Lessons From Maternity Leave

The afternoon sun is pouring in through the window in Charlie’s nursery while I watch him twist, grab, and babble his little heart out on his play mat. It’s the eve of my return to work and a time to reflect on nearly four months of nurturing both my son and the new mother within me. I don’t yet have the words for the myriad of emotions that have been flooding my heart lately, but for now I’ll leave you with a few nuggets of hard-earned “wisdom” from a new mom. Here, in no particular order, are a few lessons from maternity leave.

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5 Tips For Traveling With a Baby

Travel is something that’s always been important to my husband and I. Now that our baby boy is here, we have no plans to stop traveling, however, we know that vacations are going to look a bit different than they used to. We recently set out on our first vacation as a family of three—a long road trip down to Ocean City, MD and Washington, DC.

Whether learning from my mistakes or benefitting from things I thought of ahead of time, here are my tips for traveling with a 3-month old!

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More Than Skin Deep

“I know you’re technically diverse, but you just don’t look like it.”

It’s nothing I haven’t heard before, but when you hear it from a friend you don’t really know what to say.

Just another variation of “But you’re too white—it doesn’t count.” An age old micro-aggression that I—and countless others who have latino heritage—have heard time and again. Like little pin pricks over and over and over as if you’re supposed to just get used to it.

And yes, I have green eyes and red hair and vampire-white skin. I love my Irish heritage, too. But one side of my family is Puerto Rican—and it counts.

It counts that I go to Zumba with my mama every week because when I was growing up she filled our home with latin music.

It counts that there are certain words and phrases I’ll only say in Spanish because my family did.

It counts that when you look in my freezer you’ll find a few tubs of butter that are actually tubs of sofrito.

It counts that my grandma taught me how to make sofrito from scratch when I was a little girl, and I still remember how my hands smelled like garlic for days after that first time.

It counts that one of my comfort meals is a dish that my Papi used to make for us.

It counts that I make arroz con pollo using my great-grandmother’s recipe, and I’ll never be able to make it taste exactly like hers because she was sneaky and left things off the recipe card.

It counts that certain smells take me right back to getting out of the car and running up to my great-grandparents’ apartment and how we could already smell what was cooking from the parking lot.

It counts that I love yellow gold because it reminds my of my great-grandma’s jewelry and also of that one time my Papi shimmied into the living room, singing and dancing in nothing but a pair of shiny gold boxers.

It counts that I was raised around music and singing and dancing and unbridled joy that loves out loud.

It counts that my grandpa, great-uncle, and great-grandparents left Puerto Rico and made their home in Rochester, NY.

It counts and it matters.

We’re expecting our first baby this spring, and the Puerto Rican slice in the pie chart of his DNA will be pretty small. But you can bet I will pass along the generations of traditions, culture, and stories that make us who we are—

Because it counts.

Getting my first tattoo

I’ve wanted to get a tattoo for a long time, but I never thought I’d have the courage to actually do it. My parents don’t really approve of tattoos, the pain of actually getting a tattoo seemed like too much to bear, and I’m terrible at making decisions. That’s not to say that I make bad decisions- just that it takes me a while to decide on anything. One time I spent about an hour walking around TJ Maxx with two different purses in my cart because I couldn’t decide which one I wanted– how could I EVER decide on all the details of a tattoo?

But I did. After months of research (thank you, Pinterest!) and thought, I took a leap of faith and got my first tattoo last week. A small baby evergreen tree. 

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The Wife of a Traveling Businessman

“You realize that if I end up taking this job it’s going to involve a lot of travel, right?” Dan turned his head to look at me before turning his eyes back to the road. “Like, a lot of travel. At least one or two weeks out of every month.”

My careful reply came a few seconds later: “Yes, I get that. And I don’t love it. But I want to make sure you’re doing something you love.”

