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The TRUTH About Motherhood

Category: Confessions

  • Discipline~ Using Your inside Voice Outside…your head

    Discipline~ Using Your inside Voice Outside…your head

    Have you ever thought something in your head and in your head it’s really freaking funny? Lacking the discipline to keep it there, you say the words out loud and are met with the ” Is she F to the bomb out of her mind” look? No? Just me, eh?

    So, let’s just say that your kids are being complete crack ninjas (of the cutest kind mind you) and you think to yourself, jeez…I’d really like to return these little maniacs to the baby store. But we never say such things out loud because we’d be seen as horrible people who are at the very least social deviants and at the most not fit for parenting at all. DCFS would be called immediately. Instead, we stand there in silence, biting our tongues while our hair falls out in clumps from stress and we develop ulcers…. and we smile. You know that ridiculous ” I have no clue what the hell to do and I can NOT control these ninjas without medicinal help!” look. And as our children misbehave, we simply take a deep breath and pray for time to pass quickly. Believe me, I know adults sometimes need a time out too.Nobody’s perfect, right?

    In reality, what choices do we have? In a calm and quiet voice, bend to their eye level and try to reason with children beneath the age of reason? Have you seen anyone ever actually do this? I have and while it is perfectly PC and I wish I could be more like that Mama, it seldom works and is usually met with a resounding “NO!” which really translates in baby speak as a forceful “F*ck YOU!”

    Perhaps, you could send them on their way to a nice long (age appropriate= 1 minute per year of life) “time out”. Excuse me but if the time out is under 2 minutes, foggedaboutit. It’s simply not going to work. If your child is too young to walk, time out won’t work. Aside from the fact they will just crawl away, the child will flee out of sheer incomprehension. I tried this and ended up chasing a giggling toddler around the room like Benny Hill. She thought it was a game…. catch the baby. I am the one who ended up in tears and apologizing.

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    Discipline~ using your inside voice outside...your head, behavior, training, self-control, misbehavior,parents, child discipline
    Image More4Kids

    If the child is too old for time out, they sit there ignoring you and waiting out the time out. They are content with this time to gather their thoughts and plan their bedtime revolt.

    You can’t spank your child no more than you can kick your dog. You just can’t so just let that idea slip right out of your head.

    Sure, you have your thoughts of effective discipline but never actually do them and you NEVER speak of them. These are the dreams of medieval discipline that we fantasize about when 7 children under the age of 5 are screaming and ignoring while we curl up in a corner crying in the fetal position.The key is NOT to speak of them in polite society.

    Discipline~ Using Your inside Voice Outside…your head

    “Come here you little punk, I bet a good dose of water-boarding will make you pick up those damn Polly pockets and Legos!”

    “Oh yeah, NO to me? NO to you! NO dinner! No toys! No clothes! No play dates! I’m taking it all away!!!”

    “You hate me? Well, I don’t like you either!”

    “Why? Why? Because, I said so that’s why. Now stop asking me so many flipping questions!!!! ARGH!!!!!!!”

    “Please, for the love of GOD, GO THE FUCK TO SLEEP!!!!!!!”

    Then there is that one comment that you think might be acceptable to say out loud, funny even in the right context. When my hairdresser asked why I would get my girls names tattooed on my wrists:

    “Well, I figure since they are the ones who make me want to slit my wrists perhaps if I see their sweet names there on my wrists it could give me something to live for. Or get a sharper razor.”

    I was joking OBVIOUSLY but her face told me that that was one of those statements that most definitely should have stayed INSIDE MY HEAD!

    Discipline~ Using Your inside Voice Outside…your head

    So, now I have two problems, she thinks I’m an asshole and I have to find a new hairdresser. I should have exercised some discipline of my own filter.[/fusion_builder_column][/fusion_builder_row][/fusion_builder_container]

  • What Really Happens when Curious Kids Burst through the Door Unexpectedly

    What Really Happens when Curious Kids Burst through the Door Unexpectedly

    Curious Kids~ My girls are curious to a fault. They have to know, see, and hear absolutely everything that goes on in the house.

