The TRUTH About Motherhood

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How to Live with Your Heart Walking Around Outside of Your Body
This post is sponsored by Disney’s Pinocchio. All opinions and the wish for my child are my own.
Ever think about what your greatest wish for your child might be? Do you want them to be smart? Successful? Healthy? Happy? Good human beings? Maybe all of thee above. When I was a child, I thought the tale of Pinocchio was just about a boy who lied and when he did, his nose grew. The moral of the story for me, as a child, was to not lie because it’s bad and liars get caught. So not worth it, plus, I didn’t want my nose to grow. I was vain so that lesson quickly stuck with me. Years later, that’s how I became “Truthful mommy.” I simply can’t lie because my face shows every thought that comes into my head. I think it’s a pretty awesome thing and it’s something I’ve taught my girls, the no lying part, the face betrayal is pure genetics (fortunately for me they’ve inherited that too).
As an adult, I’ve read the story of Pinocchio with my children and I see it with a fresh perspective. I see an even deeper aspect to the timeless story. I see a man desperate for a child; someone to love unconditionally. Geppetto wants what all parents want, his own little miracle.
From the moment I knew that I was pregnant and felt those first flutters and kicks, I’ve known that being a mother was a privilege. Sure sometimes I’m exhausted and the minutia of motherhood makes me feel like I’m a little bit brain dead. But, then out of nowhere I’m inspired or flabbergasted and other times I’m just outright amazed by the way they move through the world. They truly are miracles to me. Don’t get me wrong, they can also be a handful. It’s certainly not always sunshine and rainbows but I totally see why Geppetto wished on a star to make his puppet son a real boy. Nothing can substitute the love shared between a parent and a child.

When I was younger, I always knew that when I grew up, I wanted to be a mom. I come from a big family; 6 children. I like to call us the Mexibilly Brady Bunch, only we all came from the same set of Catholic parents. I’m the Marsha of the family. Children have always been a part of my life. I was always the girl who went to family/friend gatherings and spent a bulk of my time entertaining the children. It was all I had ever known and I knew one day, I wanted my own children to love.
I grew up, got married and eventually had a couple little girls of my own. There is nothing quite like motherhood. You can babysit a million children, read every book and watch every movie and it still never prepares you for being a mother to actual children. First, you are overwhelmed with all the heart-exploding love that you never even knew existed in the world that you feel for said ooey, gooey baby from the instant you see them. And forget about it once they put that baby in your arms, you are done for. There is no recovery from that kind of love. Instant and eternal addiction.
Then complete and overwhelming, all-encompassing fear because holy moly you realize this baby is perfection and you have absolutely no idea what you are doing and the last thing you want to do is mess up the most perfect thing you will ever do in your life. When the doctor said I could go home from the hospital with my first baby, I was overcome with sheer panic because what were they thinking? I felt like the world’s biggest imposter. I was terrified. None of my experiences up to that point had prepared me for what I was feeling in that moment.
Then more fear because, oh my goodness, I love this little person more than anything I’ve ever loved in my entire life and now they are out in the world, exposed to the elements; the crazy (all the crazy), global warming, sharp edges and mean people (people who could hurt their feelings or worse). And what if I messed it up and she stopped breathing or I couldn’t feed her or I dropped her (all of which happened by the way) or the list was endless of ways that I could damage her? That’s when it hit me like a train, loving someone has no guarantees. Being able to love someone so precious so much comes with a price and that price is the uncertainty that it will all be alright. The price for great love is great pain if it’s ever lost but it’s totally worth the risk. Once you’ve seen your child look at you like you are the best thing in the world, you will die, kill and risk it all just to see them smile; everything else becomes meaningless when you have that kind of clarity. When you give love to a tiny human, you accept the responsibility and you never look back, only forward.
