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I stopped taking my Zoloft back in June simply because I ran out. I kept meaning to make a follow up appointment to talk to my doctor about a refill, but as each day went by I felt better and warmer and happier and decided it was as good a time as any to stop. It wasn’t necessarily a smart, well thought out, medically advised decision. There was just so much going on – so many adventures, so many trips, so much SUNSHINE – that I forgot to make the appointment and before I knew it I was too busy to feel sad and frustrated and angry all the time.

It wasn’t an act of God or a miracle that I felt better. My anxiety reached an all-time high when Caroline was about 15 months old, which was exactly when we began weaning. A few people reached out to tell me they had experienced the same crazy hormone fluctuations and depression when they had stopped breastfeeding. It turns out it’s an actual thing, although not something that’s extremely well known.

The Zoloft got me through weaning and over that hormonal bump that made me feel like I was losing my mind. It was like a key and a sliver of light under the door I was banging my head against, trying to figure out how to escape my frustration.

Besides the medication, using hemp flower for anxiety  and the light (sunshine, brightness, longer days) made a huge difference. I used to roll my eyes at people who claimed Seasonal Affective Disorder with their sunlamps and their dread of winter. How can that be a real thing?

My apologies to everyone who I ever secretly thought was making it up, since there is no doubt in my mind that the short dark days played a huge part in my anxiety.

Maybe it’s an actual vitamin D deficiency or maybe it’s a feeling-the-sunshine-on-my-skin-makes-me-happy deficiency, but when the days warm up and we spend more time outside I am always better. A better mom, a better wife, a better person. The lightness makes me lighter.

With Labor Day weekend behind us the evenings getting shorter by the day and I’m starting to worry a little bit. September and October are beautiful, fun-filled months for us in New England. There’s still plenty of time to spend outside, plenty of apples to be picked, the perfect pumpkins to find for jack-o-lanterns, hay mazes to explore.

But beyond that, there’s winter. Cold. Dark. The stress of the holidays. Although December might be my very favorite month now (Caroline’s birthday AND Christmas!) there’s no doubt trying to split up family time and E’s crazy work schedule and weather-related delays and cancellations and ruined travel plans can crush my festive spirit pretty quickly. I’m feeling a little stressed just thinking about it. And the heating bill. And the snow. And now my eye is twitching.

I’m thinking I should probably go ahead and make an appointment now to talk to my doctor, rather than waiting until I get overwhelmed and the thought of adding one more thing to my plate makes me want to just curl up under the covers and cry. I don’t necessarily want to restart the Zoloft (or anything else) now. I’d like to be prescription free when we start trying for baby #3 if possible, although I’m also a little worried pregnancy could do what weaning did and things might get out of control again quickly. But I think it’s a good door to have open.

So for now I’m floating through the end of summer, mindful of what’s coming but not letting it overshadow these beautiful days. This weekend is the best weekend of the year around here (Greek Festival and Italian Food Festival within walking distance, town fair in our old town) and my biggest problem is we have too many friends to hang out with. It’s a pleasant kind of busy-ness, rather than the overwhelming kind. Let’s hope I can recognize the difference if and when it comes and know enough to ask for help.

I feel like this cat knows everything I wish I did about life.

I know I promised birthday pictures but for the first time ever I managed to actually enjoy a party without a camera glued to my face, so I have to wait until my super awesome BFF sends me the ones she took. I mean, I paid her absolutely nothing and ignored her the whole day and made her help prep all the food and didn’t let her drive home with her toddler until the middle of the night but GEEZE, how come she hasn’t uploaded the 1,000 pictures she took in the 12 hours she’s been home? Obviously I need a new best friend. Or maybe she needs a new best friend.

So until I can get all the dinosaurific details together, I thought I’d put up a quick post. Something light. Something fluffy. Like how I’ve been thinking a lot about how much I enjoy having 2 toddlers and no babies and maybe babies are kind of a lot of work and wouldn’t it be nice if I didn’t have to go through the tiny helpless infant stage anymore so maybe I don’t want any more babies?

Even saying that to myself seems kind of insane – I’ve ALWAYS wanted more than 2 kids. When I was little I imagined having a huge family. E and I have always planned to have at least 3, maybe 4, maybe more if we talking about it after a few glasses of wine. We already have names picked out – not a list, mind you, but actual names that are set for future kids.

But having 2 toddlers is fantastic. I am in love with these two kids at these two ages, both as individuals and as siblings. They love each other a heart-breaking amount. And they play together! Independent of me! I can get stuff done even when they are both awake! They eat food and sleep through the night (mostly) and can communicate their needs and help me with toddler-appropriate chores and sit still when I read them books. I like all those things. They’re getting to an age where we could go on a vacation as a family and it would actually feel like a vacation instead of a series of disasters interspersed with forced fun. And as cliché as it sounds, having a boy and a girl somehow feels kind of…complete. It’s a matched set! (So so so kidding.)

