Category:

Mommy Truisms

mommy sex and the man cold, man cold, feminine hygiene, U.T.I, motherhood, dad cold

Oh you read that title right? And I’m the barely living proof. In case you’ve been wondering where the hell I’ve been all week, I got taken out of the game by a U.T.I. Yep, I said it. No alibi just a damn U.T.I. I’m feeling like I’m upside down in the middle of nowhere. As if having stress incontinence and mommy brain were not embarrassing enough.

This past weekend I was feeling out of sorts, okay, bat shit crazy is more appropriate. What started out as a low blood sugar spell, as my mamma would call it, turned into something else. I ate something but nothing seemed to work. I just couldn’t shake that lightheaded feeling.

I took a shower, laid down and prayed that it would pass. It didn’t. Of course, I’m going through WebMd assuming the worst. It had to be a tumor or maybe brain cancer. Maybe I’m about to go into a diabetic coma (no I’m not diabetic) or maybe my blood pressure was going to make me have a stroke. Fuck, I don’t want to have a stroke. Or maybe the stress of my children is finally going to give me Bells Palsy. It’s not funny. I think about this sort of shit and then I freak out because my smile is already crooked and I just don’t think I can pull off the droopy face look. Some people can, just like some people look good bald. I am barely passing as human on a good day.

The next thing I knew, all the blood is rushing from my head and the only thing I can hear was the sound of my own blood coursing through my veins. The room was getting foggy and I was freaking out because I knew it was going to happen next. I was going to pass out.

I screamed for the Big Guy and when he came upstairs, he saw that I was as white as a ghost and, through my head spinning fog, I told him that we needed to go to the hospital, the vets or whatever the closest place was where a person trained in medicine, of any kind, could make me feel “normal”. Not your typical Sunday night. Well, maybe it is for us. Over the course of this past year, it seems like everything that ever happens bad to us happens on Sunday. Remember the ER visit on Easter Sunday thanks to the gall bladder from hell. It’s our only free day of the week. I think just the fact that my body gets to rest, it goes into shock and likes to cause some good old fashioned drama.

I went to the doctor expecting to be told that I had high blood pressure or high sugar, high something. I’m a middle-aged mom who never makes time for herself. What the hell else would I expect? Of course my body is going to mutiny at some point. But that wasn’t the case.

Turned out that I had a blockage in my ear, that needed to be removed. That was disgusting. If you’ve ever had one, then you know I’m talking about and if you haven’t count yourself lucky. While I was being poked and prodded at every end, they also found out that I have a UTI. A fucking U.T.I at my age!

I’ve never had a U.T.I before.

Somehow I made all through college and all that sex and never had a U.T.I but here I am a week before my 44th birthday, monogamous for nearly 2 decades, with my first U.T.I like some coed gone wild. That’ll teach me to have sex three times in one week.

Apparently due to the infection, I was experiencing some lightheadedness. I didn’t even know that was possible. Who knew that your urethra wielded such dizzying power over your mental well-being? Just in case the finicky urethra was not the culprit, my Eustachian tube had to be excavated and all wax removed, by force if necessary.

It all sounded terrible, what I could hear of it. Apparently, between the swooshing of my blood in my head and my blocked ear, I wasn’t hearing as well as I should’ve been. The thing is when your urethra is hijacking your health, your ear is being power washed from the inside out and, just to keep things interesting, your vagina and all of her reproductive friends are trying to kill you by slow and heavy internal bleeding, you just don’t give a fuck whether or not they beat on your ear drum with a miniature fire hose. You just make a bunch of ugly faces, while your kids watch because it’s Sunday and you have no babysitter, and you deal with it. That’s being a grown up and it sucks.

All ready long story short, sometimes weird shit happens on Sunday afternoon and you just have to put on your big girl panties (and a bra if you’re going into public) and hit up the local hospital where they know your name and pay a ridiculous amount of money because being able to function without falling over or passing out, is pretty important when you’re a mom. I mean how am I supposed to drive everyone everywhere if I’m randomly passing out all over the place? How is my husband supposed to be gone at a conference all week if I’m running a fever and passing out?

