Category: Parenting

Parenting is nothing you expected and everything you could have imagined all rolled into one. I have been spit up on, pooped on, vomited on all before 7 a.m. in the newborn years. I’ve watched my toddler shove a pearl up her nose and poop in her mouth, and I’ve even masticated food. Not as fun as it sounds. I’ve survived breast buds and the sex talk. I share everything I ever learned and you might want to know about parenting from pregnancy to labor thru to the teens years. It’s is hard but it’s the toughest job that you’ll ever love but the salary sucks.

Best Things about Turning 40
When I was turning 40, I had been warned ad naseum about how my body was going to give me a great big “FUCK YOU” and I took it with a grain of salt because, let’s face it, I am a stubborn broad and you can’t tell me anything and for the love of Pete, please don’t tell me that I CAN’T do something because chances are that I will do it…JUST TO PROVE YOU WRONG. Seriously, it is a disease with me.
Anyways, bossy, stubborn bitch aside that I can be, I really didn’t believe there was a magical age at which your body just shuts down and it’s all down hill. Plus, I refuse to believe that my middle age is 40. Fuck that noise, I am living to 105. So middle age can kiss my ass until I am around 53.
Sometimes, life sneak attacks you, ninja style and that is kind of what has been happening. There was no giant weight gain. Come on, I’ve been gaining weight steadily since the great exodus of eating disorders in 1997 and the introduction of mood stabilizers in 2000. It was a combo for body disaster. Then I got pregnant and started raising babies and my life, in its entirety, became a steady, uncontrollable run away train. It’s just how I was function.
Little to no sleep, everyone’s needs put before my own, eating terribly, exercising seldomly and losing all sense of fashion and self. I essentially got to the place of overloaded, overwhelmed and barely functioning but I thought it was okay because, in the end, I was functioning. I made concessions here and there and lowered my standards. Life essentially beat the crap out of me and left me for dead…in fucking yoga pants, a ponytail and about 75 pounds overweight.
Sure, I tried to bring back the feisty broad that I once was…several times. Clear! I was putting the paddle to the sad little broad’s life but nothing. Sure, there’d be a revelation here and there and I’d start working out or watching what I ate, coloring my hair and actually treating myself like a human and then something would break, funds would get tight and there I went to the wayside again. It’s embarrassing to let yourself go, especially when you used to be proud of who you were; what you were; what you looked like and your tenacity. You begin to feel like you had it all and you let it slip through your fingers and then you feel guilty because look at what you have instead…your children. Sure, you look like a homeless fatty but damn it, you are a good mother. But are you? Really?
How great of a mom can I be if I look defeated at 41? What kind of example am I? Then on top of all of that, I noticed my hair falling out by the handfuls every time I showered (Stress is a cruel bitch), crows feet just waiting to delve even deeper, my skin is a desolate dessert, my hair is not only starting it’s own gray hair club the rest of my hair is taking on a texture that can only be described as witchy; it looks like the curls and the straight parts got into a fight and no one won. Plus, my eyelids and my boobs are a little lower and my skin looks decidedly less smooth. Plus, there is the overweight issue. The issue being that I yo-yo between starving, dieting and eating whatever the hell I want. ALL these are bad for me, especially since apparently, metabolism has taken an early retirement.
So I am doing research. I will not go gently into that good night of middle age. I want to look like I grew old gracefully but there is nothing graceful about the knock-down, drag out fight that mother nature and I are about to have.
Here are some tips that make turning 40 awesome:
Vaseline is a miracle cure for dry feet. I am not joking. Take a shower, wash your feet, get out, pat those feet well and slather them with Petroleum Jelly an then put on plain white cotton socks. Within 2 days I turned my pterodactyl talons into smooth baby feet. But you have to keep it up or the crypt keeper feet will come back.
Wen is a awesome. Yep, I saw all the infomercials but didn’t believe it. I wasn’t sure that I would feel clean without lather but let me tell you my crazy hair is getting prettier and prettier every day and more importantly I am only losing 5-10 hairs per shower versus the handfuls I was losing. Now, Wen won’t do shit for your grays so you’ll have to get a good stylist and colorist. Go on, do it. You are worth it. Make time and take care of those grays.
Moisturize like your face depends on it because it does. Sure, you need to keep your entire body moisturized because if not you’ll eventually get all ashy and itchy and that’s not cute but if you don’t moisturize your face, you will get wrinkles and look like the damn crypt keeper by the time you are 60. If that doesn’t scare you straight, I don’t know what will. Crow’s feet and laugh lines may be natural and some even tolerable but an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of botox.
