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jessica Gottlieb,the truth about motherhood is that parents lie

Today, I have the honor of having the fabulously awesome Jessica Gottlieb sharing her TRUTH about motherhood. *Excuse me while I squee. ( Yes, I actually used the word squee but I am just that excited) I’m sure I just lost some cool points with Jessica by making that confession but I don’t care. I must admit I have a little bit of a blogalicious crush on her. She is not only my blogging shero; she is intelligent, funny, witty, wonderful and the queen of snarkilicousness. She is a thinking Mom’s blogger. To top it off, she is the most honest, real, down to earth woman/writer that I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. She hardly needs an introduction but in case you are new to blogging or live in a little social media vacuum, Jessica is the brilliant author of www.JessicaGottlieb.com and you can also find her on Twitter, Facebook, YouTube, Momversation.com,www.tehuser.com and just about any place else that you might expect the grand dame of Mommy blogging to be found. But today, I am excited to say that she can also be found on the TRUTH about Motherhood. Thank you so much for sharing your TRUTH about motherhood with us!

jessica Gottlieb,the truth about motherhood is that you lie alot

The Truth About Motherhood is that You Lie A lot

Mothers are liars. Our children are weaned on lies. I learned to lie in my teens when my mother asked me where I was going. Nowhere. Who is going nowhere with you? No one. Are you smoking cigarettes? Absolutely not. I know you’re smoking pot. No mom.

So we learned in our teens to hide our boyfriends, our vices, and our nights out. I learned to hide my questionable grades and I learned how to cram and get myself out of trouble, well, most of the time.

I learned how to keep secrets, and little did I know how much I would need that skill in motherhood.

I can’t tell my children everything I think, I’m a mother for heavens’ sake. I would never tell them how utterly unprepared for motherhood I feel. I would never tell them that there are parts of school that really don’t matter. I tell my kids that they can be good at things that we both know they’re unlikely to excel at.

I told them about the toothfairy and Mr G told them they were bought at Babies R Us on a rare snowy nights. The snow made his hair grey.

I have told my children that you don’t have sleepovers with the opposite sex until you’re married, and I know I’m doomed because my brother has lived with his girlfriend for sixteen years. I’ve told my children that good things happen to good people. I never mention that captains of industry might behave like shits and get richer, or that children die and certainly a child couldn’t be bad.

I’ve lied to them repeatedly all the while demanding honestly.

The real truth of motherhood can be found somewhere among the lies.

Jessica Gottlieb is a Mom Blogger in Los Angeles.

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10 Things I Know To Be True About Motherhood
Today,  I welcome my friend and fellow blogger, famously Mom sexy, Mary, of  The Mommyologist.com. She’s about to blow the lid off the best kept mom secrets you never knew you needed to know. She shares with us an intimate assortment of parenting wins and fails in her poignant post 10 Things I know to be True about Motherhood. 
Mary inspires me with her positive attitude and her advocacy of the mom sexy movement. I visit her blog and she reminds me that I can still be sexy even if I am a Mommy and that as a mom, it’s OK to still want more for ourselves beyond loving and raising our children. Her blog is positive, relate-able and uplifting. If you are not already a follower of Mary, join the conversation and get your mom sexy back! Thank You Mary for sharing you Truths about Motherhood.