Geppetto’s wish for Pinocchio was that he became a real boy. How could he not? I have two wishes for my daughters and they are these: health and happiness. Sounds simple, right? Not so much because one day I may find myself confronted with the choice of watching my child choose a path that might not be what I would have chosen for their happiness, but it’s not my life to live. I am only the giver of their lives but it is their lives to live.
Sometimes we have to watch our kids struggle before they reach their goals. That’s how they learn to work for their dreams. That’s how they learn to become who they are meant to be. That letting go to let them grow up is almost impossible but it’s part of the unwritten parent/child agreement.
I can keep my daughters healthy and happy in my house because I control the climate but once they get out in the world, I can only be there to catch them when they stumble. I will always do all that I can to help them make their dreams come true but I can’t do it for them because then the happiness will lose its effect.
So my wish for my girls is all the happiness that the world has to offer them. I teach them to go for their dreams. I teach them to pursue their joys and to never be afraid to change their expectations because sometimes life and happiness don’t fit neatly into a box. Life is messy and beautiful and I just want my girls to be open to enjoying every single moment of it.
New to The Walt Disney Signature Collection, the movie that inspired the world to wish upon a star, Pinocchio is a timeless tale for the whole family. Bring home this magical story of friendship and epic adventure now on Digital HD & Disney Movies Anywhere, on Blu-ray Jan 31. Pick up your copy here. It includes hours of new and classic bonus content.
This is the wish for my child, what do you wish for yours?

2017/01/17
Hillary Clinton’s Nomination Just Kicked Misogyny in the Balls
Hillary Clinton just made history shattering the glass ceiling to become the first woman to be the presidential nominee for a major political party and I got to watch it happen with my little girls. As a Mexican American woman this means more to me than I can put into words. I grew up in a house where women were second class citizens. While the rest of the world was marking their value by the payment of 80 cents on the dollar, I knew in my house, I wasn’t even worth half. Or so that was what I was told but, I always knew better.
I knew what Hillary Clinton proved tonight. I knew that I could be anything that I put my mind to and was willing to work my ass off for. Being a woman, the simple act of being born with a vagina, has always been equated with being less than and that has made life harder. We’re seen as the “weaker” sex and given no power. We have to work twice as hard and fight for everything we get. I was willing to do it because I’ve never let anyone tell me what I could and couldn’t do. I want better for my girls. I want a woman president in their lifetime.
I want Hillary Clinton as my president. I’m with her because she is with us.
8 years ago, I got to be part of history and vote for our first African American President and it felt good. I felt like, for once, we less thans were changing things. I could feel the shift. It felt monumental and it was. It is. Finally, a minority President was a reality. How far we had come. This gave me hope that a woman could be next.
But still, politicians forgot about we women. All of this legislation was being proposed that allowed middle-aged white men to decide what I could and couldn’t do with my own body. For all of our so-called rights, we women were never treated (and still are not) as equal human beings. Our worth was not so great as our male counterparts, no matter who we were or what we did, we still lacked one main quality of greatness…a penis. But I never believed it, not for one second.
After all, I am woman. I know you hear me roar but you ignore my battle cries. The thought of this being my daughter’s reality was unbearable. The thought that my daughters could ever be made to feel less than simply for being born with a vagina, saddens and sickens me because I know better. I taught them better. Every woman knows that a vagina is tougher than a penis. We give birth and devote our lives to loving and caring for our children, all while still existing, working and thriving in a world that either doesn’t respect us or doesn’t see us at all. We spend our lives being provoked and dared to respond. Hillary changed that. We changed that.
Tonight, when roll call was done and Hillary Clinton got the democratic nomination, that was our moon landing.
One small step for woman, one giant leap for womankind. In one nomination, Hillary Clinton gave us hope that we (the American citizens who have vaginas) can achieve equality in the eyes of the law but more importantly, in the eyes of our daughters.