Get up and move. I don’t care what you do as long as you are moving. I sit on my ass all day working and my ass looks like it. It’s not being 40 that made metabolism take early retirement; it’s sitting on my ass doing nothing physical. My metabolism gave up on me. The good news is that going from sitting on your ass to any movement at all is going to be an improvement.
Get your sleep. You know people say, “I can sleep when I am dead. YOLO!” Well, as a grown woman who has terrible insomnia and a predilection for mania, I can tell you that sleep is way more valuable to your happiness than your YOLO attitude. Not saying not to live outloud but you can be a lot more lively and vivacious if you get at least 7 hours of sleep, plus you will feel better and people will like to be around you. YOLO is for 21 year olds who haven’t lived life yet. They are too stupid to know what they are saying is complete bullshit. Now, go take a fucking nap.
Wiggle it just a little bit…or a lot. Have sex with your husband, as much as you like. Look, I hear that menopause brings with it some vaginal dryness so girl, you better go get your groove on before you have to buy stock in KY lubricants just to do the deed. Besides, I don’t know about you but if I go more than a week without sex, I get grouchy. Seriously, like I want to punch people in the face grouchy. Have fun. It’s not so serious. This man loves you. Sex and giggling go together perfectly, as long as you’re not doing it anywhere near his penis. That’s grounds for divorce.
All things in moderation. Eat healthy and be happy. Look, I have been slowly but surely eating myself into not just obesity but unhealthiness. I have fallen into the terrible habit of eating processed shit and sugar and not near enough fruits and veggies. That’s all changing. I feel miserable and look terrible by my own standards. So, I am stepping out of my comfort zone and I am going to try to supplement my daily food intake with some juicing. Thanks Fat, Sick and Nearly Dead for scaring the shit out of me. Anyways, I’ll keep you posted on how all this goes. Just remember, turning 40 is not turning dead. You’ve got this. You are fucking awesome. Now, go show those damn 30 year olds what a real woman looks like:) Never you mind her pregnancy glow.
Shit, is this my midlife crisis? When do I get my sports car and start flirting with 25 year olds? Who am I kidding? A 25-year-old has nothing on the Big Guy.
What’s your best advice to anyone turning 40?
2014/03/13
Bossy, My Ass, Calling Little Girls the B-Word is Fine
Of all the things I get up in arms about concerning women’s issues, being called bossy is not one of them.
In fact, I don’t find “bossy” to be derogatory.
There are so many other more important issues concerning women today than being referred to as “bossy”. I get what Sheryl Sandberg and Anna Maria Chavez are trying to say that by calling little girls “bossy” in a negative context, we are inadvertently teaching our girls that to be a leader, to be a woman who takes charge is a bad thing because men don’t like it. We are teaching our girls to give up their dreams of being leaders because it’s not the role they were meant to fill. I call bullshit.
I grew up being called “bossy” and “stubborn”, always. I don’t take it as an insult. Maybe it’s because my dad always told me that if I had something worth saying then I should say it and not to back down. My mom taught me that where there is a will, there is always a way. For me that translated into work hard, bust your ass, embrace your bossy and be the leader. At my core, I have always believed that there is nothing that I could not do. I could be, do or achieve anything…all I needed to do was commit, work hard and make it happen. Being called bossy didn’t hurt me. Being called bossy made me feel empowered, respected and even a little feared and I thought that was awesome!
A vagina is not a handicap. For me, people underestimating me because of my sex is their fatal flaw not mine. Hell, I may have had to fight a little harder to get what I wanted but believe me once I got where I wanted, I’ve always impressed people with my leadership skills probably because they started off with such low expectations since I am just a woman.
I just had a conversation with my 9-year-old and I asked her about this. She said that she doesn’t take it as an insult. She said that a boss is a leader who is in control of the situation and she said she likes being that person. She said in her group in class, she is the only girl with 4 boys and every time that they work on problems, if there are 10 math problems, she does six and lets each boy do one. She said this is because she wants them done right. She says the boys call her bossy but she told them she doesn’t care and if they want to be in charge they can be but then they get to do the 6 problems and she gets to do the one and she added….and I still want my A. So if you think you can do it, go ahead. To which the boy, quietly declined and has not called her bossy since.
