Growing young

confidence, empowerment, Family, Marriage, Mother, Uncategorized

As a child I was surrounded by my grandparents and great-grandparents. My parents were 18/19 when they started our little family. My grandparents 40, my great grandparents 60. 

Similar to many American families, divorce struck our family and we really needed the support of my grandparents-great grandparents. I practically lived with Grandma and Grandpa. Heck, today, they would be just about that age that we feminists are having our children. 

Ain’t no thang in that 40 ovary game. 

I digress. 

My grandparents did everything for us during times where my parents were – figuring it out. My grandma stayed at home and cared for us. She was the busiest woman I’d ever met. There was no a moment to wait, relax or sit. She was always moving. I, of course, loved that. Let’s go! I’m always up for shopping and driving around the city. My grandfather, worked all day. He made the life for this family. He worked long, hard hours in his younger years and that paid off dividends in his later years. 

So, here I am, 30 and realizing things are starting to change. So. Freaken. Fast. 

When you have young grandparents you have the luxury of enjoying them for many years. But, time is a fickle thing. Time does some nasty things. Time creates a sense of false security- just more time- just once more- if I only had more time. One more minute and one more breath. 

I’m writing this as we drive away from the family that cared for me when my parents were absent. The people that held my hand and led me through my childhood. They rocked me, encouraged me, fed me, clothed me, loved me. Many times, I was the apple of their eye. The first girl in a family full of boys. The sassy one that kept them on their toes. The steadfast yet flexible one. They built me and I’ve been gone from them for years. One state away through high school, college, marriage, career and family. Still, one state away. Always waving – goodbye! See you soon! But, today’s goodbye was different. As we drove away sentimental items in tow I can’t help but deeply and intensely feel the change, deep in my bones. I feel it so much it hurts and comes out as ice sharp tears. Knots in my throat and full blown belly ache. My grandparents have come to a new life stage: dependency. They aren’t traveling. They aren’t leaving the house as much. Grandma isn’t busy. She’s not even driving. 

Aging hurts. Is it just selfish? I don’t want to see them like this. I want to go back. Back would mean so much pain – and I know that. It’s not possible and I know that, too. It’s not the wrinkles that bother me or the gray hair. It’s the early signs of losing their sense of self. You know, the… Oh, gesh, that’s so sad- I never want to end up like that, kind of thing. We are our identities. When you lose your sense of self and understanding of what life means for you… What are you doing here? 

I saw my great-grandma (Nana) yesterday. 95. Ninety five freaken years old. Glorious. How is that even possible? The stories she would have for us… Vast… If only she could talk. She stopped talking 6 months ago. If her 40,50,60 year old self saw herself- she would not be happy. As I was masking my tears and picking my jaw up from the ground, I, again, became selfish. Why? I wanted her back. For just one minute. Tell me the story about when I was sick at school and you had to pick me up and give me soup. Tell me about my Papa and how you met. Make me one of your little dolls with the knitted dress that I took for granted and didn’t think about saving. Tell me. Instead, we sat there- strangers. I didn’t know this woman and she didn’t know me. 

I took photos. Too painful to look at – I can’t see the joy in them. Again, just selfish. I took a close up of her hands because those are and were her hands. When I was born she said, “oh my goodness, look at her beautiful hands!” And now, as she nears the end, the only thing that caught my attention was her beautiful hands. 

Those hands picked cotton as a child, they held a pencil as she learned to write her name, they held her husband and children. They bathed four girls, diapered, fed, rocked. They held grandchildren and great grandchildren and this weekend her great-great grandson, Zaccai. Those hands have accomplished more than can ever be imagined. As I opened chocolate after chocolate for her and placed them delicately in her hands I thought. This. This could be the last time I see her sweet, soft hands working. She’s worked for 95 years. 

How do you let them age? We grow old to turn young. Regression and hopefully softly and safely into the arms of the one who loves us most. 

