Category: motherhood (Page 1 of 3)

The two weeks where life tried to take me out

July 10, 2017 / Tara / 0 Comments

Now that I’ve 70% recovered, I feel I can finally talk about how life tried to end me two weekends ago. I thought for the longest time that my plane flight from hell was one of the worst experiences I had been through with a kid. But it was just a little warm up for the monumental cluster that was the last two weeks of June.

It all started when I went back to work right before our largest event of the year. Honestly that was rough, but after the mental onslaught of the first day, I started to get my bearings and felt like I could take on whatever the job threw at me. What I didn’t take into account is what the REST of my life was planning to throw at me. First up; the toddler birthday party.

I kind of made the mistake of doing a really good job with his 2nd birthday party, so I felt the need to one up myself just because that’s the competitive type of person I am. So for birthday #3, Elliott got the dino-mite treatment. A dinosaur bounce house, fossil dig and BBQ. Truly, just one of those three things would have made me exhausted for weeks, but I did all three. The only way I pulled it off was because Teeny was in town. All in all, things went well. But I have to say, a bouncy house is like a toddler Thunderdome. Thankfully, the only one who came out bloody was my own child.

The look on his face when he saw the bouncy house was totally worth it.

Since Benji refused to be left out of the celebration, he decided that he would roll over for the first time on the morning of E’s party. And anyone who has had a baby knows what this means. NO ONE SLEEPS. I mean, we just got a rad new skill, so let’s practice it all day and night, right? So, the night after the toddler party when I all I wanted was a few hours of shut eye, I pretty much got none. Woof.

Then no less than a day later, sickness swept through the Hubner household. And it took EVERYONE out. Baby, brother, mommy, daddy — even poor, visiting Teeny. So, remember that part about not sleeping because of baby’s big milestone? Let’s just add some more sleep deprivation on top of it for a big you’re-never-sleeping-again sandwich. Because I was either up with a snotty, coughing baby or couldn’t sleep because every time my head hit the pillow my lungs and throat started to explode.

Benji enjoyed the party. He also was worn out from all that rolling over.

By the time Monday after the party rolled around, I was toast. I think it was that evening that I had a full on mommy meltdown. I literally collapsed in the middle of our hallway, rolled up into a ball, and cried my eyes out. But you know what? Life wasn’t done throwing garbage my way yet.

By Tuesday morning, I had lost my voice completely. Before work’s biggest event of the year. The event where I was going to be responsible for talking to media, on camera and on radio, over and over and over again. And what topic did they choose to focus on? A totally serious one — where I had to have my ish together or else I might do something detrimental to my organization. So what did I do? I gargled salt water, drank gross tea, sprayed myself down with Chloroseptic, and prayed I wouldn’t screw it up. Then I drug my exhausted, voiceless ass to no less than nine interviews. By the end, I could talk about security and cosplay prop policies with my eyes closed. Which honestly, is all I wanted to do.

Then came the con. Last year was my first experience at a comic convention, and needless to say the energy that comes from simply being in the same space as over 100,000 people is beyond exhausting. Add illness, an infant and being mired in the social media comment swamp for three days straight, and by the time Sunday rolled around I could barely move.

Superman took on the dark side at the con.

The good news is, I’m on the other side. The other good news is I never plan to do that again. At least Superman-Maui-Skywalker had a good time.

From One to Two

June 16, 2017 / Tara / 0 Comments

Just like with number one, I wasn’t exactly sure what to expect with number two. All I knew is that it would be a wild and sleepless ride — one I wasn’t sure I was capable of handling. Now that we’re two and a half months in, I’m still not sure I’m capable of handling this, but everyone is alive, fed and mostly happy, so I guess things are alright. And, just like everyone said, the second one is nothing like the first.