The glass ceiling was shattered tonight and all the mothers and daughters of the United States are celebrating because we know that the next time we tell our little girls that they can be anything they want to when they grow up, we’re telling them the truth. The possibilities are endless. We’ve shattered the ceiling and we’re never going back to the way it was.
I know I will never forget this night when our world changed for the better. The moment equality was on the precipice for women. The night I got to witness history being made and changed with my two beautiful little girls by my side. The night I was moved to tears because finally, women might be seen as human beings with human rights.
Women’s rights are human rights. Thank you Hillary Clinton for reminding the world that women can do anything men can do and better.
2016/07/27
Hershey’s and Catching Fireflies are what Summer is Made For
This is a compensated post for MarketVision and its advertiser Hershey’s. All opinions are mine alone.
Summer time is here, though you might not know that if you live in the Midwest. Our weather has been more unpredictable than Lady Gaga on stage. You just never know what’s going to happen. However, one thing we do from spring until autumn, whether it’s 50 degrees or 90 degrees, is stay up late, sit around a campfire roasting marshmallows under clear skies and talk about everything. Doesn’t everyone?
This is a tradition that my husband and I have done every year since becoming parents. It started out as a way to just relax after the babies went to sleep, when we first became parents because back then there wasn’t a lot of time for just us. It was a way to be home but enjoy some alone time (well, until the baby started crying and needed one of us, anyways).
As the girls got a little older, they loved sitting around the campfire in their tiny kid’s chairs, in their pj’s as we roasted marshmallows for them and made s’mores. Sure, eating s’mores at bedtime is not the most responsible thing to do with toddlers but boy, did they love it. The night ended with two little ones, up way past their bedtime, passed out in our laps, smelling of campfire and tiny cheeks covered in bits of marshmallow and smears of chocolate. It may not have been the responsible thing to do but it was the right thing to do for making childhood memories.
It’s hard when your child’s bedtime is 7 p.m. but it doesn’t get dark until 9 p.m. We could never be the parents who made our kids miss out on catching lightening bugs. There’s just something intrinsically peaceful about sitting around a fire under the night sky, as children clamor about the backyard collecting fireflies as adults swap stories. A night filled with laughter is absolutely magical.
These days the girls are a little older and bedtime in the summertime is whenever you fall asleep. We spend lots of time outside in our backyard under a blanket of stars. Most nights you will find us with the people we love the most sitting around a fire pit roasting marshmallows for s’mores as the smell of burning wood fills the air and the sound of a crackling fire serenades us. The girls aren’t sitting on our laps as much these days but they’re never far away, usually within a few feet, watching movies under the stars and giggling with their girlfriends over whatever PG movie is playing in the yard that night.
Our girls are growing up fast. Life goes by too fast. But there is one thing we can always count on, summertime and time together in our backyard. Bonding over Hershey’s, graham crackers and marshmallows since 2005.
If you love Hershey’s S’mores as much as we do, you can enter a Hershey’s S’mores Grilling Gift gift set here! So enter and start your summer tradition of Hershey’s s’mores which is sure to bring your family closer together.

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Let Hershey’s be a part of your family traditions.
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2015/06/05
An Open Apology to Men in Light of the recent Witch Hunt for Sexual Predators
Dear Men,
In light of the recent Harvey Weinstein, Kevin Spacey situations, and so many others I am realizing that these men are not the exception. That’s not to say all men are bad. In fact, some men are amazing partners, brothers, fathers and role models but something is really wrong and I never realized it until all the #METOO stories began to flood my feeds. Fundamentally, as a society, we are collectively dropping the ball.
Honestly, that part wasn’t even completely surprising to me. I’m a woman and have been living with my vagina for my entire life. I’ve always suspected that all women have been victimized to one degree or another but I never realized that part of the problem is that men don’t have a clue of how their behavior affects women.
The misconception is that if we have not been dragged into some dark alley and been violently raped by a stranger, we are lucky. We have not been victimized. But that’s not true. Many of us have been victimized and brutalized over and over again for decades.
