Captain Abstinence

The following is a guest post by New Crunchy Mom:

When my sweet baby boy was born, I thought the only thing standing between "alone time" with my husband was the first six weeks postpartum before you are cleared by the doctor. After all, what else could possibly get in the way? Babies like to sleep a lot, so I figured we'd have plenty of time to spend together during our son's naptime.

I. Was. Wrong.

So wrong.

Many of my friends with older children had warned me of a phenomenon where their sons were territorial of their mothers. This included their sons attempting to break up physical contact between them and their husbands and their sons proposing to them.

Naturally, with my son being a newborn, I assumed I would have a little more time before this stage in my son's life began. We soon learned that this wasn't the case. Every time my husband got within a few feet of me, our son would make his presence and disapproval known with grunts, wiggles or cries.

After awhile, we decided it was time to get a strategy in place if we were ever going to have hopes of touching each other again, let alone get the chance to give our son a sibling. Armed with a plan, we set to work. My job was to nurse our son to sleep and put him in his crib without waking him up. The next step was to back away slowly and then wait to see if he would wake up.

We were successful! He was asleep and appeared to be staying that way. After a sigh of relief, we scampered away quietly to go cuddle on the couch. We waited a few more minutes to make sure he wasn't going to wake up and then, satisfied that he was asleep, we snuggled in and tried to work through the "I-just-pushed-a-baby-out-of-this-thing-and-you-want-me-to-do-what" jitters.

Lo and behold, our completely PG-13 thoughts were pierced through with a shrill cry of an abandoned baby. As we went to go rescue our little bundle of joy from his confining baby jail, tears were already springing from his eyes. We held him and assured ourselves that this must be a one-time thing, that it couldn't be that hard to set apart some time for conjugal dates with a baby in the house.

Since then, we have come to the realization that it is, in fact, that hard to spend time together with a baby. We have also decided that this must have been exactly why babysitters were invented.  After months and months of our sweet baby reminding us that abstinence is the best way to prevent pregnancy through his thoughtful screeches, wails, and the occasional leg flailing into the family jewels, we lovingly knighted him "Captain Abstinence". 

Despite him only having 8 months of experience, Captain Abstinence is good at his job. We are thinking about hiring Captain Abstinence out so that others may benefit from his services and expertise. If you'd like to hire him to make sure your teenager doesn't get pregnant, just let us know.

A Young Love Story

The following is a guest post by New Crunchy Mom:

I get asked a lot, "So how did you two meet?" Usually this question is asked upon finding out about the age difference between my husband and I in an attempt to rationalize a way in which our relationship could have been innocent and benign. While it is true, our age difference is large, especially given the age when we met, there are multiple factors that caused our unconventional relationship to be benign. One of these factors being that we grew up in a culture where age didn't matter, every age of a student was able to mingle with one another and no one batted an eye. Every love story has a twist, and ours just happened to be our ages.

So, how did we meet? We usually answer with, "At church." Its quick, honest, and easier than explaining how our relationship came to be and progressed. Many relationships begin on a happy, fairytale-like note. Ours, simply put, was the opposite. On the night we met, my husband was about to lose a relationship that he'd dedicated himself to for nearly a decade. I watched from the little church kitchen as he spoke with our pastor, informing him that he couldn't stay and have a pre-Thanksgiving dinner with us, because he had to go and have Thanksgiving with a friend's family. I was elbow deep in mixing stuffing for the next day as he made his exit.

The weeks went by and I noticed his presence more. He started coming to extra activities like history study. I began running into him at the grocery store too. I was just gutsy enough (or perhaps crazy) to run up to him and say, "Hi." while wearing a purple santa hat with a jingle bell attached to the end during one such occasion. He seemed different than he had the day before Thanksgiving, but I couldn't place my finger on how. Maybe a bit gloomier, in his self-proclaimed "Eeyore" sense.  We talked a bit, mostly small talk, after church and history study sometimes. I was cautious because I didn't really trust many men.

I watched him interact with people, who had nothing to offer him, and waited to see him slip. I was waiting for him to lash out, or be disrespectful and take advantage. He never did. He was different from everything that I was used to. One day, after church in the late spring, I asked him if I could talk to him about something important. We stood outside, under the shade of one of the trees that were planted between the side-walk and the parking lot. It was there that I made one of the biggest decisions of my life.

As I spoke, I shook, and my knees were a little wobbly. He was wide-eyed, motioning me to sit down in the bed of his truck. I took a chance and trusted him. I told him everything. That I'd been starving myself, that I needed help, that there were people who had hurt me, and that I didn't know what to do. We sat there and talked until dark. In the weeks to come, we talked every time we saw each other. He gave me a BMI formula that I could easily use whenever I wanted, a book to begin healing, and a listening ear. He nursed me back to health by persuading me to eat a handful of raisins each time we visited.