Easter Bunny Sunday

Attachment parenting, confidence, empowerment, Family, Mother, Parenting, Uncategorized

It’s been so long I almost forgot how to start a post. Life is busy and crazy and so damn demanding. I just want a full 24 hours to pee by myself and not respond to one email. NOT ONE. 

I’m riding the waves of motherhood and a full time college teaching career coupled with a part time teaching gig at another college. I drive to 3 different campuses each week. It’s utterly insane and I love it. I can’t help to yearn for the day I’ll find my tenured track teaching position and settle down.

These past few months that I’ve been gone (from you- blog) I’ve feel these words:

Happiness, joy, laughter, sweet, caring, friendship, excitement….

But I’ve also had some really terrible situations happen that have left me feeling…

Lost, isolated, sad, uncomfortable, depressed, uncertain, out of control, fleeting, inadequate…

Is there a chance PPD can happen when your child is well into toddler years? I feel like the world is sitting on my shoulders and trying to suffocate me. 1 step forward and 5 steps back. 

I mean, I’ve accomplished some really amazing things… But they’ve kind of just been an almost there success… I feel like I’m part of the Myth of Sissifus.

Wow. If I want to have a blog and followers I should probably FINISH BLOG POSTS FROM Easter! 

All I can do is laugh. I wanted to just throw this one away, like, oh well [she] tried. But then I thought, nah, they can see I’m a total mess just like everyone else. 
Half finished

Half inspired

Half irritated 

Half assing this thing called life.

Do you feel you’re half-Ing shit, too? Well, dang, you’re NOT alone.

Since it’s been SO long. Here’s a few pictures from our lives lately. 

Oh. And. I’ll post a REAL blog post this week. Don’t hold your breath 😁

How to let go and let….


Your husband tear up your backyard. 

Wait, what??? Yea, you heard me. We are having plumbing issues… LIKE MASSIVE ISSUES. I didn’t win the powerball on Saturday and we are no richer than the guy asking for money on the side of the road, ahem, so after a 20k quote and a 10k quote, my husband said, “I CAN DO IT!” 

So, I introduce, Tim the tool man Taylor… Otherwise known as Marvell. The man who can fix anything… Yet starts by knowing very little. THANK YOU & all the powers to be – let’s hope he can really do this. 

Exhibit A

You can’t see it… But with ultraviolet radiation glasses, underneath the layers and layers of concrete: there are VERY OLD, SAD, CRACKED (out) PIPES WAITNG TO SAY “hello” … That’s in my best Adele voice. 

Hello” “it’s me again” “your pipes are gonna cost you more than you have left,” “hello” “are you sorry, you bought an old home you thought that you could afford, heellloooo”


 You know what’s really, really funny? We didn’t even OWN these supplies before our plumbing extravaganza. Who are we? 

Exhibit B-Z

Obviously we’re NEW. Born yesterday. 


PS: I HATED THIS PLANTER BOX ANYWAY! I tried to plant two things: both dead. DEAD. how annoying. 


Why did this picture flip? I don’t know. Maybe it’s telling me something special is waiting for us RIGHT THERE. 

So, here we are…. ARE YOU READY FOR IT? 

We rented a saw from Home Depot…  
He cut some shit up.

We rented a jack hammer from Home Depot.

He busted my whole backyard up. 

And now we wait. He has a blister and a body cramp. 

He said, “I almost died!” You don’t even know. That’s right! I don’t know… BUT WHAT I DO KNOW IS THAT MY HOUSE HAS WHITE TRAILS OF CONRETE EVERYWHERE.

  • The couch
  • The floors
  • The coffee table
  • The rug
  • The kitchen
  • The counters 

Sigh. That’s all I got. A hard working husband and a backyard that’s in disarray. Let’s cross fingers we — he– can get this concrete up, dug and replace these pipes. Oh, and bring my backyard back to a normal looking backyard. 

Send prayers, margaritas, burritos and best wishes. 


Stolen Time

Attachment parenting, confidence, empowerment, Family, Marriage, Mother, Parenting, Uncategorized

First of all, Happy Birthday to my momma. 