    (more…)

  • The Best White Lies I EVER told my Girls

    The Best White Lies I EVER told my Girls

    We all know that I am all about the truth but occasionally I’ve had to stretch the truth a scoatch to bend the little ones to my Mommy will, in the name of the greater good, of course. Have you ever had to do this? If so, you may identify with the Best White Lies I EVER told my Girls.


    Best White Lies I EVER Told my Girls

    • I told my girls that if they didn’t eat their asparagus, their hair would all fall out. It would start with small bald spots; like a dog with mange. (This came at a time when I actually had a small bald spot in my own hair. Timing is everything.)

     

    • Elves are real and they are Santa’s henchmen. They teleport back to the North Pole each night during the Christmas season to report indiscretions perpetrated by naughty kids. They are eager to break some kneecaps but Santa is usually pretty forgiving. (To make the story believable, you must move said elves around nightly and they must appear in unexpected spots i.e. the toilet, the fridge, the tub, school backpack, etc.)

     

    • Once when the door burst open to the “conjugalorium” (Child’s unoccupied bedroom because we have two co-sleepers and are forced to get inventive with our “adult” time), we told our 3 year old  “Daddy was telling Mommy a secret, that’s why we were so close”.

     

    • While driving back from my Moms house in Chicago, we passed a refinery spouting billowing puffs of pollution. My then 4 year old asked “Mommy is that a cloud factory where all the clouds of the world are made?” I said, “Yes, yes it is” How could I not?

     

    • If you stay in the bathtub too long, you will shrivel up and turn into a raisin. Their eyes both turned into saucers, I could see fear and disbelief. I had to seal the deal, “And then people will eat you in their oatmeal!” They both promptly exited the tub and have not stayed for prolonged periods in the tub, since. They are also no longer interested in raisins in any way, shape or form.

     

    • Bambi is a narcoleptic. Recently, my girls had their first ever experience with road kill, a beautiful, freshly deceased deer. The deer was lying at the side of the road, looking very peaceful and not moving. My 3 year old, with tears in her eyes, asked what the dear was doing. I told her the dear had narcolepsy. (P.S. This does not work if you see a random deer leg on the side of the road!)

     

    • The Prayer Closet. A friend once told me that I needed to get myself a “Prayer” closet. My interest was piqued so I asked, “What’s a “prayer” closet?” Apparently, it is a walk-in closet that you can go to have marital relations. OK, but why the name, you ask. So did I. It’s called a prayer closet because once when she was in the closet calling out “Oh GOD!” She walked out to be greeted by her small child asking, “Mommy, what were you doing in there?” Her answer, “Honey, Mommy was praying. It’s Mommy and Daddy’s prayer closet.” The closet has since been soundproofed.

     

    • The Boogie Man. I made the fatal mistake of using the word “BOOGIE MAN”. Previous to this, I have never used the concept with the girls. Nonetheless, it slipped out. My 3 year old heard it. “Mommy, what’s a Boogie Man?” This is where I went brain damaged. “It’s just a little fairy who comes out at night, if you don’t behave, and sucks the boogies out of your nose.” Why I thought this was less traumatic than the real story, I’ll never know.

     

    • I told my girls, on New Years Eve, that their sparkling cider was actually champagne. I had them so convinced that my 5 year old had 2 glasses and swore she was drunk. Lightweight.

     

    • When my daughter was 3 she was extremely afraid of chickens and lemurs.  Don’t ask. Let’s just say Julian, from Madagascar, is persona non grata in our house. She is absolutely terrified. After many nights of her jumping out of bed because she swore chickens or lemurs were under her bed, I took a canister of Febreeze and transformed it into Chicken/Lemur spray. I went so far as to cover up the logo, wrote Chicken/Lemur Spray on the label with the words “Kills Chickens/Lemurs Dead!” complete with chicken skull and crossbones. Then, in Catholic priest fashion, I blessed the room and sprayed the entire room down. Then she slept. That was 2 years ago. Occasionally, she still has me spray the room down. Just to be safe.

     

    I’d love to hear any white lies that you’ve had to tell your kids to get them to do what was best for them. How inventive have you had to get in the name of healthy food and a good night’s sleep?