Here are a few observations I’ve made about the differences between my boys:

Elliott would just pass out. No swaddling, no rocking, nothing. Just a pacifier and a cozy lap, and he’d be out in 5 minutes or less. Benji on the other hand? I can’t even begin to describe the number of gimmicks required. And they change every week it seems like. Swaddle, pacifier, sound machine, rocking, bouncing, rock and play — all of these and more are required to get him to sleep. And even with all that crap, it can still take over an hour. We won’t even discuss napping. Kill me now.
Elliott is tough as nails. I can’t tell you how many times I couldn’t tell if he was sick or not and I’d take him into the doctor and they’d tell me something like, “yeah, he has bronchiolitis and a double ear infection.” Benji, on the other hand? He’s my sensitive baby. When he feels crappy, we ALL know.
I thought Elliott was a momma’s boy. Nope. Benji has him beat already, hands down. This baby looks at me like I’m the most magnificent thing he’s ever set eyes on. He also NEVER takes his eyes off me. He literally tracks me around a room, grinning from ear to ear. And if I get out of eyesight? Tears. I didn’t think that sort of thing was supposed to happen until 6 months. Yikes. Needless to say, the kid has my heart.
Whenever you bring a tiny baby out in public, they become an instant celebrity. Every time someone saw baby Elliott they would say, “Oh, that hair!” Whenever I bring Benji out? “Oh, those eyes! He’s so alert.” Yeah, lady. They never close either. Like, ever.

Even though I sleep like garbage, feel like I’m scratching and clawing my way through every day, and hardly have five minutes to myself, I’d say I’m still enjoying this boy mom life. And I’m looking forward to seeing all the ways my boys are different — and the same. If these first few months are any indication, they’re going to have an amazing bond, and I’m so happy for them. When I got into this breeder business, all I wanted was to create two children who had the same kind of relationship my sister and I had. I think we’re well on our way.

See A Sky

July 8, 2016 / Tara / 0 Comments

It’s 7 o’clock. Peter is putting things away in the shed. I’m trying to convince a “not tired” two year old to come in the house, but the makeshift sandbox in the backyard is like his Call of the Wild. Tired and frustrated, I storm across the yard.

“Elliott, it’s time to go inside,” I say.

“No inside. Play a sand,” I hear in return. And so it begins.

“No, buddy. It’s time to go inside. You’ve played in the sand enough,” I say. Secretly, all I’m thinking about is how I hope he’s clean enough to where I can just dust him off and avoid a bath, because at this point, I’m exhausted. The last thing I want to do is bath time. As I’m standing there silently calculating my evening, I hear something.

“I lie down.”

No. NO. Nooooo. Just like that his hair is full of sand, sticks, and crusty old flowers. My plans of just dusting, no bath are going out the window. I’m about to reach down and yank him out of the sandbox when, staring up at the sky, he starts talking again.

“Oooo, pretty trees. So many weeves. Ah-yet see a sky. A cloud in it.”

I stop and look up. He’s right. The trees are beautiful, full of green summer leaves, the evening light shining through them in shades of orange and yellow. They’re set on a perfect backdrop of blue sky, just a single white cloud floating in it. I look back at his little face, sticky and sandy, mesmerized by the show that nature has put on just for him. For a single moment in his otherwise wild and crazy day, he’s peaceful. Still. Happy.

I let him keep his head in the dirt, and I sit next to him. I can’t even remember the last time I’ve done it, but I spend the next few minutes quietly looking at the sky. Then, just like that, he’s up and racing around the yard again. But for a moment, we both stopped and were silent. And for a moment, I was reminded of the beauty of summer evenings, courtesy of my tiny wild man.

Ok, not the evening I reference. But it’s my boy in nature, which is close enough.

Turning Two

July 3, 2016 / Tara / 0 Comments

I’m feeling emotional. My boy just turned two. He went from a fluffy haired baby to a tiny person with loves and hates and opinions. He loves Dinosaur Train, anything with wheels, and dirt. He hates beans (green or otherwise), diaper changes, and “the clapping song” (S.O.B. by Nathaniel Rateliff and the Nightsweats). It’s the cliche of all cliches, but it’s going by so fast.

We had a party for his birthday that was full of sand, dump trucks, and barbeque. The kids all ended up dirty and covered in frosting, so I feel like it was a success. But, I think we’re all going through birthday withdrawls. E just walks around saying things like, “where Teeny go?” and “I go to Matt and Tara’s house,” and “I want to open presents.” The Monday after your birthday party is a pretty rough time for a two year old. Actually, when I think about it, it’s pretty rough time for anyone.

