My Letter to Ellen

I can't remember where we were going this particular evening, but I was trying something new with my hair. Clearly it wasn't working.

Last weekend I survived the most challenging day of single parenthood I have experienced to date.

It started like most days- Little Man was fussing a little bit around 4AM, so I went in there to help him calm down. A few minutes later, I was walking back to my room when I realized something was not quite right. My stomach felt a bit off, but I thought I might be able to sleep it off, so I crawled back into bed and rolled around restlessly for a while.

Thirty minutes later, Little Man woke up again- this time to eat. I picked him up, walked to the kitchen to grab his bottle, and knew it was only a matter of minutes. 

It's always odd to me how accurately we can sense our impending fate when we experience that type of nausea. I go years without getting sick- at least this kind of sick- but even so, I can instantly tell when my nausea is not just nausea.

I did my best to breathe slowly as he sucked down his bottle, laid him back in his crib as quickly as I could, and then booked it to the bathroom- where whatever stomach virus I had hit in full force. (Can you tell I'm trying not to be too graphic?)

When Little Man woke up a few hours later, I managed to pull him out of his crib and lay him on his play mat before laying down next to him- a safe distance away. Being the super baby he is, he played contentedly for an hour or so (seriously- he's the best baby) while I tried not to move.

Me. That entire day.

To say it was miserable would be an incredible understatement. But- once again- I was saved my the kindness of friends. One friend saved the day and coordinated people to come help me. Those people came and played with/cared for Little Man while I tried to sleep. Another friend brought a miraculous anti-nausea medicine. Others brought ginger ale and very light foods. One friend even spent the night to help with J's nighttime feedings.

By the next morning, I was pretty much back to normal- hallelujah. But, man... I really am not sure I would have made it without those kind, wonderful people. They truly saved the day.

So thank you to all of those who came to our rescue last weekend. I really am #blessed.

Now, on to the subject of this blog post.

A while back, I was talking to my sister about foster motherhood, and I joked that I was going to write a letter to Ellen (whom I adore) suggesting she change her Mother's Day show this year.

For anyone who isn't a fan of Ellen, 1) you're crazy, 2) she hosts a Mother's Day show every year where first-time moms-to-be fill the audience. It's awesome. I mean, look at all these baby bumps:

As I laughed at my idea, my sister excitedly encouraged me to "do it!" A few other friends gave me the same feedback when I mentioned it to them, so I decided to go for it. I mean, what did I have to lose?

I sat down, wrote a lovely letter, and then went to Ellen's website to figure out how to send it.

It was then that I discovered that the only way to write to Ellen is by typing it into a box on her website (as opposed to sending a hand-written note or attaching a Word document). I also realized that the box had a strict character limit- one that was far below what I used on my letter.

I cut it down as best as I could, but doing so forced me to leave a lot of the heart behind my suggestion out.

It seems like a waste to just delete the full-length version, so I figured I'd post it here.

That way, if anyone who sees this knows Ellen, they can make sure she reads it. If I'm only seven degrees away from Kevin Bacon, I can't be more than 5 degrees away from Ellen. She interacts with a lot of people and is just the best- surely we have some friends in common. 

So, anyway, here's the unabridged letter:

Hi Ellen!

My name is Kaley. I’m a 27-year-old single lady living in Waco, TX. I currently work as a school social worker- a job that is challenging but wonderful.  In addition to your show, I love spending time with friends, playing the ukulele, baking, enjoying a good glass of wine or a good cup of coffee, and- like you- shaking it on the dance floor (aka- any floor that happens to be under my feet).

I am also a foster parent.

This is a pretty new adventure in my life, and I could probably give you a chapters-long narrative of what led up to it, but- in an effort to be brief(ish)- I’ll skip through that and get to the more exciting stuff.