10 Things I Know To Be True About Motherhood

 
1. Even when they come out of a pint-sized butt, farts are still farts, and they still stink. You can’t disguise a fart with a cute tush.
2. When it comes to being a mom? Karma’s a real bitch. I’m totally paying for every remark I made before having my son about parents not being able to control their children in public. I obviously didn’t know shit about kids then. And maybe I still don’t.
3. I’ve pretty much accepted the fact that I will not get a good night’s sleep for the next 15 years or so. Even on my “alone” nights, I still toss and turn wondering what kind of hell my kid is dishing out to the grandparents. But of course, he always sleeps perfect for them. It’s because they have better snacks at their house than I have here. I just know it.
4. Motherhood has made me understand 100% why people get divorced. The end.
5. As my child gets older, I start to fear homework from school more and more. Not because I’m worried that he will have too much of it, but because I’m worried that I won’t understand it. Isn’t there an Iphone app for homework help?
6. I realized one major truth about motherhood about two weeks after I brought my son home from the hospital. Apparently, I’m not running the show around here anymore. I got fired from my job as Princess the day he was born. I’ve been trying to get my position back for the last five years, but they’ve got a new hiring manager and she’s totally threatened by my ass.
7. Kids generally don’t lie about food. When my kid tells me that he doesn’t want to try something because he doesn’t like the texture, it’s best just to let it slide rather than having that particular food regurgitated all over my shirt. I hate doing laundry, so I’d rather just let him eat pretzels and call it a night.
8. I knew I loved wine before I had a kid. But now our love affair is hotter than ever. Having a kid totally sealed the deal for my affection for all things vino.
9. Even though I’m the queen of Mom Sexy, I know for a fact that I will never be as hot as I was on my wedding day. And I’m okay with that. At least I’m not hungry anymore, right?
10. Perhaps my biggest truth about motherhood is that even though being a parent is challenging and not always picture perfect, it’s made me who I am today…and I know that being my son’s mom is who I was meant to be. Even when nothing else in my life makes sense, that little boy gives me the swift kick in the ass I need to realize that things have a way of working out how they’re supposed to. Trying to mess with fate is never a good idea. And that’s the TRUTH.
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My 10 Truths About Motherhood

Today, I have one of my favorite bloggy friends to help celebrate my 2nd blogiversary, Jennifer of Perfectly Disheveled. If you have not read Jenny before you are in for a treat. She is light-hearted, honest, funny, with a pinch of snark and always looks freaking completely put together. I am as serious as a heart attack. If she weren’t so damn awesome, she’d definitely be the Mommy I was jealous of looking so damn fashionable and cute all the time. Anyways, it’s late and I’m rambling. Bottom line is this, she is a fabulous writer, an awesome friend ( you know the kind who’d have your back in any situation but somehow still remain a complete lady), and an even more fantastic Mommy. She’s here to share her 10 truths about Motherhood and I am thrilled to have her here at The TRUTH about Motherhood.

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Courtesy of Perfectly Disheveled

The truth is…

 

I love Poop Talk. I’ve always thought poop was funny. I was the girl in elementary school (okay, maybe college too) that laughed when the boys farted. Thirty years later, I’m still the girl that laughs when a (three year old) boy farts– Only, my “laugh” is now in the form of “please say, ‘excuse me.'” or “please refrain from saying poop at the table, honey. That’s potty talk.” But in truth, I’m cracking up inside.

 

The truth is…

 

Cheerios have become as crucial as oxygen.. I never knew I could get so comfortable sleeping on them, finding them in pockets, pushing them aside in my purse. Crushed or whole, I have come to accept them every day, all day long.

 

The truth is…

 

I’m exhausted.

 

The truth is…

 

I love boogers.Let me be clear, i love my SON’s Boogers. I could wipe his nose or squeejie out snot with that little hospital bulb- turkey baster thing all day long if he’d let me. This applies strictly to his nose and his nose only though. Ask me to help you with your runny nose (or worse, pop a zit), I will vomit.

 

The truth is…

 

I “get” guilt mom guilt. I mean, I get it and I GET it. I understand how deep love can be and I understand how you can be so in love it can eat you up and even make you feel bad, because all you want to do is be so good. I get it.

 

The truth is….

Stay at home, work at home, work full time, work part time, work abroad, wealthy, privileged, poor, single, divorced, or somewhere where in between it is the hardest job in the entire world. Period.

 

The truth is…

 

Overall my body is actually “better” than it was before I had a baby (not withstanding that very-never-to-be-seen-again-wedding-weight.) The state of my boobs, however, I blame entirely on breast feeding advocates.

 

(Speaking of which…) The truth is…

 

Breastfeeding was not easy for me. I did it exclusively for 6 months but in truth, not sure if I loved it at all. I will absolutely breastfeed for my next baby (no plans in the near future in case you’re wondering). But I will definitely not put as much pressure on myself. My mom didn’t breastfeed me and judging by the 25 phone calls and texts exchanged daily, I’d say we’re pretty bonded. And I’m kinda smart.

 

The truth is…

 

It’s the best lesson in “don’t knock it, ’til you try it.” Before becoming a mom, I was definitely that person who judged other parents… how they disciplined, what they fed their children, how much TV they allowed. Yeahhhhh….. Sorry about that. I stand corrected. About it all. I get it now.

 

The truth is…

 

Nothing Matters more. This is not to say that I’ve given up on all things other than motherhood. This just means that it’s the thing I want to be the very best at.

