Latte Love

How I'm Different

noreply@blogger.com (Katie) — Fri, 08 Jul 2016 23:23:00 +0000

Just boarded an airplane with tears in my eyes. Even as I soaked up the peace and the swift pace of my travel through airport security and boarding , I cried because I wanted to shout to every person I passed, every one that didn't notice me, "I have a baby! I'm a mom and my kid should be here, driving me (and many of you) completely crazy."

It was the first time I realized how differently people treat you, for better or worse, when you move through life with a baby. At the store, at a party, in the airport.

When he is with me, I seem to only notice the judgmental stares and frustrated sighs from people around me. I imagine their inner dialogues of disdain for my parenting and my child's behavior. I have a motherly, apologetic, you-know-how-it-is look in my back pocket to pull out for such occasions.

But now that I'm without him, I am realizing just how many smiles, laughs, hellos and compliments I am used to getting when I'm with him. My extroverted toddler performer says hi to everyone we see, dances with abandon and endears himself to many. He's much more likable than I am (at least when he's not throwing a tantrum in a loud and confined space). In the brief time we have been privileged to parent him, I have assigned myself with his likability and friendliness and thus, feel a part of me is missing (in many ways, it is) when I don't have him with me.

Having a baby changed me dramatically, but it also changed the way other people see and engage with me. With a kid, I am never invisible. Either smiled at and doted on or subject to annoying sighs and glances, everywhere we go together, people notice. When I'm alone, I am invisible. Or at least, I am an equal face in the masses.

Time away from him is a really good and healthy thing for me. (That's what I'm telling myself.) E is coming up on 22 months, and the longest I've spent apart from him up until now is 24 hours.

This time it is not by choice though. No, the night before our long-awaited family reunion trip to Chicago, a fever appeared and then the tell-tale bumps on his face, fingers and feet. It was bound to happen - half of his daycare class came down with the virus in the past week - but the timing was cruel. No chance he will recover in time to enjoy any of the trip and no telling how bad it will get before it gets better.

So now I am flying solo and trying to spend these four hours and next four days figuring out my identity as a person and a woman and a wife without my husband and a mother without my child (thankful to have one with me that can't escape!). You know, first day stuff. Wish me luck.

Bless you, Southwest Airlines for your no fee system and incredible customer service. I'm always disappointed when I fly with anyone else.

The baby behind me is screaming. I think I owe it to her mom to provide an unhelpful, but friendly smile and nod. I-know-how-it-is, comrade. I know. That's what being in the 'mom club' is all about, right?

P.S. I have a book. I read >1 page. What is life?!

And just like that...

noreply@blogger.com (Katie) — Tue, 22 Sep 2015 23:25:00 +0000

he is one.

How to put into words the ways I have changed, grown, been stretched, been heartbroken, been anxious, been unsure, been positive I was messing up not just my life but another human's.

The heartbreak of parenting is that from the moment they are conceived, they need you just a little less every day. This gradual, but consistent tiny bit of independence has been breaking my heart just a little every day.

It's a good reminder that being a parent is truly being a temporary steward. It has been the biggest privilege and most intimidating responsibility.

You are our sweet prince. You are our joy. You are a gift. We love you.

Feeling at home in an "unfinished" space

noreply@blogger.com (Katie) — Mon, 10 Aug 2015 20:26:00 +0000

Since we bought a house ONE YEAR ago (!) and shared a generous photo of the front door, our friends, family, acquaintances and fellow bloggers have asked to see pictures of the space and I've categorically avoided it. When people come over to our house, I'm often apologizing for the lack of furniture, excusing our hand-me-down couch, and generally making people feel uncomfortable with how much I appear to hate how things are set up and plan to change everything when we have the time/money/ability.

Recently, I started to hear these excuses come out of my mouth as my guests did. And I looked around and started, just a little, to see our house not just as potential, but as our haven, here and now.


I even cleaned off my church pew bench for the picture!

Unintentionally-styled mantle featuring our name in wooden letter blacked out, pine cones
leftover from Christmas and commentaries, of course! and no furniture :'D

I don't want to make excuses and spend time wishing it looked prettier and better and that I had better and more consistent taste. (On different occasions my style can be described as eclectic, vintage, industrial, rustic, craftsman, mid-century, blah, blah, blah. Don't fit me into a box! and all that).

And I don't want to spend any more time wishing we had the money for stuff to hang on my wall and white ceramic animals (kidding!) and giant potted plants and to remodel the bathrooms and landscape the back yard and make a dreamy outdoor dining space with market lights, and, and, and...I hope someday we do have money and time and that I can make a decision on some of those items. But I also want to enjoy our house NOW.

I embrace that we have ratty, hand-me-down furniture, because we have a baby who is messy and climbing and slobbering and will eventually be jumping and catapulting and spilling and generally destroying all the nice things I have and would like to have. and we'll probably have another one or two of those destructive, imaginative fun-making creatures and they'll ruin even more of my prized belongings.

Speaking of my baby, his room is my favorite.

My baby model slacking on the job.

I hope E and any future babies will be able to have fun piling cushions on the ground and jumping off of them, and making forts with my throw pillows and hand-knit afghans and that they won't remember their mama yelling at them to "don't touch that" and "be careful with that" and "If you do that again, you'll..."

And for that, I will sacrifice having instagram-worthy photos of my home. At least for 20 years or so.

This post might make my husband crazy, because he has been telling me all of the above, in not so many words, for the past 10 months, but hey - that would have been too easy, right?

a pastor works here. and a kid makes huge messes here.

(this is the ikea bekvam kitchen cart that I stained and painted)

That oven is original to the house and it works! My favorite thing in the kitchen.

please note my prize, giant zucchini on the counter.

The butler's pantry is awesome for storage but separates the kitchen from the rest of the house.

Master bedroom

How do you make your space a home, even if it's not magazine worthy?

(Also, serious question, how do you decide what to put on your walls? I am seriously gun-shy about committing to decor.)

Send hugs and coffee

noreply@blogger.com (Katie) — Fri, 27 Feb 2015 21:00:00 +0000

I was very easy on myself in the first month after E was born. I kept my commitments to a minimum, I didn't get out of bed for a week after I had him. I prepared myself for sleepless nights, napped when I could, asked for help when I needed it (a lot) and generally, I took gentle care of myself.

I looked at my post-partum body in the mirror and I said, it's okay, body. It's only been a few weeks since you birthed a baby human. Just wait until you can start working out again and you'll get there.

I looked at my bloodshot eyes and I said, it's okay self. You'll get sleep soon. He's doing better already, and it will only go up from here. In the meantime, coffee.

I looked at my husband and we said, this is temporary. We'll have time and energy to talk and reconnect again soon. Look at this beautiful creature we made. Look how much we've figured out already!

And things got better. Week by week, they got a little easier. When I got ready to return to work, I was excited. It felt doable, I felt competent. I was nervous, but I was prepared.

Spoiler alert: I was NOT prepared.

After four months of successful breastfeeding, I've struggled with my milk supply when pumping at work. I started taking supplements and am on a rigorous feeding/pumping schedule every two hours to keep up with the demand, but it still wasn't enough and we have to start supplementing with formula.

I gained weight this month trying to eat enough calories to make milk. I stopped my workout routine, because I was tired and would rather cuddle with my baby after work than be at the gym. My closet selection is waning.

The four-month sleep regression hit and for the past six weeks, we have been waking up every 1.5-3 hours all night. Then I got pneumonia (yes, seriously). I am a walking, coughing zombie.

I'd be lying if I didn't say it has been hard.

This last month has rocked my world. E was such an easy newborn that I started to think life would always be easy. I started to envision parenting as a series of milestone-reaching moments and achievements. Because sleep, weight loss, breastfeeding, our ability to recognize E's needs and respond - didn't we have that all figured out? I did not think I would get worse at these things! but I did. (Go ahead and laugh—you pro parents—at my foolishness.)