After lots of interviews, trainings, and home inspections, I became a licensed foster parent in September. Within three hours of signing my license, I received a phone call about a potential placement, but the logistics didn’t work out and it fell through. I waited around anxiously for two weeks, making sure I always had my phone with me- just in case. On Tuesday, September 23^rd, I got another call. It was the program director of the child placement agency, who said there was a baby scheduled to be born in the next few days. The baby’s mom was incarcerated, so they needed to find a home for a few months until she was released. The director said she thought I’d be the perfect fit, but we needed to figure out childcare- and wait for the baby to be born- before things could be finalized. On Wednesday I found out the baby- a boy- arrived and was healthy, and on Thursday we confirmed details for childcare, which made it official: I was about to welcome a newborn into my home.

I was standing in Target’s baby aisle Thursday night- crying because I was so excited, overwhelmed, and confused by the number of almost-identical bottles (how do you know which one to choose??) when I received another phone call- this time asking if I could travel with the case manager to pick my foster son up the next morning- 12 hours from that moment.

I wasn’t expecting that, so I called my supervisor at work and left her a few frantic messages- which, in retrospect, were probably very confusing- and went home to try to prepare/rest. It was the first of many sleepless nights.

The drive to the hospital was about 4 hours long. I remember listening to a great 90s playlist and looking at people passing by- thinking about how we were probably heading to such vastly different places to do such vastly different things. Eventually, we arrived at the hospital and made our way to the Newborn Center. It was a zoo. Nurses were buzzing back and forth and babies were crying all around us. I had to wait at the front desk for what felt like hours while the case manager filled out paperwork. I kept trying to catch glimpses of all the babies as they were carried by- wondering which one was about to become my foster son. Finally a nurse led us over to two of those clear plastic newborn cribs, which were parked by the nurses’ desk out front. (As I type this, I’m realizing how odd that location was.) She pointed out my son, and I immediately knew he was the cutest and most wonderful boy in the world. The nurse then led us to the only empty room she could find- the circumcision room. It was the perfect setting for such a significant moment.

The nurse handed me a bottle and told me I could feed him while they waited for the doctor to sign off on his release, and then she left. I think she may have forgotten about us, because it was a solid two hours before anyone returned. I didn’t care too much, though, because it gave me time to stare at the precious baby in my arms and- of course- cry some more. Eventually a nurse returned with  a “Newborn Owner’s Manual” (that’s seriously what it’s called), which she summarized by telling me to always use a car seat and put him on his back to sleep. I wasn’t convinced that was all I needed to know to take care of a newborn, but she told us we could go home and left again. The case manager and I buckled the little guy into his car seat, prayed we did it correctly, and headed for the car. I was sure someone would recognize my incompetence and stop me as I walked to the elevator. I imagined alarms going off and a nurse running over to grab the car seat from us. “That was a close one!” she would announce to the staff as she turned to take him back to the nursery. I mean, seriously- what did I know about raising a newborn??

 Since then I’ve learned that what I knew is about on par with what most parents know when they leave the hospital- nothing. But in that moment, I felt terrified- and somehow, at the same time, very calm. The second I looked at him, I knew I was totally in love with this little boy. He became my son in that moment- surely I could just figure everything else out along the way.

To my amazement, the hospital staff didn’t stop us. We walked out of there, baby in tow, and, four months later, the little guy (who is not so little these days) is still living with me. He’s grown and changed so much, and I like to think I’ve grown- in different ways- right alongside him.

At this point, I’m not sure how much longer we’ll be a little family- he’s supposed to return to his biological mom once she’s ready to take him back. It could be days or weeks or months from now, but I’m trying not to think too much about it so I can focus on just being grateful for the time we do have together.

I’ve gained so much respect and appreciation for foster and adoptive parents over the past several months. This work is so beautiful and rewarding, but it is also very challenging- emotionally, mentally, and even physically. (Hauling around an adorable, chunky baby is no joke- nor is waking up for feedings throughout the night and trying to survive eight hours of work the next day.)  As a foster parent, you open your heart up to so much love and joy, which inevitably leaves it open to a lot of grief and pain. I cannot imagine my life without this little guy- but I know I may have to accept it as reality before too long. If there is a way to love this child completely while still protecting my heart from the grief of losing him, I haven’t figured it out yet. But, despite the uncertainty and heartache, I plan to continue fostering children- as so many parents around the country do- because there is such a tremendous need, and I know this is one way I can do something about it.