We’ve just learned that there is an acceptable amount of assault. We’ve learned to live with it. Don’t get me wrong, we are terrified. It has left us scarred. It has left us trembling and cowering. It has robbed us of trust and safety.
We walk fast to our cars at night. We will never be afforded the luxury of a slow stroll under the stars alone to think; not without a cost of safety. We run past large groups of men. We cringe when a man pushes into us on public transportation. Cat calls give us anxiety. We avert our eyes when strange men expose themselves to us. At the end of every date, we pray that we escape without being forced against our will to perform some sexual act that men seem to feel is owed to them as payment for eating dinner with us. We don’t leave our drinks unattended. We travel in packs for protection. But you know none of this because you don’t feel any of this. I never realized it until now. I’m sorry that men have no clue how hard it is to function in the world as a woman.
The Big Guy, my husband, the man I have been with for almost half of my life is a good man. By all accounts, he is a great man, husband, father, and partner. Just ask my mom. You see, he lives his life based on the simple act of being a good person; treating others as he would like to be treated and it works. He is a kind, giving, loving man but he doesn’t understand the female condition. He’s tried but our experiences walking around in the world are so vastly different that it’s like a caterpillar and an elephant trying to understand what the other one’s life is like. It is impossible. How did I find this out? We had a conversation.
I’ve been having a lot of conversations about what’s going on in the world at dinner a lot lately. I respect my husband’s opinion and he’s very intelligent so we can have reasonable debates about most things. But painfully, I’ve realized having an honest conversation with a middle-class white man about the female condition is like talking politics with a monkey. It’s not their fault, it’s just so out of their frame of reference. What a luxury it must be.
I’ve always known that men and women are different but fundamentally, we are all human beings. We are the same species and for whatever prejudices men have about the abilities of women or their place in society, they had to concede that we are all human beings, right? I was wrong.
They know we are human beings but they can’t relate to our experience because it is so fundamentally different from their own. I was talking to a group of men who normally agree with my beliefs and politics. These are educated, feminist men and still, I was surprised at how the conversation went.
We were talking about Weinstein, who we all agree is a monster. Then, we moved on to Spacey who I feel is a definite predator; a pedophile. The group I was speaking with did more listening and less speaking. I could feel myself losing them. Then, the Charlie Sheen third-party accusations came about. We weren’t there. We have no idea what happened because the alleged victim is dead, his mother says the accusations are false and the accused denies any of it happened. Then, a new accusation about Roman Polanski that is 50 years old came up.
This is when the men took it upon themselves to circle back to Weinstein. Then it came, “Why did these women all wait so long to come forward?” I could see doubt poking its ugly head in. I could see them taking offense to the audacity of these women. I could feel myself, the lone vagina owner having to go on the defensive and have a real talk about the female condition with them.
I assured them that I believed wholeheartedly that every single woman who says she has been assaulted and shared her #MeToo story is telling the truth. I do. Maybe it feels like women are all coming forward now and maybe they are but not because it’s popular. It’s because there is safety in numbers. There is the Internet and you can tell the world without having to be given the hairy eyeball by some man who doubts you and questions your part in all of it. What were you wearing? Were you drinking? Did you lead him on in any way?
But how do you know it’s not just for attention? Why all jump on the bandwagon now!
I could feel my head about to explode. You see all of these seemingly educated, intelligent feminist men don’t know shit about living as a woman. But then again, how could they? I don’t know much about walking around in the world with a penis.
I explained to them that we women learn at a very early age that men have the power. It starts with our father; the head of the family. The provider and protector. And if you were raised in a macho Latino family like mine, you know early on that boys are prized above girls. Little girls are taught to be subservient to boys and boys are taught to take care of women, but they are also taught that they know what is best for girls. They don’t.