     

     

    *This is a piece written by me that was originally published on Momversation.com on January 2011.

     

     

  • Judgy Moms Suck

    Throat Punch Thursday,Judgymoms

    As many of you know by now, this month I am celebrating my second blogiversary by having some of my bloggy friends share their Truths about Motherhood.I started this blog ,in part, because I wanted to share the truth but I also really wanted a place where other moms could come and see that they are not alone, that none of us are perfect.Perfect parenting is a myth! After reading the Truths of my fellow moms, their bravery,willingness to share and the vulnerability they have shown I am convinced more than ever that judgy moms deserve a really big throat punch.

    I know we all have our preconceived notions as to what motherhood is supposed to look,feel and be like from the outside. The damn parenting books do absolutely nothing to prepare us for the real thing. It’s easy to sit way up on a judgmental petal-stool when you have been spoon fed bullshit. But once we actually experience it, are in the wake of it, then we should change our way of thinking.

    It’s become the norm to mercilessly judge our fellow Mommies, while behind closed doors we secretly feel their pain…in triplicate. Wouldn’t it make more sense if we could all just be honest with one another in the first place and share our war stories; good and bad. If we could be honest, we could be supportive,we could lend an ear,we could build one another up instead of tear each other down. Life would be so much better for all of us.

    So to all you Mommies, who haven’t figured it out yet..sisterhood is so much better than isolation. I don’t know about you but I’d much rather be having a party with my peers than be stranded on an island by myself. So this weeks throat punch, well more like a slap on the wrist goes to judgy Mommies. You are only getting a Chuck Norris slap because I think you know not what you do. Come read some of these truths of my guests or read my daily ones…this is the way it;s supposed to be. We support one another through motherhood. We share our ups and downs. We help each other make it through the rough patches and we are one another’s greatest cheerleaders in our parenting successes. Don’t fall victim to another throat punch…come join the party.It’s a lot more fun with a little help with your friends than being in the ocean of parenting without a life preserver.

    Throat Punch, Chuck Norris, Judgy Moms suck

    Also, to see the sisterhood in action. Go check out  Bruna at Beeswithhoney.com; every Friday she features a blogger to share with the rest of her community because she is awesome at the sisterhood through motherhood. She is a great blogger, with a lot of insight into motherhood and a wonderful all around person. This week I have the distinct pleasure of being her featured blogger. Go check it out.

  • Mean Mother Focker

    This morning, I was all excited walking around the grocery store.You know, it was Monday..my 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.

  • How Bree Van de Kamp Ruined Motherhood

    Ever wonder how Bree Van de Kamp ruined motherhood? She was a fictional character on Desperate Housewives but there are women out there who strive to be her. Everyone knows that trying to base your life off of an imagined character will only leave you falling short and disappointed. Isn’t being a mom hard enough all on its own?

    Anyone who has ever read my blog knows that I am a huge advocate of sisterhood. I think that cat fights between women are ridiculous and that if we all spent a lot more time being real and supporting each other, life would be so much better for all of us. Why does motherhood and being a domestic goddess always have to be a competition? Can’t some of us be do-our-best mommies and domestic good-enoughers and that be it? Can’t we all just get along?

    “My kid does this, does yours? My husband makes this much money, what does yours make? My house is bigger than yours. It truly is a pissing contest for women! I can keep the house immaculate, my kids listen to everything I say, sleep in their own beds, go to bed at a reasonable hour with no drama, they are reading at a 5th grade level @ the age of four, I eat but can not gain weight, my husband just keeps getting better looking, and my kids are absolute perfection, did I mention they eat absolutely everything I put in front of them. The laundry seems to do itself, I love to cook gourmet meals for every meal, I am completely organic, I made all the baby food and my babies only wore cloth diapers and drank organic, non tainted by caffeine or alcohol breasts milk. P.S. My shit doesn’t stink! I live in a mansion on the corner of bliss and perfection…or was that delusional and insanity?  And you?” Yes, in my head competitive/ judgy moms speak in long, drawn out run on sentences. Take a breath already.

