Oh friends….I had the BEST of intentions of blogging last week. And then Tuesday morning, I sat down to eat my morning oatmeal and a wave of fatigue washed over me. I made it into work, but four hours later, I was at home in bed. Where I stayed for the next four days. And when I wasn’t there, I was in the bathroom (shudder). Fever, chills, stomach woes, I had it all.

Somehow, with just a few short weeks of the season left for it, I managed to contract a HIDEOUS stomach flu (I think it was the norovirus). I have never been that sick in my adult life. At one point, I told Nick, “I would rather go through childbirth again than go through this”. So needless to say, the fact I was able to get up this morning, shower, get in to work and come home and put Dean to sleep (and now write this post) …. well, it all feels like a bit of a small miracle.

Consider this a smoke signal with a bit of cuteness thrown in for good measure.  Because I cannot even tell you how good it feels that everybody in this house is smiling again. This mama included.

To know me is to know I’m an independent woman. My self-reliant strike got its start at the age of six. Around this time, I’d inform my mom of plans to stay at my best friend’s house for the week, then pack a bag and bicycle my pint-sized self down the road solo. Through high school, college, and life as a young adult, I’ve never been one to get homesick or be known as someone to “miss” my parents.

Then I had a child. All of a sudden, these past few months have found me trying to wrap my head around a whole new level of “Why-can’t-I-live-closer” love for my parents. My mother, especially.

Twice during my maternity leave, my mom, Sandy, drove the 90-minute trip south from Fort Wayne to stay with Nick and I in Muncie for a week. The times she rocked, changed, and got up in the middle of the night with Dean were a god-send for us during those early days of parenthood.

Last week, she and my dad returned from two months of wintering with friends in Florida. My mom stopped to stay with us again for a week as our daycare observed spring break at the university where I work. To say I was excited to have her back in my life this time around would be a massive understatement. Yes, having her help again with Dean was a part of that. More than anything, it was simply her company I found myself missing. Her stories, her laughter, her knack for whipping up a batch of cookies on a whim. There was a night we both crawled under the covers of our hide-away bed to watch TV together over a shared bowl of ice cream. I wouldn’t trade that little memory, and the dozens of others that accompanied them last week, for anything.

Over the weekend, I took her back home and got to see the rest of my family, my brothers, sisters-in-law and sister coming out to my parents’ house to see Dean for the first time since Christmas. I used to wonder why I never moved farther away from home after college, especially given my love for both coasts. Then I had a child. Now I find myself feeling as though living next door to my parents wouldn’t be close enough.

That’s never going to happen. So instead I’ll count down the days until I get to see my parents again—this weekend for their birthdays, actually—and look forward to capturing more sweet moments of them loving on my boy like this.

In high school, there was an older guy I liked. Problem was, I was far too intimidated to talk to him in the halls. No, I preferred to do what every girl in those pre-cell phone days did: Get ahold of his digits (from a phone book no less!) and spend the next three weeks fantasizing about calling him.

I’d pick up the phone, walking myself through the conversation we’d have. Hoping maybe, by the end of the call, he’d ask me out on a date. The problem? I could never make it past the dial tone. That’s how much control the fear of rejection had over me. Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about that forgone phone call. It reminds me of how I feel right now with this blog.

When I launched my new web presence in October, I knew it’d be challenging to keep up with things once a new baby was in the house. And it’s true, Dean’s presence in my life — wonderful and enriching as it’s been — has afforded me less time than ever to blog.

But what’s bothered me even more is the idea that, somewhere along the way, I’ve let the presence of this blog intimidate me. I’ve let creative walls I’ve built for myself — walls that make me think I can’t blog about certain topics because I might bore some, offend others or retread topics already covered elsewhere on the big ‘ol Internet — override my desire to write at all. And therein lies the problem: Once you let fear override motivation, you’re never going to make it past the creative dial tone.

So here’s where I’m pushing myself in 2013 with this blog:

•  To write more often and care less about what people think of it all: Some days it might be about my son. Some days it might be about an interesting news article I read. Some days it might come full-circle and be about my photography business. But whatever thoughts I’m putting down, I need to remember I write first and foremost for myself. After that, I want to engage with my readers who love coming here to read whatever it is I want to write, be it book reviews, pop culture commentary or posts with pretty pictures.
• To explore new ideas for content: Sometimes I see a feature on someone’s blog and it’s a creative idea I’d love to try out. Then I quickly replace that train of thought with anxiety that, in doing so, I’ll be “copying” that individual. Total nonsense. I started a self-portrait series three years ago on the blog. In the time since, I’ve LOVED hearing from dozens of other photographers who’ve done the same. Copying? No. Adapting an idea for themselves? Yes. It’s an important difference, one I need to remember.
• To hold myself accountable to write: Ages ago, I kept an editorial calendar full of ideas on what to blog about. With each idea was a date on when to put those words down on the page (or at least get my thoughts organized). I need to get back to this degree of accountability. Right now, I’m letting too many good blog ideas waste away in the small corner of my mind not ruled by my son’s eating and sleeping habits.

There you have it … If I can make progress beginning next month in these areas above, my hope is blogging will once again come easy to me. It has to. Because I miss writing. And the only way I’m going to get it back is to be unafraid to try, try again.

Hey everyone! So, I spent much of last night cleaning out the cobwebs and shooing away the crickets on this blog. Sorry for the  long absence in posting — a sick baby, a sick mama and a case of the winter blues has left me with little time to be creative.