Then I explained that what they don’t understand is to women, the penis is a weapon, that can be used to hurt us. To defile us. To take from us. To humble us. To punish us. That’s why unsolicited dick pics from random men not only don’t excite us, they frighten us. It’s a threat.
I’m not saying women hate penises. In the right situation, when wanted, between two consenting adults, it can be magical and beautiful. It is the coming together of two as one, perfectly. It gives pleasure and life, literally.
The guys still look unconvinced. These women were grown adult women. They were strong enough to walk away. Especially in the case of Louis C.K. Why didn’t the women run screaming from the room? Why did they ever agree when asked?
I don’t know all the details but I think all women have been in some situation with a man where he has asked of her something so unbelievable that she is like, “Sure, whatever.” (because if she were to flee from the room at the thought of something so ridiculous she’d be labeled a hysterical woman who took everything entirely too seriously.) So, you say, “whatever” never expecting what follows next. I know if I was a fan or colleague of Louis C.K. and he asked if he could get naked and masturbate, I wouldn’t have taken him seriously. I would have thought it was a bit.
The men I was talking to still did not seem convinced. But I could see them rethinking some things so, I told them. I told them some of my truth. This was uncomfortable for me because these men included my husband and two of my brothers but if we don’t talk about it, it never changes. Even though we women have no part in our assaults, we feel shame that we were victimized. We feel like we should have known better because we are raised to not get raped, not get harassed and not get assaulted. Can’t we just teach our boys not to rape, harass and assault?
I told them of the time in college when I woke up in the middle of the night frozen in place to the horror of a guy I’d met earlier that night, a friend of a friend, on top of me kissing me and touching me while I slept. No, we had not gone to bed together. We happened to be staying with people in the same apartment. I pushed him off but I felt violated and I feel that I narrowly escaped being raped but in all honesty, I have no idea what he did before I woke up.
I saw my brothers cringe. They asked why didn’t I tell them. Well, one of them was 11 at the time and the other was 1-years-old. By 19, I had had men push themselves on me more times than I could count. The protocol was to escape the situation as unscathed as possible and be thankful things didn’t go worse.
Then, I told them about the time I was a teenager working at a department store and the loss prevention guys locked me in their soundproof office at the end of the night with the two of them. Then they proceeded to tell me how they enjoyed watching me on the cameras and laughed as they matter of factly told me that they could do whatever they wanted to me in that office and no one would ever hear me.
My husband asked why didn’t I report them. I was 18. They were who I was supposed to report these things to. One was an off-duty cop. Who was going to help me? I just had to stay clear and avoid them.
There are so many instances from little-nuanced things to full-on date rape antics that I have experienced, that most women experience, that our mothers had to survive, that our daughters will have to survive all because men don’t understand. This is not an excuse. This is a fact.
Yes, men know rape is rape but all the rest is murky for them. Between the forgiveness they are afforded because of the boys will be boys clause and the lack of respect they are taught for women and the lack of reverence for the female condition, we women have to appear as irrational, hysterical females jumping on bandwagons just to get the world to pay attention and reevaluate the whole damn system.
I’m sorry that you weren’t raised to truly understand how vulnerable it is to be a woman. I’m sorry we never realized that you didn’t know until now. But the jig is up. I’m putting it out here. MOMS and DADS the onus is on you. Starting with your newborn sons, teach them to do better and to be better to our girls.
How about this: no means no! No touching unless invited to do so and keep your creepy comments and dick pics to yourself. No shoulder massaging. No ass grabbing. No pushing your penises up against us when you’re standing behind us or rubbing it on us when the opportunity arises.No brushing your hands against our breasts. No disgusting comments about our mouths or what you’d like to do with our bodies. No drugging us. No having sex with us when we’re drinking or sleeping or incapacitated in any way that doesn’t allow us to give consent. How about treating us the way you’d like to be treated, with some dignity and respect?