    OK, Bree friggin Van de Kamp…you are not real, you are some convoluted conjuring of what some crazy tv exec thought real life is…not even in the 1950’s, my brother sister. If we’d stop trying to make the other moms think we have it all under control without even breaking a sweat, maybe, just maybe we’d have some back up in the trenches instead of one more enemy trying to kill our spirits and crush our souls.

    Bree Van de Kamp, desperate Housewives, how bree van de kamp ruined motherhood

    As if that is not bad enough, that we are all running around lying to each other about how perfect and easy our lives are, we are inadvertently (or maybe purposefully) making other women (Mommies, specifically) feel like they are losers because they don’t think life is easy or perfect and neither are their kids and their husband. I mean, myself,  I’ve actually winced at the prospect of having to go to the grocery store, been brought to tears trying to figure out what the hell to wear out in public to drop my kids off at some class or other, the dishes make me want to kill someone (actually just myself..I truly hate dishes! I am not above existing on paper products!), my girls still miraculously end up in our bed in the middle of the night, I have actually been reduced to feeding them cereal for dinner (only once..I promise)….though, I must confess, my kids are pretty perfect….to me! All kids are perfect to their parents! My point is my fellow desperate housewives, we would not all be so damn desperate if we could all just get along.

    Next time you feel overcome with the need to blow crazy smoke up your own ass, in a coffee-induced fog of meanness,  please remember the Mommy that you are making feel 2-inches tall would probably serve you better as a cheerleader than as a doormat. Stop spending your cocktail playdates talking about the new mom having a rough time disciplining her toddler; you used to be her.

    PSA: Please be kind to your fellow mommies. She is not your enemy, she is your sister, your friend, your confidant, your tether to sanity.

    I am bringing this post from the archives to remind us all that we need to support one another and grow a sisterhood through motherhood, not hurt one another by judging and pointing fingers.Moms could be the strongest group out there if we could only love and support one another. We are Mommies, hear us roar.

  • Breastfeeding Sucks

    Breastfeeding Sucks

    Is breastfeeding really always best? I was reading, my friend, Jennifer Brandt’s blog Perfectly Disheveled tonight and was reminded of something that I had buried deep within the recesses of my mind…BREASTFEEDING! Oh how it sucked! No pun intended. It was one of the most awful things I have experienced thus far in motherhood. I know its not PC to admit that breastfeeding sucked for me but hey, that’s how I roll. I am honest to a fault. I always thought that breastfeeding would be something beautiful and magical; a sacred bond between mother and baby. And it was but it was also something else. It was what most Hollywood actresses look like without their hair and makeup done, no stylist standing by, no PR person to spin their words into weaved gold. It was raw, it was painful , it was ugly and, on most days, it hurt me deeply. Breastfeeding kicked my ass physically and emotionally. Worse than that, it was humbling. From the beginning, breastfeeding made me feel like the world’s biggest freaking loser Mommy! Amen. I’m divulging the truth that it was for me.

    I remember coming home on that first day, driving 15 miles an hour with our blinkers on trying our best not to damage or mess up this most perfect being that we had just been given. We cooked this baby good and read all the books but when it came down to it, we couldn’t believe these people were going to let us take the baby out of the hospital. After all, what the hell were they thinking? We didn’t know what to do. We could barely keep one another alive, plants were dying all over the house, I’d lost a dog but these assholes wanted me to keep an entire human being alive! WHAT?? Panic set in but there was no turning back. We were going to hold onto this halo/fog of new baby splendor as long as we possibly could. The key was to keep the baby in tact.

    We arrive home. Hello baby! This is your new house. The whole world, in its entirety, will be forever changed. You will be the sun and we will rotate around you forevermore. Time for a nap. Gently we place the baby into the bassinet and then its time to turn off the lights, pull the room darkening shades and SLEEP. But wait. That won’t work. If the lights are off we can’t see if she’s breathing. If we can’t see that she’s breathing..maybe she’s not. No! Sorry this plan will not work. Abort mission. Abort mission! Turning off the lights won’t do. Instead, we collapsed in exhaustion laying across the bed, with our heads half in the bassinet, with the ceiling fan light turned all the way on! Just about the time my brain and heart gave way and allowed my eyes to close, the baby woke up..starving. Let the breastfeeding commence. No lactation nurse, no holds barred. Let’s do this.