I am thrilled to know that my girls are not afraid to lead. I am thrilled that they don’t get offended for being recognized as strong women but I am troubled that she is learning that to get things done right, she has to do 60% of the work while the boys each only do 10%.
I think we need to teach the world to reward our girls for being leaders and not turning a personality strength into a flaw. Don’t ban the word bossy, ban narrow mindedness.I want to raise strong minded, strong willed, strong bodied girls who have every faith in themselves that they can accomplish anything they set their mind to and most of all, I want them to NOT be afraid to lead. I want them to embrace their inner bossy.
Do you find the word bossy offensive?
2014/03/12
Introducing Isabelle Palmer American Girl of the Year 2014
The American Girl of the Year 2014 is named Isabelle Palmer. My daughter has a special kinship with this doll because she not only looks like her but they both are ballerinas. That’s right, this year’s American Girl is a ballerina and all the little ballerinas of the world rejoice, well, in my house anyways. You know how my girls love their American Girls; my girl, historical, bitty babies and all things including the kitchen sink American Girl Doll. Thank goodness I have connections.
My girls have danced since they were 2, so, you see it was a no brainer when she asked for Isabelle for her 9^th birthday. To be honest, I was pretty excited to get it for her. It was one of those “it” gifts.
Luckily, I’ve done some work with American Girl and was lucky enough to partner with them to review Isabelle and present her to my daughter on her birthday. I will never forget the look on her face when she opened the box and saw her. It was “that” look. You know, the look you get from your kid that melts your heart because you know you made their day and they will never forget the way you made them feel in this moment.
Firstly, I would like to say that Isabelle is beautiful. She looks has long beautiful blonde hair and big blue eyes just like my daughters. So what makes her so special? Here is a little bit about this year’s girl if the year.
Who is Isabelle?
Isabelle Palmer is an inspired ballet dancer who discovers her own way to shine.
Where does Isabelle live? Isabelle lives in Washington D.C.
What’s her favorite activity? Practicing ballet and designing dance costumes.
Who are her best friends? Luisa, a modern dancer and Gabriel, a magician.
Fun fact: When isabelle is dancing, she sometimes pretends that she is a water lily skipping and spinning across a pond.
Moment of change: Realizing that she can use her design skills to help others.
The moral of the story: There is no one else out there with your unique talents.
My daughter is smitten with Isabelle and we can’t wait for her movie to be released!
Who’s your daughter’s favorite American Girl?
My girls’s are smitten with Isabella Palmer!

2014/03/10
Recipes for the Perfect Frozen Party
Bella’s Frozen party is fast approaching so I have been searching the internet (especially Pinterest) high and low for how to pull off a Frozen birthday party that will have my daughter smiling ear-to-ear. Earlier this week, I shared with you how to make an Elsa costume which turned out fantastic. Today, I am sharing the great Frozen recipes that I found.
They can all be found on my Pinterest board #Disneyside Frozen Party Ideas.
Our first order of business for our Frozen party was the perfect punch. Blue Party Punch with Snowballs by Comfy in the Kitchen fit the bill. This is a super easy punch that looks gorgeous and tastes even better! Aside from the sweet, fizzy bubbles from the carbonation the ice cream snowballs will be sure to delight the little ones.
It wouldn’t be a Frozen party without a Hot Chocolate bar by Joyful Details – how perfect are these for a Frozen-themed party? I love the idea of hot chocolate on a cold day, topped with a dollop of whipped cream and Pirouettes. This is such a simple delight that all children ( young and old) will love to sip on.
OK, Gabs is dressing as Olaf for our Frozen party so this Snowman Snack Mix by Spoonful is the perfect build a snowman snack! Snowman parts tossed together in a bowl makes for an adorable display and I am sure that you will find the little people assembling their own tiny army of Olafs and it tastes pretty good too!
The movie FROZEN mentions three foods specifically: chocolate, carrots and sandwiches. So, of course, they must all make an appearance.
So we are having mini sandwiches, a white chocolate fountain to dip strawberries in ( Remember, Anna’s Frozen Heart) and having a veggie tray with carrots as a tribute to Olaf.
What would you add? What is your favorite Frozen party recipe?
2014/03/06
How to Easily Make A Disney’s Frozen Elsa Costume
How to make an Elsa Costume? My girls loved Frozen and there are no Elsa costumes to be found….anywhere. We are in desperate need of an Elsa costume. My girls have Elsa on the brain and want to eat, sleep and be Elsa. We are living in a Frozen state of mind over here and I am not even referring to the below zero temperatures and 4 foot of snow in my front yard. I am talking all things Elsa, Olaf, Anna, Sven and Cristophe. I am talking Let it Go, all day every day. I am talking sisterly love and all things winter.
