Mom Life

shaming, fat shaming, slut shaming, mom shaming, embarrassing mom moments

Ever been the victim of shaming? There are so many ways of embarrassing women, fat shaming, slut shaming and mom shaming to name a few. But I experienced an entirely new kind of shaming; one I never expected… straight up, thong panty, red-in-the-face…” are these yours?” shaming. Was I ever embarrassed?

You’ve heard the term “airing your dirty laundry”? We’ve all heard it and most of us have done it. Though, I really try hard not to. Well, as much as you can when you’re a blogger and telling my business is sort of my business. Ironically enough, I grew up hearing my father tell me constantly, “Don’t tell everyone your business.”

It’s never been my nature to have a filter and mostly there is nothing off limits, as you know from reading this blog, however, it’s different in my real life. Meaning that I do actually think before I speak to someone face to face. I weigh the consequences of my words. I don’t particularly like being embarrassed.

My threshold for embarrassment is pretty high. After all, I grew up with 6 brothers and sisters, you develop a thick skin but I do still embarrass over a few things and this is where the next thing that I’m about to tell you comes in.

This is how the shaming happened.

Last month, suddenly, our washer started behaving very badly. Like seriously, it needed a timeout in a corner by itself. It’s a fairly new washer, still under warranty, but it decided that it was going to stop spinning and draining and began passively aggressively blinking a warning code at me.

We looked the code up and it meant there was too much suds. What? I’ve been doing laundry since I was about 9-years-old and I never recall putting too much detergent in the laundry. In fact, it was drilled pretty hard into my head not to after a sitcom showed us just what could happen if too much soap got in the washer. Suds everywhere. My mom was very vigilant that never happen because,6 kids, she had no time for cleaning up extraneous messes.

Yet, here we are. We ran the cleaning cycle about 30 times. We stopped using the liquid detergent and switched back to powder. We measured every single bit of soap that went into the machine. Still, the code continued to aggressively blink and beep at me, each time I opened the lid to find the washer with about 7 inches of water in the drum. Then, the washer began screaming another code at us. This one meant that there was a drainage issue.

Do you know what happens when the washer doesn’t drain? I’ll tell you, I had to revert to the ways of my ancestors, I had to wring the entire load out by hand and it was hard. Every load for almost a month (as I waited for the manufacturer to sort out when they could send a technician) I had to wring by hand. It was a hard month. My entire body hurt.

Remember people, I am a writer. I don’t do a lot of manual labor aside from housework and normally, housework does not include hand-wringing sopping wet fleeces and jeans. I ached all over my body. Just as I was finally starting to develop some muscle tone, a technician was sent to my house to try to figure out what was causing the problem.

The technician was a very nice middle-aged man. Very talkative. We developed a friendly rapport as he disassembled my washer in search of the root of all evil. I cracked jokes. He laughed. Then, I went on about my morning work. That’s when it happened. A moment that I will never forget. My face is turning red just thinking about it.

He calls me from the laundry room, “Mrs. Can you come here. I think I found the problem.”

In my mind, I was like, “Hell yeah, I’ll pay anything just please don’t make me wring out another load of bath towels by hand!” I came bouncing into the laundry room like a puppy about to get a treat; smiling my crazy mom smile from ear to ear. There he was surrounded by all the disassembled parts of my washing machine

“Well, ma’am I think I found the culprit of all your washing machine woes.”

And with that, he pulls from the washing machine with the help of his trusted pliers, a pair of my panties. Not just any panties, but a pair of my G-string panties that had somehow gotten themselves over the side of the drum and in between the drum and shell of the machine, where the drain is located.

Apparently, my thong panties were clogging the drain and with that, he handed me my sopping wet panties ( and not in a good way) while he told me that the warranty didn’t cover it and I would owe him just over a $100.

Aside from being embarrassed that a strange man was handing me my panties that clogged a drain, he insulted me further by charging me for doing so. How embarrassing.

So, I took my soaked thong, threw them into the garbage, wrote him a check and never made eye contact ever again. I finally get the saying, don’t air your dirty laundry. It apparently goes for your clean laundry too, if they’re panties. Thus goes my public panty shaming.

Have you ever had an unexpected public shaming?

