a baby: sparsely, when the tiny cuckoo bird was away or asleep, if we weren’t too tired, if we even saw each other at that point, since I worked from roughly 2-10PM, then cared for a wide awake baby during the “night time hours” before going to bed around 6AM, and my husband worked from 10-8AM, came home, and went to sleep around 4-5PM.

And all the while, all around me, I heard, “When are you having another?”

I was young, which was a definite plus for me.  For years, I lagged behind my friends, the “younger” one, the one kept outside of clubs and bars months or even years after the rest of them.  It was a hassle of being bumped up a grade and dating older guys; for once, though, my youth was on my side, knocking down the percentage of possible health problems a child could have.  Also on our side was the fact that we had just had a child – babies conceived within literally months of a sibling’s birth run in my family.  Sure, we’d had a setback, but it was nothing we couldn’t overcome.

So we waited.

And waited.

A full year passed, and I was now twenty-two going on twenty-three, and eighteen months post-partum.

All around me, people I knew were having babies.  Some people had had a child and had announced that they were pregnant with their next one in the time my husband and I had been trying to have a second, but not many.  Most people just had one, and I was still young.  Besides, we’d barely been able to have any time to ourselves or to each other.  We ended up (again, without discussion) both moving things around to make time to see each other.  I moved my unavailability at work to be my husband’s second day off, so we could start actually seeing each other instead of playing “swap the baby” at the time clock.  We allowed our son to spend the night outside of the home for the first time during that second year, and we’d often relax and talk, rediscovering our relationship outside of exhaustion and being parents.

But still…  Nothing sticks.  We have another loss at 10 weeks.  It was about this time that I expressed confusion to my gynecologist, who informed me that we were still in the early stages of parenthood, and that I was still so young to be worrying about my fertility, especially since I could obviously conceive.  “Come see me when you’re twenty-five, we’ll sort things out then!”  I count down the months.

So, the third year starts.  I’m twenty-four, going on twenty-five, with a new job I love much more than my old one, a new schedule to figure out, and new insurance.  The gynecologist who told me to come back at twenty-five is now out of my network, and I have to find someone new.  This gynecologist tells me that I’m too young to worry about my fertility.  “If you haven’t had another baby by thirty, we’ll look into things.”  Five whole years?  My son will be almost ten!  That’s a pretty large age gap, honestly.  I knew people who had large age gaps between their siblings, and most of them ended up raising their younger siblings, babysitting for free at the expense of any form of a social life, basically being thrust into a kind of teenage parenthood.

And then, it all goes out the window.  I find out I’m pregnant.  I set my ten week appointment, the earliest my OBGYN will see me due to my losses.  A week later, I miscarry.  The stress affects my system in ways it never has before, and my MS strikes back with a vengeance.  I lose my new job when I can’t go back to work in a timely manner, and I don’t qualify for disability due to my lack of work experience.  I’m dealing with medical issues, running to and from doctor’s appointments and tests every day for weeks…  And then, suddenly, it all goes away.  My insurance no longer covers medications outside of an MS attack.  The New Year starts, and I’m now a stay-at-home mom with zero prospects.

And once we’re sure I’m not gearing up for another attack, we decide to start trying again.  Just before the third year ends, I find out I’m pregnant, eleven weeks along.  I end my third year of dealing with secondary infertility on a high note, I think, and we prepare to tell our families about the baby.  We don’t get the chance.  I lose the baby by my fourteenth week.

Being young and dealing with secondary infertility is difficult, honestly.  I’ve been shot down so many times – “Oh, don’t worry about it, you’re still so young!”  No one ever gives a thought to my husband’s age, or to the fact that we’ve had other losses, it’s just “Oh, you’re so young!”  I’m starting to get older, and there’s now a visible gap between my son and any future child, so people are starting to take me seriously.  My husband is now of the opinion that we should just let nature take its course, though, because of how nonchalantly our issues were treated before – he’s convinced we won’t be taken seriously until I’m well into my thirties.

Honestly, when I was younger, I didn’t think I’d even have to deal with secondary infertility.  I figured everything had sorted itself out, and that I’d be able to have kids no problem.  People don’t talk about their issues having kids if they already have one – if they don’t have kids, sure, or if they have a kid but it was a struggle, then yes, but not the struggle to conceive after having a baby.  It’s been strange adjusting to the fact that I do have fertility issues, even though I have a son.  It’s not one of those things you’d figure would happen to you, you know?  But it happened to me, and I’m talking about it, so hey.

Anyway, if you made it through this and you’re experiencing something similar, I just wanted to let you know that you’re not alone.  You’re not the only person who has had your issues dismissed by doctors and laymen alike.  You’re not the only person who’s watched your friends have babies in the time it’s taken you to attempt to conceive your second.  You’re not the only one who wants another baby but can’t seem to have one.  It may be a silent struggle, one you feel like you shouldn’t talk about, or that you’ve been told off for talking about, but you’re not alone.

Mom Blogging: Hard Mode

Right at this very moment, I’m sitting in the local Panera.  My laptop is open, my email is open, Youtube is open, and I’m ready to blog.

And as I say this, my child gets up from his seat across from me so he can put his crayons and coloring book back into his Avengers bag.  Of course, I notice that his shoes are on the wrong feet; so begins another five minutes of me attempting to quietly wrangle him back into his seat.  It’s another five minutes that I won’t be able to blog, another five minutes I won’t be able to use to send out another email to try and make a connection.

I wasn’t expecting a get-out-of-the-house Panera run to be Mommy Blogging: Hard Mode.

Sure, this isn’t the most difficult way to blog.  I’m not sitting in the middle of a war-torn countryside, trying to write a piece while fearing that I may not live to see the next minute, never mind the morning.  I’m well aware that my life is easy.  I just wasn’t quite aware of how futile this would feel.  I’m fighting a losing battle, trying to keep my child quiet enough to not disturb the other people around me, most of whom are attempting to meet a set word count within fifteen minutes.

Yes, I chose to bring my son to my NaNoWriMo meet.  Don’t judge me.

It’s taken me 45 minutes to get from my first words to these ones.  In that time, I’ve hushed my son an innumerable amount of times, hushed him a few times more, watched him walk over to the garbage can and empty his tray all by himself, told him to swap his shoes again (because apparently he doesn’t like the way they feel when they’re on normally), and wondered exactly how long it will take my husband to get here, once he gets out of work at 5:00pm.

The answer is roughly 15 minutes, barring any traffic issues.

I have managed to make some progress, though!  An email has been sent.  Just one.  Part of a blog post has been written.  Life marches on, despite the setbacks.

I’m not even sure where I’m going with this, to be honest.  I just thought it would be funny to chronicle my time in Panera, with my child, as he tries his hardest to drive me insane.  He would rather be outside playing, despite the horrible weather.  It thunderstormed earlier, and he wanted nothing more than to go outside and watch the lightning dance across the sky.  I thought that, perhaps, going outside and standing in our front yard to watch the storm is probably not the best idea, not when our front yard is literally covered by trees.  Momma, the perpetual partypooper, strikes again.  I know.

It’s been another 15 minutes since I wrote “I know.”  In that time, I had to use the bathroom and buy the terror some more bread – a bribe, if you will, to be quiet while I spend the next few minutes trying to write 475 words.  It’s been a struggle to try and get him to cooperate.  He’s no longer decided to sit quietly.  Just 30 minutes until my husband should arrive.  I’m watching the minutes tick down in the corner of my screen while my son chomps on his baguette.  The area is quiet.  Finally, I can write something.

Now…  I just need to pick a topic.

Uh oh.