Men, I am sorry that you feel like all the hysterical women of the Internet are on a witch hunt for sexual predators and you are uncomfortable and afraid that some woman from your past might accuse you of some wrongdoing but ask yourself, why are you worried? Why are you dismissive? Have you behaved questionably? Ask yourselves next time, would this be okay if it were happening to my mom, my sister, my girlfriend, my wife, or heaven forbid, your little girl? If the answer is no, then don’t do it.
2017/11/15
Why Every Family should Go RVing before Their Kids Grow Up
I think every family should go RVing before their kids grow up, at least once, if not do like some of my friends and take an entire year to explore. If you want to really connect as a family, for us, there need to be minimal distractions, intimate proximity and the freedom to unplug from the rest of the world. Your priority and attention need to be present with the people who are traveling with you. If there is a beautiful destination involved, a place where you can sit in wonder and awe, even better. This year, we discovered that for us, RVing is the only way to ensure that result.
As many of you know, my family and I are nomads. I could roam the world homeless forever. I was raised that home is where the people you love are and so home for me is wherever the Big Guy and my girls are at. That’s all I need; my health, them and the wide open road. Road trips are my jam; while I love traveling by any means possible, especially to a tropical destination, road trips allow for unexpected adventures that you just can’t plan. Detours and roadside stops or choosing a different path feels a lot like living in your own private choose your adventure game.
Last month, we had one of the best family vacations of our lives and that is saying a lot. I knew traveling by RV would be fun but I had no idea how much we would all connect. I had no idea how many beautiful memories we would make on this one trip. It was as simple as unplugging, being present and actually seeing the people and places in front of us.
Disclosure: We were provided an RV and a campsite at a destination of our choice by Go RVing but all opinions and memories are our own.
A screen is a beautiful thing but it pales in comparison to looking up and seeing the ocean. It is garbage compared to human contact and interaction around a campfire at night on a beach beneath the stars. It’s a poor substitute for real life. Virtual has nothing on human interaction.
The weekend before school started back, we went on a magical end of the summer trip in an RV. I like to sneak in that one last relaxing getaway with my people before schedules get hectic and we’re all neck deep in the minutia of our day to day schedules. Last year, we stayed in a parked RV model in Traverse City, Michigan and we thought that was amazing and it was but it wasn’t the same experience as driving with your family in an RV. Definitely not the same as a road trip in an SUV or car, though, I do love those too.
READ ALSO: Why RVing is the best family trip
We drove 9 hours to the D.C. area to pick up our Winnebago Intent Model 31P before driving another 7 hours to beautiful Camp Hatteras campground in Rodanthe, North Carolina. Talk about style. I’m not sure what I was expecting but this Winnebago exceeded anything I could have imagined. It was almost 32′ in length and could accommodate up to 7 people with bunk beds for the kids. There were only 4 of us, so we had plenty of space.
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There was plenty of storage space, both inside the RV and in the under-storage areas for food, toys and games and whatever you want to bring along. There was a television in the sitting area, the back bedroom and even outside, along with a mini-fridge and sink; perfect when you’re grilling and don’t want to miss that special game. For us, the television was perfect for when it rained outside. We’d all snuggle up and watch a movie together before a midday nap. That’s what vacations are for, right? We were sucking every bit of relaxing we could get out of this trip.
The Outer Banks has always been on my travel bucket list and it was not a disappointment. We can’t wait to go back. There is just something about a vacation by water that is intuitively relaxing for me, especially the ocean.
There were a ton of things to do at Camp Hatteras from mini golfing, corn hole tournaments, live music, ice cream socials to crafts and karaoke but we were more interested in sunsets on the sound, long walks on the beach, playing in the surf, exploring under the pier and bonfires under the stars right on the beach. You choose your family adventure.
You could surf, kayak, take a boat out and fish or you could build sandcastles, bathe in the sun and talk to the people on the blanket next to you on Camp Hatteras’ private beach while your kids laughed and ran from the waves. Campgrounds have a whole culture that I never knew about before and the people are all so fun and friendly. The first night we arrived, our site neighbors came out and helped us novice campers hook everything up.