But the good news is, I’m back! And it’s my birthday! Only, to be honest, I came thisclose to forgetting it was my birthday this year. I’m serious! Blame it on new mom survival tactics, but if it doesn’t involve my son’s sleeping schedule, a breast pump and all its parts, or what kind of dinner I can pull together in 20 minutes or less, it’s pretty much off my radar these days. It doesn’t help that, as an adult, I sometimes find myself being all Don Draper-ish about my birthday.

I’m still riding the high of last year’s 30th birthday surprise, so I’m OK with this year’s birthday being low-key. A good hair day, being healthy again (more to come on being sick as a mom for the first time…blech), and a new episode of Modern Family — well, that’s good enough for me. BUT if I could put together the adult equivalent of a child’s birthday wish list, here’s a few of the requests you might find on it:

1) Drinks with Amy Poehler and Tina Fey: I’m pretty sure this would be on a LOT of women’s birthday wish lists, but I could not love two women more. In my mind, Amy would make me laugh so hard gin and tonic would shoot out of my nose. And Tina could tell me all about what she plans to do next now that she’s moving on from 30 Rock. (I would try to bribe them into making a sequel to Baby Mama, BTW). Oh, and friends, don’t worry, I’d make sure to get all the details from Amy about her forthcoming book!

2) A invitation from Beyonce for a private viewing of her new documentary: I’m fascinated by Queen B. She’s everywhere these days and I was a bit bummed that our HBO-less house meant I couldn’t tune in to see Life is But a Dream on Saturday night. I’ll have to settle for watching it online, but in a parallel world where dreams come true, B would fly me to NYC (first class!), let me crash at her penthouse apartment and watch it in high style from the luxury of her and Jay-Z’s mink sofa (you KNOW they have a mink sofa!). She’d also let me hold Blue Ivy. Wouldn’t THAT be a photo worth Instagramming?!

3) My son would grant me a full night’s sleep: Dean is in the midst of what, in some mom circles, is known as the four-month sleep regression. (This blogger sums it up pretty well!) At any rate, given that Nick and I have been up the past few nights about every hour on the hour, this is truly the birthday wish I would blow out a million candles to have come true.

(And while we don’t co-sleep with our son, this “How Not to Sleep with a Baby” diagram still makes me LOL. Maybe you have to be a sleep deprived parent to appreciate this kind of humor).

4) Funfetti cupcakes whenever I want — for life: Being in my 30s now means I probably should have really adult taste in what I’d want to indulge in on my birthday, right? Like, a truffle tart or creme brulee. But you know what I’d really love? A cupcake or two whipped up with some kid-friendly, Funfetti batter. Even better would be having a tray of said whimsical treats appear whenever I felt like it. Hmmm…maybe No. 5 on this list should be “Never gain any more weight?” :)

***And to all of you who called, texted, Facebooked or Tweeted me happy birthday wishes, THANK YOU! A birthday is a great reminder to stop every now and then and feel the love from your family and friends!***

Photo sources: Amy and Tina / Beyonce / How Not to Sleep with a Baby Diagram / Funfetti cupcakes

This baby should know something about his mama: She’s a journalist. Which means 1) she’s sarcastic as hell (get the picture? ;) ) and 2) she really really hates blowing deadlines. And due dates.

Whichhhh….brings me to today’s doctor’s appointment. Wherein my doctor told me that yes, I’m officially overdue and no, I’m making “no progress” on this baby coming out anytime soon. (I’m not even like, a centimeter dilated.) Sigh. I’d like to say I expected him to tell me differently, but the truth is, I’ve accepted that I have a stubborn kid (or, as I’d prefer to think it, a kid who is so laid-back, he’s content to be the last one to show up for his own birthday party).

We have an induction date set for early next week (and I’ll be honest, I’m a bit intimidated at being induced…so all you formerly induced mamas of cute kiddos out there, leave me some reassuring words about the process, would ya?), which means I know FINALLY that by next week at this time, I’ll be holding my son in my arms.

At this point, the idea of that feels so surreal. Because I think I’ve honestly convinced myself I’m going to be pregnant forever. Over pancakes at IHOP on Sunday, I gave Nick my best forlorn look, sighed, and told him, “I feel like this is never going to end.” Around a mouth full of biscuits and gravy, Nick came back with, “You’re right. He’ll be turning six and we’ll be singing him ‘Happy Birthday’ in the womb.’” (Did I mention he’s a sarcastic journalist, too?)

Last night, as we were watching the presidential debate, Nick leaned over my stomach and whispered, “It’s really awesome out here. And if you come out soon, your dad will buy you a Nintendo Wii.” Me: “Did you just bribe our kid with a present when he hasn’t even been born yet?” Nick: “Maybbeeee….” Drastic parenting measures, I tell ya…

In the meantime (and do understand this is the late pregnancy hormones bringing out a bit of an attitude) I’m over the sympathetic smiles I get from people these days. The way the woman at the grocery store whispered to my husband, “She’s due any day now isn’t she?” and the exclamations of “You’re still here?” from well-intended coworkers who can’t believe I’m working right up to — and apparently past—the ‘ol due date. Also over? All the ways in which people are encouraging me to bring on labor. Long walks? Check. Spicy food? Check. Seaweed injections into the cervix? Uhhhhh …. yeah, not so much.

While I’d intended this month’s self-portrait to be a shot of me with a newborn in my arms,  instead I’ll save that for next month’s image. Because while October will still be my little guy’s birth month (at least, that’s what the doctor tells me!), I have to say, I feel like what I’m going to remember about so much of it is the tedium of these final days of pregnancy, wherein we’re still (ever so anxiously) waiting for our world to change.