Everyone has the “perfect” mom…. And I’m here to say, I have the “perfect” mom. I mean, we get in our fair share of arguments but I wouldn’t trade her in. My mom was once a young mom with three children who too most likely felt like a huge failure. 

Why, why do we [women] find fault in like everything? Now, let’s backpedal a bit and bring you to my mom at 24 years of age. Marriage falling apart, 4 year old boy, 3 year old girl and infant baby boy. 24, people. 

Maybe you’ve been there, maybe you’re there now. I’m here to say, I admire you. You feel like a failure and like you’re never going to muddle out of the mounds of debt and depression and these children need you… And you need a partner; however, s/he is gone. I think my mom would tell you: this sh!t is hard and it’s not going to get easier. She would tell you the pain is heavy and the stress is intense. She would also say the most painful part is losing your children. She would say the courts f’d up and gave her children to the wrong parent. She would tell you her children suffered tremendously because of her. 

She blames herself. Everyday she tries to make up for stolen time… She can’t. It’s gone. 

For so many years I cried for my mom. I wanted her in my life, daily. I knew what I was missing out on; but, more importantly, I knew what my siblings needed- their mom. I, at the age of 6, was certainly no replacement for a mother. I tried. 

A moment of clarity came over me as I sit in tears on my therapist’s couch. WHY AM I STRUGGLING IN MY MARRIAGE AND PARENTING? I knew some of our marriage issues were unearthing through my rotten childhood. My husband has a lovely family, solid foundation. I, very very cracked. I told her of a story (unrelated to myself) about a 2 year old boy being forgot in the car in the middle of Arizona summer and he died. I literally cried all night for him. Young, forgotten child in the car. How horrifying. How lonely. How sad. My therapist said, “Amber, do you know why you can’t shake that”? I stared, confused. “You’re the baby stuck in the car, you’re waiting for your parents to save you, comfort you, protect you. They didn’t.” 

They didn’t

Maybe, they just couldn’t. Two people interested in the same thing: 3 children and ripping apart the other person. Divorce. Hatred. Dirty laundry. Attorneys. Judgements. Weekend visitation. It’s all just f’d up. 

They couldn’t. 

I knew my parents would never work it out. I knew they would never be amicable. I never even wishes or prayed for it. I only prayed my life would not reflect theirs. I didn’t want to go through the pain again. 

How did my mom survive that pain? My son went to the ER one night and I thought I would lose it, ear infection. Drama. How in the world did my mom go years without holding, squishing, smelling, and cuddling her little lug bugs? 

So, now, here I am – 30 and trying to get past all this yucky childhood stuff and pray to God we don’t put our son through any of this… But there are still so many families out there that can relate to this pain. There is so much hurt, so much anger. If I can give you one piece of advice from a child who desperately needed both parents to be civil and kind…

Don’t deny your children their right to see the other parent. They will resent you. 

Don’t deny your children their right to visit with their grandparents. They will really resent you. 

Don’t talk bad about the other parent in front of them. Just don’t do it. 

Co-parent. Make decisions about their lives and focus on them. Not YOU. 

We just finished a holiday season and every year I’m so thankful it’s over. I can’t help but think of all the pain I had each Christmas without my family. Now that I have my own little family the holidays are bright; but, the past is sometimes hard to shake and I have to continually remind myself that I am in charge of my happiness and no one else. 

Whatever you do, do it with love in your heart. 


Follow Your Heart

Attachment parenting, empowerment, Family, Marriage, Parenting, Uncategorized, weight loss

We’re all busy, right? 

I am. I’m a wife, mom, full time manager, part time instructor at a community college, a friend, a daughter, a writer, a dishwasher, a laundry goddess and last but not least a terrible cook. 

How do I have the time? If I had a nickel for all the times my friends say, “how the hell do you do it!?” I’d be rich! 

I don’t know. But, let me tell you what I’ve lost because I’ve “done it all.”