 

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Today, the wonderfully snarkalicious Ilana of Mommy Shorts is stopping by the TRUTH about Motherhood and sharing her Truth About Motherhood. I am thrilled to have her.”I am exhausted. Yet, somehow I do not capitalize on the hours I have to sleep. I have an adorable baby. Who will challenge your baby to a cuteness contest. Where they will automatically tie. Because pitting babies against each other is totally NOT COOL. I also have a husband. Whom I love slightly more than my computer. But slightly less than ice cream.”  If you are not already a follower of Mommyshorts you should definitely check her out. She will keep you laughing with her honest and witty take on life,entertainment, photos and babies.

My Truth about Motherhood~I'm not a natural with kids,moms, motherhood, women, family,husband parents, baby, truth, www.motherhoodthetruth.com

Prior to having a baby of my own, I honestly had no idea what to do around children. And even worse, I was terrified they all could tell. Like I was wearing a t-shirt with the words “You Make Me Feel Uncomfortable” emblazoned across the front. (And yes, in my not-so-good-with-children head, even a two-year-old can read.)

When I was around newborns, all I envisioned was some sort of horrific accident of which I would be solely responsible.  If a friend handed me their new baby (because everyone assumes you want to hold their baby, right?), I would look at that mother with eyes that said, “You do realize I will drop your child/fall down this flight of stairs/unintentionally throw the baby off the balcony, right?”

If I was around a toddler, I had a hard time feigning excitement for the things they wanted to talk about or play with.  Two minutes into stacking a ring toy or organizing some blocks and my eyes would glaze over with a “When Will This Be Over?” sheen.

Being around older kids (let’s say 5-10) was the worst. I felt this weird desire for them to classify me as “cool” and would thus fall back on my “cool default” behavioral mode— slightly aloof and detached. Not exactly a frame of mind that’s gonna win any points with a seven-year-old.

My husband, however, is a different story. He is excellent with kids. They flock to him like a bagel floating in a duck pond. I have watched him time and time again, win over children by coming down to their level and acting interested in their activities. It is not something I can copy. And believe me, I have tried.

After much study and reflection, I think it might have something to do with my husband ACTUALLY being interested in the kids and GENUINELY enjoying himself. Hmph.

One of the reasons I married him was because I thought he was my only shot at raising well-adjusted children. I figured his talents would balance out my deficiencies.

Well. When we had our first child, I was in for a shock. Because although my husband is excellent with walking, talking, passing and throwing little tots, he had absolutely no idea what to do with a baby.

But luckily, much to both of our amazement— I, the non-mother-material poster child, suddenly saw things clearly.

My job was not about entertaining the baby or getting the baby to like me, it was about KEEPING HER ALIVE.

THAT, I could figure out.  Changing diapers, bathing her, feeding her, scheduling nap times and putting her to bed. These tasks may not be fun but they are an easy-to-follow step-by-step roadmap for building a relationship with your child.

That first few months I learned that mothers aren’t first and foremost their child’s friend. They are their child’s provider. And the most important thing is not to be perceived as cool or fun or entertaining. It is to be caring, loving and comforting.

All I had to do was keep her close and safe.

Now that might seem obvious to some. But it was not to me. My biggest truth in motherhood is that even if I’m terrible with kids in general (which hasn’t changed), when it comes to my 16-month-old baby girl, I can still be a damn good mom.

 

 

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Truthful Mommyisms
I can’t remember exactly how or when I met the lovely Alexandra, the voice of Good Day Regular People. I do know that she is like the big sister that I never had. She is a wonderful woman who writes a very smart, funny, entertaining and honest blog. I love reading her because for me, she is very relate-able. We share a common thread, we are both Latinas and Mothers. But her pieces are more than just that, they are the voices of Motherhood that transcend race, religion,creed, or station in life. If you are not already a follower of Alexandra, I hope that you will be. Not only is she an amazing supporter for her bloggy friends, she truly does celebrate her fellow women and she is full of maternal wisdom.I am honored to have her here today sharing her very tender and intimate truth about motherhood. She is one of the bravest women I know.I know that once you read her, you will hold her in as high a regard as I do. Thank You Alexandra for sharing your story.  XO, Debi
www.motherhoodthetruth.com

 

Since I can remember, I have wanted to be a mother.