Dan was a few months away from graduating with his Masters Degree in Electrical Engineering, and it was time to make a decision about his job offers. Basically, the options came down to:

1- Sit at a desk all day every day and do math (or whatever it is that Electrical Engineers do), or

2- Sit at a desk and do math all day for a week or two and then spend the next week traveling and doing the hands-on work to put that math into action. Knowing and loving Dan like I do, option number two was obviously the best choice for him.

Fast-forward about six months, and I’m dropping Dan off at the airport for his first business trip. He had to go to Orlando for the week (ironically, we were just there for our honeymoon two weeks before), and as I pulled the car up to drop-off area I couldn’t stop the tears rolling down my cheeks. He gave me a hug and a kiss goodbye, and then he’s off. The tears eventually stopped somewhere along the drive back home, and I kept myself as busy as I could that week to keep my mind off the fact that Dan wasn’t there.

In retrospect, that week of Dan’s first business trip was the longest time we’d ever spent apart. We started dating when we were sixteen, and even when we were at separate colleges we didn’t go more than a few days without seeing each other. That explains why being separated that first time was so hard. And I use the word “hard” with caution. I know that compared to women whose husbands are off fighting for our country overseas, my husband going on business trips for a week or two at a time is nothing. But I can only speak to my own experience, not theirs.

Here are some things that have helped me stay sane when my husband is out of town on business.

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The “I want to thrive but real life keeps getting in the way” Support Group

I was texting one of my friends the other day, and the conversation went something like this:

“I read a few chapters of Girl Wash Your Face this morning and it totally started my day off on the right foot.”

“Good!! I’m downloading some podcasts right now because my life needs them.”

“I hear ya. That’s why I finally sat down to read this morning.”

“Yess!”

“I feel like we need a ‘I want to thrive but real life keeps getting in the way’ support group lol.”

We’re both a “personal development” kick lately. At least, we’re trying. Personal development, growth, pursuit of joy, thriving- whatever you want to call it, the bottom line is we’re actively trying to “live our best lives.” And I think we’re not the only ones, which is why I’m writing this post. So if you can relate to any of those terms above, listen up, this is your support group pep talk.

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What is The Bowers Burrow?

A burrow, according to Dictionary.com, is a place of retreat; shelter or refuge.

The Bowers Burrow is basically the same, but we also have waffles.

I strive to create warm spaces where my people feel welcome to come as they are, messy bun and all, and just do life together. Places where we can share what’s on our hearts, catch up, complain about the little things, swap ideas, and ultimately, build each other up.

And that’s what I want this blog to be: our cozy corner of the internet where we can retreat for a little while and share life together.

So here’s a bit about me and what to expect from this blog.

 

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I married my high school sweetheart, Dan, about a year and a half ago. He is steady, fun, and incredibly kind. He is my home. I love every part of our life together, even the messy “real life” parts. We’ve been together for over eight years, and there is no one I would rather have by my side through it all.

 

We have two fur babies, Belle and Kingsley. I rescued Belle about 3 years ago, and she is the light of my life. Kingsley is a “giant” German Shepherd and he’s turning 4 months old in a few days. And yes, Dan and I are so nerdy that we named our dog after one of our favorite Harry Potter characters.

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We bought our first house about 6 months ago. We’ve been doing lots of projects around the house to put our personal touch on this place as well as some much-needed upgrades. We started remodeling the kitchen in October and it is so close to being done! So expect to hear more about that in future posts 🙂

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I love to bake, read, write, crochet, and create. I’ll share all of my favorite recipes, books, and crafts with you guys on here.

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Even though I’m a 65-year-old woman at heart, I still love a little adventure. Hiking, kayaking, camping, and traveling. Dan really brings out this side of me, otherwise I’d probably be content to sit home with Belle most of the time. I’m also working on getting in better physical shape, and I think living an active lifestyle is a big part of that.

Writing helps me live a life of intention, and that’s honestly a main reason I’m starting this blog. To encourage myself to be present in everyday moments, to try to new things, to live up to my potential, and to say what’s on my mind.  If you know me from my old blog, thanks for sticking around.

So let’s do life together. 

Come on over, I’ll put the coffee on.