Of course, I made sure to take all the pictures. So many that every time I picked up the camera E would look at me, frown, and say “no more pictures, mommy,” with all the attitude of a Hollywood A-Lister. I started to think that maybe I should put it away. But honestly, I can’t stop. I’m terrified that if I don’t capture that moment, I’ll forget it forever. And I can’t forget — this could be my only shot at being a mom. I read something recently from a woman who had a daughter and was trying for a second, but things we’re moving slowly and with complications. I have never read anything that resonated more with me in my entire life. She said she felt as if she was trying to balance gratefulness and longing. It’s true — I couldn’t be more grateful for my beautiful son. But every moment of every day is also filled with longing for the second child I have yet to meet.

Also, thanks to the ordeal from a few months ago, I’ve found myself in mysterious territory. For the first time in my life, I don’t trust my body. Growing up, it was one of the few things I could consistently rely on. I told it to run fast, it would. I asked it to jump high, no problem. Now, in my 30s, I asked it to safely carry a child and it couldn’t. I asked it to conceive again, and it won’t. I finally understand how healthy people can end up taking a wrong turn because I feel I might be doing it myself. All of a sudden I’m eating more, drinking more, and exercising less — all because I’m mad at this garbage body of mine. The most frustrating part is I know EXACTLY what I’m doing and the consequences, but I don’t care. I’m angry that genetics, fate and whatever else reason I can come up with stole something from me. And the only thing I can take it out on is this empty shell of a body I was left with.

Wow. That was quite the tangent. Unfortunately, that’s how my mind works these days. Happy, happy, happy… plunge into extreme sadness… happy again. It’s a wild ride. I think I’ll end this super strange brain dump of a blog post with a few funny stories from the birthday weekend.

We rode the Georgetown Loop, which blew E’s mind. Especially the part where “Mr. Conductor” came by and punched his ticket. On the way home, Vera (his cousin) and Elliott had a lively discussion over a Ziploc bag full of ice. V was holding it on her knee, which she had scraped. E was trying to reach over the seat and open it. V, being the good girl that she is, politely said, “no, we can’t open the bag, Elliott.” E just gave her the cheesy smile and said, “yes.” They traded yesses and nos for about 5 minutes. All polite, no escalation, all with a cheesy fake smile. My son the terrible con artist.
After begging me to sing Happy Birthday to him over and over, when the big moment finally came at his party, he tried to hide his face in his chair to make it stop. (Like mother, like son.)

Gone.

February 15, 2016 / Tara / 10 Comments

The baby has no heartbeat.

I wasn’t prepared to hear those words. Just 30 minutes before, I had hopped into my car and was thinking to myself just how much I was nailing life right now. I was hitting all sorts of deadlines at my new job, I was on time to all my appointments and meetings that day, the weather was beautiful and warm, Elliott didn’t whimper like a sad little puppy when I dropped him off at daycare that morning, and I was going on vacation next week. Just a quick check in with the doctor to see how the little jelly bean was progressing. My mind couldn’t have been further from the heart wrenching truth that was about to be thrown in my lap. “The baby has no heartbeat,” she said. “I’m sorry you had to find out this way.”

It’s not your fault.

As I lay there, the ultrasound technician stroking my arm, I tried not to hyperventilate. I tried not to cry. I tried to turn everything off. But there are some things that you can’t shut out no matter how much you want to. “It’s not your fault,” she said. “It was likely just a chromosomal abnormality. It happens more often than you think.” Underneath the shock, I knew it wasn’t my fault. Genetics are complicated and the fact that we can create life at all is a miracle. But, guess what? Lying there on that table, covered in ultrasound gel and tears, logic seemed like a luxury. It felt like it was my fucking fault. Was it that soft cheese I ate? Did I work out too hard? Not enough? Maybe the Tylenol I took for a headache? Those drinks I had before I knew I was pregnant? The fact that I forgot my vitamins almost every day? Of course it wasn’t. But try convincing a mom, whose sole purpose in regards to her children is to love and protect them, that she didn’t fail the dead baby she’s carrying inside her.