Oh, don’t mind me, I’ll just take 10 days’ worth of these horse pill antibiotics (maybe he did take me to the vets after all) and 10 days straight of antihistamine and wait for the impending yeast infection that will surely follow while you all just go on about your lives. By all means family, don’t let my illness encroach on your plans…. mother fuckers. (I feel like I should add a Mother Fucker there for some reason).

Anyways, I’m not passing out but I’m now feeling crazy from the steady Benadryl drip I’m on. But it’s all good. Nobody be alarmed. I took the kids to all their extracurricular activities this week. The Big Guy didn’t miss any of his conference social events and I even managed to attend a Middle school football game (because my daughter cheered) and a mandatory school board meeting. I’m not bragging or anything but did I mention that I cooked dinner every damn day this week? Don’t be jealous, ladies! Not bad for a half dead woman who can’t hear and has issues with her lady bits. Of course, my house looks like a pig sty had a baby with a tornado.

This Sunday is my birthday. The girls are going to grandma’s house tonight and all I want to do is sleep for the next 48-hours. But that probably won’t happen because…well, I’m a mom and a wife and when the people I love need me, I can’t say no. We have tickets to a Purdue game and my parents are coming to visit and…I just need a nap. Can I just be the flake this weekend? Why couldn’t I have simply contracted a man cold? With a man cold, all expectations would have disappeared but not with a U.T.I. I caught the wrong thing from my husband.

Have you ever suffered from a U.T.I ?

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parenting, how to survive parenting, mom mantra, exhausted mom

Ever find yourself Googling how to survive parenting? My girls are past the toddler years and we even lived through the threenager years…twice! We’ve survived the first days of school and those first years of the insecurity of the early years of elementary school and learning to coexist with others. We are falling fast, headlong into prepubescence and the tween years, which as far as I can decipher is basically a much taller, more vocal threenager who has perfected the eye roll so well that she just may injure herself doing so. It nearly gave me whip lash just being on the receiving end of one earlier this weekend. Yet, at the same time, they are my most favorite people.

It seems like forever ago that we were worrying ourselves silly about every single choice we made when they were newborns and even longer since bringing them home that first day and sleeping with the lights on so that we could watch every breath she took to make sure that she was still alive. I remember the overwhelming fear that I was going to somehow break this precious piece of perfection the minute those insane doctors allowed me to leave the hospital with this brand spanking new perfect newborn.

The point is that parenting is overwhelming at every age. It never gets easier it only gets different. That’s why we mothers have this mantra, and you might not even realize that it is yours, “Can’t stop, Won’t Stop.” I wish there was some sort of mom bat signal that we could shine out to other mothers in the dead of night like a bat mom rescue signal, or there was some sort of letter we could pin on our chest to signal to other mothers that we are exhausted and overwhelmed and in desperate need of a moment of silence, a nap, a hug or just an ear to listen. Instead, we’re all like the little mom that could…just chugging along, praying, “I think I can, I think I can” hoping to survive until our partner gets home from work. We mark our days by putting out metaphorical fires and surviving one catastrophe to the next. It’s not really living so much as its survival.

I’ve been a mom for 11 years now and I can tell you, if it gets easier, it’s not in those first 11 years but I’ve picked up some pointers along the way. Being a parent is hard work, especially when you consider what’s at stake; your sanity, your children’s lives and your quality of life. Oh and your partner, can’t forget about him or her because even if you’re in this shit show together, you’re not really. One of you is doing more work. But who’s keeping score?

How to survive parenting?

When the girls were littler, back in the days when I had a 2 and 4-year-old (and honestly, for a few years after that) every 3 months I’d have a meltdown. I needed the release. Those were my limitations; 3 solids months of non-stop doing my best parenting and then I needed a good cry (a sobbing your face off ugly cry.) In retrospect, I’m not sure if I was crying from feeling like a failure to my children, sucking at making time for my husband, the catastrophic state of what was my home or mourning for my life, the one I knew I would never have again.

I know it had a lot to do with being left on my own to figure it out while my husband worked out of state. I never felt so lonely and overwhelmed as I did in those days even though I was never technically alone (little people had attached themselves to me like barnacles and for 97% if the time I loved it but for the other 3% I felt like I was that guy in the Scream painting by Edvard Munch.) I wasn’t even allowed time alone to hear myself think. Not sure if it was from missing someone to help with the parenting, having someone to talk to about it or the feeling like when he came home on the weekends the Big Guy was secretly thinking to himself, what the hell has she been doing all week…this house looks like a tornado hit it. All I know is that I spent a lot of the early years of parenting feeling buried inside myself; unseen, unheard and invisible (well, unless you consider being a human feed machine, booger and ass wiper and always eating cold food while tiny people asked me a zillion questions being visible…ironically, those were the moments when I really wished I could be invisible.)