I did not know that the regressions and steps backwards and steps sideways are all a part of the process.

What wonderfully transformative time this is. Learning to sacrifice not just my time and my body and my emotions, but also my expectations and my pride. Realizing that this baby is learning new things and growing and changing every day. Thanking God for grace that covers over all of our missteps and middle-of-the-night murmuring. Loving on this sweet bundle who makes our life so much fuller and better.

The process might be painful and the learning curve is huge, but our little boy has made life so sweet. (and he gets cuter every day! We definitely got the best part of the deal.)

For Unto Us a Child is Born

noreply@blogger.com (Katie) — Wed, 24 Dec 2014 18:28:00 +0000

In this season, we are thankful for Jesus, the greatest gift of all

and

for the glimpse into our Father's love for us with the gift of our own dear son.

A very Merry Christmas to you and yours!

all photos by our favorite: Photographs by Anjuli

It's making sense. [state of motherhood, three months in]

noreply@blogger.com (Katie) — Tue, 23 Dec 2014 07:53:00 +0000

Almost exactly a year ago I wrote a post wondering how I would know if I was ready for motherhood. I had truly hoped that my hesitancy about parenthood would change with that positive pregnancy test, but it didn't. Less than a month after I wrote that post I was crying (NOT happy tears) at the two pink lines staring determinately up at me and really feeling like life was over. I battled fears, anxiety and honestly, regret for much of the next 36 weeks.

As it turned out, I was right. My life was over.

But it was replaced with a life that is fuller, deeper, and so much bigger than it was before. Every experience is magnified and intensified. I don't think Eric and I lacked or were at a loss before we had E, but our lives are different and truly better with him.

Lately, I have been asked variations on the same question,

"So, is motherhood what you expected?"

I have a hard time knowing how to answer that, because I don't want to gloat or sound insincere. I know for a lot of moms, it is harder, more overwhelming and more exhausting than they imagined.

But when I say that being is a mom is SO SO SO much better than I imagined, it is just scratching the surface.

All of the bad things I dreaded either aren't as bad as expected or have become totally irrelevant. A lot of the things I was worried about not being able to do, we can totally do (this is coming off of a four-hour plane ride with a three-month-old after five days of family chaos, which we all survived really well). We can still travel, go out with friends, and have fun. And what we can't do right now, I hardly miss. I know we'll do those things again!

Before E arrived, I just knew that I was going to hate parenting an infant. The poop and the crying and the blobby-ness and not knowing what I'm doing. And then that infant that I had wrestled with for months and shared my body with and wished away more than a few times, was placed on my chest, I was just in complete wonderment. I was in love. Suddenly it didn't matter that I don't like infants in general, we had OUR OWN BABY HUMAN. Who needs me and knows me. That first wave of realization that I was it - the mama, the nurturer, was a game-changer. It still is.

I love being a mom.

And E. My sweet baby son. I could write pages and pages about the way he intertwines his little fingers and unfolds them again so that he always looks like he's cooking up a devious plan or really worried. The way he burrows his head in the crook of my arm and rubs his face until it's red trying to get just the right kind of comfortable for a nap. The desperately excited look on his face when he is trying to talk in response to Eric or I.

The love I feel for this kid is limitless and overwhelming. It's more immense and joy-filled than anything I could have expected. I have no idea what I'm doing. And at the same time, it makes perfect sense.

This is the kind of crazy talk I would roll my eyes at before I became a mom, so if you need to gag, I GET IT.

Motherhood just has a way of changing you...

long-awaited arrival [birth story, part two]

noreply@blogger.com (Katie) — Tue, 18 Nov 2014 05:14:00 +0000

Read part one of my son's birth story here.

I was SO glad to have avoided traffic as I worked through 4 surges on the drive to the hospital at 2:30am. I remember feeling much more alert and aware than I expected to be. The whole drive I had coached myself that when we checked in, no dilation number was going to bother me. I knew I was making SOME progress, and that was enough for me.

We checked in to the hospital around 3am, and it took about 20 minutes for them to get me in a room because they lost all of my paperwork! We gone in to the hospital two weeks earlier to provide copies of my insurance and drivers license, but of course, when we arrived this night, they couldn't find anything! I remember being pretty patient, responding to questions in between surges but Eric was visibly irritated and my doula kept asking if we could just get into the room!

When we finally got into our room, I had my first (ever) cervical exam. OUCH. Part of it was that we had a terrible traveling nurse (I later told my doctor about her and he apologized and said she was no longer at the hospital). She was really cold and didn't seem to listen at all, more concerned with the hospital policy than even my own doctor's orders.

I was positive for group b strep, so I knew I needed IV hookup when I got there, and also that there would be mandatory fetal monitoring. My doula had already been SO helpful up to this point with the thousand phone calls and texts from me - encouraging us when labor was lasting forever, but here is where she really kicked in to gear. She set a timer and sat next to me adjusting the monitor to make sure that it didn't fall off or move with the baby. When the 20 minutes was up she was bugging the nurse about getting it off me so I could get in the tub. She knew the hospital and staff and got us extra pillows and supplies. She was right with me the entire time, and provided whatever I needed (even when I couldn't vocalize it) in seconds. It made me feel so at ease.

About two hours after arriving to the hospital, I sunk into the tub. It felt heavenly. My doula set up LED candles all over the room, turned the lights way down, and put lavender essential oil on a cloth near my head. This was the best stage of labor for me. I was in the hospital and had been assured I wasn't leaving without a baby. I was laboring really well, although things has slowed down a little bit to 3-5 minutes apart. Everyone said that was normal as the transition from home to the hospital is disruptive. As I waited for my body to kick things into gear, I was still able to talk a little bit to my mom and Eric in between surges.

The awful nurse came back in around 6:30am and made me get out of the tub for more monitoring. While I silently cursed her and waddled back to the bed for the IV and fetal monitor, we found out that my doctor was on a 24 hour shift at the hospital starting at 7am - yay! Our doula went to the charge nurse before the shift change and requested a nurse she loved and had worked with before. By morning, things were looking so much better - I was so relieved about the shift change for the nurses and my beloved doctor being there and I thought things were moving.

After monitoring, Eric and I decided to take a short walk up and down the hallway to keep things moving. It was eerily quiet. I don't know why, but I really thought labor and delivery would be louder and more chaotic. I was conscious of trying not to make much noise when the surges came during the walk. It was so weird knowing that we were in our last few hours of just being the two of us.

Back in the room my doctor came in to check my progress at 8am. He was WAY more gentle than the nurse had been, but he didn't have good news for me. I was still at three centimeters and my contractions hadn't been picking up. He suggested breaking my water to kick things into gear. I started bawling. It seems silly now, but I just remember wanting to avoid ALL interventions and I knew this was going to be the first one in a cascade of them. I was also nervous that the intensity would get to be too much for me. He kindly left us to make a decision and it took me about 10 minutes of crying before we agreed.

Water breaking was so weird: gushy and warm and freeing. Immediately afterward I felt excited because there was no turning back now! With so many false starts and stops, there was something so reassuring about the definiteness of the water bag being broken. Very shortly though, my back labor picked up in intensity. I had been feeling some back pain with each of my surges since I got out of the tub, but it really intensified. During every surge I had my doula, my mom and Eric pushing on me - one on each hip and one on my lower back. It is hard to describe how hard this was. Up until this point I was able to be so mentally present despite the ~~discomfort~~ (okay, PAIN, I said it. it frickin' hurt!), but this was a new level. I was in denial that I was experiencing back labor though, because the sensation was so different from what I expected. The next 3-4 hours are a complete blur to me. I know I was back in the tub for a little, but I didn't like it nearly as much. I leaned on the bed a lot. I wasn't talking at all in between surges and I was groaning loudly and often.

After another monitoring session around noon, my doula suggested a hot shower, which sounded good to me at this point because the shower had one of those removable heads and I could direct the pressure right on my lower back. I wanted a little time alone, so everyone left me in the shower for a little while. Then Eric came in and started to ask me questions about how much longer I thought I could keep going like this. He had been my number one support and cheerleader, but now I could see he was visibly upset watching me struggle. But at that point, I didn't care - I bit his head off.

