Rock on, 2014

I have my 2015 resolutions, but no need to tout them unless I actually tackle them. I learned over the last year that it's not about a "to-do" list; it's all about a "to-done" list. I discovered that at the end of every work week, if I list what I knocked-out, I feel much more confidant approaching the next round of what I have ahead. 

So with that spirit of accomplishment in mind, I wouldn't be a blogger without a post breaking down the Top 10 for 2014. But we all know what number one was . . . is . . . and will always be. This year broke down into 2014, L.B.B. (Life Before Baby) and 2014, L.A.B. (Life After Baby). You can definitely see a shift in what I consider accomplishments! So, starting with the obvious and working our way backwards and then up again . . . 

1. Brought a New Soul into This World: 

Seven pound, four ounce Jameson Walden Weatherford arrived in Macon, Georgia on June 28, 2014 after 11 hours of labor. Looking back, I didn't realize it at the time, but I kicked ass in the delivery room. No matter how you do it - whether natural, with an epidural or with a c-section - any woman who has been through that is nothing short of Wonder Woman. I still can't believe what I physically withstood. And I remain in awe of the prize we got to take home. On that June afternoon, my life was simplified and complicated all at the same time. I'll forever know 2014 as the year I met me as a mother. It will always be the year God handed me the greatest gift I could ever imagine. And it will forever and always be the year of birth in so many ways.

Now for 2014, L.B.B., just when I thought I knew life as you know it . . . 

10. Attended South by Southwest 

Sure I was six months pregnant and didn't get to enjoy ALL Austin had to offer, but I finally made it to South By. I learned a lot. I ate a whole lot. And Jamie and I managed to take our pic by the famous "I Love You So Much" graffiti at Jo's Coffee on South Congress. I also navigated ATL, AUS and ORD airports and the flights over and back with a baby on board in my belly. I quickly learned people aren't always kind to big-bellied women and spreading the arms and legs for a security pat-down with said belly is a lesson in humility. Still, Austin has been on my bucket list of American cities. I definitely want an encore. 

9. Incubated a Human Being

I absolutely loved being pregnant. Even if I did get a little flustered with the comments, as I previously posted here. Carrying my baby boy inside of me was an honor I'll never take for granted. I wrote before that our journey to baby wasn't without its sadness (2014 was waaay better than 2013). I took it day-by-day and thanked God for each one of them. I've also got to give myself props for going to the gym and Pure Barre all the way up to week 35, especially considering I haven't been back. I would have kept going up to 40 if not for a slight stress fracture in my foot. Up until then, I was really digging maternity fashion, too. But there is just no way of dressing up nine months pregnant AND an awkward foam boot. I did keep up with prenatal yoga at the way to the end with the fabulous Mandy Miller at Hometown Yoga, and I credit a lot of that to the breathing that got me through my initial eight hours of contractions. I'm also proud of the pampering I treated my pregnant self to on the journey, from the blow-outs, pedicures, massages and babymoon to the Amelia Island Ritz - 'cause I sure miss it now!

photo by Kristin M. Kohanna

Now for 2014, L.A.B. As small as they seem, once our cub started rocking our worlds, this is what lists are now made of! 

8. Launched RockCandyTours.com

During my blink-of-an-eye maternity leave, I managed to finally put the finishing touches on content for Rock Candy Tours' website. Our extremely patient friend and web guru Adam Ruback of Double Down Productions was able to launch us live, making me no longer the cobbler with no shoes. The website is beautiful and communicates our company's story well, so check it out, and learn more about our Macon, Georgia music history tour company.

7. Re-Vamped MaconCandy.com

Breastfeeding has more benefits than I ever realized. One of them being whether I am pumping or nursing, I find myself thumbing through Instagram and mom blogs more than ever. That inspired me to get my act together again in Macon Candyland. It started with a dog blog, then our wedding story and now it's finding its voice as a down south working mama's perspectives on new familyhood, as well as a continued love letter to my fair hometown of Macon, Georgia (and maybe just a sprinkle of wisdom according to Dolly Parton). I hope I don't embarrass my son too much when he reads this one day. 