Segue into the purpose of this letter (obviously I’m amazing at transitions): Every May, you have a wonderful Mother’s Day show where you celebrate women doing something incredible- bringing a life into the world. Your audience is filled with women who are proudly rocking their baby bumps; it’s one of the best shows of the year. But over the past few months my eyes have been opened to the many mothers out there whose stories aren’t always celebrated- or even shared. From women who are led to foster care because they are unable (or choose not) to have children biologically, to women who become foster moms just so children can experience safety and love before finding permanency with their biological or adoptive family- there are many mothers out there who don’t necessarily bring lives into the world, but they certainly work hard to make sure those lives thrive. Their stories are complex and challenging, but they are also beautiful and very much worth telling.

I think it would be amazing to host a Mother’s Day Show celebrating these women.  Not only because they deserve it, but because it would inform millions of your viewers about a really important issue. Did you know that in the United States, 397,122 children are living without permanent families in the foster care system? 101,666 of them are eligible for adoption, but over 30% will wait more than three years in foster care before finding a permanent home.* There are so many things- big and small- that your viewers can do about this, and they may not even be aware of them.  They could donate items to children in foster care, they could volunteer with an organization that supports biological families working toward reunification, they could register to provide respite care for foster families, or they could become foster parents themselves.

 I’ve been amazed by how little most people seem to know about the reality of fostering. Many people tell me, “I could never do that!” without having an accurate understanding of what it’s like. I’ve become pretty passionate about changing people’s misconceptions by being honest about my experience- both the joys and the challenges- in my conversations and writing (I have a blog that I sometimes update when I’m not busy or exhausted from caring for an infant). But I know your voice can carry a lot further than mine. I also know you choose to use it to make a positive impact in the world- it’s one of the many reasons I admire you. I know you can’t support every cause people point you toward, but I at least wanted to ask you to support this one. May is actually National Foster Care Awareness month, too, so it could be perfect!

I’m not sure if this will actually reach you, but, if it does, I’d be so grateful if you’d even just consider this. Whether you think about making a change to the Mother’s Day show (it might be too late for that; I honestly have no clue how far in advance you prepare for each episode) or share this information in some other way, I think it could make such a difference for the kids across the country in need of safe homes and loving families.

Regardless of whether or not this letter changes anything, I am thankful for all you do to make the world a better place. You bring so much joy to so many people, which is why you always make my list when I answer the question: “You’re hosting a dinner party; what five people- dead or alive- would you want to have at your table?” There’d be so much good conversation and so many great dance moves.

Thank you for choosing to make a positive impact.

All the best,

Kaley

(ps- I realize it may seem a little self-serving to make this suggestion given the fact that I am a foster mom myself, but I would be totally fine if you did this and I didn’t go- there are plenty of other foster moms out there who could fill an audience.)

(I mean, I wouldn’t complain if I was there, but I’d be completely happy to see others there, too.)

*Source: The AFCARS Reports No. 20: http://www.acf.hhs.gov/sites/default/files/cb/afcarsreport20.pdf

A Prayer for My Foster Son

This is probably my all-time favorite photo now, captured by the incredibly talented Kristin Crawford.

It seems my post about welcoming Little Man into my life has spread much further than I ever imagined in the past few weeks, which is so amazing and humbling. Knowing there are people out there who can relate to this crazy and wonderful adventure- and others who are encouraged by it- makes me unbelievably happy. So thank you for reading this thing, and thank you for caring about Little Man, me, and our time together. It really means so much to me!

Yesterday Little Man turned 4 months old, which amazes me. He’s grown up so much in the past few weeks! These days he is laughing and “talking,” he loves taking baths and Sandra Boynton books, he watches everything intently and seems to just take it all in, and he thinks I’m the funniest person in the world. Seriously- it’s the best.