The thing is I loved every single moment of it and I hated it too. I loved (still do) my children more than anything else but I put myself on the back burner. I lost myself to a mom uniform (mine was yoga pants and t-shirts, for some it’s a pair of jeans and a sweater or a comfy maxi-dress) and a soft body (because who the hell has the time or the energy to work out when they have little kids). I became unrecognizable on the outside, even to myself. I was in survival mode or maybe it was beast mode, “Can’t stop. Won’t stop!” Because when little people’s lives are depending on you, there is no option even when you want to collapse and say you quit (and we’ve all wanted to. You beautiful exhausted mom reading this, you’re not alone and I see you.) It’s okay. We’ve all wanted to tell the boss to take this job and shove it at one point or another.

The thing is, like I said, it doesn’t get any easier but it gets better. My theory is that babies are born so freakishly cute to us so that when they keep us up all night and take us to the brink of insanity we can be soothed by a coo or a smile. As they get a little older, they get even cuter and that is because those are the real butthole years. Oh if those adorable little smiles didn’t melt our hearts, parents would probably be abandoning threenagers on the carousel at the mall at an alarming rate. Then, they settle in at absolutely freaking adorable from the ages of 4- about 10ish; everything they do is sunshine and out mommy/ daddy hearts almost explode. Then one day, we wake up and they are tweens and they are kind of smelly and starting to perfect that whip lash inducing eye roll that I was warning you about. I hear that over the next few years they become heinous back talkers who know everything and go through a rough patch physically, I think this is nature’ way of making sure our parent hearts survive their departure to college. Otherwise we’d all die or follow them. At this juncture, I can’t guarantee I won’t do both.

The secret to surviving these early years is acceptance. Accept that it really does go by at lightning speed and accept that you love them more than you really want to admit so much so that you worry at night that it might kill you dead if they ever leave you or God forbid, something terrible happens to them. The bottom line is that parenthood is minutia peppered with misery and profound moments of bliss and it’s the most amazing, wonderful thing that any of us will ever be a part of but it also kind of sucks and that’s okay too.

Let it go. Perfection is not attainable in parenting. In fact, it’s a moving target. Do your best, love your children, love yourself and love your partner. Don’t worry so much about the house and laundry, they will still be there tomorrow (unfortunately, I know this first hand). Don’t be afraid to share your struggles with other moms, think of it as your own personal bat mom signal. Talking about it really does help. Why do you think I started this blog in the first place? Believe me, your kids are not the only ones bickering constantly, talking back, not sleeping and living on chicken nuggets and good looks. You are not alone!

Make time to hear yourself think because your thoughts are important. Steal moments to catch your breath and every once in a while, lock the door when you go pee, drive alone with the music you like to hear cranked up 10 decibels too loud for your toddler’s ears and just try to remember that you are still a person and you are not alone. We (the other moms) see you. I promise you, one-day sooner than you think, you will be alone with your thoughts again and you’ll be able to take the time to shower, shave and dress like an adult.  You’ll even get to eat warm food and talk to adults again and you will most definitely miss these exhausted, overwhelming moments of now. Did I mention that I cried like a baby the first day that both girls were in school all day long?

Of course, that’s about the same time your “babies” will start throwing you major shade and rolling their eyes at you like it was their job but it’s also about the time you can have real, meaningful conversations with them because they are becoming adults. There’s that damn misery profound bliss thing again.

I see you. What’s the one moment in parenting that you really wished you could send out a bat mom signal and have someone come to your rescue? Let’s have a conversation, share it in the comments.

What’s your one tip you’d give another mom for how to survive parenting?

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Momojis, emojis, Luvs, parenting, parenting in the 21st century, diapers

Disclaimer: This is part of a sponsored collaboration with DiMe Media and Luvs but all opinions about Momojis are 100% mine.

We all know that a picture is worth a thousand words and, as parents, we know that we never have enough free time on our hands and little ears hear everything we say, especially those things that we don’t want them to hear and repeat.