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My Girl's Dollhouse, American Girl doll, Twitter party, Giveaway, Holiday Gift Guide

My Girl's Dollhouse, American Girl doll, Twitter party, Giveaway, Holiday Gift Guide

***UPDATE* Due to such AMAZING interest tonight I will be giving away 2 #MyGirlsDollHouse and 2 Gift Packages valued at $75 each! But you HAVE to RSVP via the Linky and you HAVE to be in ATTENDANCE to win!! Good Luck to ALL!!!! Two Wicked Cool Toys PRIZE Packages for Christmas. Two LUCKY Winners will receive: $75.00 Prize Pack which includes Wicked Cool Toys: Scanimalz, WWE items, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles items, Wiggles.

This year, I am hosting my first ever Holiday Gift Guide and I have the privilege of sharing with you some of the hottest gifts this year. I think the My Girl’s Dollhouse by Goodtoy is going to be the it toy this Christmas. If you were at BlogHer this year, you may have remembered being astonished by the My Girl’s Dollhouse at Sweet Suite. FInally, a place for all of their American Girl Dolls to live. I walked in and it caught my eye immediately because it truly is astounding to see in person. My first thought was, “My girl’s would go crazy for this!” I just knew it would be the gift that made their jaw drop on Christmas morning. If you saw it, you know exactly what I am talking about. Have you ever walked into a room, a store, or seen something on television that you just knew your kids would lose their ever-loving minds over? The kind of thing that you just knew would be the gift to end all gifts and then on Christmas morning or birthday eve or whatever the case may be, the gift fell flat…like a fat man into a shallow pool? Well, this is not “that” gift. This is the gift to end all gifts for little girls. This is a dollhouse for American Girl dolls, or any other 18 inch doll. It’s called the My Girl’s Dollhouse and is one of the first of many quality children’s products under its Goodtoy brand. I saw this thing in person at an expo in July and, at 40, I nearly flipped out at the sight of this huge dollhouse. I’m pretty sure, I can safely say, that my daughters would lose it on Christmas morning. My daughters have just begun to get into American Girl. They each have three dolls, and they love to dress up like them and serve them tea and spoil them rotten. American Girl Dolls are my daughters’ favorite toy right now. I am fine with it because they are wholesome, are historically teachable and my girls love them. The My Girl’s Dollhouse is a giant, high-quality, customizable wood dollhouse for 18-inch dolls and their furniture, clothing, and accessories. Can you say American Girl Doll dream house? Because that is what it is. The My Girl’s Dollhouse is 6-feet tall, 5 feet wide and 2 feet deep. It is huge. It comes in four styles, classic and whimsical and built with exactly the same high quality wood. But the real fun begins inside the house. The house has five rooms that the girls can customize to their own liking; match their bedroom to the American girl’s bedroom. There are 12 different styles of rooms to choose from. The house has two rooms on the main floor, two rooms on the second story and one huge room that acts as the attic. The attic has a bar to hang the dolls clothes on; think of it as the American Girl Doll Dream walk-in-closet. But remember the house does not come with the dolls or the furniture, which is all your responsibility to provide. Luckily, we already have some dolls and now I just have to set out looking for the furniture. I’ve been scouring the Internet for the best deals on the furniture and I have found some really cute pieces. There has never been a dollhouse mass-produced for 18-inch dolls, the My Girl’s Dollhouse will be the first of its kind. I think this is going to be a big seller, hot commodity toy this Christmas season. Every little girl is going to want one. I was lucky enough to be provided one My Girl’s Dollhouse to review by Good Toy and I will be hosting a Twitter party on Wednesday November 20th, at 9 pm. EST and one lucky participant will win a My Girl’s Dollhouse of her own and make this Christmas be one your little girl will never forget. What do you think of a dollhouse for the American Girl Dolls?

I’d love to invite you to our My Girl’s Dollhouse #MyGirlsDollHouse Twitter Party on Wednesday, November 20th at 6:00 PM PST/ 9:00 PM EST!  We’ll be giving away 1 My Girl’s Dollhouse during the Twitter Party!!!

WHAT:  My Girl’s Dollhouse #MyGirlsDollhouse Twitter Party

WHEN:  WEDNESDAY, November 20TH, 2013 FROM 6-7 PM PST/ 9-10 EST



Grand PRIZE:  My Girl’s Dollhouse. Retail value $399.00


Join in the Goody Toy #MyGirlsDollhouse party for fun conversation and a chance to win this unbelievable dollhouse for the little girl in your life!