RG got to celebrate Little Man's 4-month birthday by napping with him in his room. He's been dying to do this since Little Man started sleeping in the nursery (normally he's forced to wait just outside the door), so it was a big day.

I'm also amazed because I didn’t expect to celebrate this milestone with him. When he first arrived, I wasn’t even sure I’d celebrate Thanksgiving with him- and I definitely think we’d spend his first Christmas together. We've had a lot more time together than I originally anticipated, and I am so, so grateful for that.

When people ask me now how much longer he’ll be with me, the only answer I have (unfortunately), is “I have no idea.”

Last week we reached a point where it could technically be an “any day” kind of thing. We think it will be at least a few more weeks, but- at this point- we really have no way of telling.

Our situation is a bit unique for a variety of reasons- and it’s hard for me to explain it fully while still protecting Little Man and his biological mom’s privacy. But the basics are that Little Man was placed in foster care voluntarily. Before he was born, his biological mom signed him into care because she wasn’t able to care for him at that time. We’ve been able to do a few visits with her- an experience I was hesitant to share widely out of respect for her (and because I felt incapable of articulating all the things I thought/felt).  I’ve been trying to put some of those thoughts and feelings into words, so there might be a post sometime soon about it. But for now, I thought I’d share something I wrote a while back.

At the end of November, Little Man was dedicated at my church. Dedication days happen pretty frequently because there is something in the water and we have new babies born every week. It seems that way, at the very least. On these days, families make a commitment to share Christ’s love with their child, and the church community commits to support the family in that endeavor. Parents have a chance to talk about their new baby; I always love seeing the ways they light up as describe their child’s developing personality. They also have a chance to pray for their child. I usually get choked up during this particular moment because I get a small glimpse of those parents’ hearts- I hear about their hopes and dreams for the little life they’re holding, and I feel so grateful that such love exists in the world.

When Little Man’s dedication day was approaching, I realized I should probably start writing a prayer for him. (Recognizing this as such a significant moment, I knew I’d have to prepare in advance so I could get through it without crying/blabbering on too long/sounding awkward.) In the weeks before, I tried- on a few occasions- to come up with the right words, but I failed each time. Everything I thought and felt just seemed too enormous for any of the words in my vocabulary. So, in an act of desperation, I turned to Google. “Surely,” I thought, “there are some beautiful, traditional prayers that might capture what’s in my heart. I mean, people have probably been praying for children since children have been around- there has to be one out there I can use!”

Much to my surprised, however, Google failed me. I’m assuming I just have lackluster Google skills, because my searches only yielded prayers for children themselves to say, prayers that belong on the front of an overly-religious baby shower card, and a few prayers for the fate of all children in foster care. (I tried a few phrases for searching.) I’m sure when they were written, all of these prayers were very heart-felt and sincere, but I didn’t think any of them really fit this situation.

The night before the dedication, I still had nothing. I was thinking about just asking someone else to do it, but at the same time felt like it had to come from me. So, once I’d gotten Little Man to sleep, I sat down next to his bassinet and started writing. Maybe it was because I was sipping on a glass of wine, but in that moment, I felt like the right words were finally coming to me. I’m not sure they perfectly capture everything I feel about Little Man and my time as his foster mom, but I think I got as close as words could.

I still come back to this prayer pretty regularly, and I think I will continue to do so even after Little Man leaves. If you feel so inclined, I’d love for you to join me in using it. (Although you may have to adapt a line or two.)

And, who knows? Maybe one day someone will frantically search for a prayer for her foster child, and Google will lead her here.  I’d love for these words to find meaning for other parents out there.

A Prayer for My Foster Son

God, thank you for Little Man. Thank you for his life, and for the time you’ve allowed it to intersect with my own. I am constantly amazed, humbled, and so grateful that you would choose me to care for him- even for just a short time.

I have so many hopes and dreams for Little Man, Lord. I hope that you grant him strength, courage, wisdom and determination. I hope you fill his heart with kindness, compassion and joy. I hope you give him a love of learning and a great sense of humor, and that you surround him with people who strengthen and encourage him- people who will point him toward you.