    To my teet I drew my baby. She suckled. She didn’t latch very well. I knew that my milk hadn’t come in yet, as the lactation nurse had already informed me of my ineptitude before I had even left the hospital. She, also, had set me up with a medieval contraption known as an SNS. Not familiar with this? Oh, aren’t you the lucky girl? SNS stands for Supplemental Nursing System which is basically today’s scarlet letter for you are a fucking loser who doesn’t have the capability of feeding your own offspring. That’s right, there are broads in the world breastfeeding their boobie nectar to chihuahuas and I can’t keep my own human alive. Fuck. It was the Chia pet all over again. I was panicked that I was going to have to be dependent on a breast pump that is electric. I was popping Fenugreek like they were the last tic tacs in the world. Anyways, those were my choices…Fenugreek and SNS…until my milk dropped. What does that even mean? It’s not like a gallon of formula is going to come spilling out of me. I pumped..barely a taste for my infant. So, I grudgingly hook myself up to the SNS. Picture, if you will, some sort of human type version of what is used on cows. Basically, it was a small container that you filled with formula, that hung around your neck. There was a very small tube attached to that which was then taped to the top of your breast and down at the nipple.For me, that meant atop the nipple shield. It was a pretty hostile site. Poor baby Bella. Why couldn’t her Mommy just produce like all the other Mommies? I don’t know baby. These fucking D boobs apparently are for fun and not function.ARGH! The humiliation.

    Why had breastfeeding forsaken me? What had I done wrong?

    As I sat there, her looking up at me, questioning what wrong she had done in a previous life to be saddled with such a worthless mom, was enough to break my heart. But I soldiered on because I wasn’t stopping until that milk gave in and came in. I was going to breastfeed this baby if it killed me or broke me. Oh, don’t you worry…it almost did. I called the nurse and she barked at me to only do the SNS every other feeding and only an ounce so that it forced the baby to suckle harder and force my milk to drop. I listened because, quite frankly, this is her job and I didn’t know what the hell I was doing. Then in that first 24 hour period, Bella fed every 1/2 hour. Do you know what that means? She was literally off my tit for about 5 minutes every hour for 24 hours. She was crying, out of starvation. I was crying out of frustration, humiliation and guilt. I felt like the biggest piece of shit Mother to EVER walk the earth..even lower than those broads who drove their kids off a bridge. By the next morning, constant crying ( on both our parts) and no sleep, I was at my most vulnerable. And the baby was looking pretty much like an Oompa Loompa. I’m not going to lie to you, I lost my ever loving mind when I realized I had broken the baby. The perfect little baby.

    I called the doctor and he said to bring her to the hospital. I was raw. OMG. I was the most exhausted, vulnerable, crazed lunatic on the maternity ward. Oh yes, they made me return to the scene of the crime. The nursery. Immediately, they took one look at our Willie Wonka cast member and told us that our baby had jaundice caused by my malfunctioning bossoms! It was as if someone kicked me in my hemorrhaging crotch, smacked me in my sore raw nipples and yanked my heart out through my chest all while laughing at me. I left the room and ugly cried hysterically…uncontrollably. The Big Guy was freaked out, his baby was orange and his wife was out of her mind. The nurses knew it was hormones. They tried to soothe my fears but it was impossible.

    The moral of the story is even after all this, I continued to nurse for 3 months…with the SNS system because I NEVER produced enough milk to sustain my child. NEVER! But that damn lactation nurse kept telling me to keep taking the Fenugreek, it will come in. Then she told me to withhold formula, then I lost her number. I have never felt like such a failure. To this day, it still makes me hang my head to know that I couldn’t just breastfeed. It’s like being 30 and still riding a bike with training wheels. If you’re expecting a child, I would suggest you prepare for your breastfeeding journey. You may search for a breast pump covered by insurance along with other equipment and supplements you’ll need.