We’ll let you know what your options are.

Options? What do you mean options? I thought the only option I had was to cry and mourn the loss of my unborn child—the sibling we so desperately wanted for E, the little girl I was convinced I was carrying. But it turns out my body was holding on as tightly as my mind was to this baby, and I had to decide which option to choose to “help the process along.” A surgery—effective, detached, but requires full anesthesia. A medication—could be done sooner, could be done at home, could mean that I see and feel things I may not wish to. I chose medication. The pain of knowing my baby had no heartbeat could only be matched by the pain of knowing this wasn’t over yet. I didn’t want to wait for surgery. I wanted to finish this right now.

It took me a few days to build up the courage to go by the doctor’s office and pick up the pills. When I finally stopped by, they pulled a brown paper sack out from under their desk with my name pen scratched and misspelled on the outside. It seemed insensitive, but really I don’t know how you could package such a hard, cold dose of finality in a way that would seem right. Bows and ribbons? Hell no. I guess that paper sack made about as much sense as anything else did at the moment. I drove home, read the instructions, said goodbye to the future I had been building in my mind for the last 12 weeks, and took the pills.

It didn’t happen right away. Just like full term labor, you wait. You cramp. You try to sleep. Then, when your body decides everything is ready, it happens. I won’t share details, but in many ways it’s like giving birth to a live baby. Minus every ounce of joy. It’s just blood and pain.

On February 13 at 2:30 a.m., from my cold, hard bathroom floor, I said goodbye one last time to my little girl. The little girl I had created a future for in my mind—that was going to be two years and two months younger than E. She was going to look like mommy, but be head over heels for daddy. She was going to fight, play with, and fiercely love her big brother, who would do all of those things right back. She was going to exist joyfully, but with just enough pain to show her what truly matters. Most importantly she was going to live.

I’m still trying to sort out what something like this is supposed to mean. What lessons it’s supposed to impart. I assume that one day it will teach me to be thankful for what I have or to appreciate things more. But right now, all it feels like is sadness and anger. I’ll work to heal, because in the new dream I’m building, we try again. And I want this new dream to come from a place of happiness, not fear and pain. But most importantly, I have to get it together for my beautiful baby boy who needs his mother whole and intact, not fragile and teary eyed every time she sees another woman attempting to juggle a toddler with a swollen, pregnant belly.

Until then, I’ll remember the first 10 weeks of my pregnancy, where I felt like I was on the verge of throwing up every moment of the day, with a mixture of fondness and disgust. I’ll hold on to that one ultrasound photo I have of my baby, when her heart was still beating. And as I bury the future I planned with one child, I’ll work to create a new future for another. And one day, hopefully, I’ll be able to say thank you.

Just not today.

Ha-coco, Cookcook, and Yo-yolk

December 3, 2015 / Tara / 1 Comment

You know, for a while there I thought the obscene number of ear infections E machine had this spring may have made him deaf. Which of course is completely ridiculous because he only had 3 or 4, they were weeks apart, and that boy can find a speaker in any room in under two seconds flat. However, now that I’m a full on mom (I thought I was just playing at it for a moment), I automatically default to the worst possible scenario every time.

My concern actually stemmed from the fact that I read the internet too much. All those stupid forums that use abbreviations like LO and DD and CIO said that he should have some words by now. And all my son was saying was “mama” and “dada,” and they were more like noises and less like he knew what was coming out of his mouth. Enter worry and self doubt.

Then all of a sudden, something changed. One day he decided that the only thing he wanted to do was sit and “read” books. He’d point at all of the pictures and I’d tell him what was on the page over and over and over again. We did that for weeks. And the result?

Kitty.