Our birthing class had emphasized getting through one surge at a time rather than trying to project how many there would be or how long the whole process could last. I reminded him of this in an irritated manner, and then got out of the shower to complain to my mom and my doula that Eric wanted me to give up (e.g. get the epidural).

It was then I noticed that the nurse, doula and my mom were all conferring. They all thought it was time to get some more help. I protested. This was not in my plan! The nurse asked if she could check my progress before I made a decision. Around 1pm - 10 hours after arriving to the hospital - I was still three centimeters dilated. (She was nice enough to say to me that I was almost four). Despite my determination not to be discouraged and to "calmly accept whatever turns my labor takes," (fromt he hypnobirthing tracks) I felt really torn. I wanted a natural birth and I knew that I could do it, but so many things were going wrong - between the back labor, complete lack of progress and not having slept in three nights. I decided to wave my white flag.

It helped that everyone around me, who had affirmed and encouraged my desire for a natural birth, thought the epidural was the best and wisest decision at this point. But even writing about it now, eight weeks later, with my perfect, healthy babe sleeping next to me, I struggle with it. I feel like I gave up, like I didn't get the experience I wanted. Part of me is mad at my body for not cooperating. Part of me is disappointed with myself for not pushing through. Part of me was mad at God for allowing it to be so hard.

I'm still working through these emotions, but ultimately I know that I made the right decision, because I made the decision that brought my son into this world. And I know that this difficult decision was the first of many hard parenting decisions I will have to make on this journey. One decision I will be judged for, among many I will be judged for.

I struggled and fought to bring forth this child, just as millions of women have since Eve, and I succeeded. I birthed that baby and gave him life. I am a warrior mama.

I am a warrior.

I wish I could say that the epidural turned things around, but as it turned out, something else was turned around - my baby's head. At this point that the nurse confirmed what my doula has suspected for days, that the baby appeared to be presenting sideways in the birth canal - asynclitic. This is what was causing the back labor and likely, the lack of progress.

After the epidural, around 2pm my legs got hot and heavy, and I fell asleep for two heavenly hours. I continued to doze and when the nurse came back in to check me at 5pm, I was confident that my body being able to rest and relax would have gotten things moving. Finding out I was only at 5 cm and my surges had dramatically slowed down caused another emotional breakdown. My doctor came back in to confer and suggested we consider pitocin. I was determined to avoid any more interventions, so we started going through every 'natural' labor augmentation technique. I tried using the hospital grade breast pump, my doula tried pressure points on my feet, and at one point my leg was propped up on a table and three pillows to try to get the baby to move. After a few hours, the surges hadn't intensified or regulated, so we agreed to the pitocin, really thankful for a doctor who had allowed me to make these decision at my own pace.

It was 8:45pm. We all sat and watched the internal monitor to note the intensity of the surges, which at this point felt like braxton hicks again - I noticed the tightening, but wasn't in pain at all. At 10:30pm the nurse checked me and her face immediately betrayed good news. finally good news! I was dilated to 9cm and about 80% effaced. The pitocin had worked the baby out of his stuck position. She smiled, we laughed and I felt the tension leaving my shoulders for the first time in days. I thanked God for those drugs. I even put on mascara to celebrate.

finally go time!

Within an hour I was fully dilated and effaced and started to feel pressure. One of my conditions in getting the epidural would be that it was turned off for pushing so I could feel it. Boy, was that intense. Pushing may have been the hardest part of labor for me - I just was not prepared for the intensity and constancy of the pressure. After an hour and fifteen minutes of the most mind-bogglingly concentrated effort of my life, my doctor came into the room and I knew I was finally close (the nurses and doula had been saying 'you're so close' for thirty minutes, so their word couldn't be trusted). Eric was at my head holding my oxygen mask, a cloth on my forehead and being so amazing and encouraging. My mom and my doula had each of my legs and suddenly the room was full of people. I remembered thinking it was so crazy - one second there was no baby, and then (push, push, push!) there was.

And there he was. White and purple and goopy and squalling. And, a BOY! Eric announced it to the delivery room and everyone cheered. (Eric himself was shocked - he had convinced himself our baby was a girl).

I looked into that baby's eyes in awe and wonderment and I couldn't believe he was just staring back at me like he already knew me. I wrote this to a friend right after he arrived:

In that moment, I didn't feel the elation I expected, I just felt very peaceful. I thought "oh! It's you. Of course it's you."

I had been so nervous about meeting and welcoming a complete stranger into our perfect family, but he wasn't a stranger at all. I had known him all along.

He is our son.

long-awaited arrival [birth story, part one]

noreply@blogger.com (Katie) — Sun, 02 Nov 2014 05:47:00 +0000

I debated about how much detail to share in a birth story, or whether to share at all, but as I grew to love reading all the myriad ways that babies come into this world, I wanted to share my own story, my own journey to motherhood. Writing about it helps me own the experience, even though it didn't turn out as I hoped and planned. It is my story, and it is E's, and I love it for that.

My last belly shot, taken one week before E was born

Pregnancy was rough for me. Not in the sense that I had any complications, but I just hated being pregnant for most of the 40 weeks. By the time I got to week 39 I was so uncomfortable and overwhelmed I decided to quit working a week earlier than planned. We bought our first house in August and I couldn't take any time off for the move, so life was feeling very chaotic and unsettled - not great feelings when you're in hyper nesting mode, but also physically exhausted from carrying around 40+ extra pounds and a tiny MMA fighter in your belly.

That first morning sleeping in, staying in my pajamas and putzing around the house were glorious. (I wish I had enjoyed them more, but I was certain that the baby would arrive late, and I would have at least a week to get ready.) I spent my days lazily unpacking a few boxes, stressing about the organization of my kitchen and brainstorming furniture arrangements, and sleeping.

On Thursday morning around 1:30am, I woke up to my first "real" contraction. For the past couple of months I had been googling and texting my doula about the difference between braxton hicks and the real deal because I had been feeling BH contractions since around week 20, increasing in frequency. But when a cramping feeling woke me up that night, only an hour after I had been up to pee, I knew it was something new.

Wise people tell you when you're in early labor to just relax and enjoy the last rest before the really hard work and the craziness of life with a newborn, but it's so freaky and exciting - I can't imagine many first-time moms are able to chill out. I turned on my hypnobirthing track and got out my lavender essential oil and starting breathing through each surge. (I'm not a crazy oil person, but lavender was really soothing to me in pregnancy)

This is going to sound nuts, but labor felt SO good at this point. It wasn't comfortable, but I was prepared to handle it, felt excited, powerful, and in control. I tried to remember these feelings later as my labor story twisted and turned in ways I hadn't hoped for. In those moments I was strong and in tune with my body and I was doing it.

After 2 hours I woke up E to let him know what was up and decided to hop in the shower to relax. It felt great, so I laid back in bed with my giant body pillow and then next thing I knew, almost an hour had gone by - we had fallen asleep! The surges started coming very sporadically after that - sometimes 6 minutes and sometimes 45 minutes apart. I texted my doulas in the morning to let them know what was up and they encouraged me that it was normal, that my body was getting ready to have this baby and that it would happen really soon.

Since it had finally started to feel real, I tried to accomplish my To Do list at a little faster pace during the day, getting the hospital bag packed and making sure things were ready with the baby stuff and a bed for my mom to sleep in when she arrived. All day the surges were coming and going, but not consistently or as intense as they had been at night. After dinner we went on a long walk and got the car seat installed. Things started picking up again during the walk. My doulas encouraged me to take a warm bath and drink some wine to relax. We have the world's tiniest bathtub, so it wasn't exactly comfortable, but a candle, a little bit of wine and warm water were so soothing and I dozed on and off.