    But because I would have been ridiculed by everyone I knew and scowled at for not trying my damnest, I did it again with my second child and again we ended up in the hospital with jaundice. Breastfeeding isn’t for everybody…no matter what people say. If I could have, I would have done it for longer. I did love the bond we formed during that breastfeeding time but if you pan out in the pictures, you can clearly see that I was strapped to that SNS contraption which was neither sweet or bond conducive. So, I say to you…for me…BREASTFEEDING SUCKED!

    Did you breastfeed? For how long? Was it easy? Was it hard? Did you use an SNS? Would lengths would you go to succeed at breastfeeding your baby?

    Breastfeeding is NOT always best for everyone

    Photo

  • The Truth about Co-Sleeping

    The Truth about Co-Sleeping

    Time to give you the real truth about Co-Sleeping and more importantly, how to safely co-sleep with your baby. Since I scared you all straight with my earlier post and all the good news the world has to offer, I’ve decided to redeem the day. I’m a half full kind of gal and I refuse to let the cold hard reality of the world change that.

    When I became too obsessed with scheduling and time, I removed my watch. I’ve not worn one in about 5 years now. I was seriously about to get carpal tunnel from all the twisting of my wrist to check the time. So, I eliminated it from my day.I’m about to do the same for CNN. Anyways, in the spirit of redeeming myself, I have decided to write about something that is very positive in my life…co-sleeping. We have been safely co-sleeping since our first baby was out of the bassinet and I’d love to share with you how to safely co-sleep with your baby.

    co sleeping, co-sleeping, the truth about co- sleeping, the family bed, parenting styles

    Co-Sleeping makes us Closer

    Oh, yeah. I know some of you are rolling your eyes and tsk-tsking me for committing such an unthinkable crime against parenting dogma but the family bed is where it’s at for us. I know, I come off as somewhat snarkilicious on here, at times. It’s OK. You can say it, I’m fully aware.

    READ ALSO: Co-Sleeping is not for Sissies

    But when it comes to co-sleeping, I must admit I become completely full on granola; share my life, share my bed with my babies. Crunchy even. I did not plan co-sleeping. I planned on 2 weeks in the bassinet and then a seamless transition to the crib shortly thereafter. But like everything else in motherhood thus far, I was thrown a curve ball.

    co sleeping, co-sleeping, the truth about co- sleeping, the family bed, parenting styles

    Co-Sleeping is safe if done appropriately

    When it came down to it, Bella would fall asleep in my arms after nursing and when I tried to put her back into her bassinet, she would wake up…always. Tired Mommy say what? I did what most exhausted, “so in love with her newborn that she can’t stand to miss a second of this creature’s life, doesn’t truly know where she ends and the baby begins” Mommy would do…I laid her in bed with me. Right there, between my husband and I..in a positioner ( I know those things have since become about as taboo as those unsafe walkers of the Hewlett- Packard commercials). If your child isn’t potty-trained yet, you must always be prepared with items, like those Monogrammed diaper bags.

    I can say that in those first few months, sleep was not the sleep that people without children experience. No, my sleep was half-awake, hearing every single noise, breath, fart of the night, being uber aware of any motion in the entire house and the yard, pseudo conscious delirium…at best.

    I was terrified that I’d roll on top of my sweet co-sleeper and smother her. I know you were all thinking it. So, in those first few months I never really got any sleep of any benefit. But what I did get was a crazy tight bond. You know the bond you get from breastfeeding? When you co-sleep, for me, the bond is that times two.

    READ ALSO: Breastfeeding Sucks

    There is something magical and reassuring about waking up and looking over and seeing that little face so peaceful in the middle of the night.The smell of a little next to you, the feel of little gangling arms and legs, surprise hugs and kisses, even the occasional head bunt, reassuring karate chop and rogue face punch have become endearing to me.

    By bed-sharing, when my little one wakes in the middle of the night, they put a hand out to find me or the Big Guy and they are reassured and go back to sleep. There is something to be said for being within arms reach. It makes me happy. I  never planned to co-sleep but co-sleeping found me. It took hold and it is one of the best parenting decisions that I have ever made up until this point. I’m just exhausted of people making co-sleeping parents feel like it’s some sort of dirty secret. I think it is natural, beautiful and amazing.