Z turns 3 in November. I turn 30 in September. The year of “3”. I told myself 2015 will be my year of change. I will not continue to be “too busy”. I’ve told my son on numerous occasions- I can’t, mommy has to work. Sorry, off to work. Internally I say, sorry, I’ll make it up to you… of course, Z can’t understand the concept of “make it up”. 

But, I won’t make it up. I won’t because he’s only going to take his first step once. He’s only going to say his first word once. He’s only going to smile and coo “once”. These moments are gone. Some of them I’ve witnessed, but most I’ve missed. I missed them so I could pay off credit card debt, pay off car payments, pay for Internet, pay for cable, for for loans I took out to pay off debt. I’ve worked so hard so others could be successful. 

In our couples therapy my therapist asked me if I thought I was successful. 

I said no.

God, have you seen my checking account? I’m NOT successful.

No mind I put myself through college. I wasn’t supposed to go to, statistically speaking. I graduated with a Master’s two years later. All by 23 years of age. I lost 55 pounds on the Weight Watchers program and lead hundreds of people to live happier, healthier lives. I encouraged my friends to love themselves and take risks. Fall in love. I emotionally supported my husband when he couldn’t take another day in Corporate America. I let him take a risk. I climbed the ladder in Corporate America after numerous rejections and I have taught at a college for the past 5 years. I’ve ran 3 half marathons and 1 Ragnar. I had a labored for days with my baby and had a c-section to seal the deal and bring him into this world. I’ve given up so much to provide for the people I love. And, now, when faced with a deep, profound question: are you successful? My answer was: NO.

My life has always been defined as being poor. Lower than lower middle class. I’ve always been taught that success=money. Why, why oh why is this woman telling me that I’ve gotten it all wrong? I need to look at success from a different angle. I can’t. Or, I feel like I can’t. 

Since that day I have seriously tried to tell myself I was successful. It’s been hard to accept that I am successful since I don’t have much to show for “it”. The successful competition is fierce. I mean, how can I even compare? How can I convince the world Amber Green is successful? Shit, I’m probably the 1803502747920847 person on your Google machine. 

Or, maybe, just maybe it doesn’t matter what others think of me… Only how I feel about myself? Compared to myself?

If I’m not “successful” why am I wasting my time working? If I’m not becoming “successful” and doing the work I was put on this earth to do, what am I doing? Working to live, not living to work. Who does that anyway? Live to work?

“If you love what you do you’ll never work a day in your life.” That’s always been a crock of shit to me, not gonna lie. But, maybe I’m just a pessimist and people really love what they do and jump up before their alarm and do it.

If that’s true, I feel that way about teaching. It’s amazing. I feel like I’m empowered and empowering people. I’m giving them the gift I thought I would never have: information. College & Weight Watchers. Both accomplishments that were never supposed to happen. I should be an uneducated fat woman. I’m not. Instead I’m the opposite. 

I’m ready to do this. I’m ready to feel success by following my heart and sharing my gifts. 

I am starting to find if I let go and trust it will all work out things seem to go better than I could have imagined.

How can that be? Let go and let God.

Is that success? 

Dear Perfectionist Blog Self


Dear Amber, 

Your perfectionist and busy self-pitty self is really putting a damper on getting my word out! You have focused on all the wrong things for all the wrong reasons. 

Remember, remember why you started this blog? Me? Do you even know me anymore? 

I’m My Birth Write. You loved the creative name you came up with. So much so, you inspired others to share their birth moments with you. You’ve discussed important topics such as: c-sections, self-love, self-esteem, husbands turning into fathers, wives turning into mothers, money (or lack there of), success, triumphs, fears and real life. 

All of this, though, is not enough for you. You stopped. Just stopped! Why?

You’re not perfect. You will misspell words and life. You will have grammatical errors and episodes. You will breathe and make mistakes. You. Are. You. 

Be you. 


I stopped because I had too much to say. I wasn’t sure how to proceed. 

I still don’t know how. 

What if? People don’t like me? People don’t receive my thoughts well? People think I’m a bad mom/wife/person? 


What if? People love me. 