Sometimes, as a mom, you need to vent to your partner or a friend about the craziness that is motherhood but words are not an option. A diaper blowout (code brown as we affectionately refer to it in our home) or a toddler’s public meltdown (as we’ve referred to in a Seinfeldian way, “these pretzels are making me thirsty.” Translation: These babies are making me crazy) are not exactly things you want to say out loud in public. There has to be a way to maintain a smidgen of dignity in parenthood, right?

Enter Momojis, emojis just for Parents.

Momojis, emojis, Luvs, parenting, parenting in the 21st century, diapers

Luckily, when it comes to parenting, LUVS gets it. They’ve created the first ever custom emoji keyboard created specifically for moms and dads, the Luvs Momoji Keyboard. Inspired by experienced parents and their affinity for emoji use, Momojis give parents more ways to easily express all the emotions that come with real-life parenting with no danger of little ears overhearing. It’s like parental shorthand for the parent on the go.

We parents keep our mobile devices within arm’s reach and text with people more than we actually talk to them. Who has time to talk when you’re raising toddlers? I never knew that was even an option. But my iPhone has practically become an appendage over the years. I use it to Google symptoms, call the pediatrician, play music to entertain the kids in random dance parties and find recipes to smuggle broccoli disguised as brownies into my girls’ lunch boxes so texting emojis is just easier.

Sometimes the tales of parenthood are so outlandish, it leaves the person on the other end thinking maybe you’ve been hitting the mommy juice a little early in the day but, truly, parenthood is the stuff urban legends are made up of. I mean if you would have told me 15 years ago one day I’d be texting the Big Guy to tell him our 18-month-old made an entire box of feminine hygiene products disappear into thin air or that my 3-year-old almost drove me insane by asking me the same question over and over for 3 hours straight after keeping me up the entire night before, I wouldn’t have believed it either.

Momojis, emojis, Luvs, parenting, parenting in the 21st century, diapers

The Luvs Momoji Keyboard app is also the first to offer access to the latest in emoji technology – the Promoji – which helps busy moms hunt for diaper deals on the go. Hey, who can’t use a deal on diapers?

I learned the hard way that Luvs nighttime were the only diapers we could use on our girls at bedtime that kept them dry. With new larger stretch tabs for easy fastening, and the same ultra-leakage protection and money-back guarantee, Luvs with NightLock™ provides the high-quality features babies and parents need for less cost then the premium brands.

Through the first-ever use of Promojis (promotional emojis), busy moms will be able to hunt for diaper deals and coupons from Luvs on the go. Promojis are the latest in emoji technology and allow users to quickly and easily find great deals and promotions. Luvs is the first brand to share coupons, deals and special offers with consumers in a whole new way.

For more information and to download the Luvs Momoji Keyboard, please visit the app store. For more information on Luvs Diapers, visit www.luvsdiapers.com or the brand’s social media channels on Facebook (https://www.facebook.com/luvsdiapers),

Twitter (https://www.twitter. com/luvs) and

YouTube (https://www.youtube.com/luvsdiapers).

In celebration of Luvs new Momojis, I will be giving away Luvs diapers and $100 Amex Gift Card to one lucky reader.

The giveaway is open to readers over the age of 18 that live in the contiguous U.S. No Puerto Rico. The giveaway will end December 24, 2015 t 11:59 p.m. EST.

Mandatory entry into the giveaway:

Leave a comment on this post telling me the craziest thing you’ve ever had to text your partner about your child and wished you’d had momojis.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

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daylight savings time, kids and daylight savings time, surviving daylight savings time, DST, parenting and daylight savings time

*Disclosure: I received product and compensation for this post from Colgate Total Repair but all opinions are my own.

Life Hacks to help you feel and look beautiful even when you’re exhausted. One thing that I’ve learned from being a mom for 10 years is that, we cannot have it all. We can have a lot but not everything. What we need to learn to do is figure out what makes us happy and have that. For me, happiness is time spent with my daughters, not missing the moments, time with my husband just lingering and laughing through life’s minutia and working in a career that I love. I don’t ask for much.

Like you, the pursuit of my happiness keeps me crazy busy. I don’t have a lot of “me” time these days. It’s okay, I’ve figured out ways to still pamper and take care of myself even when time and deadlines have me in a crunch. I don’t believe that just because I’m busy means that I have to let myself go.