 

To have my own babies, and have a laundry basketful of little bitty socks and soft, cotton onesies to fold.

 

When I was five years old, I confessed to my grandmother, “Abuela, I can’t wait to have my own children.”  Her response to me was, “God waits to send the perfect children just for you.”  I smiled at the thought of what precious baby God would choose for me.  I imagined having a little girl, full of curls and large, dark eyes, all legs kicking and joyful giggling.

 

I knew I would be a perfect mother, for that perfect baby. I would be the best mother there ever was. I would be loving, patient, full of kisses and good nature and never without a smile on my face and laughter in my voice. I would be a dream mom.

 

As time went on, my baby fever never wained. And the longer life had me wait for that perfect baby, the more precise the vision of what type of mother I would be, became. With every year that my biological clock ticked on, the more mature and wisened I imagined myself in the role of a lifetime: that of a mother.

 

I was growing impatient, and frankly, scared, when I was approaching 35 years old, and still without that one baby. That baby that my life felt empty without. That baby that would bring me all the happiness I felt I was missing. That baby that would make my life perfect. I knew that when that baby came,  the heavens would open and a chorus of angels would sing, and I would be happy, fulfilled, and never experience any sort of sadness or negative feeling for the rest of my life.

 

Just five months short of my 36th birthday, I finally had that golden, much awaited, baby. The one that would bring me all the joy I knew would come with finally being a mother. All I had dreamed of was finally, here, in my arms.

 

What wasn’t part of my life’s dream, however, was the shock of the feelings I was having after the birth of this baby.

 

I was scared. I was in pain. I was confused and panicked. I was oh so very tired. And I had a baby that wasn’t crying, but screaming and inconsolable, painfully latching on to engorged breasts.

 

I burst into tears. This was the moment I had been waiting for my entire life? This?

 

What was wrong with me? I should be up and dancing and calling people on the phone, joyfully. Not laying here, in this hospital bed, hooked up to an I.V., with tears streaming down my face, holding a baby that I knew could read my mind that said, “I’m too scared to be your mama.”

 

I kept all these feelings to myself, I was so full of shame. I never heard of anyone crying with unhappiness when their baby was born. And especially me. Everyone in my life knew that all I ever wanted, was to have my own baby.

 

Fortunately, my Dr. was astute enough to know this was not a case of baby blues lite. She had me in her office by Day 5 of my beautiful boy being born.

 

She sent me to a Post Partum Depression specialist. My wonderful Dr. would call me at home, to see how I was doing.  She located a PPD support group for me. She even called my husband and told him how important it was that he be home with me.

 

Was this the way I imagined the birth of my life long awaited first baby to be? No. It so sadly wasn’t.

 

This first baby is now 16 years old. But, the memory of his birth is a vivid, visceral one.

 

I have worked hard, through therapy, to forgive myself for not welcoming his coming into the world with joy. I have had to forgive myself.

 

The Truthful Mommyism that I’ve had to learn, is that I’m not perfect, but that does not make me any less of the perfect mother for my children. I am who I am, battle scars and all, and I’ve learned that facing and working through the challenges that life has sent my way, has made me see myself as a strong, brave, determined woman.  When my first child was born, not only did I have a newborn to take care of, but I did it with PPD, temporarily broken dreams, and, at the time, disappointment in myself.

 

I did it, I survived, and I am proud to say, that I am proud of myself.

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Today, I have the pleasure of sharing with you the awesomely wonderful and ever mentoring GiGi, of A Kludgy Mom. GiGi is the true living example of sisterhood through motherhood. She is not only a fabulous writer with her hands into about just about everything on the inter-webs these days ( she’s an overachiever folks), she has been a rock solid mentor for me. I’ve never met someone who has so little time but has such a giant heart that she is makes time to be generous with her time to help a friend. If you don’t already follow her, you are doing yourself a great disservice. She is witty, snarky, deep and amazing…depending on the day. Basically, she is always worth a read and a follow. Please check her out. Thank you GiGi for sharing your Truths about Motherhood today and helping me celebrate my 2 year Blogiversary. XO Debi

 

Kludgy Mom

 

 

Dear Deb wanted me to write about MY truths about motherhood.

Do we have a year?

We are giant figures in the lives of our children, and yet, we are just a tiny thread in the quilt that is the community of mothers.

What do I know about motherhood? I know this.