I headed to bed still frustrated at the tease of labor, but determined that I would get things started the next day. I woke up two hours after falling asleep to a good strong cramp, and they increased again. I woke up Eric more quickly this time and had him start timing the surges. We put on instrumental music, I leaned over the ball and got in my groove. WIthin an hour surges were 3-4 minutes apart, though they weren't terribly intense yet, and I decided to call my doula. We talked for about ten minutes, she could tell I wasn't working too hard yet, and we agreed that I would labor at home without doula support for at least a little while longer.

Meanwhile, all Thursday evening I had been in touch with my mom in Chicago trying to figure out when she should come out and I was getting kind of freaked out by the not knowing if it was going to be a few hours or a few days before the baby decided to make his/her appearance. At this point I called her and told her to definitely come TODAY.

My doula recommended a shower again to keep my body relaxed, so around 4am I got in again. But (of course!) things slowed down and by the time I laid down in bed, I was back to 30 minute breaks instead of 4-5.

By 8am Friday morning, I was feeling so pathetic (I had woken everyone up and kept them up half the night for no reason) and so discouraged. But I still had determination left in me. I put shoes on and marched outside and started climbing our back porch stairs to kickstart things again. Up and down, up and down for about 45 minutes. (Which is a really long time to climb up and down only about ten stairs.) Then E and I walked about a quarter mile to our local donut shop and had to stop about five times to breathe through the surges. I felt good but didn't want to get my hopes up. The next 24 hours passed much like the previous 48 - speed up, slow down, speed up, slow down, but never stopped. I would lay down to try to rest, and invariably get woken up shortly after with a series of surges close together again. Once I got in a rhythm, they would slow.

My mom arrived and tried to help keep my mind off of things by helping me reorganize some things in the house and unpack a few more boxes. Everyone encouraged me to go on with life while I waited, but it was impossible. I couldn't do anything out in public without having to bend over, grimace and breathe slowly for a minute, every 15 minutes!

Saturday evening E went to a friend's birthday party on his own while I stayed home and pouted. He brought back some leftovers which I ate and then couldn't fall asleep. The surges were coming back, about ten minutes apart. At this point, I was on auto pilot. Get out the lavender oil, exercise ball and relaxing music, open the contraction timer app on my phone, get on my hands and knees and moan. Legitimately wonder if I will be in early labor for the rest of my life. Moan some more. Lather, rinse, repeat.

At midnight things had picked up to 3-5 minutes apart and I decided to wake up my mom. It felt a little different and just a little more intense, so of course I was willing myself to believe that this was it. This had better be it! We called my doula and asked her to come over. At this point I wanted someone experienced with labor to evaluate the situation. After observing about an hour and a half of consistent, strong surges, she suggested we head to the hospital. Our hospital has tubs in the birthing rooms, which sounded really good at this point, and we could avoid traffic if we went in the middle of the night.

At this point I was in complete denial that I would ever have this baby and was loopy from three nights without sleep, so my doula needed to reassure me, over and over again, that I was going to have this baby and I was going to have it today. Everyone ran around grabbing last minutes items, snacks, etc while I hung out on my bed moaning, and then...

WE FINALLY WENT TO THE HOSPITAL!

(oh, but this story is not over. Not even close)

He's Here!

noreply@blogger.com (Katie) — Thu, 02 Oct 2014 03:40:00 +0000

Our darling son (SON!) arrived in early morning hours, on his due date, September 22 after days of labor and a lot of coaxing and pleading.

He was worth every second.

What a joy and what a privilege the past nine days have been with our sweet baby boy.

I can't believe he is ours!

Anniversary Maternity Photos [Photographs by Anjuli]

noreply@blogger.com (Katie) — Fri, 05 Sep 2014 14:14:00 +0000

Last month we had our maternity photos taken (and boy, am I glad we did them at 33 weeks instead of 37, considering what my feet and cankles look like these days!) We knew when we scheduled the shoot that we couldn't have hired anyone but our favorite San Diego photographer, Anjuli. She did our two-year anniversary photos, three years ago.

We decided to head to the old downtown area of our new city (just a few blocks from the house we just bought!) to capture some memories of this crazy time in our lives - moving, celebrating 5 years of marriage, and getting ready to welcome our baby. We are thrilled with the results - what a treasure to have these pictures to remember our last little bit of life before three. Thank you, Anjuli!!

outfit 1
dress: Imanimo (on sale now!)
shoes: Steven Madden
belt: Emerson Fry

outfit 2
top: H&M
jeans: Gap Maternity
jacket: Skunkfunk

E
chambray: Old Navy
vest: Heritage 21
pants: Dockers
shoes: Red Wing Iron Rangers

I have so many, many more thoughts on pregnancy and motherhood swirling around in my head these days, but lately those thoughts have been mixed with paint colors, craigslisting furniture and trying to keep my feet from ballooning with water weight. I feel like life might actually be slower and simpler when baby arrives!

A Food Diary from San Francisco, Part One

noreply@blogger.com (Katie) — Thu, 07 Aug 2014 18:57:00 +0000

Our trip to San Francisco (in May!) was really a food odyssey, with some sights in between meals for good measure. It's a good thing it is such a walkable city, because we consumed SO many calories. We even skipped our last meal - we just couldn't have fit in another bite!

I LOVE that SF'ers love Yelp. We came to town with dozens of recommendations, but we still relied heavily on Yelp for advice on what to sample from menus, or what options were available when our first choice fell through.

E and I have a little travel journal that we take with us on trips and vacations to record where and what we ate and what we saw (you know, so 2 months later when we're looking at photos, we can remind ourselves of what the heck that picture is of!)

(Also, I'm pregnant, so eating ice cream three days in a row is totally acceptable, in case you've forgotten.)

Ratings are starred on a scale of 1-5.

May 22

Paprika: afternoon snack and drink
Mission District
★★★★★
This place gets 5 stars for being quaint, authentic and neighborly. We stopped in for a beer and a snack since we were having a late dinner, and ordered a sample platter with sweet sausage, pickles, sauerkraut and bread and a cheese platter. We sat at a cozy table in the front corner where we could people watch. The service was friendly, the taste was yummy, but be warned! CASH ONLY.

Blue Plate: dinner
Bernal Heights
★★★
We picked this place because we wanted a little nicer meal to meet friends, and it was my birthday dinner! While the food was decent and the ambiance was nice, it didn't wow me like many of our other food choices. (And the menu was a little pretentious for us simple people).

What I would recommend is the macaroni and drunken spanish goat cheese - that was the highlight! The chocolate cake for dessert was great too. But my lamb ravioli in fennel broth was really strong and too salty and the smoked trout deviled eggs weren't my thing.

May 23

Blue Bottle Coffee Co: breakfast
Hayes Valley
★★★★★
The pour over coffee was great, but the real star was the New Orleans Style Iced Coffee (loaded with cream and brewed with chicory). It was tasty and unique. This location is fantastic - a warehouse kiosk in a manicured alley. We happened here just because we were taking a bike tour located in the same alley. The only downside? No bathroom!

Señor Sisig Food Truck: lunch
Off the Grid: Civic Center
★★★★

Our bike tour stopped at a food truck event for lunch right across the street from City Hall. We opted for our tour guide's recommendation of this filipino/mexican fusion truck and it did not disappoint. Between a California burrito and carne asade filipino fries, were in a heart attack heaven! Nom.

Smitten Ice Cream: snack
Hayes Valley
★★★
It's ice cream made while you watch with liquid nitrogen. It was a bit of tourist trap. The ice cream was good (I've never tasted such an herby mint!) and the experience was novel, but it wasn't our favorite SF ice cream experience.