May you give him a desire for justice and fill him with a sense of wonder. And- in all things- may he always see and feel hope. But above all else, God, I pray that you will fill him with the knowledge that he is incredibly loved. I don’t know what lies ahead for Little Man; I can’t predict what joys and pains he will face in his life. But I know and trust that you are with him, and that you love him far more than I can fathom. Please help him to know and trust that, too.

May he always know your love so he may always know and love you.

As it has so frequently over the past two moths, my prayer for Little Man echoes Paul’s from Ephesians:

"I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your heart through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.

Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen."

  

Ten Tips for Flying Solo with a Baby

FYI- This isn't Little Man. He is much cuter.
I said it, and I meant it.

Well, Little Man and I made it back to Texas! And- all things considered- the return trip went pretty smoothly! 

He got a little fussy as we were landing in Waco, but I would much rather cope with fussiness at the very end of a long trip than the very beginning.

Times a million.

At this point, I feel like I’ve gained some level of expertise on flying solo with an infant (I mean, I’ve done it successfully twice!), so I’ve decided to share my top 10 tips for anyone else who takes on this challenge.

1.     When scheduling flights, choose them based on your needs. Some of the advice I read prior to traveling with Little Man said to “time your flight to your baby’s schedule.” That, in my humble opinion, is terrible advice. In my experience, baby’s schedule goes out the window when it collides with chaotic airports, noisy planes, and awful air pressure changes. Those things stress me out, so I can’t imagine how overwhelming it would be if you have less than 3 months of life under your belt.

When I booked our flight to NYC, I decided to fly out at 10AM- a time I thought would line up perfectly with his eating and napping patterns. And it probably would have- if we left that day. But, as tends to happen with infants, his schedule shifted over the next few weeks. That morning I was nervous about the fact that his schedule was now completely incompatible with our travel plans, but- in spite of his normal scheduling- Little Man still slept through most of the day. And I had (some) energy because I’d had time to get him up and fed, do last-minute packing/cleaning, and rest for a little bit for spending the next 8 hours traveling.

On the other hand, our first flight together in October left at 6AM (it was booked before I knew he’d be my travel buddy- or that he existed). This technically worked with his schedule since newborns nap 90% of the time, but I wound up being completely exhausted- despite his excellent traveling. (It’s hard to nap when you’re holding an infant in your lap and can only recline a few degrees backward, which becomes problematic when you’re running on 3 hours of sleep and have things to do when you land.)

All that to say, do what works for you. If it’s easy for you to hop out of bed hours before you see the sun, take that early morning flight! If you need a little down time to energize yourself for a big day, pick a later time. Whatever! Time it to your scheduling needs rather than your baby’s, because his will probably change- before and during travel day- and you have to have the energy and capacity to adjust. 

2.     Splurge on pre-made bottles.

During our first trip, I just packed our bottles- which I filled with water so I could quickly mix in the formula when he needed to eat. Genius, right? Wrong. It took me all of 2 seconds to discover that mixing up a bottle when you’re crammed into a tiny airplane seat, holding a screaming baby, and feeling as if every other passenger is staring you down to telepathically communicate just how much they hate you is fairly difficult. I’d give it about an  8 on a 10 point scale.

Rather than enduring that pressure, you can opt to purchase bottles that just require you to open them and screw on a top. Even that can be challenging in the previously mentioned scenario, but it’s so much faster. And it prevents you from spilling powdered formula all over yourself.

For day to day life, buying those bottles is crazy town. You’d spend a fortune on them. But one pack was just enough to last through travel to and from NYC. I’m not sure I’ve ever spent $12 so wisely.