I’m an extrovert. My husband calls me an extra-extrovert. I’m too much sometimes… Maybe all the time. I learn best from making mistakes and trying all over again. But, nothing makes sense to me without people. Togetherness. I need people in my life to thrive. I know this. 

I stand on soapboxes and maybe too many of them. 

  • Women’s rights
  • LGBT rights 
  • Rights for people of color
  • Opportunity for a better life, migration/immigration 
  • Real-ness of parenting 

All these, they’re me. I am them. I cannot separate myself from them. I thrive in equality and equal representation. Where does that leave me? 

I’m not sure. I’m okay with that. Or, I should say, I have to be okay with that… It’s the only way to move forward. 

I want to say I’ll commit to blogging more often, but that gives me anxiety of over promising and under delivering. So, I’m committing to stay true to myself and blog and share my life- when I can. 

Being a wife-mom-career woman-writer is life changing. Life is challenging. I want to be perfect at all these things but I fall short, daily. However, I’m the little engine that could and I pick myself up and try, try, again. 

Here are some moments you’ve missed: traveling, smiling and book signing. 




12 perfect examples of my kid terrorizing my life

Attachment parenting, Family, Uncategorized

My kid hasn’t quite hit the terrible twos that everyone has warned me about. Really, the little shit has his moments; but, all-in-all, I just enjoy his company. He laughs those deep belly laughs that make you stop in your tracks. He says things like, “momma, giraffes eat leaves!” Or “momma, bug!” Or, my absolute favorite, “momma, I’m tired…” and the proceeds to do all things to avoid taking a nap. 

  1. He refuses to sleep! I mean, the sweetest part of my day is/WAS sleeping and this kid hates it. Sigh.
  2. He is still nursing. Okay, okay. Before you jump down my throat (no matter what paradigm you fall under) I’m *almost* done with it. He’s far from done. I can tell, I’m the momma. Sigh.
  3. If his toys are messy, he freaks out. Unless, that is, he has made the big disaster of a mess, then I guess it’s our problem. 
  4. He screams when I leave for work. 
  5. A moment later he says, “bye-bye momma, laters.”
  6. The days I take him to day care he practically jumps out of my arms into his day care mommas arms. “Laters.”
  7. He loathes car rides and makes sure I pay. Big time. 
  8. He pinches my fat and runs away. Laughing. 
  9. He licks my face and then growls at me. 
  10. He recently started calling me “ab-mer” cryyyyyyyyy. It’s momma buddy. 
  11. He hates my cooking. Loves peppers and carrots. Not my cooking. Sigh. 
  12. He pushes me to the point of exhaustion. I’m not sure if I function properly most days. But, then he smiles, screams momma and it’s all good.

So, terrible two huh? Mostly terrific two and moments of terrible-ness. But man, are those moments frightening! Push you to the point of insanity and then drop you off in an unfamiliar place. As if you have an out of body experience and then hit your head and wake up being you again, just bruised. Stronger but bruised. Maybe that’s the point. Egos are bruised in order to learn and understand we are all in this together, learning and growing together. 

What a sweet growing experience, huh? 




2014 A Look Back!

Attachment parenting, Family, Uncategorized

One complete year being a blogger and I couldn’t be more excited to share my success with you! I’m proud that “A Mother’s Dream” was my #1 blog post; it was an emotional week for me.

Feel free to snoop and see the success of a first time – first year mom blogger!


The stats helper monkeys prepared a 2014 annual report for this blog.

Here’s an excerpt:

A New York City subway train holds 1,200 people. This blog was viewed about 4,100 times in 2014. If it were a NYC subway train, it would take about 3 trips to carry that many people.

Click here to see the complete report.

My Birth Write’s Liebster Award


Happy New Year!

Happy Blogerversary!

That’s right! It’s been ONE complete year of blogging!! I’ve had ups & downs & times where I’ve felt like this “blogging thing” was just another thing that was taking up my time. In short, I’ve felt like giving up on this little blog more than once, more than twice, but not enough to actually, well, give up.