I am talking I need to know how to make an Elsa costume right now!
My Bella is turning 9 next Monday and so we are throwing the Frozen party to end all parties because what else do you do for the soon to be 9-year-old who is gaga for Elsa and completely obsessed with her own #Disneyside. Every year, the girls have had themed birthday parties and every year there have been costumes. Yes, Costumes! There have been Fairies, Dora, Fancy Nancy, Pink Poodles in Paris, Moulin Rouge, Alice in Wonderland, 60’ peace and Love and a pajama party. We’ve had Princesses, Tinker Belle, Fancy Nancy again, Madeline, Rocker chicks and butterfly magic. Costumes .every.single.time and sometimes even a Harlem Shake.
This year, we had to have Frozen themed Party and Bella wanted an Elsa costume. Only, if you have been online or to the Disney store, you know that there are no Frozen costumes left unless you go to eBay and pay with your first-born. I’d prefer to keep my first-born. Think I could just hire Elsa to come reign over this Frozen soiree and use her magic? That would make life so much easier for all of us and absolutely unforgettable for my own little princess.
READ ALSO: What is Disney Creator Days and How to Get Invited
My girls are both pretty tall so the only dress up dress that my 8-year-old can wear at 4’ 9” are Disney because they go up to size XL (if you buy them on grounds) but since we live in the middle of the country, we must improvise.
Last year, we started hitting garage sales and vintage stores in search of costumes from ballet productions, prom and wedding dresses. The girls have gotten some really beautiful dresses to play dress up in and make great costumes. Remember Halloween’s Magenta costume?
READ ALSO: Recipes for the Perfect Frozen Party
I am not a seamstress, wish I were, but I am creative and I can hand-stitch the hell out of anything and just so happens that I have a Mother-in-law who can sew anything. The only things that surpasses her sewing abilities is her imagination and her big heart.

So, we scoured our supply and found a beautiful prom dress that could be perfect except it was lavender. Everyone knows Elsa’s dress is that beautiful shimmery bluish/green. I set out to try to dye it.
I bought some Dylon dye in Bahama blue at Walmart. I went home, rinsed and drained the $3 garage sale prom dress. Followed the directions on the Dylon Dye ( mixed it with 4 cups of warm water to dissolve. Filled the sink up with lukewarm water and 4 teaspoons of salt, mixed well and submerged the entire dress into the sink. Then proceeded to mix well for 45 minutes. I used my hands. I suggest using rubber gloves. I did not and have the bluish hued hands to prove it.
I can tell you that I learned a valuable lesson; polyester prom dress shells do not dye. The lavender shell turned more of a grey silver (perfect in my mind) and all the lavender fabric flowers with sparkly glitter on the overlay turned that gorgeous bluish/greenish color of Elsa’s dress. It looks amazing and only cost me $6.00.
READ ALSO: How to have a Quality Fashion Wardrobe on a Budget
The dress is strapless and Elsa’s has sleeves, so we are using silver sparkly gloves that come to just above my daughter’s elbow. The infamous sparkly cape? Well, while rummaging through fabric remnants at Grandma’s house we found the perfect 2.5 yards of sheer fabric with sparkly shimmer already on it. Grandma gave it a seam and made it into a cape that can easily attach to the back straps of Elsa’ dress.

To complete the look, I will be spraying Bella’s hair white and putting it into a loose French braid and she will be wearing silver sandals that she already had around the house.
The entire costume cost me $6.00 versus $200 on eBay. Even if you don’t just happen to have an old prom dress laying around the house for dress-up purposes, why not repurpose one of your old Bridesmaids outfits (God knows you’ll never wear it again), hit the local Goodwill or just use an old flower girl dress of your child’s. The dye I picked up matched the color perfectly. The packet says it dyes ½ pound to the color of on the package. The dress I dyed was 11 pounds and I only used one packet. It dyed it to the perfect shade.

We’re not all great seamstresses and I am here to tell you that with a little imagination and ingenuity, you can make all your child’s Frozen dreams come true. Now, to get started on my youngest’s Olaf costume. Oh, you thought she’d want to be Anna? Nope, she likes to break the mold. I’ll share her costume later this week and I will be showing all kinds of great crafts, decorating ideas and recipes to host your very own awesome Frozen party! I will also have plenty of photos this weekend with the complete hair, makeup and costume together. Can’t wait to share.