I’ll be the first to admit that there was a time when the girls were younger that I was living in yoga pant purgatory. It taught me a very valuable lesson, letting myself go never did me any favors. It made me feel less self confident and more vulnerable. I realized that when I go out in the world, I want to always put my best foot forward. You truly only do have one chance to make a first impression and once it’s made it’s a lot of work changing it.

I’m an educated, intelligent woman who believes that she can do anything but when I go out into the world with my yoga pants and ponytail, exhausted and defeated, that is all the general population sees. They don’t know or care that I was up all night with a pukey kid or that I haven’t truly slept through the night in 10 years. They just know that I look like I don’t care about myself and that makes them not care about me. It makes them underestimate me and, as harsh as it is, first impressions mean everything.

No time? That’s no excuse. You have to decide to make time for yourself, even if it’s just a few minutes a day. I know, easier said than done but done it must be. Ever wonder how some women have flawless skin, hair and faces and you and I look like we’ve been under slept, overfed, spent too much time in the sun or not enough and our pores are big enough to house small villages of children?

Here are a few tips on how to repair your self-confidence and make that best first impression:

Achy Back: As we get older, especially if our core is not what it once was, sometimes the back likes to go on the fritz when you do things like tying your shoes. Nothing will usurp your youth like being hunched over in pain. You can certainly go to the doctor and get prescribed all the muscle relaxers and painkillers or you can start working on strengthening your core in a preemptive strike. Also, stretching out before you get out of bed can save your back from fully seizing up. I am not a doctor, just a fellow sufferer of the affliction.

Dull Smile: They say the eyes are the windows to the soul. If that’s true, I feel like your smile is the front door to the kingdom. It is the first thing everyone who ever meets you will ever see. My daily routine to take care of my teeth are using Colgate Total Daily Repair twice daily, floss my teeth, and brush them with Colgate 360 degrees Total Advanced Toothbrush with Floss-Tip Bristles. My mouth has never felt fresher, whiter or cleaner. My teeth look great and this makes me feel like I can greet the world with my best self. Hello world, hear me roar.

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Damaged hair: The key to this is being preventative. Get regular trims to get rid of the damaged hair. Keep heat off your hair. If you must use heat, be sure to use a protectant. Keep chemicals away from your hair, especially chlorine and be sure to take care of your body.

Fine lines: Drink lots of water, wear sunscreen, moisturize religiously and wear big sunglasses. Of course, the earlier you start the more effectively this works.

Cracked Heel skin: I found a trick that has worked for me. In fact, it’s the only thing that works for me. There is nothing over the counter that I’ve ever found to work as well on dry, cracked heels. It’s simple, first, take a warm shower. Then slather your feet with petroleum jelly, then cover with white cotton socks and wear overnight. You will be amazed at the difference it makes. My doctor told me this trick and now, I swear by it.

Dark circles: My favorite cure for dark circles under your eyes, aside from more sleep which is probably impossible (sorry, I was momentarily possessed by Captain Obvious) I love cold cucumber slices or cooled tea bags. They work.

What’s your top tip for looking and feeling better about yourself?

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How to embrace getting older, sisters, best friends, motherhood, growing up, I used to be beautiful, getting older

I use to be beautiful but no one told me how to embrace getting older. When I was younger, I always thought I could be taller, thinner, lips fuller, breasts bigger, skin darker, nose straighter, fingers longer. Believe me, I had a laundry list of things that I wanted to change about myself. I think most of us probably do, at that age. But photos tell a different story. In retrospect, I can see that I was beautiful. My skin was flawless and the perfect shade of golden brown or alabaster, depending on the time of year. I had great legs, hair and boobs. I can see now that I was pretty. I couldn’t see it then.

Now, I am middle-aged and though not “ugly”, I look tired and grey. I look worn and everything is the victim of gravity from eyelids to breasts and my ass. Every part of me is exhausted from years of sporadic sleep, worry and stress. When I gave birth, I knew there would be sacrifices but I had no idea how much it would change me, inside and out. I had no idea that it would rob me of my vitality.