Cape Hatteras can be as exciting or laid back as you choose. We opted for relaxing togetherness. I took the girls’ phones away. I only used mine for pics. We stopped worrying about ticking boxes and having to be anywhere and we just played it all by ear and it was magical. I seriously can’t recommend it highly enough. If your end goal is to relax on vacation and spend quality time with your family, go RVing.
There was no running to see sights. It was just high grass, soft sand, blue water, crashing waves and star filled nights with the three people I love most on the planet. It couldn’t get any better than that and yet, it did. There were nights of delivered pizza while listening to the wave crash from our Oceanside site. There was coming in from a scorching beautiful day on the beach to an air-conditioned, all the amenities of home RV including a hot shower and a refrigerator full of ice cream.
READ ALSO: Ogunquit Maine is the Perfect Place to Eat Cake by the Ocean
There were lots of laughs and lots of love. There were so many moments and memories made in the that RV and on that beach that I will never forget. If I close my eyes, I can smell the salt in the air, hear my girls giggling and feel the Big Guys hand in mine as we watched our girls run in and out of the surf, delighted by the different creatures in the sea from rogue crabs to spotting a pod of dolphins off in the distance. I can’t wait for next year’s end of the summer adventure.
Have you ever taken a family trip in an RV? If not, start planning next year’s trip now. We only get a handful of these precious years of togetherness like this before our kids grow up and the dynamics change. Sure, they will always be our babies but it won’t always just be us and them and they won’t always be as easily contented by spotting a pod of dolphins, splashing under the pier or sitting beneath the stars making s’mores on a starry night with nothing more than the surf and your doting heart.
Take advantage of every single moment you can. Go RVing!
2018/09/07
Next time, They Won’t Need Me

Estimated reading time: 5 minutes
If you’ve heard that the teen years of parenting are the worst, don’t believe everything you hear. It’s different from previous years but it’s just as beautiful in many ways. I like to think of it as the evolution of the parent and teen relationship filled with beauty and misery.
Our most recent trip to Walt Disney World may have been the last one of my girls’ childhood wonder. It wasn’t on purpose. They didn’t try to do it but it happened. I felt it. The gentle pulling away that is growing up. As a parent, there’s nothing you can do about it.
You’re presented with 2 pseudo choices, go with it and gently let go with a loving smile while wiping away the secret tear in your eye. Or you can hold on for dear life, as they push, pull and drag you off of them. They love you but their instinct is to achieve maximum freedom and independence. You’re a hindrance to both, whether you mean to be or not. There’s only one way to come out of this alive, you have to let go so that the subtle pushing and pulling away of childhood into adolescence doesn’t kill you both.
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2022/03/27
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Go Math! Academy is available in your choice of three payment plans (access for up to 5 children):
- Monthly: $9.99/month
- 6-months: $49.99 ($8.33/month) – a 17% savings
- 1-year: $79.99 ($6.67/month) – a 33% savings
My girls do very well in math and like math but using Go Math! Academy has made them excited about practicing because it has made it fun and animated.
Go Math! Academy has brought math to life for my girls.
I have been compensated by Houghton Mifflin Harcourt to share my thoughts and opinions on this topic/product. My opinions are always my own and cannot be bought; no matter how much money they offer or how awesome they might believe the product or service to be, if I haven’t tried it myself or don’t truly believe in it, love it or would not use it in my own home with my family, I will not support it on my site. ~ Deborah
What is your child’s favorite educational site? Have you tried Go Math! Academy?
2014/09/10
Ummm, honey, where did all the toilet paper go?