If you’ve made your own Elsa costume, feel free to leave a link to it in the comments!
2014/03/04
Permission to Be….Ourselves
Why do we need permission? Who made these rules we all live by? In the last 24 hours I have went against my “better” judgment twice and both were better choices for me. Yesterday, I was tired and instead of doing what I normally do and miserably powering through my day and just getting things done. Going through the motions really. I stopped. I turned on the fan, closed the blinds and cuddled into my bed and napped for 3 hours. Right there in broad daylight, like I was a baby or a woman of leisure. I woke up and I felt rested and happy. I was in a great mood when I picked up my children from school. I was more patient and kind. I was a better mother than the miserably exhausted person who was there that morning before the nap. I cooked a big dinner and enjoyed the process. I never enjoy the process. It’s usually something that I do because I have to, like laundry. The dinner tasted great. Everything was better but it was all tinged with my secret…the nap. I felt guilty; guilty for actually responding to the needs of my own body. What craziness is that? If I don’t take care of myself, who will? I told my husband my dirty little secret, the nap, and he did not make fun of me or say something flip, he was genuinely glad that I gave my body what it needed. The guilt was lifted and now naps are on the table☺
This is the problem with so many of us. We go through life doing what is expected of us and we are miserable. Who made these rules that we have to follow x, y and z in life? We feel beholden to a certain way of parenting, being married, achieving success even being physically acceptable. If we don’t fit the mold then we feel guilty because obviously we’ve don’t something wrong. We have some deficit. I say fuck the mold. I want to break the mold.
We accept these expectations of us to be fact. They are not! Why are we all made to believe that life is a spinning wheel and once we choose a wheel we are confined to it like a prison for all of eternity? It’s not true and if we just took a minute to think about it logically. If we took a moment to breathe and trust our own instincts, to listen to our own heart, we would realize that we know what is best for ourselves, for our relationships and for our children.
Every day is the chance for a new beginning. I am tired of spinning that wheel that chose me. I want to do what I choose to do; not what life has chosen for me. I want to choose the path my life takes, not follow the path expected of me. I want to be who I want to be not who I am expected to be and more importantly I want to be happy. No one knows what can make me happy and no one can truly make me happy, that is something that I have to take responsibility for. Happiness is internal. It is fulfillment and every person’s fulfillment is different.
I lie awake at night with insomnia worried about all of the things that I didn’t do or need to do the next day because it’s what’s expected of me. I usually go against my better judgment and do what’s expected of me from society. But this morning, after I dropped my daughters off at school as I was pulling out, the car in front of me died. It was a mother who had rushed out the door 2 blocks and ran out of gas. I asked her what happened and she explained. My brother, whose sons also go to the same school, was pulling up as I was pulling over to park to help her. We both got out of our cars and pushed her out of the road and into the median at school. I let her use my phone to call her husband to bring her gas and then I drove her home. Now, to be clear, this is not something I would normally do because you know …I don’t know her. She could have been a psycho or she could have just been a stranded mom. I chose to believe she was someone who genuinely needed my help.
After I dropped her off, I even called the school to make sure they didn’t tow her car because she was so overwhelmed at the situation I doubt she remembered to call them. When I dropped her off, she genuinely thanked me. Someone let me help them. This made my day. It felt great to help her. I felt like I did something good.
The thing is a lot of people just backed out and went around her. It didn’t matter to them that it was 5 degrees out and snowing. It didn’t matter to them that there might have been children in a minivan leaving a Catholic school. They just went around. I don’t blame them because we live in a time where we walk past beggars in the street because we don’t know if they are going to use the money for food or for alcohol or drugs. We don’t stop and help stranded drivers because they could be crazed serial killers who might chop us to bits. We don’t let our kids play outside unattended because everyone’s a potential kidnapper or pedophile. We’ve become conditioned to not trust anyone and our skepticism is keeping us from being the good people we want to be. Our cynicism is keeping us from committing the random acts of kindness we all talk so much about. Don’t get me wrong, an unexpected free cup of Starbucks coffee is fantastic but we can do so much more. We can truly help people in need. We can be happy.
It’s true, we can’t know the hearts of others. We can’t dictate how a homeless person spends the money we give them. We could bring them food or clothes instead of money, I suppose. What we can dictate is how we react to the situation. That is all we can control. We can choose to do the right thing. We can choose to be those changes we want to be. We can choose to follow our hearts and not do what others expect of us because when we do what is expected, we fail everyone, most of all ourselves.