3.     Bring a stroller and a wearable baby carrier. 

      Sure, the stroller will be a bit of a pain when you’re trying to fold it up at the end of the bridge while passengers rush by you to get the best seats on the plane (that’s not a thing on most flights, by the way, folks- pushing your way past me just buys you more time stuck in your tiny airplane seat. Do people not realize that?), but it will definitely come in handy when you’re traveling through the airport. ESPECIALLY if you have a wearable baby carrier. These, in my opinion, are necessities for air travel with infants. They leave your stroller open to carry heavy carry-ons, which is helpful when you’re sprinting to catch a flight. They shield your babies from everyone who wants to stare at and touch them. They make napping mid-flight sort of almost possible. And they give you a way to use the restroom on the plane without asking a stranger to hold your child. Thank you, God, for the Baby Bjorn/Moby Wrap. (I used the Moby Wrap on the flight to Oregon- a lot of people didn’t even notice I had a baby with me.  Success!)

4.     Consolidate the things you pack in carry-ons. On the way to NY, I thought I was being super smart by just carrying my small purse and the diaper bag. But then I also had to carry my coat, scarf, and Little Man’s blanket. And I wound up trying to stuff all of these things under the seat, because I knew I needed things from the diaper bag and didn’t want to be that person who puts smaller, loose items in the overhead bins. Sorry, neighbors sharing my foot space.

My first morning in NYC, I went out and bought a cheap, giant purse for the trip back to Texas. This allowed me to pack baby necessities (diapers, wipes, bottles, a rattle, and a pacifier) in the purse along with small things I’d need over the next few hours. Extra items (change of clothes, computer, bag of small liquids, etc) were stuffed into the diaper bag, which was then securely stowed in the overhead bin above me.

If you are an exceptional packer and can fit all of your stuff in your diaper bag, this may be a moot point. But trust me when I say an overstuffed bag that makes it difficult to find and replace items is far worse than two organized bags.

5.     Buy things there. If you’ll be gone for more than 12 hours, only pack the number of diapers you’ll need for your flight(s). Then, when you arrive, buy a pack there. You’ll probably use them all, and it will save you valuable suitcase space. Same goes for formula, and any other disposable items you will use quickly.

6.     Get creative with the non-disposable items you can’t pack and can’t buy there. Depending on where you are, you might be able to rent things like a crib. Fortunately for me, family friends lent us their old baby items in NYC. But in Oregon, I spent one night at a friend’s before checking into a hotel. With no crib in sight, I made do with a laundry basket. Before you judge me for that, note that it was a large basket with more than enough space for a 2-week-old. And I cleaned it out first. And I obviously lined it with a blanket. Essentially, it was exactly the same as one these portable sleepers that people pay money for:

This costs $50. But it can double as a laundry basket when your baby outgrows it in a month.

Creativity will save you money and space in your suitcase.

7.     Learn to love longer layovers. Before travelling with a baby, I thought long layovers were for chumps. My goal was to get the shortest possible layover- because who likes to hang out in an airport? This will not fly with a baby in tow. One- it takes longer to leave the first plane because you have to wait for your stroller to be brought to the bridge. Two- The chances of baby needing a diaper change and maybe even a bottle between flights are high, and you don’t want to/can’t rush that. Three- you just have a lot more stuff to haul around. And another person.

If you don’t give yourself some solid time between flights, you may wind up trying to rush your baby through a bottle from a bench by a toilet in a family-style bathroom, and then- when he doesn’t finish it quickly enough- trying to push a luggage-laden stroller with your right arm and carry a baby in your left while holding a bottle under your chin so you can make it to your next flight on time. This makes you look like a crazy person.

At least that’s what I gathered from the people staring at me throughout gate C.

Full disclosure: I did not look this cute as I ran to the Skylink.

In other words: take your time. You’ll need it.

8.     Bring a change of clothes… For everyone. When I flew to Oregon, I had about two and a half weeks of experience as a mom (a few days of prep, two weeks in action). Obviously I was super prepared.

In my naiveté, I thought I was incredibly smart to have not just one, but TWO extra baby outfits tucked away in my diaper bag. I was ready to write a parenting book with all of my wisdom.

Then, the unthinkable happened. I got up halfway through the DFW-Portland flight to do a routine diaper change, and what I found was horrifying. 