There will always be a woman who had an easier childbirth than you.  There will always be a woman who didn’t feel the baby come out, didn’t need drugs, cut her own umbilical cord and perhaps even performed her own c-Section while listening to Mozart and having her toes done by the in-hospital pedicurist.

There will always be a woman who had a more difficult childbirth than you. There will always be someone who was torn farther, bled more, went into labor earlier, had stronger contractions, and took a bigger dump than you. In front of a movie-star handsome ob-gyn.

And then, one day, the kid grows up, and none of that matters.

There will be times in the early days of motherhood that you drown in self-doubt. You will beat yourself up because you couldn’t breastfeed. You will beat yourself up because you’d like to take a break from nursing but can’t. You agonize over whether formula will cause your firstborn to grow up just like Jon Gosselin. You agonize over whether you will be ridiculed because you’ve chosen to breastfeed until your baby is 3 or 4.

And then, one day, the kid grows up, and none of that matters.

There will be moments where you secretly (or obviously) applaud yourself as your child achieves developmental milestones. You puff your chest out as you are congratulated at your toddler’s good behavior. You wear a self-satisfied grin as people call you a good parent. Because you know you are.

There will be moments when you are looked at funny because your kid is thrashing around on the floor at the mall because you wouldn’t buy her an Icee. You ignore whispers of “it’s all the parent’s fault.” You wonder where you went wrong.

And then, one day, the kid grows up, and none of that matters.

There will be times when you feel like every single minute of the day is a battle, your enemy tiny and silent. You will consider forcing food down his throat to get him to eat. You will bribe. You will time-out. You will spank, even though you swore you wouldn’t.

There will be times when your kid eats so much you can’t believe you raised such a greedy, gluttonous, insatiable pig. You will watch with disdain as giant hunks of steak and ice cream and broccoli get shoveled into his hungry mouth.

And then, one day, the kid grows up, and none of that matters.

There will be plans you develop to teach your kid the building blocks of learning, to stimulate curiosity.You flash card. You read. You sing in the car. You count peas. You take him to Sylvan at 13 months of age demanding why he doesn’t know his phone number yet.

There will be times that you are so damn tired of your kid asking why Santa wears red, why a beetle is called a beetle, how a remote control turns the TV on, whether he can dismantle his Nintendo with a screwdriver and who is Lady Gaga.

And then, one day, the kid grows up, and none of that matters.

In the end, it all boils down to one universal truth, doesn’t it?

Kids grow up.

Kids are born. We are offered the job of mothering. We accept.

They eat. They sleep. They grow. They learn. Much of it with our guidance, and much of it truly on their own.

We do the best we can.

Our obsessive focus on the minutiae of each mothering moment – positive or negative – seems silly in hindsight. Once-agonizing decisions that consume hours of our day fade into the blurred mosaic of memory. We are just moms.

Kids grow up. And none of that other stuff matters. Moms grow up, too.

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Today, I am honored to have one of my bestest bloggy friends and a fabulously snarkilicious lady guest post, Jenni from MommyNaniBooBoo.com. She is one of my favorite people in the world, as evident here. She’s fabulous and if you are not already following her, I highly recommend that you do so…immediately. She is sharing her TRUTH about Motherhood here today and I couldn’t be more excited.

For me, from the beginning, motherhood hurt. I was literally torn in two giving birth to my son. My pubic bone was split, and I had several weeks of physical therapy before I could walk again. It never entered my mind that something like that was even possible! I knew giving birth would be painful, but seriously? Ripping in half? Isn’t that a little unnecessary? Stack that on top of bloody nipples from trying to nurse every half hour, and it was not the most peaceful of beginnings.

 

My son was colicky, and I suffered from post partum depression. Each day was excruciatingly painful for the first several months. I remember banging my head against the wall… to keep from passing out… to take my mind off of the incessant crying… to keep from squeezing my son too tight while I held him.

Ow.

But what they say is true- colic doesn’t last forever. And gradually I started to feel a little better.  I started to realize how kick ass I must be to have endured so much. Breast feeding became a joy, and I would marvel at my slurping son in our private and tender moments. And soon I became ready for the stuff I always knew would happen- the cuteness, the squeaky giggles, the snuggles, the “mamamama”, and the first wobbly steps.

But damner damnersteins if nobody told me that would freakin hurt too!

And that it would

just

keep

coming.