READ ALSO: I will not become the Invisible Woman

I am no longer first in my life. I probably never will be again. Even when I try to make myself a priority, my heart knows that my children always come first. I don’t mind so much. I feel like I have given my life over to a higher purpose. I sacrificed myself for them. It sounds damn pitiful when I write it out but it’s not.

The only time it bothers me is when I show an old photo of myself to my girls and they stare blankly at it for a few minutes trying desperately to place the face. It’s mine but not one they recognize because it has bright white teeth, big happy eyes, make-up on, hair not in a ponytail and a body that I should have been thanking God back then instead of complaining and killing myself via starvation of my body and soul.

I used to be beautiful.

The girl in the photo is young, beautiful with perky breasts and svelte legs. She was well rested and ridiculously optimistic. She had her entire life ahead of her. There was nothing but hope ahead. She still lives inside of the woman you see today.

The thing is this, I don’t want to be who I was at 25 because then I wouldn’t be who I am today but I also don’t want my children to look at photos of me when I was 25 and find me unrecognizable. That hurts because to me, I am still that girl. I know I am exhausted, and not as hip or free-spirited as I once was. I am no longer the life of the party or the girl who lived so big and hard that the only thing constraining her was the atmosphere. No, she is long gone but in her place, someone deeper, wiser and better has emerged even if I do have more luggage under my eyes than I do in my attic.

READ ALSO: I’m so Tired

I was not born a mother; run down and tired from caring for others constantly. I was not born old. I used to travel, dance and go out to fancy dinners. I used to enjoy being the center of attention. I used to be selfish in ways that you cannot imagine. I am much happier now.

beautiful, sisters, best friends, motherhood, growing up, How to embrace getting older, sisters, best friends, motherhood, growing up, I used to be beautiful, getting older

I used to be beautiful.

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motherhood, mommy wars, Stephanie Metz, bad parenting

You know how sometimes you read something and it just rubs you the wrong way? Well, this post by Stephanie Metz rubbed me the wrong way. Her sanctimommy antics have caught my attention and not in a good way. Apparently, these days, to be a good parent we are not supposed to give a shit about our kids and sit back and just let life happen to them. Do them a favor and let them learn about life the hard way because that’s the way God intended it to be.

Don’t let those entitled little snots think they are the center of your world. Life is hard and if you want to raise good citizens of the world, you have to make the hard choice and go against your maternal instinct and ignore your children’s needs, put your own needs first and to hell with what any tree hugging, baby-wearing asshole says about you. You have to do your children the favor of showing them just how hard life can be. Hey kid, you are born alone, you will die alone and I am not your mama..oh wait, I am. Anyways, don’t count on me either. I have things to do. Well, at least that is what all the anti-attachment parenting, baby bjorn burning, ferberizing people of the world might have you think.

I say if you had them, take care of them. I am not saying to put them in a damn bubble but you can’t just toss them off to the wolves as toddlers because it’s too “inconvenient” for you to have to exert yourself to raise them; to parent them; to protect them. If you didn’t want to be a parent then maybe you should have passed on the whole “having a kid” thing in the first place.

I’m not advocating that children should have their mommies and daddies do all of the heavy lifting but we have to at least teach them to stick up for themselves not just abandon them in the line of fire and hope they figure out how to bob and weave. Look, I have learned, the hard way, that kids outgrow the protective bubble so we have to teach them to live outside of our bubble of protection. We absolutely have got to give them a little space to figure out who they are and how to exist in the world when we are not there. If not we are doing them just as much of a disservice as those crazy moms who throw their kids to the metaphorical wolves. The point is we have to be present to teach them. There’s got to be a happy medium somewhere between attached at the hip, wearing a helmet and free-range, do whatever the hell you want because I can’t be bothered.

The rules of parenthood keep changing so quickly that my head is spinning. First, if you weren’t crunchy all the time, you were a shit parent. So we all ran out and bought all the organic food in pouches and cloth diapers we could find. Then it shifted and we were supposed to give our kids the freedom to be who they are. Who the fuck are they? Isn’t that part of the joint journey of parenthood and childhood to help them find out? Now, all the free-rangers turned on the helicopters and a parenting civil war ensued. So many casualties, what’s a new mom to do?