**Please RSVP with your twitter name and link to qualify for a chance to win a prize during the Good Toy #MyGirlsDollhouse Twitter Party.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Disclaimer: This is a sponsored post but all opinions are my own.[/fusion_builder_column][/fusion_builder_row][/fusion_builder_container]

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tanning, st. tropez, motherhood, making yourself a priority

As many of you can attest to from being regular readers of this blog, when I am not tanned, I am the whitest Latina on the face of the earth.  It was a 50/50 toss up what my skin was going to look like when I was born with my mother being porcelain Caucasian and my father being caramel colored Latino. There are six children and some of us stay tanned all year long and others of us have to work a little harder at it. Unfortunately, I am one who has to work hard at it. I’m pale like a vampire most of the winter unless I drag myself in to the tanning salon or get a spray tan, then I brown up like a beautiful bronze goddess. I love looking like a bronze goddess. As pale as my complexion gets in the winter months, one would assume I would just spark up and ignite once I got in the sun.

When I was a teenager and in my carefree early 20’s, I spent my summers sunbathing on the beach and my winter’s lying in a tanning bed. I know, it is so horrible for your skin; wrinkles, freckles and cancer; all so not worth looking sun kissed. Though, I’ve realized over the years that everyone looks better tanned. We just look healthier, happier, and more carefree. When we’re pale, unless you’re Nicole Kidman, the rest of us pretty much just look like we’re sick. I don’t want to look sick, especially not now that I am getting older. I want to look and feel my best.

It’s hard enough feeling good about the way you look when you are living in a new post baby body, sporting luggage under your eyes, can’t even remember the last time you shaved your legs and the mommy brain is making you forget everything else. As a mom, I have no time for the little luxuries that used to be staples in my days; pedicures, manicures, massages, tanning and sleep. God, how I miss my sleep. Between no time, less money to spend on myself, and the whole having to put someone else’s needs before my own, I have just let them go. Lately though, I’ve been really feeling like I need to add those things back into my world. I need to be a priority in my own life.I mean to be a good mom; I need to take time to feel good about myself, right? We deserve that and our daughters deserve a good role model.

I know this about me, when I look better, I feel better. When I feel like I’m dressed nicely and my hair, nails, make-up are done, it makes me feel more confident in all areas of my life. Saying it out loud sounds a little vain but honestly, if I feel more confident, I carry myself differently, the world reacts differently to me; it makes me a better mommy to my girls because I am showing them that it’s perfectly ok to make themselves a priority in their lives and bonus, your husband is going to start to see you as a sexual being again and not just the mother of his children.  We all deserve that.

Motherhood is a great thing and we shouldn’t be walking around looking like we’ve been given a life sentence. I mean in the first couple of years, it’s nearly impossible to afford yourself these little luxuries because you are so busy dogpaddling through motherhood but once you get your bearings, make the time to make yourself a priority. You deserve it.

These days, I still don’t have the time to spend hours at a spa getting hair, pedicures, manicures, massages and tans done but I can surely take the time after the kids are in bed to do at home treatments like hot oil treatments for my hair, Bliss Spa treatments for my body, face, feet and hands and an at-home St. Tropez instant tan. At home treatments have come along way, you don’t have to go from ivory to orange streaked these days, you can become a bronze goddess in the comfort of your own home for a fraction of the price of hitting the salon.

Why not take the time to make yourself a priority in your life? Whatever makes you feel like you; whether it be primping, new clothes, reading a good book, taking a long hot bath, exercising or just dancing around your bedroom listening to your favorite tunes, do it! You deserve it and, as I’ve learned through 8 years of motherhood, they’ve got to sleep sometime!

What do you do to make yourself a priority in your own life?


Disclosure: This is a sponsored post by St. Tropez but all opinions are my own.

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Naturtint, time for mommy,

As many of you are aware, I turned 40 a little over a month ago. I was a little unnerved, I’d heard so many horror stories about this milestone. Then my birthday came and the impending doom never came. I did not self-destruct. I had not reached my expiration date but it did ignite a fire in me. It forced me to stop for a brief minute (because even though I am 40, my girls are only 5 and 7 and time waits for no mommy in this house) and take inventory.