 

A different kind of hurt, but one I wasn’t prepared for.

A hurt that boldly erases all the other superficial hurt I experienced.

My son is almost three, and I am currently in the throws of the Beautiful Hurt.  The exquisite, precious, ache to the depths of your soul hurt. It’s, “I can do it by myself”. It’s the climbing and getting hurt. It’s the playing pretend. It’s the getting ready for pre-school soon. It’s all too much. I see my son grow into more of his own person with each day. And my heart is breaking and expanding at the same time. I am proud and terrified at any given moment.

It’s magnificent. And it’s breaking my bloody heart.

Because I’m realizing I won’t be able to hold him close forever.

I was prepared for the poop, the nursing, the terrible twos, the potty training. I was even halfway prepared for the exhaustion.

I was not prepared for the love so deep it makes your soul ache.

For the joy so intense it carves a river through all of your insides.

I had no idea.

It’s other worldly.

But I’m tougher than I thought.

So bring on the pain that only a mother knows.

Rip that cord a little more each day… and I’ll wait patiently until he runs back for a brief hug and kiss.

My tear ducts are developing scar tissue.

And… perhaps I’m a bit of a masochist.

Because to me…

Motherhood…

It hurts so good.

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dadstreet,josh

Continuing on with the celebration of the 2nd anniversary of The TRUTH about Motherhood, I am excited to introduce you all to today’s special guest writer, Josh of DadStreet.com.

dadstreet,josh

My name is Josh, I’m an East Coast Transplant currently living in Monterey, California.

I’m completely and utterly in love with my children and when I’m not drooling over them I’m doing one of the following: drinking wine, taking pictures, playing with my iPhone, listening to an audio book, trying some kind of new food, surfing online, sleeping, watching TV, yappin’ on the phone, and last but not least trying to spend quality time with “The Boss”.  Oh, and I’m extremely sarcastic so please note that about 92% of what I say is crap.  True crap but crap nonetheless…

I “met” Josh via Twitter and he is a really funny guy with a great sense of humor, a deep love for his wife and children and pretty damn snarkilicious for a Daddy. What’s not to love,right? So, if you are not familiar with Josh, please do yourself a favor and stop over at www.DadStreet.com and check him out. I would also highly recommend that you follow him on Twitter, he is a great conversationalist and will keep you on your toes. Thank you Josh for celebrating my 2nd blogiversary with me and sharing your TRUTH about Fatherhood!

My Truth: How Being a Father Has Changed Me.