He told me that I didn't deserve to be treated the way I had been by other men. He showed me how I should be treated, and protected my reputation while we were together by always making sure we were in public, and never engaging in physical contact. He started telling me about his relationship that had ended the November before. I soaked everything up and looked forward to each time we talked. Then, one day, he said he had to leave early because he had a date. I tried to act happy for him and remind myself that we were and couldn't be anything more than friends. 

As I walked home with tears in my eyes, I was forced to confront the reality that I had let him in, because he was the only one who didn't force me to, and now I might be losing him to someone else. I withdrew a bit, but we still talked. He went on a few more dates and I was preparing my "I'm happy for you" speech. All of a sudden he stopped talking about her, or what they'd been up to. He got quieter and I asked him what was wrong. I have never been so happy to hear, "We broke up." in my entire life. Admittedly, I felt guilty about being happy to learn of this development, but he seemed to be unusually at peace with it.

Not long after this, I was rushed to the hospital with a severe allergic reaction that affected my breathing. I begged for someone to call him on the way there. I thought I was going to die and I wanted to talk to him. I didn't know what I was going to say until the words tumbled out of my mouth, "I'm sorry I didn't tell you before. I love you." He paused and said, "I love you too." before we hung up. He arrived at the hospital before we did. We didn't talk about what had happened or what we had said for a while. Eventually, I told him that I had meant what I said. He said that he had too. We agreed our situation was unusual and despite our efforts to avoid it, we had fallen in love. We began dating on my next birthday, with blessings from our families. I started college and he walked me to class my first day and told me that I would do great.  He helped me move into my own apartment and celebrated with me when I got my first full-time job.

Then one day, just after I got off work, he told me he really wanted to go to a park we visited quite often. I told him I was kind of hungry, but he insisted on going right away. I don't know what I suspected him of doing at the time, but I was quite sure he'd lost his mind. I dug a package of crackers out of my truck and agreed to accompany him on this abrupt trip to the park, as long as he would let me eat on the way. We pulled in and he told me he wanted to go for a walk. I grabbed the crackers to take with me and informed him that, as usual, his shoes were untied. He told me, "That's okay." and continued walking. I was puzzled, but still hungry, so I shrugged and continued eating the crackers, and I trailed behind him. We walked in circles (yes, actual circles) around the park for a decent amount of time and then he abruptly stopped and tied his shoe. We were on the very top of a hill with the sunset behind us. I, with a mouth full of crackers, asked him why he was fixing his shoe now when I had told him about it when we got out of the car. 

"So I can do this!" he replied, while happily reaching into his pocket. I watched as he tugged at the obviously stuck object in his pocket. How I didn't realize what he was doing, I will never know. He finally freed the object, a little box, from his pocket and opened it to show me. I believe my exact words, complete with cracker bits falling out of my mouth, were, "Oh my gosh, you are proposing right now?" followed quickly by, "Wait, let me swallow, okay?" He blinked and tried to hide his smile, but it tugged at the corner of his lip. I was in shock, and now very mad at myself for skipping lunch that day because this would be forever remembered at the time he tried to propose while I was eating crackers. "Okay, I'm ready!" I told him.

He opened the box and the ring fell out. I closed my eyes so it would still be a surprise and picked it up to give it back to him and he frowned, not realize it had fallen out. I gingerly got down on my knees, in a dress, and waited for him to put it back and show me again. He decided it was time to start over, so he put the ring in the box and back into his pocket and tried the whole thing over again. The ring was a beautiful silver-colored base with two sapphires, because I wanted a stone to match his eyes, and a diamond in the middle. I looked at it and grinned, forgetting to tell him yes, because I thought it was kind of obvious. He said, "You didn't have to kneel too." I told him I didn't want him to be below me, I wanted to be on the same level. Our entire relationship had been based off of us being on the same level, so it seemed fitting and appropriate.

We headed back to the car, all the while he joked about the crackers, and I stared at my new engagement ring. We called family and friends to tell them the news and then went grocery shopping (because really, what is more romantic after a proposal than grocery shopping?). We began making preparations for our wedding and picked a date less than a year out. I had already purchased the dress on a "just for fun" school break. The first one I tried on happened to be my favorite, and I couldn't bear to part with it. We started premarital counseling, choosing wedding colors and our wedding party. We hired a photographer and a baker to make the cake. We chose a playlist for the wedding and selected the song that we would use for our first dance as a married couple. Everything came together, all we had to do was await the day.