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REVOLUTION, word of the year, year of the word, resolution


There was no revolution. I turned 40 a couple of days ago, you may have heard. Oddly enough, it passed quietly with dignity and grace. There was no bucking and raging against the night like there was for my 30th or even my 38th. I did not feel overwhelmed with failure or the need to fight my evolution tooth and nail. I was enveloped in peace and all consuming contentment. Sounds strange, right? I’ve never felt this way before, except for the first few minutes immediately after my children were born and on the day I got married. I’m assuming it’s the calm before the storm of life changing events.

I am Resolving to incite a revolution

I am way past the point of making resolutions. After all, what the hell is a resolution anyways, nothing more than an empty promise, a flimsy threat at the most. Nope this year, I am declaring war. I’m inciting a revolution.I am resigning myself to a little shock and awe!

No MORE Cheating! You heard me. I don’t mean that I’m cheating on the Big Guy, never! I mean cheating on diets, cheating myself out of life, cheating myself short on opportunities, cheating my girls out of my complete attention and devotion.

Embracing Exhaustion! Oh yeah, I am about to make it my mission to exhaust every single iota of potential that these bones have in them. No more sitting on the sidelines letting life happen to me or waiting for things to be done for me, this broad is grabbing life by the balls and making him my bitch. I am going to work this potential so hard, its not going to know which way is up. As the old cheer goes, “Be aggressive..B*EE* EE Agressive!” I’m about to be the change I want to see in my world!

Organization, Organization, Location! I am a planner, a scheduler, a write it down on paper and DOER! Life seems to have gotten out of control.I don’t mean a little bit off kilter, I mean it has spun right the hell off its axis.Well, NO MORE! Hey, life! Guess what? I AM IN CHARGE..NOT YOU! So, I’m putting pen to paper ( yes, I’m old school like that sometimes) and I’m making a schedule. I’m waking up earlier, getting more sleep, not rushing through life because I’ve planned accordingly, and ( because I am still a bit reckless) I’m even allowing copious amounts of free time for spontaneity. I may even take a day or two off of social media and just put my feet up and take it all in.

Love Hard, Love often! I am making sure that the Big Guy and our girls know how very much I love them and how important they are to me. I’m not referring to telling them, speaking the words. I do this already, several times a day. In fact, I’ve told the girls ( constantly) since birth “Guess what? I have a secret.Want to know what it is?” They used to get all excited, their eyes like saucers and ask”Yes, Mommy. What is it?” My answer, I’d bend down and whisper in their tiny ear ,” I Love you more than anything.” Now, they just give me a sheepish smile and say, “What is it Mommy? Tell me!” But more than saying the words, I want to show them with my thoughts and actions.I want to be present in every moment with these family and friends that I have been blessed to be surrounded by in my life. I want them to know in their heart that when I say “I love you” it means..forever, for always, for good, for bad, for ups, for downs, for skinny, for fat, for Always. When they speak, I want them to know I am listening and that what they say matters to me. No more decorum.I am loving on my littles, the Big Guy, my family and friends with an embarrassing amount of exuberance. I want them to feel it to their core.

Revolution: A Commitment to Change

Prioritize, Perspective, and Present. The only way to get it all done, in conjunction with my handy schedule, I have to prioritize what’s really important to me and my family. This depends on my perspective. I am choosing to utilize my own perspective finally. I am not considering all the outside factors, aside from my girls. I’m also willfully choosing to see life as ALWAYS half full and at my disposal because, in reality, it is. My only limitations have been those I’ve set upon myself. No more! Last but not least, I’m living in the moment. I’m embracing every stinking moment as it happens. I’m not planning for next year, next week, tomorrow…I’m living in the now..RIGHT NOW,with my girls and the Big Guy. I want to enjoy the small things of my life as they happen, not in 20 years in retrospect as a memory. I want to feel the full effect of my life.

Forgiveness I am forgiving myself for not being perfect. I am not the perfect wife. I am not the perfect Mom. I am not the perfect friend or daughter.I don’t have the perfect body. I don’t have the perfect house. My temper leaves something to be desired. I over extend myself. I expect too much from myself and others. I fall short, in a lot of ways. But that doesn’t mean that my efforts do not have merit. I am hitting reset for everyone I know. I’m passing out forgiveness like Kool-aid at a Jonestown party. No more Mommy guilt, no more fatty McFatty guilt, no more I’m not the perfect wife.My house is disheveled. My kids aren’t perfect.No more, I wish I was Bree Van De Kamp bullshit. From this moment forward, I am going to try my best at every endeavor that I choose to undertake with my priority being excelling at being a good example of a the kind of woman I want my daughters to see me as. I will never be perfect, and that is perfectly acceptable, as long as I am living my life as the best me.