    Both girls, ages 3 & 5, are currently still co-sleeping with me during the weekdays, while the Big Guy is out of town. On the weekends,  they sleep in their own bed…at least they start out there. I don’t see a problem with it. I think it is every parent’s decision. It’s more about what works for your family. For ours, we’re doing it the Jolie-Pitt style..for now.

    My plan is once we are all back in the same house to put the girls in a bed together and me and the Big Guy in one. What are your thoughts? How old is too old to co-sleep? Are you absolutely against co-sleeping? Why? Why not? Do you do co-sleeping? When did you stop co-sleeping? When will you stop co-sleeping? I’d love to hear your thoughts and opinions on co-sleeping?

    Co-Sleeping is Natural

  • FAWK YOU FRIDAY

    FAWK YOU FRIDAY

    * If you are looking for the “Follow me Button” go up to the top of the page, click on more info tab and there you will find my GFC button. I’d love it if you would follow and spread the word. If you ‘d like a The TRUTH about Motherhood button…here it is!

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    Well, its been one of those weeks, you know the ones that kinda sucks monkey balls. Yeah, that’s the kind of week. So, I’ve decided to purge myself of that monkey ball after taste by giving the week a hefty Hell Yeah! FAWK YOU FRIDAY!  most likely followed by #Wineparty on twitter to celebrate the week being over! How better to do that than by linking up with my girl Jana’s Fawk You Friday?

    Fawk You to feet of snow. Yes, not inches but f*cking you right up the ass feet of snow. Between the 18 inches we got, the foot we still had and the crazy wind blowing all that shit around…I woke up Wednesday morning to snow, quite literally, up to my asshole!NOT COOL!

    Fawk You to the fact that my husband lives out of town during the week, but of course where he is..the ice got him. So, he had to stay “Home” where he was..not here “home” where we are! I don’t know why but when he has to stay home from work at the place he’s staying…because it’s NOT here with us, it makes me insanely jealous and perturbed so badly that I get on my own damn nerves. ARGH! FAWK YOU!

    Fawk You to the horrible communication at my daughter’s school. 2, count them 2!!!!, fawking dress down days this week…no fawking note! What am I? A freaking mind reader. I don’t run that joint. I need a heads up. Now, my poor kid was miserable because she lives for dress down days.Plus I made her look like her Mama doesn’t care enough to let her wear street clothes or pay enough attention to know when these blasted days are.FAWK ME!

    Fawk the 1 pound I gained this week. I work out, I watch what I eat, I try to drink my water but apparently when Mother Nature strikes and water weight decides to hold on to my ass for dear life…I am no competition.

    Fawk You to Mother nature! Between your fawking blizzard of 2011, my hemorrhage of 2011 & an all consuming craving for all things carbilicious…you are on my shit list lady! Fawk you..with no KY!

    FAWK YOU to being passed over and feeling shitty about it! I’m so sick of feeling less than I what I am due to how I gauge myself against others. It drives me insane. I need to keep my eyes on the goals and less on when others are hitting the finish line. I’m a late bloomer.I always have been, my time will come! Good things to those who wait right? I hope so!

    Happy Friday!

  • Mothering Single; F*cking sucks

    This morning, I was awoken extra early by my hysterical 5 year old. She had a nightmare.When I went to her side and comforted her, in my half asleep state, I asked what her nightmare was. Through hyperventilation and tear stained cheeks, she blubbered, “I dreamed that Daddy could never come home.” She was absolutely frightened and overcome with sadness. Truth be told, we live with this fear every day of our lives. We have a commuter marriage. Which means he lives in another state 5 days a week for work, and I live here with our girls. I’m not sure that anyone can fully grasp this concept, unless you’ve lived through it. Our lives that were so closely knit and intertwined has devolved into two people who talk on the phone, forget what we’ve told each other or others we see on a daily basis. I don’t know how his day went every day,what he ate, if he’s sick or well. He’s missing first teeth lost, first days of class, all the every growing lists of children growing up. Me, I’m left alone and lonely.It’s a crap situation for all involved and I know most of you know the story. But when Bella had this dream, it made my heart seize with fear. The weather’s been bad , roads are icy and she was just so convinced that she never would see him again that I HAD to call to be sure he was OK. He answered, from the road, on his way to work. I told him what was going on, and she spoke to him.He squashed all fears and told her that he would see her tomorrow.He heard, what I was seeing. Our little girl distraught because she thought she’d never see her Daddy again. It’s a hard pill to swallow, even for us pros who have been doing this commuter marriage hell for 11 months.