We went to the court-house and got the wedding license a couple of days before the wedding. We had small bachelor and bachelorette parties consisting of going to the movies and going to Walmart to buy bubble wands to play with. Honestly, it was the best bachelorette party ever! That night, the day before the wedding, we swapped apartments so that I could unpack my things and be moved in for when we came home. We decided to not see each other the day of the wedding until the ceremony began. I missed him the entire day. I got ready with my bridesmaids in the section of the church that had been deemed "man free" with the exception of our pastor. The excitement could be felt as we were told it was nearly time to go, and I put the finishing touches on my makeup.

Walking down the aisle felt weird, kind of like being in a dream. Everyone kept asking me if I was nervous, but I wasn't. We had waited to get married for what felt like an eternity, and now that it was finally happening, I felt like the world was falling into place. I remember his face as my father walked me down the aisle, we were finally done waiting and it was sinking in for the both of us. The ceremony went quickly and we were pronounced man and wife. I can only think of a few times in my life that I felt like I was doing exactly what I was meant to, and this was one of them. We walked towards our future together and away from the pain of the past, firm in the belief and knowledge that if we could take the past on together, we could handle what the future would bring us.

3 Things They Don't Tell You About Having a Baby

The following is a guest post by New Crunchy Mom:

There are so many things that people fail to mention to couples that are expecting a baby. The hospital just kind of sends you on your way home with no warnings and this little creature that resembles you and your spouse… just kidding, your baby will look like a potato.

There is no instruction manual that comes with your baby and all of their cries sound the same. "Is he poopy?" you may ask. "I don't know, maybe he's hungry?" your spouse will respond. This will be a fun guessing game for the two of you, until you both realize you have no idea why your bundle of joy is upset, but you do know that both of you have sustained hearing loss in one ear.

This is just the beginning! Here are 3 things they don't tell you about bringing home a baby:

1. Sleep deprivation will make you crazy.

Sleep? What's that? Oh, you mean that thing that people who DON'T have kids do? Yeah, I haven't done that in… I can't remember how long, actually. 

The mere sight of your spouse sleeping will make you angry. It's three in the morning, your beloved has gotten more sleep than you and it's not fair. Instead of remembering that people usually sleep at night, you quietly stew and glare in their general direction.

To top it off, as soon as you get your spawn fed and falling back asleep, the poop from hell will descend upon your baby's bowels and fill their diaper with the stench of death. 

It is dark, there is poop overflowing from the diaper, and you are ready to vomit now. I suggest saying, "Hi honey, the baby wants you!" as you gently wake your spouse up, hand over the baby and then fleeing for your life. It's the only way to make it out alive!

2. Babies are birth control.

Don't worry about deciding what type of birth control you should choose at your six-week postpartum checkup! What the doctors and nurses failed to tell you about is this: Your child will have an internal radar that will inform it to wake up from a dead slumber anytime your spouse gets within a few inches of you.

Every. Single. Time. Your baby wants to be an only child, or at least acts like it. 

3. You will learn to act like you know what you are doing.

After changing your baby's diaper, feeding them and making sure that they don't have hair wrapped around one of their tiny body parts, you will cuddle them to sleep assured that nothing is wrong beyond them being tired. You will pat yourself on the back for being able to calm your baby down and knowing what they needed. Then, you'll wake up with a baby on your chest and realize that you also fell asleep, and are now covered in baby drool. Your ovaries will tell you that baby drool is the cutest substance in the entire world, and you must have more.

Purity Rings and Good Intentions

The following is a guest post by New Crunchy Mom:

Purity rings have been very popular in recent years. You may have heard of them, especially since some celebrities like the Jonas Brothers and Miley Cyrus once wore them. The days of wearing purity rings for these celebrities appears to be nothing but a passing fad. Despite this, purity rings continue to be popular.

So what is a purity ring, anyways?

Purity rings are physical symbols of the wearer's dedication to abstaining from sexual activity before marriage. This dedication is often based on religious principles or commandments, but is sometimes based solely on the wearer holding purity in high-esteem, without any religious influence. Purity rings often have engravings on them with words of inspiration or encouragement to stay pure.

Abstaining from sexual activity has meant different things to different people in purity culture. Some took it to mean that they were to abstain from sex before their wedding night. Others took it to mean that they could do nothing, which included holding hands, hugging, kissing, etc., until their wedding. Purity rings and the message that they brought were filled with good intentions. After all, what could possibly go wrong with promoting physical and sexual abstinence when it meant there may be less STIs and STDs, promotion of emotional well-being in regards to relationships, and less teen pregnancy?

Unfortunately for many, the unintended consequences outweighed or completely replaced the goal that had been set in place. Instead of keeping a generation of young people pure, the culture surrounding purity rings destroyed the emotional and sexual health of countless teenagers and young adults. Abstaining from sex turned into abstaining from kissing.  Hand holding is the gateway to hugs and hugs make you tempted to start kissing. Soon the message became not to have too strong of feelings for anyone, because that was the safest option to keep people pure. 