Incite a Revolution. I’m initiating a change in my way of life. I am actively taking steps to become the person that I want to be.That woman who lives inside of me and has been too afraid for a long time to take a gamble.The woman who, even though I hate to admit this, I have realized has been so afraid of failure that I have let it stave off success. No More! No more excuses. I’m not afraid of failure anymore.If I fall, I will just pick myself up and try, try again!But today, I am inciting a revolution between the version of myself that I’ve let myself get comfortable with and the woman I know I can be. I’m starting by setting fire to excuses and self doubt and I’m marching forward with self confidence.

How do you treat yourself well? Do you treat your body well? Your soul? Your mind? You are worth the revolution.

The Revolution Starts Today


**I am hosting a Twitter party this Sunday night September 30th for #Previlean at 9 pm EST/ 6 PST. I hope you can make it. Just follow @TruthfulMommy @PreviMedica and @JessicaGottlieb to join in the conversation. Please leave your Twitter handle in the comments so that we can follow you back!  I’d love to find out what you do to treat yourself right? How will you start your revolution?


****Part of this post was originally posted here.


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To show how easy it is for everyday people to take amazing pictures, Olympus gave over 1,000 people a new Olympus PEN® E-PM1.. It’s all part of The PEN Ready Project—more than 1,000 cameras, over 1,000 people, 6 cities.  To see what they shot, go to

I am a self proclaimed mamarazzi to the ten thousandth degree. Currently, I have over 100,000 digital photos on my computer of our life since we had the girls. My girls are 4 and 6,so it’s been a BUSY few years. Ever since they were born the world just seems more beautiful and photo worthy to me. I want to capture every single moment, every smile, every tear, every giggle and every first so that I can look back at them and be back in that moment again. That’s what photos are to me. They are so much more than images on paper ( or my monitor screen as it may be) they tell our stories.

When I heard about the Pen Ready project by Olympus I thought it was awesome. Just imagine, a stranger handing you a free awesome camera and telling you to photograph whatever you want to. There’s something liberating about being able to have a quality camera to play with and capture those important moments in life. If you stop by the Olympus Pen Ready Project page you will see what extraordinary photos ordinary people can take with a great camera. What would you photograph if someone gave you The Olympus Pen?


Disclosure: This post is sponsored by Olympus

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stay at home moms, Working moms, work from home , stay at home, moms, full time mom

Over the years, I’ve been asked multiple times if I am a working Mom or a Stay-at-home mom? First off, whether we work out of the home or in the home; part-time, full-time or job share, even if we are stay-at-home Moms, don’t we all work? Aren’t we all working moms? ( Sidebar: The term working mom sounds like we’re hookers with kids. I hate that term.) Don’t we all spend every single day of our lives, selflessly working our asses off for other people?

Working Moms, Say what?

I’ve never met a Mom who doesn’t work. Even if we don’t have a job that pays us, we work our respective tails off. And if we do have a job outside our family duties, we just work our tails off in a different way. But let’s make no bones about it. If you have kids, you are always working. What else would you call cooking, cleaning, wiping asses, wiping noses, telling stories, fighting boogie men, wash laundry, washing dishes, washing babies,laughing at ridiculous knock-knock jokes, making bottles, changing diapers, reading books, instilling morals, teaching respect, self-confidence, bestowing unconditional love when you have nothing left to give, calming fears, cleaning up vomit in the middle of the night, kissing boo-boos, being a cheerleader, a coach, a chauffeur, a dream come truer, a butcher, a baker, a candlestick maker..and that was just Tuesday!

READ ALSO: The One Thing All Moms Have in Common

There’s this big misconception that Stay-at-Home moms lie around on the couch eating bonbons all day, watching stories while organic meals magically appear on the table as children frolic in silence …without beating up their sibling. Yeah, because that EVER happens. I’ve been a stay-at-home Mom for a good part of the past 6 years and not once in that time have I ever had a free moment to sit around and watch stories or eat bonbons. In my dreams, maybe.