Bye-bye 2014 and all your overdraft fees and sleepless nights; I’m ringing in a rich 2015 and a new found love of baby Benadryl. Can you say, “sleep through the night medicine!” Alright, in all seriousness, I’ll take a pink unicorn.

Drumroll please…..

My sweet little – WTF am I doing with my life – blog was nominated for its first award!!!!!


How exciting!! I’m so thankful! I was nominated by Appetite For Honesty. In her blog she talks about her family, her, her husband and two boys. What I appreciate most about her blog is her candidness about life and reality. It’s messy and sweet. Be sure to check her out!

This award means a few things:

1. I’m on the road to becoming famous.

βœ”οΈ New Years resolution 2015

2. I get to answer questions for new readers to get to know me.

3. They like me, they really like me!

βœ”οΈ Again, practicing being famous.

Happy {birth}day Zaccai!

Attachment parenting, Cloth diaper, Family, Marriage, Mother, Parenting, Uncategorized

Well, we’ve made it. Our sweet little boy has turned 2. People this is monumental. Two years ago Marvell and I were clueless as to how to raise a baby, toddler, little boy.

But, we’ve made it. A few scrapes and bruises along the way {metaphorically speaking- egos mostly!}.

So, here’s to one of the sweetest boys in the world! Biased, I know.


Mostly, I’m thankful this boy has forced me to slow down!! I am a go-go-go type of person. If I don’t have multiple things going on or multiple jobs, I feel lazy. [although I don’t think others are lazy that work 1 job or stay at home] Anyhow… this year I quit my favorite part time job. It is bitter sweet. I did it for Z. I knew that it was time to move on. He needed me to move on. Marvell needed me to move on.

Zaccai’s birthday celebrations were small. We had a nice BBQ, cupcakes and lovely weather outside at a local park. His sweet friends were there to play & have 2 year old meltdowns. Oh, the meltdowns.


Zaccai LOVED us singing to him! His face lit right up! He knew the celebration was for him!

It was a beautiful day at the park! We could not have asked for better AZ November weather. The only minor problem: WIND! Who knew!? Wind in AZ. So, we blew out candles at home. Which meant singing to the boy again! He loved it.



Digging the cloth diaper and socks look? You too can have this look! LOL.

My dear sweet boy. This world is cruel and angry and I hope your generation does more than ours. I pray you see a world of happiness & peace. I hope you see less war and more understanding. I urge you to put yourself in someone else’s shoes before you judge them. Believe me, you may feel tempted. At times you will think you’re better than someone else. Maybe even better looking…
{well, we know that’s a given}

……Quietly stepping off the mom soap box there…….

Really though, Zaccai, you’re world will be different than mommy’s and daddy’s. Just know, your parents have stood in the face of adversity, racism & sexism. The fight has come a long way but it’s not yet over. There are many battles to be won and I hope you’re part of the change. I believe you will do amazing thigs for our world. I can only hope that we positively impact your life to show you the way.

Just know, many parents have their way of raising babies/children/teens. We are all humans trying to do the best we can. That does not mean we are always right – we most likely will be very wrong one day – if we are… Let us know!

Challenge Us
Push Us
Ask Questions
Be Bold
Forgive Us
Love Us

Most importantly, get to know who you are. Be confident in the person you will become.

No matter what, we will support you.

We LOVE you.

Our sweet angel boy.

Born to this world and us on 11/4/2012 at 2:04 AM via emergency c-section. Your parents went through 12 weeks of natural Bradley delivery method to bring you into this world in the most “unnatural” way. But, man, does your mom have a story about her 4 day natural-no-pain-meds labor. I’ll be sure to tell you one day. And by that I mean: every time I get angry at you, when I’m bored and want to tell you the story, or, maybe when your first date shows up at the house… All appropriate times.

We named you Zaccai because we couldn’t agree on anything A-Y and the website stopped at Z: Zaccai. Your middle name is Marvell: didn’t have to go far for that one either: daddy & PawPaw’s name.

You were a tiny 6 pounds 11 oz & cute as a shriveled up old man. Love.




{birth}. {one}. {two}.