One day he was looking in one of his books and he pointed to a cat and said the word, “kitty.” And from that moment on, it was all different. A torrent of vocabulary started pouring out of my son. Every day he was adding new words — ball, blue, car, truck, moon, walk, duck, outside, sock, shoes, boots, night night, rock, owl — the list went on and on. But out of all of them, our favorite word attempts right now are helicopter (ha-coco), Cookie Monster (cookcook) and yogurt (yo-yolk <–Add an amazing amount of phlegm to the yolk part when pronouncing).

“Choo choo!”

What’s even more amazing is his level of understanding. He probably has two dozen words he uses, but he comprehends so much more than that. And he’s making these interesting word associations, too. For example, the other night he was “helping” me cook, and I asked him to please keep the noodles on the counter. Of course he totally ignored me and then looked me in the eye and said, “AH AH AH!” At first, I didn’t get it. Why did you just make a sound like The Count from Sesame Street? Oh wait… I said COUNT-er. Duh, Tara. Of course your kitchen surfaces laugh maniacally like a vampire puppet.

So far, this jump into language has been one of my favorite stages. There’s nothing cuter and more exciting than getting your first real glimpse into what your child’s interests are. And based on what I’ve learned, my son is a gear head, tech junkie, nature loving, foodie with a desire to keep a clean house. Basically if he keeps this up, he’s going to make someone very happy someday. And I couldn’t be prouder.

Toddlers. Damn.

August 19, 2015 / Tara / 2 Comments

Independent. Busy. Strong-willed. Good eater.

These are the most frequent adjectives used to describe my child, and honestly, just looking at them makes me feel a little tired. Mr. Full Throttle has been walking for about three months now, and things have been borderline chaos ever since. At the moment I’m a little terrified of restaurants, grocery stores, and shopping establishments. Or basically any place that expects a certain amount of order and decorum. Because we have neither of these. E can wipe out a shelf of, well, anything without an ounce of awareness or remorse. I follow behind trying to simultaneously “reprimand” and clean up, and pray to god we can get out of there before he does enough damage to wipe out his college fund.

Happy!

And not only is he physically on the move, he’s emotionally on the move. His mood goes from lovable and snuggly to meltdown-punch-you-in-the-face-with-a-wooden-ice-cream-cone in 2 seconds flat. So of course, now that we’re sleeping a little bit better, my daily Google search has gone from “sleep training methods” to “how to deal with tantrums.”

Which means it happened. I have a toddler.

Enraged!

I remember the first time he threw himself backwards in a screaming fit because he didn’t get what he wanted. I seriously thought to myself, “No way. He’s only 10 months old. He must have hurt himself or something.” And then he did it again. And again. And again. Which is about the point when it started to sink in that my baby was gone, and that my wild-haired little buddy had begun the process of manipulating me with his screams and tears. Early. I guess he’s a prodigy. We all have to be good at something, I suppose.

The internet told me that children who start tantruming at 10 months have some very desirable attributes that will benefit them later as an adult. Like creativity, persistence, and sensitivity. But in this particular moment in time, they suck ass. And as we all know, the internet doesn’t lie. So I’m going to believe that E machine is just some kind of tortured artist, yearning for freedom from his horrible, overbearing mother. But seriously, y’all. I truly thought I’d have a little more time before all of this crazy began.

Anyway, I’d have a witty conclusion for this blog, but I’m tired. In a different way now. The tired that comes from trying to demystify the mind of a toddler, which as we all know is a lost cause. But I’m a little strong-willed, persistent, and creative so I’m going to keep at it.

P.S. – Could someone get me a snack?

Hey Universe. Thanks.

July 10, 2015 / Tara / 1 Comment

I had one of those moments today. The kind all of the moms talk about when you’re in those dark times of infanthood, thinking you’ll never feel normal again. Where they look at your unwashed hair and dark circles under your eyes and say, “it’s totally worth it.”

And guess what? This afternoon it was totally worth it.