I’m in love with more than one person. Growing up I wasn’t your typical “dude”.  For whatever reason I could only date one girl at a time.  I don’t mean I’d go out with one girl at 5:00 and then another at 6:00.  I mean, I’d always wind up being in a relationship with one girl, never dating around.  The thought of having feelings for more than one person at a time was just too confusing for me.  So there was no way I was going to juggle multiple girls.  It came as a surprise to me that I could love anyone other than my wife as much as I do.  Then even crazier was the notion I could love more than one baby.  I was so guilty when my wife was pregnant with Jake.  I was guilty because I felt like I was taking away something from O in order to give it to Jake.  Oh the guilt!  You’d think I was a Jewish mother I had so much guilt.  Oy Vey!  But you know what?  I can love more than one person and I do!  I love them all so much and each in their own way.  I’ve learned love is not quanitifiable and it knows no boundaries, certainly not when it comes to my family.
I’m scared to death and fear nothing. Oh the things that scare me now that I’m a dad.  Moving cars in parking lots, sharp objects, choking hazards, stairs, illnesses, disease, crime, old playground equipment, unfriendly pets, earthquakes, fire,  Hello Kitty, and Barney.  Okay, the last two scare me but not quite like the rest.  The thing is becoming a dad made me realize how important these two are to me.  The thought of anything happening to them is almost inconceivable and just the remote thought of something bad fills my eyes with tears.  The reality though is quite different.  I know I don’t need to fear these things.  My babies can rely on me.  I will take care of them.  With everything in my power they will not fall victim to those things in my control.
I’m relied on regardless of how reliable I am. Before being a dad I could goof up (often), make careless mistakes (often), and act irresponsibly with little recourse.  I’ve learned though that’s not going to be on the menu now.  Nope, Jake and O rely (very literally) on me for everything from food, water, and shelter to learned morals, values, and integrity (among many other things).  I have to be responsible now.  I owe it to them, they demand it, they deserve it, and they shall get it.  Might I slip up?  Might it take a while to get this kid (at least the bad parts of this kid) out of me?  It might but I’m going to give it my best and demonstrate to them what a reliable Dad looks like.
I’m selfish but my children come first. I never thought of myself as a selfish person before.  Though it’s funny what you find when you actually look in the mirror.  I don’t think I was selfish in a mean, screw you kind of way.  It was more of an absent minded, I’m a big idiot kind of way.  Having Jake and O has made me realize they need to come first.  I had my time to myself first and now it’s time for them.  That doesn’t mean I should neglect my own needs, of course.  Just that my priorities need to be focused with their best interest in mind, they are my priorities now.
I want to teach but haven’t been taught. A few months back I realized how awful our financial situation was.  I realized how many changes needed to take place, and fast.  One impetus for the change was that I wanted our children to be financially independent.  I didn’t want them to know what debt was.  I didn’t want them to be like their dad when it came to finances (at least the old me).  How could I teach them to be fiscally responsible if I couldn’t be myself?  I knew I had to first learn before I could teach.  This of course doesn’t just apply to finances but every important thing I want to pass on.
They had no choice, I do. For the last 3 years and 2 weeks I’ve been a father.  My children didn’t have a choice who their father was going to be.  For most of my life I’ve known we had choices in which we make that determine where we go.  However, I wasn’t living that way.  Since having become a father I’ve started to truly grasp what it means to have a choice.  Many things have happened to me that I had no control over.  Things in the future will continue to happen to me and to my family under which we have no control over..  How I respond to these things, however, is directly in my power.  I have the choice to be the person I want to be.  I choose who I am.
I want to be the father I want my children to have. I’d always wanted children, from a very young age..  I’d always thought about what it would be like having children.  I never thought so much about what it would be like to be a father though.  I have very high expectations for the type of father I want Jake and O to have.  Traits I’d want for their father include:
Honesty, Integrity, Responsibility, Sensitivity, Thoughtfulness, Intelligence, Down right funny, Active, Supportive, Educative, Inspiration, Spirituality, Compassionate, Energetic, Charitable, and Dependability to name a few. Yeah, that was more than a few but who’s counting?
Am I all these things now?  No, but I’m working on it and the important thing is I now know what it is I’m working towards.  We live our lives building what in the future will become our legacy.  Many of us will build our legacy without ever knowing what it was.  Being a father has taught me that I decide who I’m going to be and I determine what that legacy will be.  Now that I know what I want my legacy to be as a dad, I can pave the road to it.
I want to show my children that they can build a path to whatever destination they want in life.  They can’t begin to build that path though if they don’t know where they’re going.  I know where I want to be and I know where I’m going.  I will take my children with me and teach them the same.  I have begun to learn what being a dad has taught me about myself.  I know that I will continue to learn, as being a dad is as much about teaching our little ones as it is about learning from the experience.
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Blogiversary celebration Guest Post #1 ~Scary Mommy

Today, I have my first guest post blogger in a series of bloggers to help kick off my 2nd blogiversary celebration. 2 years people!OMG! ( I feel like streamers and balloons should be dropping from the bloggy ceiling right about now). I am absolutely over the moon to welcome the fabulously wonderful Jill AKA Scary Mommy to The TRUTH about Motherhood. I adore Jill for her honesty and her candor on her blog. Her tagline says  An honest take on Motherhood, so she is absolutely my kind of people. If you are not already familiar with her blog, I suggest that you go and check her out and make sure that you congratulate her on her new Target deal. She’s so pretty, witty and wise that she has been selected by Target to be a part of their new Fashion Experiment . She will make you laugh and cry,sometimes both in a single post. No matter the situation, you will walk away feeling like you just had a long talk with a good girlfriend..a real mom. You know…one just like you but with a much better sense of humor. Thank you so much Jill for joining in on my Blogiversary Blogipalooza celebration!

 

Mothers & Daughters

 

Jeff and I were lazy parents last night. We stuck the kids in our bed, put on a movie and decided they could just fall asleep without teeth brushing, stories and songs.

The two of us sat on the couch together; no computers, no kids. It was nice. We talked.

Jeff told me about how sweet Lily has been with him lately.