Want to know the real difference between stay-at-home moms and work outside of the home moms? I don’t get paid for the asses I wipe and kiss, you do. I never get a break or a lunch in peace, you do. We both work our butts off but you get a commute time to decompress, I don’t. My point is we all work ourselves to the point of exhaustion to do the best we can for our family and we all need a damn vacation. I’d like to sit on an island somewhere, in silence with nothing but the waves crashing the shore, the sun on my face, a fruity drink in my hand and maybe even some of those mythical bonbons I keep hearing so much about.

READ ALSO: Working Mom Guilt

Entire debates are had over this topic. Tears are shed. Women are torn as to whether they should work out of the home or stay-at-home? Hours on end are spent making the decision that will have the greatest effect on the child, the least impact on the budget and the least likelihood of ending in therapy. Much guilt is incurred and it holds us hostage. It is no easy decision but in the end, the joke is on us. Fight one another as we may, each and every one of us who has ever birthed and loved a child are working Moms.

What’s the Difference Between Working Moms and Stay at Home Moms?


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This morning, I was all excited walking around the grocery store.You know, it was favorite day of the week.I was in desperate need of replenishing the fridge, since we had been gone all of last week. I was walking around, patting myself on the back because I was buying all organic and free range this and that. I spent a small fortune in the grocery but no worries. I was trying to find redemption with the food gods from all the hydrogenated, greasy, fat that I had put in my girls bodies over Spring break. That is nothing to speak of the damn burrito as big as my head that I consumed. (Shhh, it was totally worth the 1.5 pounds I gained.) That thing was sinfully delicious.But I digress…..yumm….burrito.

So,I’m walking around the grocery all head up my ass in a great effing mood for a Monday and then it happened.As Gabs and I were perusing the cereal aisle, contemplating which cereal would be the best tasting and the healthiest ( because today that was way up the list)and a mommy with a newborn happened toward us.She looked haggard and exhausted.Oh how I remember that feeling.Of course, I extended the Mommy olive branch and gave her the sympathetic “I feel your pain” smile and said, “Hi,I’m sorry are we in your way?” Which we clearly were not but I was trying to segue into “How old is your baby?’ “OMG, she/he is so freaking adorable”

What did she say? NOTHING.She completely ignored me and to add insult to injury pushed past me with the “You are such an asshole” look. WTF? I was flabbergasted and then I set straight to finding the “it’s not you, it’s me” scenario. Because clearly, it was HER!This is what I came up with:

  • Perhaps, she was deaf and did not hear me speak to her.
  • Perhaps, she doesn’t speak or understand English.
  • Maybe, she was so exhausted that she was incoherent, on Mommy autopilot.
  • Maybe she had a raging case of explosive diarrhea that was about to erupt.
  • Perhaps, she was heavily sedated.
  • Maybe she was rushing to get outside because her 3 year old was locked in the closet at home?
  • Maybe her dog was projectile vomiting in the car?
  • Maybe she was part of some weird scavenger hunt in which she was supposed to collect peoples happiness and dash hopes.
  • Maybe the baby was stolen.
  • Or maybe,she was just a mean Mother Focker.

Either way, you never know what’s going through someone’s head or in their lives so I can only worry about me. I was annoyed for a minute ( maybe a couple more) but I went home and had a fabulous free range, grass fed, organic lunch with my girls and replenished my joy knowing that as she rushed passed me she carried with her a trail of toilet paper.I told you maybe she had explosive diarrhea. I would have told her but ,you know, she was so busy being deaf and making ugly faces at me that she probably wouldn’t have heard me anyway.


In case you missed it…I was featured on SheKnows Top 10 Blogs that will make you think. I am so thrilled and honored to be on this list among so many great bloggers and it was written by one of the bloggers who I respect the most, Naomi AKA Cool Whip Mom.

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There is nothing quite as sobering as walking around a “fashion” mall after having children. Instantly, I am aware that since having my children, my body has shifted and contorted in ways that no longer allow “fashion” to fit me the way it used to ~ the way it’s supposed to…the way in which it would actually look “fashionable”. No, instead I end up looking like a sausage in an ill fitted silk bloomers. Let’s just call it what it really is #Fashionfail.

Next, I realize that since having my girls, I don’t actually have any extra money lying around to afford high “fashion”. Hell, I can’t even afford a low fashion makeover. Well, that is NOT entirely true. I can afford it. Or I could, if all my assets were fluid and not tied up in, oh I don’t know, private school tuition, ballet, soccer, headbands, tutus, kids concerts, enough toys to fill  my very own Toys R Us, organic food, $8 gallons of milk, doctors, dentists, clothing and shoes for said children.It’s like a gave birth to two of the most adorable little money pits on the face of the earth. I give willingly but at times, like my visit to the “fashion” mall, I am slapped across the face with my sacrifices.