San Tung: dinner
Inner Sunset (read: way the heck out of the way)
★★★★
DUDE. Chinese food was at the top of my priority list when coming to SF, but I was terrified about wandering into Chinatown and making a random choice. So we asked our local friend to take us, and I was very skeptical when the restaurant was nowhere near Chinatown. But it was SO WORTH IT. Our friend warned us about a long wait and terrible service, and had we not had that warning, this would probably be a very different review. The food was so amazing and the service was so aloof it was comical. I would recommend going with friends because it really made the time go by quickly and pleasantly while waiting forever to be seated, get food and get drink refills. The star of this are the dry fried chicken wings. I would have eaten my weight in them and nothing else. But we also loved the black bean noodles, mu shu pork, and mongolian beef.
Make sure you put your name on the dry erase board when you walk in (no hostess). And do not make the rookie mistake of visiting San Tung #2 next door, it's not the same restaurant!

May 24

Sightglass Coffee:breakfast
SoMa (South of Market)
★★★★
The cappuccinos were fabulous and I loved my chocolate croissant. The vibe is very industrial urban hipster with lots of burlap, exposed pipes and concrete, but it seemed like a really neighborly place where locals gathered and it was a nice stop on our long walk to farm:table.
We took home their "Owl's Howl" espresso roast. YUM.

Farm:Table: brunch
Tenderloin District
★★★★
A hidden gem on an unassuming street in a weird area of town (crack central!), but the food is locally sourced and delicious. They have a small menu for each meal and one communal table inside, with limited seating in a parklet right outside the door. You're forced to at least acknowledge your fellow patrons. A culinary highlight here was the house juice. I would pay a lot of $ to have that stuff shipped up to my door. It was some concoction of fresh-squeezed orange, grapefruit, apple and who knows what else but it was SO DELICIOUS.

Farmer's Market: lunch
Ferry Landing
★★★★★
We like farmer's markets and we like snacking. This was a really fun thing to do and place to eat. We ended up just stopped by 5-10 vendors and picking up little snacks like beef jerky, cheese, fruit, bread and pastries. Also a great place for designer stroller scoping.

Pizzeria Delfina: dinner
Mission District
★★★
The thin, crispy brick oven pizza gets a 4.5 stars (you have to love arugula!), but mediocre service, and a teeny tiny restaurant where people were knocking wine glasses into their neighbors laps (yes this really happened) brought this down to a three stars. The wine menu was pretty pricey for it being a casual pizzeria. We shared two pizzas with leftovers, (you definitely need more than one pizza for two people). Next time I would pick up the pizza to go!

Bi-Rite Creamery: dessert
Mission District
★★★★★
This legendary ice cream shop came highly recommended and we were well-warned of the long lines. The line was a couple of blocks long, but it was less than 30 minute wait and it was well worth it. Their famous salted caramel I could take or leave, but here are my top three flavors (yes, we came back two more times)

Ricanelas (cinnamon ice cream with snicker doodle chunks)
Malted Vanilla
Coffee Toffee

Honorable mentions to Roasted Banana and Hazelnut.

I still have two and a half more days of eating to report on, so stay tuned!

Five years of marriage

noreply@blogger.com (Katie) — Thu, 19 Jun 2014 19:44:00 +0000

I know writing a mushy anniversary post is so bloggy cliche, but I was feeling really mushy this morning on my fifth anniversary, so you all can deal (or just roll your eyes and ignore it).

When I think about the giddy feelings of five years ago, I can't believe how naive and unprepared I was for marriage. I imagine many brides feel this way before their wedding day (especially those separated by 2,000 miles for most of their relationship, like we were!) I dreamed about travel, and romantic dinners and cuddling at night and kissing every morning.

I had the silliest ideas about how marriage would fulfill and complete me. About how fun and exciting and romantic it would be every day. Marriage was going to fix all of our long-distance communication struggles, soften our rough edges, and insta-solve our conflicts.

But of course, marriage has turned out to be so much harder than I expected. It has been refiner's fire. It has been a wrestling of wills. It has been many, many moments of "intense fellowship" (as one of our pastor's calls marital conflict). It has been tears and frustration and disappointment and "I can't believe you!" and "how dare you!" and "who even ARE you?"

It has been long discussions with no resolutions. It has been going to bed angry sometimes and waking up still angry. It's been staring blankly at a wall for an hour and thinking there is just no way to fix this.

It has been the hardest five years of my life.

And it has been the best.

Marriage has been so much more transformative and more fulfilling than I could have imagined. It has taught me about myself, it has taught me about others, and more than anything, it has taught me about the character of God. It has shown me my own selfishness in ways I never could have seen on my own, and it has changed me for the better. It has been a comfort, an encouragement, a haven and a home. (And it has involved those travel adventures, romantic dinners and morning kisses too!)

Marriage didn't fulfill my deepest needs, but it did point me to the place where my deepest needs are met. It drove me, time and time again, to Jesus and his redemptive love.

And as I sit here getting pummeled from the inside by one of the greatest blessings our marriage has produced while my husband builds homes in Mexico with our church, I am extremely grateful that God saw fit to bless me with E, and to bless me with marriage.

Here's to another 5 years of companionship, blessing and lot of growth!

Bump Style

noreply@blogger.com (Katie) — Wed, 11 Jun 2014 23:14:00 +0000

I have semi-revived my style Tumblr, so if you want to follow along as I figure out maternity fashion, click here!

You can also follow me on Instagram for more semi-occasional bump selfies or on Pinterest where I'm constantly searching for gender neutral baby gear that doesn't make me want to scoop out my eyeballs.

Thank you for all your love, concern and support after my last post. Hearing from ladies all over, at all stages of mothering and non-mothering, some that identified with me, and some that just wanted to encourage me, has been an amazing experience. It is another reminder of the wonderful community that the last 5 years of blogging has brought!

More reflections to come... XO

20 weeks: some reflections at the halfway point

noreply@blogger.com (Katie) — Mon, 05 May 2014 17:56:00 +0000

(20 week pictures are at the bottom of the post if this part is boring for you!)

I haven't done a very good job of pregnancy updates. I never planned to do weekly blog updates, but it's been harder than I thought to write about pregnancy at all. (The fact that I spend lots of time in tears on the bathroom floor for absolutely no reason probably has something to do with that. Pregnancy hormones are wrecking me!)

I tend to deal with life in a very big picture, long-term sort of way. So when faced with the enormous prospect of parenting, the lifestyle changes it brings, and the particularly hard and scary stages coming up (like infancy), I've been feeling very overwhelmed and unprepared. It's hard to write about fear and anxiety toward a process that for most people is so anticipated and joyous. But there it is: I'm having a baby and I'm scared.

I'm continually amazed at how much mamas go through to bring life into the world. Pregnancy is not a joke. Big kudos to all the moms of the world (especially those who can do it with less whining that I can.) I am a big huge baby myself - more proof of God's sense of humor.

A recent girls' weekend and conversations with dear friends/mamas who emphasized the fun and fullness that life with kids will bring has helped me start to emerge from my cocoon of terror and try to enjoy the process, as well as get a little excited for the big transitions ahead.

Everyone deals with change - especially one as big as a new baby - differently, but I've started to come to a few realizations that have helped me cope:

Just because I'm mourning my impending loss of freedom and sleep, doesn't mean I don't love my baby.
Just because I'm packing in vacations, excursions and fun into the next four months, with the fear that they'll never happen again, doesn't mean I don't love my baby.
Just because I want to (don't have to) to go back to work, doesn't mean I don't love my baby.
Just because I'm not a "baby person," doesn't mean I won't love my baby.

At the bottom of it all, we know that God picked this timing to bring a child into our lives and we are overwhelmed and thankful. (For the record, E is very excited and not nearly as nervous as I have been.)

And this baby is coming, whether I'm ready or not.

Anyway, here is a little bumpdate since we're halfway (!!)

Thank you for letting me share.

Lots of love & kicks,
Katie and Baby Latte

San Francisco, Here We Come!

noreply@blogger.com (Katie) — Wed, 16 Apr 2014 23:08:00 +0000

Photo Source

There is nothing like the anticipation of vacation. The scouring of TripAdvisor for hidden gems, looking up blogs from locals, and booking an apartment on Airbnb. The daydreaming and planning and counting down until a few delightful days off in a row.