Who is she supposed to believe? Poor thing she’s standing there in a corner huddled with her newborn swaddled tightly, crying because today changing a diaper is like deciding which wire to cut; is it the blue or the red? If you’re wrong. BOOM! The whole damn thing will blow up and you’ve ruined this perfect person’s life forever. Don’t you know which diaper a kid poops in could be life altering? Bad.Parent! And now, the tide has shifted again and there has been an onslaught of mom’s shouting their battle cry at the children of the world, “YOU.Are.NOT.the.Center.of.my Universe!!!” just to prove to other mothers, and maybe to themselves, that they are more than just someone’s mommy. Look, I understand. We all begin to feel like were drowning in motherhood from time to time but I don’t think the answer is to throw our kids in the deep end and tell them to sink or swim.

My kids ARE the center of my universe and while, I am not going to fight every battle for my children I don’t think I have the stomach for watching them learn things the hard way. That’s my job, to be there to protect them and teach them how to live in the world and if all else fails, I want them to know mommy has their back.

We are better parents when we prioritize ourselves because over-exhausted and overwhelmed in martyr mode, renders us pretty much useless to everyone including our children. Everything ends up half-assed.

Sure, I miss peeing alone but I signed up for the “no pissing alone for 5-10 years zone” when I decided I wanted to be a mom. I knew kids needed my time, attention and love. What I didn’t count on was my own obsession with keeping them safe and happy. Can’t we all just get along for our kids’ sakes. Parenthood is not a pissing contest. Motherhood is YOUR journey with YOUR children.

motherhood,mommy wars

 

 

My girls are the center of my universe because I love them enough to let them be.

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Honda, Odyssey, minivan

Dear Minivan Mommies,

Do NOT go gentle into that good night. Fight it. Rage against the temptation nay the spiritual castration that is the minivan. Sure they make them in secret agent squirrel charcoal and sleek Land Rover black. Ooh, they try to fool us into believing those minivans are cool. But remember your senses woman, a grocery getter, is the station wagon of the 70s, is the fast track to Loserville…population you and every other pajama jean wearing mother in the pick up line.

Sure my Mommy friends have tried to convince me that their minivan is cool. They pull up to stoplights all over suburbia and rev up their engine, taunting me beckoning me to race them. Their tricked out grocery getter van versus my sleek, sturdy, gas guzzling SUV. Any way you slice it ladies, no matter how tricked out your minivan may be…you my friend are no SUV.

I don’t care if it has a built in movie room, seating for 16, plush leather interior, a bed, a kitchen and a craft room. I don’t care if you can fit the entire football team and cheer squad in that bitch. I don’t even care if there’s a built in wine cooler and keg refrigerator for tailgating. I may have just lied to myself, a wine cooler and keg fridge could possibly cause me to take a second look. So what if you come with all the bells and whistles for less than the cost of my yearly Starbucks habit. I will not be seduced. Hell, your minivan’s baby changer/bather/breastfeeder combo and human butler do not impress me. I have standards.

You can’t look cool, singing the Wiggles and driving a small bus. You are not sexy with your pony tail blowing in the wind as your onstar directs you to the nearest Starbucks. I don’t give a flying rat’s ass what that creepy bald guy told you at the dealership. Tell him he can keep his pajama jeans, you don’t need them. You want a big SUV, with a lot of power so that you can show all the other soccer moms who’s really the boss and it ain’t Tony Danza. It’s the mom with the biggest tank and the most European vehicle.Keep in mind that SUV also comes in handy for running punk student drivers off the road, if the need should ever arise. I’m just saying.

I think Minivans should be outlawed. Every time I pull up behind one, I instinctively want to ram it in the rear.I loathe them. I look at the minivan and I see all the hopes and dreams of the women behind the wheel…crushed into dust as they soldier on, getting their groceries, taxing their children and having their spirit stolen from them. I see dead people where there used to be vibrant, independent women.

I know this is an irrational fear of a vehicle but I refuse to go gentle into that good night. I will fight it kicking and screaming. I will throw a full on two-year-old tantrum, I don’t care who stares with gaping mouth. I will rage against the minivan for as long as I can take breath into my chest and as long as I can fit my kids into my SUV. I am throwing down the gauntlet and vowing to you to never have more kids than I can fit into an SUV, no matter how you tart it up and prance it around in front of me.I will not fall for your sultry, vixen like ways. I will resist temptation. Are you pro minivan? Anti-minivan?

Are you a recent convert to the church of minivan?

