DIY iPad Screen Replacement

Okay, mommies...

For those of you who are Mac-obsessed (like me,) I know I'm not the only one who's let their kiddos play with their iPads against their better judgement. 

I mean, really ... who can say no to those little faces when they ask you to share your "toys?"

And with that comes the risk of something we all dread: a dropped iPad. Replacing an iPad screen through Apple's services can cost you anywhere from 200-400 dollars. OUCH!

When my daughter dropped my iPad and I saw the spiderweb of cracks that covered the screen, I wanted to cry. But luckily I have a fearless husband who joined forces with me, and together we decided to attempt to tackle the replacement ourselves, after doing some research.

We bought our iPad screen HERE. (I have the iPad 2, but you can find your generation as well!) 

Before getting started, we first watched this video. Again - this video is for the iPad 2. But there are videos out there for each generation! This is just to give you a basic idea of what you're in for.

We were really nervous about breaking something as we started our replacement project, but here's what we found:

-If you use an "Exacto" type of knife or razor blade and slide it between the screen and the body of the iPad, simply avoiding the areas near the "Home" button and the "Volume" buttons, this process will go much faster, and you'll avoid shattering your screen even worse, and having little shards of glass go flying.

-The wi-fi tab is pretty obvious and easy to disconnect. Likewise, if you're careful, using your fingers near the "danger" zones where there are cables, etc, you should be fine while replacing the screen.

-It's really easy to end up with unidentifiable specks or smudges behind your new screen. I cannot stress enough that the most important thing you can do is spend the necessary time examining all aspects of the display, prior to adhering the new screen to the body of the iPad.

-The adhesive that comes with the replacement screen isn't very strong. Look into buying separate, stronger adhesive. But be aware that whatever you use may have to be removed if the screen shatters again down the road. We read a few reviews on the product site where we bought our screen that boasted of using SUPERGLUE to adhere the new screen to the iPad body. YIKES!! (Don't do that!!)

At the end of the day, we were thrilled with the results. We spent $25 and spent 2 hours replacing a shattered screen that Apple wanted to charge $200-400 to replace!!

Good luck, mommies! 

If you have questions about replacing your iPad, comment below and I'll try to help you based on my experience with my hubbie replacing ours.

Hoping you have a Merry Christmas,

This Blogging Mommy

The Truth About Your Days As a Brand New Mom

Let me start out by saying that this article is not for everyone.

If you looked at your baby the moment after she was born and thought to yourself, "This is love and I adore this child more than anyone I've ever adored before," well ... this article isn't for you.

If you lived your first weeks as a new mommy in a haze of happiness, this isn't for you.

If you slipped back into your pre-baby jeans before waltzing out of the hospital two days after delivering, baby in arm and beatific smile on your face, THIS ISN'T FOR YOU.

This article is for you other mommies.

You know, the ones who bawled their way through the first two weeks of caring for a new child that you could've sworn you were totally ready for.

The ones who nod with a dazed expression on their face when people say things like, "Isn't being a mom the best thing ever? Isn't it totally impossible to imagine your life without your new little man in it?"

Because here's the thing: 

That was me.

After I had my first child, I lay there in my hospital bed, catheter in, feeling like I had just been hit by a semi.

Nobody prepared me for what waking up every 2 hours would feel like. (Let me clue you in - it's a slow, painful descent into insanity.)

I wasn't ready for the pain of attempting to breastfeed, for the feeling of being so much ... bigger than I used to be.

Everyone told me I would fit right back into my pre-baby clothes, because I was so tiny and all baby.

And NOONE, NOONE warned me that I might become depressed.

I'm not talking about being a little bummed because I was tired or overwhelmed. 

I'm talking about being deeply depressed.

I'm talking about

Postpartum Depression.

The thing is that everyone gave me the fantasy version of motherhood.

I heard things like:

-You'll instantly fall in love with your new baby.

-It's so amazing and you'll never be able to imagine what your life would be like without them once they're in your arms.

-Motherhood is instinctual and you'll just "know what to do" when the time comes.

-The weight will just melt right off.

The problem is that this isn't necessarily true.

I love my children more than anything. But when both of them were born, I spent the first few months in a dazed state, trying to cope.

I didn't magically know what to do. If there's one thing I've learned, it's that motherhood is a learning process, a lesson in trial and error.

Despite being so tiny, I didn't fit back into my pre-pregnancy clothes for a long time. And I never fit back into some of them.

Motherhood wasn't amazing for me at first. I experienced intense hormone withdrawals and severe depression as I struggled to understand what my life had become with the presence of a child, what my body looked like with the new addition of loose skin and stretch marks.

And most importantly ...

I didn't instantly fall in love with my baby.