I took E to a splash park today after his nap. When we pulled up, all I could hear was laughter and wet feet hitting the pavement. It sounded like summer. I was instantly filled with a combination of nostalgia and happiness that I could share an afternoon like this one with my son. As we got closer, I realized the park was crazy, and I wasn’t sure how E would handle it. But as soon as I set him down, he took off like bullet straight into the water, squealing with joy. I did my best to keep up with him, getting shot with water canons the whole time, eventually just hanging out on the edges and watching him go. He’d play for a minute or two then look and up and find me and run right into my arms, soaked and smiling. After about 30 minutes, he started to get so cold his (2) teeth were chattering, so I scooped him up, wrapped him in a towel and headed toward the shade for a snack. I handed him some graham crackers, and he leaned back on me and cuddled up to get warm. Then I looked down at him, with tiny beads of water on his face and food in his cheeks, completely comfortable and content — and I realized so was I. I gave him a hug and rested my face on the top of his head, and we just sat there people watching and enjoying summer. It was perfect.

Secret graham crackers.

I wish I could talk to myself a year ago. I’d tell myself that all of those people saying it’s worth it — they’re actually right and not just trying to make me feel better. I’d tell myself that a year is actually quicker than I think. That I’m tougher than I think I am.

But since I can’t time travel, I’ll just hold on to my moment from today. Hold on to it hard. And know that I have so many more moments just like that one to look forward to.

The Hubners Go to Yellowstone

June 14, 2015 / Tara / 4 Comments

About two years ago, the Hubners sat around at Christmas time and came up with the audacious plan that we should all go to Yellowstone. Together. As a family. I was pregnant with E, so of course I was all in. Little did I know that once I had a baby, my brain would completely rewire itself, and even the simplest of trips (say, to the grocery store) would send my anxiety wrought mind into five levels of despair. Needless to say, as the Yellowstone trip got closer, the word panic was an understatement.

But closer it came, and after spending about 3 weeks packing (Do we have diapers? Yes. Wait… do we have diapers? Yes.), the day finally came to embark on the 10+ hour road trip to the first national park with my newly christened 11 month old. Of course he was sick, because we exist in a state of perpetual illness. But I hit up the doctor, and we left with antibiotics for yet another ear infection, steroids for croup/stridor, and well wishes for a safe journey. And at about 5:30 a.m., we met up with the rest of the Hubner clan and the journey began.

Watch out for rattlesnake bites, bad water, and dysentery.

I did my best to prepare enough ways to keep a baby entertained on the road. I knew he’d sleep at least 4-5 hours of it, which is killer. But the awake times… oh, the awake times. What can you do to keep a new walker happy in a car seat for that long? My solution was Target and boat loads of snacks. I hit it up the dollar section before we left and bought a toy for each hour of the trip. Plus, I had puffs, rice cakes, snack bars, yogurt melts, applesauce pouches — you name it. And, of course, frequent stops. My plan worked for about 11.5 hours. I was so proud of my boy. Then, about 20 minutes from Old Faithful Inn, shit hit the fan. E was over it. Over the toys, the snacks, the car. He screamed until we stopped and got him out of his car seat at which point the tears immediately stopped. I was fried, but of course, we still had a whole car full of crap to unload and a pack-and-play to set up. Woof. Needless to say, bedtime for baby couldn’t have come soon enough. Thankfully, he was so tired he didn’t really care that he was in a new place and slept like a champ. Even when we had to open the heavy ass historic door that came with some sort of ancient blacksmith-ed metal lever that sounded like we were breaking out of a dungeon cell every time we went in or out of our room.

Old Faithful Inn was amazing. A huge log lodge with views of Old Faithful and a cellist that played music every night. The highlight was when she played the theme song from Last of the Mohicans. It seemed so right. Or it could have been the beer(s) talking. Regardless, sitting in that amazing three story lodge, listening to music echo off the century old pine while the baby slept just a few feet away in our room was magical.

Walking with daddy around Old Faithful Inn.

On our first day there we decided to skip riding in the car and instead do some hiking right out the backdoor in the Upper Geyser Basin. There was stinky steam, gushing water, and colorful pools. A true Yellowstone experience. Peter did the awesome daddy thing and threw E in the kid backpack and trekked around with 21 pounds of boy for about 3 miles. E talked, fussed when Peter would stop walking, and eventually took a nap in the pack. While E was sleeping, we came across a bison in the middle of the path. The whole gang had to take a huge detour around him, which seemed pretty lame at the time. However, later in the trip we heard that an Australian man was gored by a bison just off a path near Old Faithful Inn the same day we were hiking, and we’re pretty sure the one we avoided was the culprit. After that story we felt pretty good about our choice to make the big loop around him.