Little Man’s day of constipation had ended with a mess that could not be bound by the parameters of a mere diaper. Nor could it be held by his onesie. Nor could his pants contain it. 

By the grace of God, it was finally stopped by the 4^th barrier- the Moby Wrap he was sleeping in. I truly believe it was a miracle that I was not covered in poop before, in the process of, or after removing that thing from my body.

As one does through surviving such a frightening experience, I learned a valuable lesson that day. Always bring an extra outfit- or at least a shirt- for yourself, too.

(Another tip- scarves work really well for cleaning and covering spit-up.)

9.     Don’t be afraid to cry. With the stress of our flight to DFW the other week and the chaos of trying to make it to the second flight (refer to the story in number 7), I was on edge by the time I reached our second gate. Probably anything could have made me cry in those moments, but what eventually did was the DFW employee who, when checking tickets, told me having an infant did not give me the privilege of boarding early. Oh, and that I had to fold up the stroller and car seat before entering the bridge- carrying them (rather than rolling them) all the way down to the plane. You know- along with the giant diaper bag, purse, coat, scarf, blanket, and- oh yeah- the baby strapped to my chest. Nbd.

I stared at him for a minute, trying to make sense of what he was saying to me. By the time I stepped back out of the line, the floodgates had opened. 

The man at the gate’s desk looked over at me, and I think I sputtered something along the lines of, “How am I supposed to carry it?” through my tears. Bless that man, he took pity on me- or just felt stressed at the sight of a lady with a baby crying. Either way, he rushed over and, asked me what was wrong, and told me he would fold up the stroller and carry it to the plane himself. Then he told the ticket taker to let me through.

Take that, DFW employee I’ll probably never see again! (Although, to be fair to him, I think his request came more from being oblivious than just being mean.)

Was it embarrassing to cry in front of a bunch of strangers and walk- red-eyed and sniffling- all the way through the crowded plane? Definitely. Did the people on that plane think I was a train wreck? Probably. Would I do it again? Without a doubt. I was certainly not intending to use those tears to get my way- they were genuinely coming from a place of overwhelming stress and an extreme need for (at least one) glass of wine. But was I relieved I didn’t have to singlehandedly carry everything to the plane? 

So don’t be afraid to bust out those tears- they may stress people out enough to help you!

10.  Accept help when it is offered. Someone wants to help you put your carry-on in the overhead bin? Let them. Someone else wants to buy you lunch? “Yes, please, thank you.” Another person wants to help you pull your suitcase from the carousel? Be my guest.

Initially, I struggled with this. And, to be honest, sometimes I still do. I have this terrible fear that someone will eventually notice that I am not managing everything in my life right now with the perfect grace and poise of Taylor Swift. I’m much more Jennifer Lawrence-esque- fumbling and tripping up life’s staircase. But, for some reason, I sometimes want people to see me as more the Taylor Swift-type. Why, Kaley?? People love Jennifer Lawrence! She’s so relatable! She has an Oscar for Pete’s sake! (Is this metaphor working?)

Where does this need look like I have it all together all the time come from?? I think there’s a (totally irrational) part of me that equates needing help to failure, and- clearly- I don’t want to look like I’m failing at being a foster mom. Because I’m not. I’m kicking ass at it- even if my house isn’t spotless and I’m constantly covered in spit-up.

I’m learning to embrace the fact that I can’t do every single thing perfectly all the time. It’s hard sometimes. But it gives me the chance to accept help grace from others, which is generally pretty worth it. It gives me perspective and connection- and sometimes gets me out of lifting heavy things on my own. I won’t complain about that.

If you are traveling alone with an infant, you are already crushing it- just by your bravery! Accepting help doesn’t lessen that- it just helps you to do an even better job.

So, those are my top tips flying solo with a baby. Have you ever done it? If so, what are your tips?

Come to think of it, what are any of your tips for making life with a baby easier? I’m still new to this game- I could use some creative life hacks!

Happy Holidays!

Happy holidays from me and Little Man!

It probably seems as if I've forgotten about this corner of the internet- it's been over two months since my last post.