So, I am asking you today to make the decision to follow your heart, listen to your body and do not measure yourself by anyone else’s standards. Be you. Be happy. Love big. Live big. Give of yourself and you will be surprised at what you get in return. In place of going through the motions, you will find yourself living no holds barred out loud and fully. Maybe even taking a much needed nap.
What would you do if you followed your heart? What would make you happy? Give yourself permission to be you.
2014/02/27
If You’re Spanking Your Kids, You’re Parenting All Wrong
Do you believe in spanking your child as a disciplining technique? Do you spank your kids? I’ve threatened it lots of times. I may have even tapped my daughter’s tush once or twice but it just never felt right. It felt wrong. I’ve written about whether or not you should spank your kids many different times on various different outlets and my opinion has always been that you probably shouldn’t spank your kid but it’s YOUR kid so it’s really up to you. Parenting is a touchy subject and I remember how pissed off people got when I said that cry it out was like abuse. I never truly wanted to offend anyone’s parenting technique; not on purpose. The other day a photo appeared in my FB tread and it’s been sitting with me and bothering me ever since.
Deep down, I think that if you are spanking your child you are a jerk.
You either don’t know how or don’t want to use your words. You’d prefer to get angry, get frustrated and hit rather than dealing with bad behavior and sorting it out. Hey, I get it. I do. I have moments when I would love to spank my girls. Sometimes they behave really badly. They talk back and they don’t listen and sometimes I am just too damn tired to argue and grabbing a belt or a switch would make that all disappear. One good, swift smack would probably stop them out of pure shock and awe.
But as a child who used to get hit often, as in it was the primary source of discipline, I can tell you that your child will fear you. They will not respect you and they will avoid being caught doing bad behavior and lie if they are caught. It is not a deterrent to stop bad behavior. It is a deterrent to being honest with you. Your child will learn to fear you and hate the feeling of fear. Your child will be afraid of you. Your child will not trust you. And you can spin it anyway you like, spanking is not going to get the result you want. It will not teach discipline and promote good behavior, it will make your child afraid to get caught doing something wrong and there is a difference.
If you’re spanking your child for biting their sibling, what kind of sick and twisted, ass backwards message are you sending?
Don’t bite your brother but it’s okay for me to hit you. So, I am here to recant any wishy-washiness that I may have ever led you to believe that I have on the subject of spanking. It is never all right. It is always wrong and if you spank your child, you are most certainly not disciplining them in any meaningful way.
You are teaching them that physical attacks are okay to deal with your anger. You are teaching them that they can’t trust you. You are teaching them that you are mean and angry, that they should fear…not respect you. By spanking your children, you are undermining your own authority. So don’t spank your child. Love your child. Discipline your child when you are calm and thinking clearly because responding to bad behavior when you are angry only leads to bad choices that will inevitably damage your relationship with your child.
Think back to when you were a child, if you were spanked, was the feeling you felt when being spanked fear or respect? I know for me, when I was spanked, it was fear 100% of the time. Not once did I think to myself, wow, I respect my parents so much for sticking to their guns and punishing me with physical pain.
Do you think spanking is an effective form of discipline?
2014/02/18
The Moments that Take Your Breath Away
This is a sponsored post written by me on behalf of the Home Run Inn pizza.
Have you ever had one of those days that are so hectic that you just can’t seem to catch your breath? As parents, those early days seem so long and exhausting and we spend a lot of the time wishing for tomorrow when things will be easier. Suddenly, they begin to fly by and in the blink of an eye, their childhood is slipping through your fingers. Days that used to be filled with random hugs and holding helpless little babies are suddenly filled, from sunrise to sunset, with scheduled activities and obligations. Blink once more and your once “helpless” baby is leaving home for college.
When we are in the thick of parenting a small child, it’s easy to forget to “live in the moment” and enjoy the subtle nuances of motherhood. Who can think of stepping back and enjoying a moment when you are overwhelmed by a toddler and a newborn who are depending on you for everything, right.this.moment? It’s nearly impossible to relax enough to enjoy parenting when you are actually parenting, if you are not reminded. Parenting is challenging work. It’s taken me a couple years to figure this out but I’ve realized, making memories is not about buying the perfect toy or throwing the perfect birthday party.It’s not about the “perfect” thing. It’s not the Christmas gifts or the extravagance of the family vacations that your children will look back on in 30 years and remember about their childhood. It’s about how they felt in those moments; how it smelled, tasted, looked and sounded. That’s what they will remember.