I know.

What a terrifying concept.

Here was this little person that screamed all the time and needed me, and it was my job to magically figure out what those needs were.

I was sleep-deprived, hormone-deprived, and barely functioning.

I remember looking at my baby and thinking, "Why did I do this? And how do I make it stop?"

There was no magic moment where the Hallelujah Chorus began playing and I looked down upon my babe in utter wonder, unless you're counting the times when she fell asleep in my arms and I spent a brief moment thanking God for a break from it all before zonking out underneath her.

But lest you think I'm trying to scare you off from motherhood, let me give you the good news:

IT GETS BETTER.

Your baby starts sleeping more.

You eventually get back into a jean size you can live with.

The post-delivery pain goes away.

You adjust to the lack of hormones.

As your baby grows, you DO form that essential bond. You get to a point where you look at that precious bundle of joy and think, "I can't imagine my life without this child. I love her so much."

It just doesn't always happen at first sight.

I wish I'd honestly believed that what I was going through was normal, instead of convincing myself that something was wrong with me.

I am a great mother.

But postpartum depression had me thinking I was somehow a failure.

So if you're like me, struggling to make it through the day and wondering what you got yourself into and when things will get better, trust me when I say that motherhood is an adjustment.

It takes time to get used to a new baby. Give yourself that time.

Look into getting on some meds temporarily, until the hormone crash subsides.

And be patient with yourself.

Love and Blessings as you discover the joy of the journey of motherhood,

This 

Blogging 

Mommy

Mommy Knows Best ...

There are so many people out there today that want to give unsolicited advice on how to parent. You can't enter a supermarket without the lady behind you telling what you're doing wrong, or go to a family get-together without someone reminding you of "how they did things" with their own kids.

I've gotten to a point in my own journey as a parent where I finally have the strength to stand up and say it ...

MOMMY KNOWS BEST!

Nobody knows their child better than that child's mother (or father.) And NOBODY, I repeat NOBODY has the right to dictate how a child should be raised other than that parent.

Parenting is a beautiful journey of trial, error, prayer, tears, and rejoicing. And there are certainly times where you'll find yourself turning to a close friend, or maybe even your own mother, and saying, "What would you do?"

But there is a huge difference between asking for advice, and having unsolicited advice cheerfully shoved down your throat ... the former is a gift, a beautiful exchange of wisdom and love, and the latter ... well it's nothing more than

CRITICISM.

When Aunt Martha comes in and tells you, "You don't let your girls play with makeup? My girls were allowed to wear their little Disney makeup by the time they were 8. It's just innocent fun," what she's really doing is undermining your right to make decisions for your own child.

And worst of all, it's Aunt Martha, who's watched you grow up and even changed your diapers. You can't just turn around and say what you REALLY want to say, which is, 

"Well, Aunt Martha, isn't that so nice. But I want better things for my daughters than to learn at a young age that their physical beauty is the most important thing about them, or that they're nothing but sex symbols at 5 years of age."

Yea. That's a big no-no, regardless of how tempting that comeback may seem.

The truth is that often times, it is absolutely the people closest to us that so definitively undermine our authority as parents, because they feel comfortable with us. They aren't as afraid of pushing the boundaries and they aren't as careful to respect your authority, because of that comfort.

In a perfect world, you could calmly confront the people in your life who are trying to do your parenting for you, and they'd apologize and back off. Afterwards, you'd relax back on the chaise lounge you were sitting on in your backyard, surrounded by mosquito netting and the fragrant smell of honeysuckle and roses as little Jackson smiles up at you from the book he's reading to you, saying, "Mommy, you're so smart. I'm so grateful to have you as my mom."

We can all dream, ladies.

In reality, when you try to nicely confront your mother about how you know she loves Mary Sue but she just can't give her panties from Victoria's Secret, because no matter how "cute" those little lace-fringed boy-shorts are, they are way too sexual for your 13 year old daughter, your mother isn't going to understand. She's going to get defensive, offended, and argue with you.

And when that inevitable encounter happens, I really hope you take a page from a very difficult lesson I've learned ... oh heck, that I'm STILL learning. When it happens, I hope you reinforce those parental boundaries with the following statement:

"Mommy knows best. I'm the mommy, and I know best what is appropriate for my children. I appreciate the thought, but I'm not okay with... (my daughter wearing sexier panties than I do now at 13 years old.")

Feel free to insert in the blank whatever inappropriate gift you're protesting for whatever child you're trying your darndest to protect or raise into a respectful, responsible human being.

Trust me when I say that if you don't start enforcing that particular present rule early on, you'll find yourself stressed out, frustrated, and feeling resentful of Grammy for buying Jimmy a ridiculously expensive pair of Adidas you insisted no 7 year old boy needed, or for buying Sheila that teeny tiny mini skirt she'd been begging YOU to get her for months.