When we found out I was pregnant, I immediately started panicking about all the travel we would miss out on after the arrival of a little one. I have great friends who have assured me that travel can and will still happen, but realistically with two jobs less than a year old, we know that our vacation time and funds will be limited for a little while. So we're squeezing in short trips wherever we can between now and September.

After exploring a few options, we decided to spend my birthday weekend in a city I can't believe I haven't visited yet - San Francisco!

The things we are most interested in doing — besides a few of the tourist attractions like a night-tour of Alcatraz and a city bike tour — are local food (but nothing too fancy), amazing coffee (I'm drinking every drop of my allotted 12 oz a day), and history of arts/culture.

So give me your suggestions! Where should we eat, drink, and walk that is off the beaten path (but not outside the city)? Anything I should I read to prepare for the trip?

#firsttrimesterproblems: tweets I couldn't tweet

noreply@blogger.com (Katie) — Wed, 26 Mar 2014 04:19:00 +0000

Here is, I hope, a bit of comic relief. Pregnancy is WEIRD. And even though I feel like I'm the last person on earth to do this baby thing, there is still so much that was never told to me.

My first trimester journal, in tweet form (p.s. if you click on any of them, you can tweet them yourself!)

Food photos on instagram: normally I love you and am inspired by you. This week you make me gag. #saynotosalads #firsttrimesterproblems

Tim Allen's Pure Michigan commercial on the radio while I drive there in the falling snow: that's just not fair. #firsttrimesterproblems (same goes for the P&G Olympics commercial #crybaby)

Woke up and felt normal for the first time in weeks. Immediately panicked. #firsttrimesterproblems

I have always been a night owl, but lately I have been my husband's dream girl: ready for bed by 9pm. #firsttrimesterproblems

I'm convinced that preggie pops are just so intensely sour that they distract you from nausea more than curing it. #firsttrimesterproblems

Drinking tea, excessive gas, going to bed at 8:30pm. Pregnant or 93 years old? #firsttrimesterproblems

When people tell you that you have the pregnancy glow, what they mean is you look fat and tired. #firsttrimesterproblems

Isn't it awesome that coffee makes me sick during a time when I've never needed caffeine more!? #firsttrimesterproblems

I have never understood George Costanza's under-the-desk nap cave better than I do now. #firsttrimesterproblems

Anything else I missed?

A latte more love...

noreply@blogger.com (Katie) — Mon, 17 Mar 2014 19:26:00 +0000

We are excited and overwhelmed to announce that our family is growing...

Somebody pinch me — it doesn't quite feel real (and I forgot to wear green today)!

More to come.

DIY: World Map Wrapped Canvas Triptych

noreply@blogger.com (Katie) — Mon, 03 Mar 2014 21:23:00 +0000

File this in the category of DIY defeats.
Okay, so the final product is actually tolerable (and I bet most of you won't notice the most significant mistake at first glance) but boy was this project more agonizing than I planned.

E has been wanting some new kitchen decor for a while, but now that we have a new dining set, it was a good time to update from the fabric wrapped canvases we'd hung on the empty wall in the first few weeks of marriage, four and a half years ago.

I had read four different tutorials for similar projects just to be as prepared as possible. I should have taken a hint that in every tutorial the blogger wrote that it didn't work out exactly like they planned. So while I'm going to share what I did and what I learned, perfectionists beware: this isn't one of those projects that will look completely polished at the end. But I hope that my more detailed directions might help!

Supplies:

2 wall maps, 50" x 32" (mine here)

3 custom canvas, 16" x 28" x 3/4"* ordered from canvasplace.com

Spray mount

Mod Podge

X-Acto knife

Acrylic sealant spray

heavy books and newspaper.
*(My canvas were actually 16 x 30, but I would do 16 x 28 if I did this project over again)

I ordered custom-made canvases from so that I could include as much of the canvas as possible. With all of the standard options I found in craft stores, I would have lost at least eight inches vertically, so no Antarctica, Greenland, North Pole, etc. I bought two maps for the triptych: one for the two sides and another for the middle.

1. Weight the map down with books or other heavy objects to flatten it. Cut the first map directly down the middle (as shown.) Cut about 10 inches off of each side of the second map, as straight as possible.

2. Measure about 2 inches down from the top of the map on the back, and and make tiny marks with a pencil across the top. This is the part of the map you will wrap around the canvas on the first side.

3. Spray poster mount generously on the paper and then very carefully line up the tiny marks with the top edge of the canvas. Before pressing firmly, slowly eyeball a straight line down on the right. When you're confident of placement, press firmly on the top portion of the frame and the right side of the frame (leaving the bottom and left side loose).

4. On a clean, news-papered surface, turn the canvas over and spray the edge of the frame and the back side of the map generously with adhesive. Pressing down firmly and pulling the map gently, secure the map completely around the top edge of the frame to the back. (the first side is the hardest!) I also added some craft glue to this step for security.

5. Gently but firmly press, pull and secure the right side next. Snip the corner of the paper and fold as shown (like a gift box).

6. Then (I didn't discover this important step until the third canvas and it made a big difference) take one (clean) hand on the top of the map, and one hand on the back of the soft part of the canvas and press the layers firmly together from the already wrapped top corner to the unwrapped bottom corner. This will significantly reduce bubbling when you add the Mod Podge. 7. Continue spraying, pulling, pressing and gluing the last two sides. Once they are wrapped all the way around the back of the canvas, use an X-Acto knife to cut off any excess paper. 8. Very gently take a foam brush and lightly wipe Mod Podge over the finished product in one smooth layer. Any globs and your paper will bubble and start to disintegrate. This will happen either way...and it is the most frustrating product of this project.

9. Set your first canvas aside to dry and repeat two more times! (note: be very careful how you line up your country overlaps. Try to leave a half inch overlap as to make the map as continuous as possible. I used the guiding lines to make my guesstimates, but I made a mistake and now I'm missing a bit of Brazil and Greenland!)

10. Finally, spray the dried canvases with a matte acrylic sealant. I did two layers, just in case they ever needed to be wiped clean, the paper should stay intact.

11. Hang up your canvases on another day, when you have the energy to measure and level them.

A History of Valentines'

noreply@blogger.com (Katie) — Mon, 17 Feb 2014 20:46:00 +0000

I wrote this post on Valentine's weekend 2012, saved it in my drafts folder and never pressed publish. Today I wanted to share a new Valentine's Day tradition we decided to start so I dug up this forgotten post with our new tradition (hint: it involves pizza!)

I'm not one of those women who says "Oh, I don't care about Valentine's Day" and then gets secretly sobby when my husband doesn't come home with flowers or a dinner reservation.

But I'm also not one of those women that hates on Valentine's day as a commercialized hallmark holiday. Because it is an opportunity to celebrate love. And I love love.

That said, I can't say I have ever had a terribly romantic day! A friend wished me a happy valentines yesterday and I started thinking about the awkwardness that has been a few of my past love days.

The first Valentine's day I really remember was with a guy I'd been seeing for only a couple of weeks in early college. I was still living at home and my dad wanted to meet him before we officially started dating, so I invited him over to my family's on Valentine's Day to....watch the Olympics. Yeah, it was that romantic. While we were sitting there watching luge races, I was praying that the awkwardness would pass quickly while my dad quizzed this guy that I barely knew about his work, family, friends, etc. I was sitting on my hands tensely, a foot away from him on the sofa and trying not to act weird in front of my parents. But it was the most awkward experience ever, and I didn't even get chocolate out of the deal.

The following Valentine's Day I was still dating the same guy, but things were rocky. We were in the middle of a big fight, but attempted to make up because it was V-day after all. He took me out to Red Lobster with no reservations and a one hour wait which we passed sitting in an empty Taco Bell. (spoiler alert: we ended up breaking up two weeks later.)