I've actually started to write a handful of blog posts in the past several weeks, but- each time- have been sidetracked by a fountain of spit-up, a stinky diaper, the most pitiful cries of hunger (/sleepiness/boredom/any other thing babies cry about), or (on my end) a bout of narcolepsy. But, thanks to the holiday break, I've finally had enough time to write (and finish) an update!

A lot has happened over the past two months. Little Man has started smiling, laughing, cooing, and pulling my hair like a champ. We've celebrated three first holidays and survived one first trip to the ER! (Little Man, along with every child within a 50 mile radius of our home it seems, came down with RSV. Booooo.)

We were at the hospital until 2AM that night, and he was such a trooper!

He has also grown a lot. He's developed some serious rolls on his arms and legs and has gone up two diaper sizes. I'm convinced all of this growing happens from 3-6AM- the last stretch of sleep I get each night. I look at him in the morning, and I swear he's bigger than he was when I fed him at 2AM. These days he gives me the most heart-melting smiles when he sees me after waking up, but I suspect it's his way of distracting me from the fact that he gained an extra quarter pound of weight overnight. Carrying him around these days is no joke, guys.

Rolls on rolls on rolls!

On Christmas Eve, Little Man turned three months old- which amazes me. The time has flown by, and it's been incredible to watch him change and grow. I do miss the newborn days of constant snuggles, but it's so much fun to see him laughing and playing now.

I've definitely discovered that traveling is easier in those early days, though. Flying, specifically. We went to Portland for a wedding when he was two weeks old, and- despite my anxiety- he handled it like a true jet-setter.

Last week we flew to New York to celebrate the holidays, and it did not go quite so smoothly. Our first flight from Waco was filled with a lot of tears from him, and our brief layover was filled with a few more tears from me. (I was stressed, and there was a particular DFW employee who was not very empathetic.) I am not kidding when I say I strongly considered just taking a shuttle back to Waco at that point.

Thankfully, the second flight was a lot easier, and I was fortunate enough to sit by a father of three who was very understanding and helpful. He even offered to buy me lunch, which was so kind and generous! (This man recently started a company called "Golden Coast Mead," so if you like such beverages, support them- he is one of the nicest people and totally deserves it.)

Being up in NYC has been great- it's been nice to be with family. It's also allowed me to nap more, for which I am very thankful- particularly because he is not sleeping as well as he normally does. He's just too scared to miss anything going on in the Big Apple, I guess.

I'd say he enjoyed his first Christmas, but, honestly, he seemed pretty indifferent to the whole thing. He is only three months old, after all. He got a few toys he's not quite sure what to do with yet, but hopefully he'll appreciate them more within the next few weeks.

We're up here for a just a few more days before heading back to Texas on the 1st. (Please keep us in your thoughts and prayers then- I'm not sure I can handle the stress of last week's flight again...) Most of our plans involve staying cozy and warm in the apartment, but I'm sure we'll take another walk in Central Park- and hopefully one to a nearby bakery that I love.

I'm excited to to see what 2015 holds for me and Little Man. One year ago, I never would have guessed I'd be sitting here now as a foster mom to such a precious little boy. I had dreams of becoming a foster parent, but I didn't know at the time how soon it would happen. It's strange to think about how much my life has changed- and how much it could change in the weeks ahead- but I wouldn't trade it for anything.

It's been an amazing year- and an incredible journey. Thank you so much for sharing it with me! I cannot say enough how blessed I feel to have such incredible support from so many people near and far; the little guy and I are very lucky.

We hope you've had a wonderful holiday season, and, as we enter into 2015, we pray you have a year filled with peace, joy, love, and hope!

I cannot end this post- and begin the new year- with anything better than this sloth's advice. May we all keep it in our hearts throughout 2015:

My sister, Lauren, sent this to me before Little Man even arrived, and I've been trying to find the perfect occasion to use it.
This seems as perfect an occasion as any, I think.

Happy holidays!!!

Love,

Kaley and Little Man