    They finished talking,he hung up and the next thing that happened was unexpected. I received a text from the Big Guy.Basically, I was told that I needed to move NOW versus our plan of us joining him when school was done for the year. I know you have all read the toll this commuter marriage has taken. It is hard. Most days, I want to chalk the whole thing and just go to him but there is a reason why we are doing this whole ordeal..the girls. Bella is in a great school with friends.In the beginning of school, this was not the case.She’s in kindergarten and it was hard in the beginning to form those bonds. I know some of you are thinking, but its only kindergarten. Well, last year at this same time, it was only preschool and it was in Virginia. I can’t do it to them again,however miserable I might be. This is their home,this is their town,this is their neighborhood, this is their comfort zone. Sure it sucks balls that the Big Guy doesn’t live with us on most days. Obviously, I hate going to bed every night without my husband, consoling children who are crying for him and doing it all by myself. Single mothering is hard and quite frankly, I fucking hate it! I’m pissed at the whole world that I have to do it. I’m married for Christ’s sake,this is NOT what I signed up for. But if we go now, I leave my own house to live with my in laws. We all know that people have their routines, its not going to be easy for any of us to all live in the same house. I’d say even on a very short term basis it’s going to be very near impossible even on good days. They are used to doing what they want,they’ve not had little kids living in the house in 30 years. They shouldn’t have to have to have another family cramping their style. You know how crazy kids can drive us and we’re their parents. Not to mention, we have our routine and that’s going to be completely disrupted.I’m used to doing what I want in my own house.Watching what I want, having impromptu dance parties,singing at the top of my lungs, coming and going, folding or not folding my laundry. Everything will be under a microscope. Freedom will be limited. I’m pretty sure I am going to need to be medicated at some point to deal with the stress.

    The Big Guy just knows that his heart wants the girls and me with him. My heart wants the same, but my head is telling me this will be a mistake of epic proportions to go now.We can’t afford an apartment or another house until the one we have sells. That’s why the in laws offered that we could stay there. But, I’m sure they have their reservations too. And they are allowed to feel those reservations.It will be disruptive and difficult for everyone involved. But what do I do? He wants us together, and the heart wants what the heart wants. So,am I supposed to be the bad guy and the voice of reason? Or am I supposed to give everybody instant gratification but it may very well end badly in the long run? I’m so conflicted. And yes, in case you were wondering, the transition will be hardest on me. Aside from still having to do most stuff by myself because the Big Guy is gone all day at work ( 11 hours) I will have to be doing it all in somebody elses house, in a strange town,while my house sits empty waiting to be sold.I just feel like our lives have been in a state of upheaval for so long that I just about can’t stand it. I feel like if much more gets piled on me, I may freaking lose my shit. Every time I get a handle on the load of shit the world has piled on, somebody or something walks over and says hey let’s add this and see if it breaks her. Well, guess what? I’m tying to stay positive and keep my eye on the finish line but it doesn’t help when my partner says “Ahh, if its too hard just quit.” Why wait until I’ve ran over half the marathon to tell me that I didn’t need to run it at all? I need an all knowing person to tell me what to do.Jenny,Laura, Sarah, you’ve been where I’m at, what are your thoughts?

    What would you do? Do you take the hard route and get immediate gratification or do you tough it out  alone and do it the best way? Very interested in hearing everyone’s thoughts.

    *Since writing this post, I have spoken to my friend Jen and bounced it all off an empathetic ear of someone who’s been where I am at. Thank God for girlfriends. Love you Jen. The Big Guy and I have decided that we have to do what’s best for our girls and ourselves, which for now, still means living in separate residences.But the house is going on the market in the next couple of weeks versus the original early spring date. And we’re working on maybe utilizing a work from home option occasionally to get us over the hump. In the mean time, keep us in your prayers:)