The next February was a few months into E and I's relationship, and I thought "This relationship is so great and wonderful - he probably has something drop-dead romantic planned." I'm still not sure I understand fully what it is about us women that expect our significant others to step out of character (mind you, the character we fell in love with) and perform great feats of chivalry and romance on the one day of the year that everyone else does it too.

Anyway, we agreed not to do anything big, just hang out. He was going to call after studying. I got dressed, made up, and sat down to wait for the phone call. I went from excited, to elated (if its taking this long, it must be good), to exasperated, to supremely annoyed. I marched up to his dorm room at 8pm and found him asleep on the couch. Ouch. I was mad all night, even though we both think it's hysterical now. (We ended up eating cold food from the campus snack shop, and going to bed early).

After that experience I decided to temper my expectations about the day. Fast forward to 2014 (our sixth Valentine's Day together). The barre studio that I've been a regular at since summer, has a Friday special where significant others can take a free class! So after a few months of begging him to give it a try (mostly to prove what a tough workout ballet can be!), E lovingly, sacrificially agreed. We met a barre buddy of mine and her husband, and had a great time watching them sweat and shake it out. The both left surprised and impressed at the intensity of a "ballet/pilates" workout.

We countered the calorie burn by heading to one of my favorite California pizza spots and breweries, Pizza Port. The crowd was light, and there was nothing like beer and a Pizza Roma in sweaty workout clothes with great friends. We ran into another couple from our church while we were there who told us that going to Pizza Port with friends was their Valentine's Day tradition - fun for the adults and the kids!

And we thought - brilliant! A workout, low-key pizza dinner and walk near the coast sounds like the perfect tradition for us.

We finished the night staying up way to late starting House of Cards, Season Two!

What are your favorite Valentine's Day traditions? (They don't have to be too romantic - just you!)

I'm off to scoop up the clearanced pink m&ms and sweethearts. My second favorite part of love day!

Sugar Free [Lucky Me]

noreply@blogger.com (Katie) — Fri, 10 Jan 2014 23:51:00 +0000

I love cookies and I LOVE candy. Every day at 2:30pm I dig into my desk supply of sweets or go scrounging for them in others' offices. I eat my fair share whenever it is available at gatherings, and I bake and bring goodies into the office to share regularly.

Towards the end of the year after three holiday-related work parties, a few of my coworkers talked about taking a break from sugar in the New Year. I made fun of them at the time ("I'm not going to be a slave to diets!" I said), but when I got home from a Christmas trip home—aka family food fest 2013—and was so over cookies I thought I might give them up for good, I decided I could make it through a sugar fast. Not permanently, mind you, just for 21 days—the supposed length of time that it takes to break a craving (though 6-8 weeks is recommended to make it a long-term habit).

I started doing some research, found some sugar detox plans but they were all paleo-ish (NOT for me. I love bread and cheese), so I decided to just make my own personal rules that involved significant changes, but were still doable.

My 21 Day Sugar Detox Rules
21 days eating no foods with sugar in the ingredients, no fake sugars, and no alcohol. (honey, maple syrup are allowed in small portions)

This commitment inadvertently cut about half of the carbs from my diet because it meant almost no bread, no bagels or sweet breads and no cereal. Needless to say, one day into the experiment I was kicking myself (and others, if you must know). Have you ever tried drastically cutting carbs? It makes you light-headed and nauseated and stabby and pretty unpleasant to be around.

It's Friday, and I'm currently halfway through Day Five. I think I've made it through the "I hate everyone" portion of the diet, but I'm still sleepier than normal and feel hunger pangs more frequently than I used to. I chew on dried coconut chips when I want chocolate and I eat a tablespoon of almond butter while my husband wine in the evenings. It kind of sucks, but I'm doing it. And that's more than I can say about any health-related effort from the past.

Follow me on Instagram to see what I've been eating this week!

The main less I've learned so far is the impact of making good snack choices. Other than breakfast, my main meals haven't changed much. But now that I know I can't go get a pastry from Starbucks at 10am, I have to plan to pack a hard-boiled egg and cashews and hummus. And then they're right at my desk and they taste yummy and I think—how has it taken me this long to eat good snacks? Intentionality people.

I hope that at the end of this "detox", whether it turns out to be 7 days or the whole 21, I will have learned that enjoying treats is wonderful, they just cannot be a part of my daily snacking habits. I've already learning that making intentional snack choices takes only maybe five minutes a day. (much less scary than I imagined it to be!)

In case you're interested, here are a few resources I looked to for inspiration:

Meg Fee's series on giving up sugar
The 21 Day Sugar Detox (too extreme for me! but some helpful tips)
Is Sugar Toxic? (NY Times)

I'm feeling a little silly doing this detox and talking about it, since I don't usually subscribe to the strict healthy eating, paleo, vegan, dairy-free, gluten-free stuff, nor have I ever been particularly healthy in my life, but I guess we can all make healthier choices, right? Have you made any changes recently? Wish me luck!

Happy New Year! A Recap and a Look Forward [like everyone else].

noreply@blogger.com (Katie) — Fri, 03 Jan 2014 06:55:00 +0000

I tried to write haikus for 2013 and 2014, which I've done the past couple of years.
[2011/12]
[2012/13]
This year I realized that there is too much to say than can be said in a 17 syllable poem. And that's ok.

2013 was filled with epic moments. Welcoming a new soul into our family. Saying farewell to an anchor of our family, and helping him along the painful journey Home. Starting a new job and launching into ministry life with all its demands and woes.

It was also filled with many small moments, both joyful and frustrating, exciting and boring. Tasting beer in the best of Bruges' pubs and biking along Amsterdam canals. Snuggling lots of friends' babies. Dinners made and not photographed. Laundry washed and not folded. Plants long dead still in the windowsill. Hurts and miscommunications. Friendships developed and revived. Fights and forgiveness.

Balboa Park with friends, Oct 2013

Another year of marriage held together by the grace of God and his love for us invested in each other. I am continually surprised (why?!) that 4.5 years of marriages hasn't cured E and I from irritating or wounding each other. But we keep getting better, little by little, at loving. At saying I'm sorry first. At saying (and meaning and choosing) I love you, sooner. It is a joy to be his wife.

When I look back on 2013 I see all of the things I wish I'd done, and all of the things I did. Moments I didn't write about and I wish I had. There is the good and there is plenty of bad. This year, like all years, has been bumpy, but it has been full of rich blessing.

Open
For 2014, I'm praying for an open heart. Open to changes to our schedule and lifestyle because of E's work as a pastor. Open to living with less and being content with what we have. Open to sharing our resources with others. Open to changing my expectations and allowing God's and others' priorities before my own.

Here's to a year of being open. It's gonna get messy.

Knowing when (to have kids, that is)

noreply@blogger.com (Katie) — Fri, 20 Dec 2013 23:14:00 +0000

Me with my 2-day-old baby nephew Gideon in July

Now that I have a job and E has a job (Oh, I didn't mention! E has a job. he's a pastor. at our home church that we love. Praise God!)

As I was saying, now that life is a little more settled—we know we're staying in the San Diego area for the long-term and we're in our fifth year of marriage—the inevitable questions are coming up about kids.

I don't just mean from other people (though I have been hearing it from my family and friends more often) but also between E and I. It's funny how the thought of children hardly enters your mind for years, until it does. And then it's oh, hmm, maybe we should think about it. And then,what are we waiting for again?

I guess we're at a point where I don't have good excuses for putting it off any more. I mean, I have excuses. I know we'll never be ready—emotionally, financially or otherwise. And we know we can never completely prepare for it. But if it happened now, we wouldn't have to move back in with our parents.

Last year I wrote about feeling left of out of the mama club. Not that I wanted to be in it, but that I was starting to be really cognizant of the great divide between mom and non-moms. I'm still not sure how brave I am to enter this world.

When I think about parenthood I think of a lot of never-agains (quiet dinners out, and movies, and Europe trips, and sleeping in). It's hard to remember that we'll still have many good years after children, and that the freedom eventually returns. And it's hard to realize that the good things that kids bring into the picture could (maybe?) make up for all the things we'll lose. (Because—what if NOT?!)