**This post originally went live on October 11, 2011 but I have been looking at new vehicles and I needed the reminder to be strong because I’ve got to admit with 2 kids, that new Honda Odyssey minivan with the built-in vacuum cleaner “almost” made me a convert. I am afraid of what might happen if I actually test drove that minivan.

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shit my kids say, things kids say, kids

crazy shit my kids say, the things my kids sayThe shit my kids say no longer shocks me, though it probably should.Since becoming a mother, I have said and heard a lot of crazy stuff come out of little mouths. Things that I never thought I’d hear before, never mind say..out loud! Seriously, I do a lot of double takes in my house because I can seldom believe the shit that comes out of my kids’ mouths. It is incredible and the older they get the more preposterously outrageous the things out of their mouths and my responses become.

My girls say some of craziest things, here are a few gems I’ve heard in their lifetime.

Out shopping for a smaller size shorts for myself during shark week, never a good idea by the way, my daughters commentary had me doubling over in laughter, nearly popping the buttons off the new shorts. As I was trying on pairs 2 sizes smaller than last summers, I was leery whether or not they were going to fit. They fit but dependent on the style some were snugger than others. So as I stand there flustered by my water retention, I hear Bella say, from the corner of the dressing room, “Good luck with that!”

Me: “Good luck with what?”

Bella: “Good luck getting those suckers to button!”

It’s like she’s like my conscience walking around taunting me. I laughed so hard, there was no way I was getting those suckers buttoned.

Once during a 5 minute nap warning, the girls were being particularly thorough with their ignoring of my voice. I repeat for the 5th time,

“5 minutes til we go in for naps!”

My then 5-year-old looks directly at me and very seriously says, ” Mom, just because I am talking to Gabs and not looking at you, I CAN still hear you….I have a super power!”

Me: “Oh , yeah. What would that be? (besides the obvious power to completely ignore the sound of my voice)”

Bella: “I’m a SUPER LISTENER! I hear everything!” OK, that’s news to me because she may hear me but she certainly does not always listen.

Once at a crowded family dinner, in which we were discussing the topic of my husband and I going on a much needed date night, my then 5-year-old interjected ( in her loudest possible voice),

” Mommy, you should go out with Daddy. Have fun! Stay out as late as you want. But NOT TOO much fun or you’ll come back with another baby!”

Thanks a lot for the warning. I’m sure your Grandparents loved the information, as well.

If you think the things that come out of their mouths are crazy, you should hear the things that have been coming out of my mouth in the past few years.

“Stop chewing on the dog!”

“PLEASE Stop eating the dog food!

“Who’s hair is this is the wastebasket?”

“Stand still so I can get this poop out of your hair!”

“Stop screaming or the police will come and take you away.”

“Get back in bed and I will spray Lemur spray under your bed!” ( Lemur Spray Kills Imaginary Lemur’s Dead!)

Don’t inhale that pearl!”

“Stop putting your butt in your sister’s face!”

What’s the craziest thing you have heard yourself say since having kids? Better yet, what is the craziest thing you’ve heard come out of your kid’s mouth?

 

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grey plastic bins, garage sales, memories, hoarders, growing up, babies, memoriesThis past weekend was our neighborhood garage sale. I hate garage sales with a fervor. I am not a firm believer in one man’s trash is another man’s treasure. It’s a lot of work and quite honestly, it’s not very emotionally easy for me. I tend to be a hoarder of people, experiences and things. No, not like the show Hoarders but I do have a hard time letting go. I want to believe that everything has a purpose and I always feel like letting go of these things that I so closely relate to memories feels like letting go of different times in my life. My mind knows there is no real correlation but my heart, my heart is not so sure that those plastic bins don’t hold my memories in tact.

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birthday , birthday party ideas, harlem shake

birthday, harlem shake,birthday partyRemember the song, What a Wonderful World by Louis Armstrong? That has been my song to my Bella since before she was born. I used to sway back and forth in her nursery with my giant belly; singing softly to myself alone (not really alone, as no one ever is when they are pregnant) away from everyone we knew while the Big Guy was at work. The anticipation of meeting my first child was surreal, exciting and strange. Pregnancy for me was like an out of body experience but singing that song, as the sunshine softly kissed my baby belly through her nursery window, I was overcome with serenity and peace.

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