As much as the loved ones in your child's life want to spoil them, spoiling should not come at the expense of your rules. Gosh, when I think of all the prayers, tears, and thought that have gone into the rules I've created for my children, I feel an overwhelming certainty of God's hand in my parenting. 

And woe awaits anyone who tries to get in the way of that.

So remember ... when unsolicited advice-givers start banging down your door with more persistence than those pesky magazine salespeople during the summer months ...

MOMMY. KNOWS. BEST.

Prayers for you and your journeys of motherhood,

This Blogging Mommy

Competitive Moms Not Allowed

Moms. We're hard-wired to want the best for our children.

We want to see them shine.

We want them to feel loved and so incredibly special. 

And so we commit what I think is possibly one of the worst mommy crimes possible. We become that mom. The competitive one. We all know at least one of these mothers. They boast on social media about how their precious Francois is potty-trained and at ten months to boot! Attention all other mommies: bring on the insecurity.

These moms just can't wait to tell you about how smart their sweet little Brittany is, how she is writing her name already at two, asking oh-so-innocently whether you've begun teaching your little one how to write. After hanging out with them, you inevitably feel like your child is a total failure, you somehow have sub-par genes, and like you are quite possibly the world's worst mother. I mean, you'd have to be to send your child to Kindergarten without bouncy curls complete with a homemade bow in her hair. How could you have failed to cut her sandwich into the cutest little heart shape, or not seen the importance of the picture-perfect first day outfit, sure to make all other five-year olds wish they had a mom as awesome as you??

Newsflash: Nobody likes you, Competitive Mom.

I've always wanted to say that. Gee, thanks for raining on my parental parade with your not-very-subtle comparison of our children in which mine comes up lacking. Thanks for constantly gushing about how great life is and how perfect your child is, making me wonder if my in-house meltdowns with my toddler are a result of something I'm doing wrong or some personality disorder in my two-year old. 

In a world filled with mothers with so much self-doubt, insecurities about doing things right, and undeserved criticism over our methods of parenting, the last thing we mommies need is other moms making us feel like we are somehow failing because our kids aren't "up-to-speed" with theirs in one way or another.

I got sucked into a group of mommies like this early on in my mothering years. I showed up to a group play-date, and the topic of the day was early potty-training. After hearing about how the Queen Competitive Mommy's daughter was completely potty-trained at twenty-two months, I set out on a mission to achieve similar results. At eighteen months I had my daughter sitting on her mini-potty watching thirty minutes of "Elmo's Potty Time," waiting on edge, with bated breath for the sound of tinkling. We did this every day.

Three months later I had a hysterical child who hated Elmo's Potty Time, had a major meltdown at the very sight of a potty, and my nerves weren't just frayed, they were shattered.

What was I doing wrong?

Nothing.

Here's the thing about parenting and children that goes completely over competitive mom's head - 

Every child is different. Their needs are different, their development is different, and your parenting will have to adapt because of it.

I have two children and I have parented them in two different ways, because their personalities dictated altering my approach. Allowing yourself to get sucked into a game of comparison does nothing but put unnecessary stress on yourself as an evolving parent, and on your child, as a developing individual.

A few years has brought me the wisdom to understand -  Competitive Mommy is just as insecure as every other mother out there. She hides her fears in overachieving and bragging about her offsprings' accomplishments. But that doesn't make it okay, and it doesn't mean that I want to surround myself with that negativity.

So what can you do if you have a Competitive Mommy in your social circle?

Well, for starters, kill them with kindness. Knowing that Competitive Mommy is really just as insecure as you are, give her tons of encouragement and emotional support. Let her know that you think she's doing a great job.

Feel free to tell her politely that you don't like to compare your child to anyone else's, when she asks about where your little Megan is at developmentally or otherwise in comparison to hers.

Finally, if worse comes to worse - do like I did with the group of Competitive Mommies that were toxic to my emotional well-being as a parent and remove yourself from the equation. There are plenty of other moms out there who are eager for play-dates, companionship, and commiseration over their own fears. Honesty in any form of friendship is a beautiful thing, and if you can't find it in the midst of all the stifling overachieving, find someone who won't make you feel inadequate with your normalcy.

And if you're asking yourself if you ARE Competitive Mommy, it's not too late! You can change your MO and become supportive, honest about your day-to-day struggles as a mom, and encourage other moms to accept that they aren't perfect.

You can stop comparing your child to other kids out there.

Most importantly, you can become a better mom by letting go just a little bit. I promise you, your child will shine in their time with your love, attention, and encouragement.