6. Read Two Novels

Call it inconsequential but finishing two fiction books for fun after having a baby felt like a feat. Everyone told me that reading gets left on the bedside after baby. I guess I was told it enough to where I was determined to take on a chapter by chapter challenge. I completely engulfed Gillian Flynn's Gone Girl in record time (and even went on a ladies' night out to see the movie!). I started one of Elin Hilderbrand's surefire "beach read" the Castaways during the summer months after I had Walden, but it took me longer than any easy read ever! It was well into fall and completely wilted before I finished it. But damnit,I finished it. Brace yourself: I'm reading my third novel, a paperback appropriately called Mother, Mother by Koren Zailckas. Let's see if I can speed up my new average of a book every two months. 

5. Danced to "Patches" with my Son at Second Sunday

As I got to know Jamie during the early dating days, I told him I had three obsessions: Iceland, Dolly Parton and the song "Patches" by Clarence Carter. The night of our wedding, he had his friend Brian learn and perform "Patches" as a surprise for me. He made my dream happen of setting it up where I could karaoke the song at the 2012 Bragg Jam Christmas Party. The first time I felt Walden kick inside my belly was during the screening of the Muscle Shoals documentary at the Macon Film Festival when the story behind "Patches" was revealed. It remains my favorite song of all time. So, when I booked Clarence Carter to perform at College Hill's signature Second Sunday Concert Series, Walden wasn't even in utero yet. But when Clarence Carter's concert finally happened on October 12, 2014, little Walden made his Second Sunday debut, wearing head phones, of course, and strapped onto his mama where we danced to hopefully what will be one of his favorite songs, too. 

Photo by Maryann Bates

4. Caught the Attention of NPR with Macon's Music Heritage 

In September, I wrote a column in our local newspaper on how the original office space of Capricorn Records was in danger of being demolished. The site, which wasn't just the home to Capricorn Records but also RedWal Music Group, where Otis Redding and my family headquartered the southern soul movement, is the most photographed facade on our Rock Candy Tour. The building has been in a state of critical neglect for decades now. The fact that it was up for demolition was no surprise. But what got me was how music heritage in general - and the landmarks that helped shape the sounds of American music - are an endangered species in many cities with a music past. This plight of preservation made it to the listeners of National Public Radio when friend and Murrow-award winning journalist Adam Ragusea produced a story on Macon's music heritage. You can read or listen to the story here. As for the Capricorn building, good news was received this week where plans are underway to save the historic facade and hopefully re-use the space in a way that continues to connect it with its groundbreaking past. 

The family business at 535 Cotton Avenue

3. Wrote a Feature Story for the 11th Hour

The job that changed everything for me was when I worked as the editor of the 11th Hour, Macon's bi-weekly, brow-raising, alt-newspaper that shook our pristine cherry trees like a polaroid picture when it arrived to town in early 2000. As editor, I also did a lot of writing, trying my darndest to harken the feature writer within my journalism degree. The 11th Hour gave me the chance to have a byline on stories about music, arts and local culture, but we also went deeper, and I soon sharpened my chops with investigative stories on the meth epidemic, sex offenders, prostitution, the money of mega-churches and more. It was a blast. We took our dogs to work, wore flip-flops that everyone made a big deal about, had a margarita machine in our office and our own 11th Hour television show on cable (syndicated in Houston County!). Brad and Meagan Evans, who continue to own and publish the paper, remain our dearest friends today. In fact, Brad stood by me at the altar on my wedding day as my "Bradsmaid." And now that the Evans have two cutie-patootie baby girls, we're starting to enjoy this family thing all together. 

I've been itching to write a feature story, old school 11th Hour style, since having a baby. I don't know if it's hormonal or a flight or fight instinct, but when Brad said they needed a feature for the last issue of the year, I was hell-bent on breaking out the "investigative" notebook and harkening the past. The day after the Ferguson verdict, Brad and I journeyed to one of the worst crime-ridden streets in Macon, based on an obscure lead, to interview an old timer about of all things, Christmas lights. Just like the old days, one surreal moment led to another . . . Brad's giant butcher knife in the front seat of his car, the group of gangsters who never took their eyes off of us and the interview that came through for us. To complete a cover story again for the 11th Hour was one of the best Christmas gifts I gave myself. Brad said it best when he texted me, "We've still got it." To read the complete article "What Killed the Christmas Spirit on Capitol Avenue," click here. 
    