I still remember Sunday mornings in our house growing up, the house always smelled like gravy and biscuits. I know that we all went to church and wore our Sunday best but what I remember most vividly and fondly are the smells of breakfast cooking after mass. The laughter that filled the house as we all joked around together. The sight of my brothers and sisters talking or my dad sneaking a quick kiss from my mom, when they thought no one was paying attention, as he peeked in to see how much longer until breakfast was ready. I have no idea what the clothes we wore were or how much they cost. It’s all about the way it felt to be there in that kitchen on those Sunday mornings. That’s what I want for my girls.I want them to one day look back fondly on our time together and long for that time and space.
In our house, Friday night is family night. We all know this. We never make plans with anyone else. There are no date nights, activities scheduled or birthday party invites accepted. Friday nights are just for the four of us. It usually means take out and watching television or a movie together but sometimes it means a frozen pizza, eaten on the couch as we laugh and enjoy each other’s company. I grew up in the Chicagoland area, so I sometimes choose Home Run Inn pizza. Not only does it remind me of home, it’s also all natural and made with real cheese and no preservatives, so I can feel good about feeding it to my family.

I know in 30 years my girls won’t remember what movie we watched together, who wore what or even what we ate but they will remember the gooey cheese filled smiles, the laughter, the unconditional love and acceptance that you feel in those moments shared with people you love. Maybe someday when they are having family night with their own children and the smell of pizza wafts through the house, they will remember two things 1) how unconditionally and completely loved they were by us and 2) to stop , look around and enjoy those moments with their own children.
Have you tried Home Run Inn pizza before? What taste transports you back to a favorite memory?

Disclosure: This is a sponsored post written by me on behalf of the Home Run Inn pizza.
Photo: Webb Zahn, SitsGirls
2014/02/15
Selfies, Sleeping Babies & the Decline of Civilization
Selfies, photos of babies and babies with pets have officially over saturated social media.
I know this post will probably not get me any friends and I am honestly not trying to be an asshole. I am a sucker for a cute baby photo as much as the next person but honestly, is anyone else getting tired of seeing babies (other than their own) sleeping? I currently have over 100,000 photos that I have taken of my girls since they were born. I took them for my own enjoyment. Sure they are adorable but you don’t want to see every photo of my daughters, every moment captured. I mean its babies in baskets, babies with puppies, babies with daddies, babies with other babies and babies as part of art while they sleep. Babies with painted on mustaches, wearing fedoras and roller skates. Gatsby baby sipping an old fashioned and astronaut baby planting a flag on the moon while baby Mike Tyson and baby Evander Holyfield chew on one another’s ears.
When my kids are asleep, especially when they were asleep as babies, there was no way in the world I was going to be using them as props with animals or amidst the backdrop of a cityscape or flying through space or taming a lion or whatever the hell else they are doing these days. Also, where are you guys finding the time?
The more I look at these adorable photos done by Sioin Queenie Liao, I am reconsidering babies as art because OMG, my ovaries are twitching from the cute
Are these only children? Do you have a nanny? Is this your job? When my kids were babies and slept, I let them sleep because an overtired baby or child woken out of a nap before it ran its course was certainly not worth a photo op! My sanity is worth more than a potentially viral photo op. I always let sleeping babies lie.Sure, I think the photos are awesome but I don’t want to see every.single.one. you take. When did this happen? Do we keep nothing for ourselves anymore?
And the selfies? Holy fuck am I sick of the close up, Zoolander faces, #nakedselfies in the shower, at the gym, in the bathroom, in the ER getting stitches, giving birth breastfeeding and ass wiping. Is there nothing sacred anymore? Look I enjoy a good fly on the wall moment as much as everybody else too but suddenly, it’s just too damned much. People, pump your social media brakes. You’re telling us all too much. If a picture’s worth a thousand words than you just told me what a raging douche bag you are, in 15 languages, 67 different ways.