Luckily, I’m allowed to feel like this for a little while before I have to decide if I REALLY feel like this or if I’m just drunk with sleep and freedom. When I think about what not having any more kids means – never being pregnant again, never nursing again, never having all those baby firsts again – I’m definitely not ready to be done. But maybe I’m done for now. The problem is defining “for now” – 6 months? 12 months? Until Caroline goes to preschool? Until Little Evan is old enough to babysit? That’s a big range of “for now”. Which is OK! I have time to think Deep Thoughts about babies and toddlers and family size and what my life would be like with 2 kids or 3 kids or 10 kids. It’s just been on my mind a lot lately because I’m coming up on one of those big life events where you waste a bunch of energy thinking about all the stuff you haven’t done yet in life and realize you never will be a ballerina or a professional furniture restorer or a chef or a supermodel or a writer for SNL or best friends with Britney Spears and maybe that’s making me a little sad.

Yep, tomorrow I turn 30.

This time last year I was lying on the couch sobbing into a pillow because I was SUPPOSED to be going to Ohio for Thanksgiving but I was too busy throwing up from pain and worrying my husband was going to think I was faking it to get out of seeing his family. I was also 35 weeks pregnant. I ended up in the hospital and spent the actual holiday having surgery to remove a kidney stone.

It was the worst Thanksgiving ever. I never got a single piece of pumpkin pie.

This year, we are with family. This year, I am healthy. This year my kidneys are behaving themselves. This year I have two perfect outside babies. This year I am going to eat a TON of pumpkin pie.

When I was newly pregnant with Little Evan, I spent a lot of time complaining about how tiny clothes and baby swings and car seats only came in PINK or BLUE and how SEXIST that was and how no child of mine was going to be forced into traditional societal gender roles, No Sirree Bob. Long live feminism! Down with patriarchy! Damn the man!

But once my inside baby became an outside baby that had needs – CONSTANT NEEDS – I no longer cared if he was dressed exclusively in gender neutral patterns and played only with organic wooden black and white patterned developmental toys. I was just happy to find a clean “Boys Will Be Boys” onesie while Evan quietly chewed on Baby’s First Football so I could brush my teeth for the first time in three days. I was too focused on survival parenting to bother labeling my parenting.

I’m not saying it’s IMPOSSIBLE to raise a child without some boys=blue and girls=pink mentality slipping in. More power to those who prioritize gender neutrality in their every day lives. But for me it took a back seat to breastfeeding struggles, poopsplosions, sleepless nights and just hoping I was doing a good job.

But then I look at my kids and realize I’m doing pretty well.

I DARE you to tell me I can't play with this stroller.

In our house, we never say “Don’t play with that, it’s for girls”. We never say “Boys don’t cry”. We don’t call things “sissy” or “wimpy” or “manly” or “tough”. We are just as likely to hand Caroline a truck to chew on as a flower shaped teether. If Little Evan asked for (another) doll for his birthday we would buy him (another) doll. If Caroline decides she wasn’t a blue tricycle she will get a blue tricycle (and I would thank my lucky stars she didn’t ask for the Disney Princess one that cost twice as much). They play with what they want, when they want, and nothing is expected of them besides good manners, sharing and putting things away when they are done.

That’s the kind of parenting I believe in.

This was my WordPress dashboard yesterday:

See that little number up there next to “posts”? The one that says 999? That makes THIS, the post you are reading RIGHT NOW, my 1000th post here on Bebehblog. Or maybe bebehblog. Or Bebeh Blog. One thousand posts in and I still can’t decide how I want to print my own name. Or how exactly to pronounce it, for that matter. Hey, free tip, if you start your own blog, spend more than .352 seconds coming up with a good name.

You should listen to me, I’m obviously an expert. I mean, I’ve written a THOUSAND THINGS on the interwebs.

I also passed my 3 year bloggiversary last week. July 24th marks three full years of me documenting pregnancies, births and babies in far too much detail. I posted twice my first day,  here and here, and got an earth-shattering 1 comments. If, for some reason, you find yourself trapped on a dessert island with no way to contact the outside world but somehow still with access to my blog, you can read every single post ever in my archives, right over there on the left hand side. It would be an excellent way to drive yourself insane even faster than just the starvation and isolation alone.

If I was a better blogger, the kind of big time internet famous I secretly dreamed of being when I posted that first day, I would have done some epic giveaway to mark 3 years of blogging. And then something even MORE epic for the 1000th post. I’m also coming up on 10,000 comments (well, sort of) and that probably deserves the MOST EPIC GIVEAWAY OF ALL (You get a pony! And you get a pony! And you get a pony!!). But alas, even after three years I haven’t had a single company hammer down my door to give me (and you) free stuff. It might have something to do with the fact that out of 1000 posts, approximately 976 mention my boobs. I am nothing if not a true professional.

So instead, you get the same thing you always get here: ramblings and bad jokes and pictures of my kids – although in reality, most people come here because they’re looking for circus birthday ideas or the baby tutu tutorial. Let’s pretend YOU came here for pictures of the kids doing fun summer things:

Watermelon Face

We call this look "wrapped around my little finger"

I'll take my ginger To Go

It's COLD!

He's actually fighting to get back IN the pool, despite the chattering teeth. He's turned into such a water baby.

Just the toes

One chubby peanut, nomming on a sandy pretzel

This is the life

This game is called splashy splash. Go ahead and try to guess the rules. (Also, pretty good for a point & shoot camera, right?)

Boating

My baby boy is now one of the guys

I hope three more years from now I’m celebrating my 2000th post.Although I don’t expect anyone to still be reading, I appreciate you today and always.

xoxo