The Mommy Trap

     It wasn't until I was sitting in my oral surgeon's office, looking at pictures of the tumor embedded in my jawbone that it hit me - I had fallen into the mommy trap. ... And worse, I wasn't happy with my life. 

     That made no sense. My life was great. I had an incredible amount of love in my life. Two beautiful children. A supportive husband who worked so that I could stay home. But if anyone asked me what I did, I got the deer-in-headlights look on my face, and quickly changed the subject, feeling miserable.

Over the last few years, I had become increasingly aware of a dissatisfaction with my role as a stay-at-home mom.

     And as I faced an uncertain future, the possibility of cancer terrified me, not just at the thought that my life might be over, but more at the possibility of dying with unachieved greatness, and unstrived-for dreams.

     

Before I continue, let me be clear: I love being able to stay home with my children.

     My mom stayed home with me for most of my childhood, and I still smile fondly over memories of kissed booboos and home-cooked meals. Staying home is a beautiful gift that I am grateful to be able to give my babies. But that doesn't mean that when I was in school I dreamt of changing diapers and watching Dora on loop all day long.

     When I was younger, I dreamt of Broadway. I wanted to sing, travel, and make my mark on the world. I wanted to write, share a piece of my soul with the public, and know that after I was gone, that part of my soul would live on.

     But when I got married, children became my priority. And once I had a baby, along with that precious six pounds of pure joy came the heavy burden of responsibilities, both financial and emotional, that being "mommy" brings. Through sleepless nights, days of teething, well-care visits, and the woes of breastfeeding, I almost instantly lost sight of my identity outside of "mommy."

I told myself it was only normal to be completely focused on my baby. I was a new mother. Once she got older, I would focus on myself a little more.

     Yet almost three years and another child later I had, if anything, gotten worse. When people asked me what I "did" for a living, my answer was - "Oh, I stay home with my children." Nobody knew about the words bouncing around in my brain, begging to be put to paper. I stopped telling people about how much I loved to sing, and moreover, how good I was at it. I constantly told myself that I would write that book, record that album, pursue those dreams when the kids were a little older.

     I had limited my friendships, either getting together with other moms and their kids, or getting out on my own and then talking exclusively about my darling children. Where was the sixteen year old dreamer that wanted to wow the world with her potential? Where were the conversations about her interests? 

She had fallen into the mommy trap.

     And it was only as I sat there, facing my mortality in the form of a small, painful lump near my chin that turned out to be a tumor that my mistake hit me full-force. There was more to me than "mommy." But I'd folded that part of me up, shoved it in a box, and tucked it away in a dark corner, because I had convinced myself that it competed with my duties as a mom. Singing on stage, or holing myself away for four hours while I wrote my next masterpiece didn't really gel with my idea of being a supermom. 

But life is short. And my "when the kids are older" attitude didn't take that into consideration.

     What if I had cancer? What if twenty-four years were all I got out of life, and I had wasted my chance at making the most of my talents because I had limited myself to only being mommy?

     Something had to change. And it did. I began to fight for me. It started with fighting for the best medical care, in the form of an ENT out-of-state who was experienced in surgeries like the one I was facing. During surgery it was confirmed that I did not have cancer, and when I got home (tumor-free,) I started writing while I recovered. I fought for more me time, reaching for my dreams, putting myself out there and facing the potential for failure.

     Three years later, I sing professionally with multiple choruses in my area. I'm the Director of Music for my local parish. I'm writing a book, and there's already been interest in the concept from a few editors/agents. I'm recording a non-profit CD. 

    I've climbed out of the mommy trap. But that doesn't mean that I'm not a great mom. I stay home with my girls while my husband goes to work. I homeschool my oldest daughter part-time, only sending her to private school two days a week. I'm present for the important moments, to watch my daughters as they grow, to comfort them when they hurt. My greatest fear, that having my own identity outside of mommy would lessen my ability to be a good mom was unfounded. 

It turns out I had been selling myself short.

     I was capable of so much more than I'd given myself credit for. And I'm proud to tell people when they ask about my singing, writing, and other creative outlets. Because at the end of the day, while being a mom is a huge part of who I am, there is still so much more to me than that. And I truly believe that allowing that part of me that isn't just a mom back out made me a much better parent, because I'm able to share this part of me with my daughters, encouraging them with my actions to strive for their dreams, no matter where they are in life.

If I could tell new moms one thing, it would absolutely be to steer clear of the mommy trap. Society convinces us we can't have it all, and they're wrong. You can. Moderation is the key.

     

   I'm happy to tell you that all post-checkups on my jaw have been positive. My jawbone has regrown, the indent where the tumor had dissolved the bone filling in. And I've found my happiness. In short, the mommy life has never been so good.