Credit: Instagram & Danielle Lloyd
Selfies have their place. We’ve all taken them. Hell, as moms we are the photographers in most cases so, sure, we have to slip a selfie in here and there just to commemorate that we are here. That we lived. That’s fine. I’ve taken selfies. We all need avatar photos for FB and Twitter, etc but for grown ups to be taking selfies every day or in some cases multiple times a day, you might have an addiction. Take as many selfies as you want for your private collection but I don’t think the entire world needs to see you chew your food, kiss your kid’s booboo, your outfit of the hour or how your eye make-up looks and we certainly don’t need to see you in the shower with your baby, your backside or your stomach after eating; those are moments that you should keep and cherish for yourself. Nobody needs to see your post-coital selfie unless you are a hooker for hire.
Looks like just like with food, we all need to learn some social media selfie portion control; everything in moderation my friends. Take as many selfies and kitschy, cute and creative photos of your children and your pets as you like but how about we exercise some self-control and and only upload a chosen few to FB and Twitter. If you must photo dump to satiate some need to document every image, why not keep it to Instagram?
P.S. NONE of this applies to newborns. Bring on the newborn photos, I can look at them all day:) Just don’t pair them with the family pet or use them as a prop in an elaborate creative purge every hour on the hour.
What are your thoughts of this time we live in of constant selfies, sleeping babies and their exciting lives with their pets?

Photo credit: If you can’t get enough of these cute kid photos, check out Sioin Queenie Liao slideshow on Today Moms bit I’ll never budge on selfies.
2014/02/11
Love Your Body the Way Your Mother Loved Your Baby Feet
Love your body is the message that we must teach our daughters.
Love your body like your mother loved your baby feet. I had something else planned to write about today but then I listened to one of my favorite songs by Mary Lambert, Body Love. It spoke to me and, if you are a woman, it will probably speak to you too. If you are a man, it can give you some insight into a woman’s mind, especially one who finds herself to be perpetually imperfect. Like so many of us do. I want to teach my girls to love themselves as much as I loved their baby feet and that they are worth more than the size of their ass or what lies between their legs or what they look like or a number on a scale. You.Are.Beautiful!
i know girls who are trying to fit into the social norm
like squeezing into last year’s prom dress
i know girls who are low rise, mac eyeshadow, and binge drinking
i know girls that wonder if they’re a disaster and sexy enough to fit in
i know girls who are fleeing bombs from the mosques of their skin,
playing russian roulette with death
it’s never easy to accept that our bodies are fallible and flawed
but when do we draw the line?
when the knife hits the skin?
isn’t it the same thing as purging
because we’re so obsessed with death?
some women just have more guts than others
the funny thing is women like us don’t shoot
we swallow pills, still wanting to be beautiful at the morgue
still proceeding to put on make-up
still hoping that the mortician finds us fuckable and attractive
we might as well be buried with our shoes and handbags and scarves,
girls
we flirt with death every time we etch a new tally mark into our skin
i know how to split my wrists like a battlefield too,
but the time has come for us to reclaim our bodies

our bodies deserve more than to be war-torn and collateral
offering this fuckdom as a pathetic means to say,
“i only know how to exist when i’m wanted!”
girls like us are hardly ever wanted, you know?
we’re used up and we’re sad
and drunk and perpetually waiting by the phone
for someone to pick up and tell us that we did good
well, you did good
i know i am because i said i am
i know i am because i said i am
i know i am because i said i am
my body is home
my body is home
i know i am because i said i am
i know i am because i said i am
i know i am because i said i am
so try this:
take your hands over your bumpy lovebody naked
and remember the first time you touched someone
with the sole purpose of learning all of them,
touched them because the light was pretty on them
and the dust in the sunlight danced the way your heart did

touch yourself with a purpose
your body is the most beautiful royal
fathers and uncles are not claiming your knife anymore
are not your razor, no,
put the sharpness back
lay your hands flat and feel the surface of scarred skin
i once touched a tree with charred limbs
the stump was still breathing but the tops were just ashy remains
i wonder what it’s like to come back from that
because sometimes i feel forest fires erupting from my wrists
and the smoke signals sent out are the most beautiful things i’ve ever seen

love your body the way your mother loved your baby feet
and brother arm-wrapping shoulders, and remember, this is important:
you are worth more than who you fuck
you are worth more than a waistline
you are worth more than beer bottles displayed like drunken artifacts
you are worth more than any naked body could proclaim in the shadows
more than a man’s whim
or your father’s mistake
you are no less valuable as a size 16 than a size 4
you are no less valuable as a 32a than a 36c
your sexiness is defined by concentric circles within your wood,
it is wisdom
you are a goddamn tree stump with leaves sprouting out,
reborn
I am not here yet. But I want to be.
Do you love your body?
2014/02/04