Hiking pro(s).

The next few days were spent exploring, eating dirt/playing with rocks and napping, in that order. We saw tons of beauty and bison (the boy thought they were hilarious), and the E child even had his first graham crackers down by the river while the rest of the gang dined on camp hot dogs.

Graham crackers down by the river.

On Wednesday, we packed up and journeyed even farther north to Mammoth Hot Springs where we had reserved cabins. The drive there was ridiculous, simply because we saw half a dozen bears (and baby bears!), each of which came with their own personal traffic jam. That’s one of the crazy things about Yellowstone. You always know when there’s a cool animal sighting because half the park gathers on the side of the road and the other half drives 2 miles an hour with their billion dollar cameras hanging out the window. It’s probably a good thing because I’m the world’s worst at spotting wildlife. If life were truly like the Hunger Games, I’d die first.

Mammoth was awesome because we had porches with a view of the mountainside (and sadly, also a construction site. whatever.). The babies ran in and out of our rooms and in the grass, while we’d cook dinner and s’mores. After we got the kids to bed, we sit out and chat, drink beers, and listen to music. It was almost like vacations of old. But with a baby monitor sitting right next to me.

The days at Mammoth were spent doing more hiking and sightseeing, including a trip to Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone, which is truly one of the most beautiful places on Earth. Peter braved all the stairs and switchbacks with E on his back, and the boy enjoyed watching waterfalls and playing with pine cones and sticks I’d hand him as we walked along.

Geyser!

Our last night in Yellowstone was a bit waterlogged, but we made hot dogs and sat out on the porch anyway, all while trying to convince a 2-year-old that stepping in puddles wearing only socks was a bad idea (adults lost). After putting the babies to sleep and doing whatever packing we could, we once again sat out in the cold, bundled in jackets and blankets, drinking beers and rehashing our favorite parts of the trip.

My favorite part. Grand Canyon of Yellowstone.

The next morning, the gang split up. The Texas Hubners hung back and did a little more sightseeing, while the Denver Hubners got their butts up super early and started the journey home. Part of me was sad we didn’t hang with the rest, and the other part of me knew we were on the clock. And sure enough, after 10 hours of fairly smooth sailing, E lost his mind. It was right around Fort Collins when things started to get dicey, and they really fell apart in Loveland. E was SCREAMING bloody murder, and nothing Peter or I could do would help. Eventually he fell asleep, but he was so sad about the car ride he was actually crying with his eyes closed. It was truly one of the more pathetic things I’ve ever seen.

So, here’s what I learned about doing 12 hours on the road with your baby:

1. Know their limits. Some babies can handle more than others in terms of travel. Push things as far as you feel comfortable with, and then stop. That being said…

2. Babies are tougher than you think. You’ve got your schedule and you just know they won’t handle being off a schedule. In a new place. Full of strange and wonderful things. And then they do. Beautifully.

3. Let them explore and take part in the adventure. Baby hasn’t taken a bath in three days? Meh. Fell down 30 times today trying to scale the stairs in a century old log cabin? NBD. Just ate a crap ton of dirt with that graham cracker? Oh well. They’re on vacation, too. Let them live a little.

Needless to say, we had a fantastic time. Yes, there were meltdowns and missed bedtimes. Naps were had in backpacks and lunch was sometimes WAY too late. But, we went on vacation. Together. As a family. E had his first graham crackers, grilled cheese, and cherries. He saw bison, played with his cousins, relocated every rock, stick, and pine needle in the park, and climbed as many stairs as we would let him do. And me? I tackled a long ass road trip with a toddler — like a boss. So bring it, summer. The Hubners are headed outdoors. Because guess what? I’m not afraid anymore.

The Hubners in Yellowstone. A family portrait.