I have a lot of fears. But one of the biggest and maybe the silliest is that I know that being a mother is a relatively thankless and marginalized job. And my ego reeeeally likes attention.

I am looking forward to some aspects of motherhood—seeing the world for the first time through the eyes of a mini-me seems kind of exciting. And E was born to be a dad—I can hardly wait to see him with our children.

But I still feel pretty meh about the whole having-a-baby thing. Most of my mama friends got bit hard by the baby bug at some point. I'm beginning to think maybe I just won't. (For what it's worth, I'm told this feeling will change when a baby is actually on the way.)

job hunting [tips to get through the agony]

noreply@blogger.com (Katie) — Fri, 01 Nov 2013 06:02:00 +0000

(Saga started here)

So, six months I started writing about figuring out what I wanted to do with my life. Half a year later I'm finishing the thought!

When I decided to start looking for a new job, I was completely overwhelmed. Every job I've had since I was 15 was basically handed to me on a platter. I haven't faced rejection. Before last fall, I never thought about what the average human endures when job searching. I was stepping into the great, dark and scary unknown. And I was scared - scared to fail.

My fear of failure usually manifests itself in a half-hearted effort. In school, in work, in life - I protect myself by justifying "I could have gotten that A/job/promotion/acceptance letter, if I would have really given it my all." This always gives me an excuse from success.

It took a lot of tenacity to set those fears aside and really give my job search a worthwhile effort. What I learned was that job hunting was just as scary and a lot more work than I imagined.

Job Hunting. Where even the most qualified and competent people must stoop to a level that feels near groveling to become a salesman of their own skills and experience. It required humility, patience and a lot of hard work. This post probably isn't relevant to all of my readers, but as someone who interacts with a lot of unprepared college students looking for jobs in a competitive marketplace, I wanted to share a few of my own tips in case it would encourage or help anyone else in a similar position.

1. Revise your resume. Or better yet, update it regularly - every time you accomplish something new or take on new responsibilities, quantify and communicate them. Ask for help from fresh pairs of eyes. I got feedback from no less than four people before I started sending my resume out.

2. Draft personalized cover letters. Use a set of four to six core competencies and interests to draft unique cover letters customized for each potential job. Spend some time researching and address you letter to the appropriate hiring manager. (side note: I always sent a cover letter, even when it wasn't requested.*)

3. Swallow your pride and your nerves, and network. About a month into my search I sent an email to someone whose career I admired but had only met one time. I asked her to meet with me to review my resume and offer advice about my prospective field. It was scary, but it was the most helpful step in my job search process because it took me out of your comfort zone and helped prepare me talk about my experience and goals for the future.

4. Look often. You don't necessarily need to spend hours a day, but you should look for at least 30 minutes every few days for new posting. I looked on Craigslist, LinkedIn, Indeed, industry job boards and on the website of companies in my region. The job I found was not on any of the big job boards I spent most of my time looking on. It was only posted on the company site (because of a limited budget).

5. Read as much as you can. Devour articles on networking, resume-writing, interviewing, and marketing your skills. My previous job title was totally unrelated to my new job, but I was able to market relevant skills after realizing how to translate them directly to the new job requirements. I also, in my previous position, sought out opportunities to gain experience in my prospective field, by taking initiative in those areas (I workedhis was photography, editing, html coding and writing).

(5b. If at all possible, look before you get desperate. I was in a place where I was very ready to find a new position yesterday. It made me discouraged when the right job -or any job- wasn't coming up right away. You have a huge advantage when you're happy where you are, but always available to consider other options.)

*this is probably the single most important thing I did, and also the most agonizing and time-consuming.

Even though I realize now some of these tips are obvious, I learned them only after a lot of time and tears. For a while, I was in a cycle that looked like this: once a week I would find the perfect job, realize that I didn't meet three of the seven requirements, deliberate over how to make my not-completely-relevant experience match the qualifications listed, and try to be a balance of warm, witty and professional in all of my cover letters. Then after agonizing for hours I would send the documents, triple-check the content and spend hours refreshing, refreshing, refreshing for a positive reply. It was exhausting and discouraging.

What I ultimately learned is that you have to be just as good at selling yourself as you are good at the job you're trying to get.

My little story has a happy ending. I interviewed for a position that didn't quite fit the parameters for my perfect job. It was part-time and temporary, but it was down the street and in my industry (education). And when I got to meet the team I'd be working with, I was sold. At the time it felt risky, but it turned out that the job turned in a full-time position and was made permanent within six months. (I realize this isn't always the case and I wouldn't usually encourage accepting a job that doesn't meet minimum requirements) but I'm so glad I took this leap of faith.

So what am I doing? I'm managing the social media on a web communications team (along with doing some writing) for a local university. It's challenging, fulfilling and creative - all the things I was looking for. Eight months into and I'm still excited to go to work every morning. :-) The creative drain is apparently taking its toll on my blog writing...maybe I'll be back here regularly someday!

p.s. thank you for your kinds words after the death of my grandfather. Grief, like it tends to do, comes in waves. I appreciate all your prayers and thoughts.

grandpa

noreply@blogger.com (Katie) — Tue, 20 Aug 2013 03:28:00 +0000

My beloved grandpa Howard died last Saturday.

There are a lot of things to write about when it comes to death. The helplessness of watching a loved one in pain. The gruesome process of dying. (It's ugly and not at all beautiful, like Walt Whitman tried to make us believe.) The fact that few care when a grandparent dies (because he's older, and he's lived, and all of us have experienced the death of a grandparent already so get over it.)

I feel the loss of my grandfather as deeply as I would my sister. I will miss him terribly.

I looked up to grandpa more than anyone else I have ever known. But as I looked up to him - he encouraged me to look further up, to Jesus. There was no one who had spent five minutes with grandpa who didn't hear about his Christian faith. I know there are probably quite a few people reading this blog who don't believe in God at all, and this post might make you feel uncomfortable. But I can't talk about my grandpa without talking about the God who made him the man he was.

His faith in a all-powerful and loving Creator and Redeemer made him a joyful, selfless and grateful human being. He had been forgiven much and he loved much, and he showed that love to some of the most rejected and downtrodden people in this world. On a weekly basis he visited with prisoners, terminally ill, the fatherless, the widow, the lonely, the rejected, the mentally disabled. No one was a stranger to him. He brought his many friends to our family gatherings and welcomed them to his home. He showed genuine love to his wife of 58 years even when his marriage had disappointments, and he didn't feel like being loving. Sacrificial love defined his life.

My grandpa was a man of prayer who woke up before 5am every single day to pray for all those that God had given to him for ministry. His family members, his church family, co-workers, and the countless people he would meet on the highways and biways. I can remember that even as a little girl sleeping over at my grandparents, I would sneak downstairs in the early morning hours to see my grandpa poring over the bible, and praying. He told me every time he saw me. "You are loved and you are prayed for - every single day".

He never had money, nice clothes or nice things, but he gladly gave to everyone who asked because he set his priority on more lasting things.

The reason my grandpa could be the extraordinary man that he was - a man who was well-loved and well-respected, who showed up with a smile to help, who gave what little he had away, who told everyone he met "you are a blessing" (and meant it!) - was because of the extraordinary God who loved him first.

So, in this time of grief, I am sad only for us who will miss him. Because he is in his heavenly home, rejoicing.

Instagram dump: The Netherlands and Belgium

noreply@blogger.com (Katie) — Wed, 15 May 2013 14:24:00 +0000

We're back! And we had an awesome trip. I feel like every time E and I vacation together we get better at traveling in general and traveling with each other. There are so many stressers during out-of-country vacations that things can sometimes get tense and very un-vacationlike, but this trip went really smoothly and was so fun.

I"m going to do a series of posts on what we did and saw, but in the meantime, here's a little instagram recap from the trip (more than half of these photos are E's! he's much more talented than I) :-)