2. Submitted to a Literary Agent 

Three days ago I hit SEND and my heart hit the floor. For years, I've tried to work up enough nerve to start soliciting literary agents. You see, my name is Jessica Walden and my real dream is to write children's literature. There, I admitted it. Over the years, there are very few who know about my secret stash of stories I've been writing all of my life. I finally polished up two of my favorites that I penned nearly a decade ago. The week right after Walden's birth, I began researching agents and working on my submission materials. This is just the first step . . . to catch the attention of an agent who can then solicit my work. But this first step was paralyzing. Still, in a Starbucks on the north side of town (because my downtown coffee shop was closed), I finally put it all together and emailed it to the dream agent. I'm ready for rejection. I know that's the second step in this lifelong goal puzzle. But I am also saying my prayers, crossing my toes and doing a rain dance that maybe, just maybe, 2015 is the year some of these stories see the light of day. But even if not, I'll count on Walden to be my biggest critic. If the day comes where he asks me to read him one of my stories, I will be living a dream.  

And that brings us back to one. One perfect blessing. One healthy, adoring baby boy. Today, my mother, brother and stepfather are in town and have spent most of the day with Walden, allowing Jamie and I to have a much-appreciated day date. Earlier, as I was getting ready, I could hear laughter coming from downstairs. Not only was it the sound of my baby boy's precious chuckle, but I could hear my mother laughing along with him. My mom now lives five hours away, and I don't get to hear her laugh enough. These two great loves laughing alongside each other in my home was one of those pinch me moments of peace, love and sweet realization. I love you, 2014. Thanks for the milestones. 

That Smile, Though

This week, Walden and I took a stroll in Downtown Macon with our friend Lauren Morrill Ragusea and her 11-week old little boy Freddie, who by the way, has the most luxe head of dark hair I've ever seen. One of the most exciting things to happen in Downtown in 2014 was the opening of a local grocery store, Ocmulgee Traders. After a hearty stroll around our downtown blocks, we stopped by the grocery to grab King of Pops popsicles (yes, in December, when you can still break a sweat!). We just happened to run into photographer Maryann Bates and her beautiful family enjoying an afternoon snack as well. 

I count as my blessings to live in a town where it's not hard to run into dear friends. And Walden is starting to realize that too. He lit up with recognition the moment he saw Maryann, who always makes him smile. And of course, she had a camera on her. She sent me this warm and fuzzy photo that evening. I couldn't quit staring at my beaming boy, who turned six months old this week.

Six.months.old. How have we been up to this for half of a year? Where did these six months go?

It went into two nervous, unsure new parents wondering why the hospital would make us leave in just two days and take him home with us . . . without an instruction manual. It went into that first week of being absolutely terrified of the umbilical stump, his circ-wounded manhood, his wobbly little head and his tiny little everything. It went into eight weeks of him sleeping in a Mamaroo because he would actually sleep when he was in it. He would sleep so much that I wouldn't sleep because I was too busy jumping out of bed and making sure he was still breathing. 

It went into only four weeks of maternity leave, something I regret. Granted, I was doctor-ordered off my feet almost two weeks before his arrival (and still managed to coordinate a press conference from my living room easy chair) and worked four weeks from home after the initial four were up, but the regret is even eight wasn't enough. I didn't realize how much shock and awe I would be in physically and emotionally after having a baby. Looking back, I should had gone completely off the clock and radar longer. Heck, my sun-don't-shine stitches weren't even gone by the time I was working again. This country's maternity leave practices just ain't right. The glass ceiling will never be cracked when our careers treat child-bearing like a professional set-back. I wasn't willing to take a $15,000 pay cut to be home with my newborn for the first three months of life. Seriously, we're all worth way more than that.

It went into six weeks when that million-dollar more-than-a-million smile emerged. So many people tried to warn me - that first smile will wreck you in the best way possible. And so it did. When his first smile emerged - that little window to the purest heart you'll ever know - my soul broke into a million little pieces and were woven back together in a way that would have me do just about anything to see it over and over again. Since that six-week milestone, Jameson Walden Weatherford has melted many hearts with that smile. As you can see by this photo, he's mastered the technique.  