The laundry list of "Don't do this..." became longer and longer and impressionable youth and parents who wanted the best for their children were sucked into a vortex of legalistic rules and regulations. Sex education was often withheld or given at elementary levels in these situations to make it more difficult to be self-aware and drawn into temptation. This legalism produced young adults who were afraid and unprepared for normal, healthy relationships and the physical and emotional progression of these relationships.

I think it is safe to say that no one expects to be cowering in fear in a corner away from their new spouse on their wedding night, but trust me when I say this has happened to many. They fear their spouse's anatomy, because they were unwittingly conditioned to. They fear the strong emotions that they never encountered, because they were instructed to suppress them and didn't learn to deal with them. What they fear the most is that the things that they had heard about sex being worth waiting for aren't true.

On the flip-side, there are people who are so frustrated by the restrictions put in place that they take every opportunity to find loopholes and engage in risky activities, stopping just short of having sex. These aren't the only ways that dysfunction has crept into the lives of those who once wore purity rings, but these are some of the more common "side-effects." While it may seem that I am against purity rings, that isn't the case. On my own wedding day, I passed my purity ring onto my flower girl. Purity rings aren't the problem, legalism within purity culture is. Want a purity ring? Go get one! I encourage it wholeheartedly.

There are some things that I suggest you keep in mind. Know that:

1. Your worth is not defined by your virginal status.

2. Your virginal status is not tied to your purity ring.

3. Getting a purity ring needs to be your decision, not someone else's.

4. Emotions are healthy and normal.

5. An appropriate amount of self-control is healthy and normal.

6. Sex is not bad, but context is important.

7. It is a good idea to know your reasons why you want it and write it down. If you reach a point where you realize you are wearing your ring for other people, look back on why you put it on in the first place.

Have you ever worn a purity ring?

The First MILF Moment

The following is a guest post by New Crunchy Mom:

I generally don't use the term MILF.

I don't consider myself to be one and let's be honest, it isn't really a term for polite company.

For those of you who don't know, MILF is an abbreviated and slightly crass term for wanting to sleep (in the biblical sense of the word) with a woman who is a mother.

That said, it's a pretty good term to describe a woman's first time to be flirted with after she gives birth. I don't mean getting hit on by your husband, he doesn't count (I love you, honey!).

No, a woman's first MILF moment postpartum has to be someone else hitting on or otherwise flirting with her.

Nobody warned me about this, though apparently moments such as these are an unspoken rite of passage for postpartum women. It transitions you from "I feel like a sleep-deprived zombie and I can't remember when I last showered " to "Maybe I am a beautiful human being, even if my boobs sag a little".

My first MILF moment transpired when I was running around town putting posters up for my blog with my son. He was a little stir crazy and so was I, so we set out on a mission to visit a few shops around town.

We visited a few Starbucks, some shopping centers and a couple of grocery stores. All the while, my 6 month old was smiling and trying to stick his hand in my mouth from inside the K'tan.

As we walked in front of the stores at one of the shopping centers, I spotted a GNC.

I decided that would be a good place to put a poster. After all, I'd purchased my fair share of energy and protein bars to eat for snacks while breastfeeding (it's hard to cook with a screaming baby) and I was sure I wasn't the only mom to visit GNC to do the same.

My son started squirming as we made our way towards the store, so I pulled him out of the K'tan and set him on my hip instead.

As I opened the door, a little bell sound went off above us and three shaggy haired heads popped up from behind the register. 

I stood between the two aisles in the middle of the store as three college-age gym junkies trampled over one another and lurched to a halt right in front of me.

I blinked, a bit startled by the sight in front of me. I couldn't stifle my amusement as I looked at the three giants in front of me and wondered what I, a petite new mother with a baby hanging on my hip, must look like to them.

I regained my composure and explained to them that I was interested in hanging up a poster in the store.

The tallest marveled at the poster and said, "Wow, this is really pretty!"

I thanked him but was cut off by him adding, "You must have paid a fortune for these posters, I'd hate for you to lose one."

He paused briefly and continued, "I will talk to my manager about putting it up, how about I get your number so I can let you know what he says?"

"Oh, okay!" I replied, not realizing what had just happened.

I typed in my number on his phone and thanked them for their time. My son gave them a little grin as we walked out.

I paused a moment to look in and saw them knuckle-bumping and looking at the poster I had given them.

It wasn't until I got to the car that I realized I'd just been asked my number by a college kid, and from the way they acted, it wasn't because of the poster.

I texted my husband excitedly to tell him what happened and he agreed: I had definitely been hit on.

Who knew babies could make such good wingman!

When was your first MILF moment?