Unsolicited advice for all these new summer moms

March 30, 2015 / Tara / 2 Comments

Judging from Facebook and also a few real life conversations, I’m pretty sure the world’s population is going to triple this summer, with an abnormally large spike in August. I’m glad so many of you had a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.

So, I’m about to do that thing that no first time (or anytime) parent likes. Give unsolicited advice. However, I feel like I can get away with it for two reasons:

It’s passive advice. I’m putting it in this blog. If you want it, cool. If not, then just don’t read any further. Simple as that.
I had a summer baby. Like, literally, last summer. Which is still hard for me to believe, but I also think gives me a tiny bit of street cred.

That baby I had last summer. All new and shiny.

Ok, so onward with the advice. Just so you know, this isn’t going to be about specific products or anything like that, but things I just wish I had known or found to be truly important in keeping my sanity during one of the craziest times in my entire life.

Train yourself to fall asleep quickly. You know all those dumb people that tell you to “get your sleep now”? Don’t waste your time with that BS. Last time I checked, Sleep Banks don’t exist. Instead figure out how to go from awake to asleep in 5 minutes or less. Because seriously, sometimes all that baby is going to give you is 30 minutes to sleep, and if it takes you that long or longer (in my case) to fall asleep, you’re going to be one super extra tired momma.
Get a comfy couch and chair. Look, whether you like it or not, someone at some point is going to end up sleeping on the couch. Make sure your couch is so awesome you don’t really mind that at all. Also, get a REALLY comfy chair, especially if you’re nursing. I thought I could get away with just using the chairs I have. Not true. One week in, and I had emergency purchased a lovely, reclining rocking chair. Breastfeeding mommas will spend more time in that chair than you thought humanly possible. So make it count.
Find your favorite walking routes, and try to make sure they include coffee shops. The only thing that helped me keep my sanity was walking about five miles a day. Once I found a few routes that had food and coffee, things got infinitely better. I could fuel up and get a few adult words in with the folks that worked there. Plus, when you’re five seconds from your breaking point, it’s nice to hear people gush over your baby. It makes things feel a little bit better. That being said, I feel so, so sorry for moms of winter babies in Colorado.
You think you want to “be by ourselves the first two weeks so we can get to know baby”? Think again. Peter and I talked about asking people to wait a few weeks before coming to visit so I could heal and we could get to know our new family. I’m so glad we reconsidered. We needed more help in those first two weeks than I’ve ever needed in my whole life. Thankfully, E has the best grandparents in the world, and they were totally up to the task.
If you’re going to take any classes, make sure they’re ones that help you AFTER the baby is born. Look, that baby is going to come out in whatever way it pleases. Then, you have a baby. And they let you take it home, no questions asked. It cries, it won’t eat, it eats too much and then gets gassy and cries more, it wakes up at 2 a.m. for no reason at all. I wish I had found some classes that gave me more techniques to try to calm a crying baby. After a while, I felt like I had exhausted my repertoire. But thankfully, that’s when Teeny would step in and say, “Have you tried _____?” Usually, I hadn’t. Sometimes it would work, sometimes it wouldn’t, but at least I felt like I had one more tool in my arsenal.
Embrace change, uncertainty, and being totally out of control. Your life isn’t yours anymore — it’s ours. That means there’s another (strong) voice in the room that may just decide you aren’t going to the grocery store this afternoon. Or hanging out with your friends. Or finishing that bite of sandwich. The quicker you can figure out ways to cope with having zero control over your life anymore, the better.
Don’t buy one of those beautiful cribs with the solid wood headboard. This is for when baby gets a little older. Those hollow sounding thunks and booms in the middle of the night? That’s your baby’s beautiful head getting bashed on that headboard. And as far as I can tell, there isn’t a bumper product on the market that can save their little noggin.* Ugh.

Alright, folks. There it is. I’m sure there are more (of course there are more), but these seemed to stick out right now in my still–although not as badly–sleep deprived mind. You’re in for a wild, beautiful ride. Hang on with both hands and don’t let go.

*If you know of something please, for the love, let me know. E’s head thanks you.

My baby now! Pulling up on everything, like a boss.