It went into three months when we stood alongside our family, our friends, our congregation and our God to baptize our child in our Christian faith. It was the same altar at Mulberry Street United Methodist Church where Walden's father and great-grandfather were also Christened. Walden wore his Uncle Preston's Christening gown, the hem now sewn with his name and date along with Preston's. It was a holy moment for us all, even though Walden required our minister to anoint him with his bottle after the sprinkling. 

It was just a few days later we made the bold move to take our first family beach trip. It went into a six-hour drive being broken into three-hour-legs, over two days, divided by 1.5 hour pit stops. The drive down ended with the longest last 12 miles we've ever faced, where the Prius was nearly empty; we were stuck in Tampa rush hour; it was pouring rain; and the baby rendered his diaper useless with one massive natural disaster. His first venture to the beach startled him so bad, I had to nurse him the entire time (and publicly my first time). It rained for most of the trip. And my bucket list item, the Weeki Wachee Mermaid Show, was cancelled due to lightening after we got there. But that's just the lowlights. Our first trip as a family of three was unforgettable. We spent my birthday at Silas Dents, my favorite campy steak and seafood restaurant of beach trips gone by, and the baby slept the entire time, giving us a perfect meal. We eventually dipped Walden's toes into the Gulf of Mexico. And there was this Best Western in Valdosta, Georgia, where we stayed in the middle of our drive, that was simply perfect. I'm neurotic when it comes to highway hotels. But I totally clicked with this Best Western. In fact, I say our next trip, we just drive there.

It went into four months when we decided we just weren't ready for daycare. Especially during the RSV season. Breathing treatments every four hours and seeing our baby sick for the first time wasn't for sissies - especially us first-timers. I broke into those million little pieces again. His daddy did, too. The boy in the bubble was out of the question. But in the stress of this, a new, unlikely superhero emerged. My stepmom Tosha, now better known as Walden's Amma, swooped in and saved the day by giving her grandson the best daytime care possible. He hasn't been sick since [*I'm gonna knock, knock, knock on wood*].

It went into five months where we entered the throes of teething and just when we thought we had the best sleeping baby in under the night sky, the deck got re-shuffled. We're still trying to figure out what to do with this new wild card that tends to come out between the AM hours of 12, 3 and 5:45. But the teething pain seems to have temporarily subsided, even though the home-wreckers haven't broken through the gums yet.

It's been six months, and we have a real live human on our hands. His totally joyful personality has emerged. He's babbling and motor-boating and grunting and trying with all his might to crawl. He loves to reach for certain things throughout the house -- the stained glass window in our stairway, the globe in his bedroom, paintings on our walls, the light switch in our hall. His sense of discovery is my sense of discovery, too. I'm seeing the world through an entirely new, glorious (and sometimes terrifying!) perspective. He's starting to taste foods - a little quinoa cereal, a little sweet potato, a little avocado, a little banana today. He still prefers mama's milk, and Elsie's still got nothing on me, so we're sticking with breastfeeding for another six months or so. 

Six months in and he still doesn't like to nap. His dad says he gets his stubbornness from me. I say his daddy's so stubborn he won't admit his son gets it from him. Still, we're all so stubborn, we continue trying to make a nap schedule work even though I spent an hour and 40 minutes today trying to get him down for a morning nap, and when he finally did, it lasted 18 minutes. Six months in and we're still waffling between his nursery and our bedroom. He still has dual-residency. And mama is fine, for now, with that. 

Six months in and I miss being able to veg-out on Netflix and House Hunters. I miss being able to do whatever the heck I want, when I want. I miss these tiny, minute, silly things. But to go back six months? Or even further, past the nine months prior to that?

Never in a million years.