Finally, I try to just give in and let myself visit a place I’ve not been in many know what I’m talking about. That place in your mind where you gingerly ( as if I’ve been able to gingerly do anything since having kids) linger over beautiful clothes, outfitting yourself in your head. Perusing books and art. Fingering the purses and admiring the shine of some audaciously over priced piece of silver jewelry. You know, something  oh so Bo-Ho chic.Trying on multiple pairs of lovely shoes in every possible style, color and heel height available. You remember, pull back ..way back, into the recesses of your mind…shopping. Ahhhh, exhale.Isn’t it absolutely fabulous? I used to be that woman who would shop all day long, until I found the perfect ensemble. The perfect piece of jewelry. The perfect heel. I thrived there, between the racks and amongst the other shoppers.So, when I walked into Anthropologie ( already devastated at my state of affairs) you can imagine the deflated feeling that overcame me when the moment I eyeballed something of splendor…my 3 year old began to whine. The Big Guy heavily sighed in aggravation and my 5 year old said, “I want to go someplace else!” Apparently, I am not even allowed the simple courtesy of being able to window shop in peace. They have taken one of my most sacred past times and turned it to shit….in a matter of minutes.

I left thinking, forget the fashion mall, who needs a $300 shirt anyways? Nobody NEEDS it but damn it, what I wouldn’t give to have the option to decide of my own volition if I even wanted to buy the damn thing.On most days, I LOVE my girls so much that I can’t stand it. But after the trip to the “fashion” mall, I can’t decide if I’m excited for them to be teenagers and enjoy “shopping” with me (of course, then I still won’t be able to shop because again I will be buying everything for them) or perhaps, I am excited for them to be excited to shop so that I can return the favor and NOT let them enjoy their shopping experience. Turn about has to be fair play in motherhood, right? I mean, my mom wished  on me a child exactly like me and I got two. The least I can do is dole out some karma, right? Isn’t that my Mommy duty?


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Mother and daughters, I never could have imagined the extent of the importance this relationship would someday hold in my life. The very words mother-daughter relationship conjure so many deep emotional reactions that it can be overwhelming at times. My daughters, from the moment that I saw their little hearts beating as a blip on the ultrasound, felt those very first faint flutter kicks in utero and pushed them out into the world, I knew. I held them in my arms and saw all the good that the world has to offer in their eyes. From these small moments, they were more important to me than the sum total of anything and everything else I have ever done in this world or will probably ever do. My girls are everything that has meaning in my world.

I know this sounds very 1950’s housewife of me.I am perfectly aware of the irony of it all.Just as my husband was everything I never knew I always wanted in a man, motherhood has proven to be everything I never knew I always wanted. It has grabbed hold of me and filled me in ways that I never even knew I was empty.

Sometimes, in those quiet moments when the girls have gone to bed and the house is still, that moment of the day when I can finally exhale, I catch myself elated in the fact that no matter how hard this mothering may be, at the end of the day there is no place else that I’d rather be.It is a lot of hard work and I’m learning to be a better person for these little people.They make me want to be the best me that I can be. Even when I’m at my worst, I am better because of them.

I’m sure you can understand why it pains me to realize that I have never had this relationship with my own mother, at least not from my perspective. Don’t get me wrong, I love my mother and I respect her, as does she love and respect me. How do I explain this? She and I are completely opposite in every way that two people can be opposite. The only thing that we share is blood and our love for one another.

It makes me wonder, if she and I started out at this point where my daughters and I are now? If so, what happened? This frightens me and saddens me in ways that I can’t even bring myself to verbalize. What if some day my daughters feel like we have nothing in common?

What if they look at me and don’t see any part of themselves? What if they love me but don’t know me? I can’t bear the thought. Mothers and daughters should share more than just DNA, there needs to be a bond of unconditional love and unwavering understanding. I am working to try and bridge the gap that lies between us but it is a slow process. I want to look at my mother and know that I am part of what fills her world with pulchritude.I want to know for certain that once upon a time, I was her everything and she was mine.

Is your relationship with your mother anything like your relationship with your daughter? How are they different?How are they similar?

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