The night before, when he tucked her in, the two of them lay side by side in her twin bed and reminisced. He told the story of the night he fell in love with her, in her lilac room in our very first house. She was a few months old and crying in her crib. He went it to console her and she looked up at him, smiled and he melted, as only a father can.

He told her of the time when he’d been away on business and came home and she was so happy to see him that she cried tears of joy as she hugged him close. She teared up and cuddled with him, remembering that feeling. They traded countless stories and laughed and dozed off together.

She’s been amazing, lately, Jeff said, his voice shaking. Fathers and daughters, I sighed.

He looked at me, expectantly.

She told me she hated me four times today, I contributed.

Mothers and daughters.

 

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Have you read the Alabaster cow? If not you are really missing out.  Ericka at the Alabaster Cow is an amazingly, witty honest writer who will emphatically make you laugh, cry and shake your head in agreement. Now get over there and visit her while you can, she is on the precipice of writing greatness. Keep a look out, soon there will be upcoming novels!

Baby Poop, JTT, and a Monkey
I spent all day today covered in poop.
That’s the typical story isn’t it?  The no shower, stink to high heaven, realize you stepped in Chihuahua shit an hour too late scenario that seems to stick to our motherly asses like chewed gum on a subway seat.
Or is it just me?
I only want one child.  Does the fact that I didn’t realize I had my daughter’s feces smeared on my shirt and my shorts until three in the afternoon somehow justify this?  Certainly.  Is there more to the story?  You bet your backside there is.
This life isn’t the one I had carved out for myself when I was younger.  I had spent countless minutes whittling away at my potential future until it took the shape and form of the following:
·Publish my first novel by sixteen (I was of course willing to publish sooner but I reasoned I’d be able to handle the pressure at a more mature age.  By which I mean sixteen).
·Gain the attraction of both Prince William and Jonathan Taylor Thomas which shouldn’t be too hard considering I was pretty sure I’d turn into a sixteen-year-old babe.  This must have been the major clue that I was destined for a life of absolute beauty:



·Make a major decision and decide if I’d rather spend my life with JTT or Prince William.  This one is obviously a head scratcher, folks.
·Publish consecutive novels and travel across the world for book signings and lectures.
·Buy a monkey.
As time went on I eventually nixed the monkey plan (I decided with all that money and fame that TWO monkeys would suit me that much better) and added the part about me obtaining my MFA, going on and securing my PhD under my belt and of course teach and write and maybe break into acting.  It’s the natural progression of things, no?
But instead of lounging in the back of my limo, popping a bottle of bubbly with JTT (I’m Catholic so even though my forbidden love affair with the prince would be tres romantic, I’m afraid it would have been too much work and I’m too damn lazy and famous and rich for that), I spent the day covered in baby poop.
I love my daughter.  There are tightly wound fibers in my heart that would deaden and drift away if I didn’t have that little lady in my life.  But I only want that little lady and no other munchkins.  Maybe it’s because my blood still contains my writerly ambitions.  Maybe it’s because I have yet another novel manuscript bouncing around in my head.  All I know is that I’m going to be an author one of these days.  Not just for me, but for her.
People say I’m only dreaming.  That one day I’ll get over my “one and done” philosophy and the whole writer schtick and that’ll I’ll want my own little Duggar clan.  But that’s the thing: if I’m dreaming then this time the dream will stick.
Or else I’ll buy a monkey.
What a great point Ericka makes with this piece! We all need to hold on to our dreams so that we can be better  parents to our children. We are the example that they base their lives on and if we lead lackluster lives covered in shit while watching life pass us by, what kind of an example will we be? Never let go of your dreams! You may have to change them up a little, postpone them for a little while, or even take an entirely different route to get to them ( the scenic route) but don’t let go of your dreams. I firmly believe that where there is a will, there is always a way. Even if you have to write that first novel during stolen moments in the middle of the night or while sitting there covered in a baby’s bodily fluid, don’t give up. The only way we certainly don’t achieve our goals is by not trying or giving up.
Thank you for the reminder
href=”https://alabastercow.com/”>ERICKA!
We all had our dreams, and then we had our babies, Now, lets have our cake and eat it too!
Now, Please go visit ERICKA at the ALABASTER COW! You will thank me later! And follow this talented, humorous writer who shares her life and perspective with us in a very entertaining fashion.
I had the pleasure of guest posting at the ALABASTER COW today so please go there and check out my post for today!Happy Mothering!
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