Time flies when you're having fun. And the last six months have blown by. It's obvious how our little being has changed so much over this half of year. When I take the time to look, I see how much I have changed and continue to change with him. No doubt the next six months will fly by just as fast. All I need is my son's smile for my soul to sing for more, more, more.   

photo by Stephanie Shadden

     

Daddy Duty

December was a big one for my husband. The big being he turned 40 just a few days before what was made an even bigger deal - our son's first Christmas. I felt terrible that he didn't get to 40 in our usual "turn it up" fashion. Had it not been the year of the baby, we probably would have had a big turn-down throw-down with live music, revelry and a full day of hang-over hanging out meticulously planned. But things have changed - for the better, of course - and "this is 40" turned out to be a co-soiree at a local Indian restaurant with our dear friends and a ridiculously over-priced vat of hummus. My husband was a good sport about it all. He didn't have high expectations. He never really does. "I'm a middle child with a birthday that falls too close to Christmas. It's not a big deal," he said (if that doesn't break your heart!). He also celebrated his birthday with a surprise visit from the health inspector to the candy factory. Those are always fun when you're in food manufacturing. 

I've been home with the baby boy for over a week now and have a week to go. I'm beyond grateful for the time I have with him and try to soak up each bit like a piece of crusty bread in olive oil. But there are moments I get a little loco. There, I said it. I may not be completely cut-out for 24/7 of the baby channel. And lately, it's been full-on 24. His sleeping patterns have been out of whack since he started teething a month ago and we've may or may not have created some bad bed habits . . . Needless to say, they are starting to bite me in the butt (more like the boob, but the pun is well intended). 

Sometimes, I get a little jealous of the maternal versus the man-ternal. Take nipples, for example. A man can do pretty much whatever he wants to with his nipples. He can jog shirtless. He swims shirtless. The beach is full of topless men. And society doesn't give a damn, even though his nipples have absolutely nothing functional to do! But a woman . . . We can't even have a nip slip without shutting down a Super Bowl. And what's even more baffling is that our fully functioning nipples are still considered offensive by some, even when feeding a child and sustaining life before our eyes. 

And speaking of sustaining life, women are the world's incubators, wrecking our bodies with nine months of captivity before however-many hours of hard labor it takes to bring that life onto Planet Earth. Meanwhile and often-meaning well, men can coach and squeeze hands and wipe brows and tell us we're doing a good job while walking out of the hospital physically unscathed and just as much of a parent as the one who did ALL the work. 

Can you tell I'm just a little bitter when it comes to male anatomy?

My husband and I agreed early on to never say he's "baby-sitting." Parents don't baby-sit. Sure, we watch our children while the other is free to turn their attention on something else. But moms don't baby-sit. And dads shouldn't either. He also doesn't do me any favors when he changes our son's diaper, feed him a bottle, comfort him when he cries or spends time playing with him. That's just what you do when you have a child. It's one thing to be a father. But dads are equal partners. 

Do I sound like a harsh house wife? The thing is, I am not a house wife. Just like my husband, my child isn't my job. We both have jobs. We both are making a living to provide for our family. And at the end of the day, we are all one family. Despite a few physical attributes that prevent us from completely sharing ALL of the baby duties, he does a darn good job at making up from where anatomy left off.

In fact, he practically pushed me into the car and off to the coffee shop so I could get some personal "office" time. I was practically weepy with a mix of separation anxiety and gratitude. And here I am, spending that me time thinking about us - we - as a family.

Jamie received this cross-stitch for Christmas this year. His mother made it for his grandfather, who has long been gone but still remains a huge influence on his grandson even today. This sentimental gift meant more to Jamie than any of his other presents. He said he used to stare at it all of the time when it was at his grandfather's house. Now he gets to look at it daily at our own home, with his own son who will notice it as well. 

As this year comes to a close, I mark down on my list of gratitudes that I didn't just deliver a baby to Jamie for him to become a father. Our son came into this world so Jamie could be a daddy. Even though my husband is a middle child with a birthday that falls in the middle of Christmas, he's still something special of a daddy.
   

Santa Baby

Our house buzzed with excitement this morning as Baby's First Christmas (i.e. Parents' Rewind to Childhood) officially began. Although our little cub was slightly overwhelmed with toy overload and underwhelmed by the trappings -- yet uber-enthralled by all the ribbons and wrappings -- it made for a beautiful morning that his daddy and I will never forget. So, this is what six months looks like. Clear the roads, he's already driving. Beep, beep, beep and ho, ho, ho! With the grace and love that comes from the simplicity of a barnyard manger, Merry Christmas from our home to yours!