It seems these days that every morning I am putting a new roll of toilet paper on the holder. I have two potty trained girls now (Yey) so apparently,there’s a whole lot of little butts being wiped on a daily basis in my house. The confusion comes when every night….I have to put yet another roll on the holder. Seriously? I thought we went through a lot of baby wipes , because I was thorough and maybe a little OCD ~~I’ll never tell~~ . But it seems, as it were, I have passed that crazy OCD excessive gene down to my girls. After all, how much toilet paper can 2 little girls really need? What exactly are they doing with it? Are they eating it? It’s not like they are having bowel issues. It’s just regular, run of the mill daily potty excursions. Of course, while I was convinced aliens must be abducting my toilet paper and sending it back to their home planet to wipe the asses of all the aliens of their planet for the day, I was proven wrong. My theory was blown up in smoke as I walked into the bathroom to see my 2 year old, with what I can only refer to as a toilet paper replica of the Hulk Hand, getting ready to wipe her tush. No wonder the toilet keeps getting clogged. (I know, you are all thinking if her 2 year old is not only potty trained but can wipe her own ass, what the hell is she complaining about? Hey, I do it 97% of the time..she does it the other 3 %. I know, my girls are gifted with their potty training genius. I should just be happy they pee in the potty and not in diapers anymore.) If her older sister is doing the same, well hell, I guess I should be glad we’re only going through a 12 pack a week.
Of course now that I see how excessive they have become with the mainstays of the bathroom, it has really tweaked my interest as to what is really happening with the children’s toothpaste. Maybe its those damn aliens again?
2010/04/29
Bedtime ~Things that go Bump in the Night
Bedtime: The Most Wonderful Time of the Day
Bedtime at our house has always been a chore. I have two little girls who are, more often than not, co-sleepers. I won’t lie, I do love the cuddles and snuggles that come with having my children in bed next to me. Of course, now that they are respectively seven and four, the once adorable cuddles and snuggles are escalating into flailing arms and kicking feet, usually to my torso or face. Ouch!
We put the girls in their own room at night but some time between bedtime and dawn, one or both always finds their way into our bedroom. This almost always ends with either us pulling them into our bed with us or one of us walking half-asleep back to their room, snuggling in and staying for the duration. It’s not a bad deal but some times the Kung Fu fighting antics makes it a bit difficult to get any quality sleep for the adults. Apparently, they lose no sleep over the fact that they are sleep Kung Fu Masters.
The girls know that they are at an age now where we would prefer that they stay in bed and fall back to sleep, preferably on their own. After all, waking themselves completely up and then proceeding to wake us up provides for a not so restful sleep for any of us.
Bedtime: Desperate Times call for Desperate Measures
One night, my four year old ran from her room and jumped in our bed. Literally, jumped completely over me and landed between the Big Guy and I. It startled me and woke me from a dead sleep. She was crying. I asked what was wrong and her answer was , “Mommy, there were lemurs dancing around my room and jumping on my bed. They came from under my bed. I can’t sleep in there any more!!!!” So much for letting a four year old watch Madagascar.
She was very serious. I cuddled her and reassured her that there were no lemurs dancing around her room. There were no lemurs jumping on her bed. There most certainly were not any lemurs living under her bed. But, I told her just to be sure that I would spray under her bed with “Lemur spray” in the morning. She was sufficiently satisfied,cuddled into me and fell back to sleep.
You know? Lemur spray. It looks like Febreeze but it has a lemur skull and crossbones on the label and reads “Kills Lemurs dead!” No? You don’t have this at your house? We also have Chicken spray, creepy doll spray and boogie man spray. Are you sure you don’t keep some in your laundry room for just such occasions?
The next morning, I sprayed that bedroom down like Father Michael McFlannigan; blessing every nook and cranny while exorcising all rogue dancing lemurs, for good measure. I prayed and blessed and then repeated the entire process until my four year old was sufficiently satisfied that her room was lemur free.
There’s got to be an easier way to get my girls to go to sleep, stay asleep and prevent scary dreams. What do you do to alleviate the stress of scary dreams? How do you soothe your child’s irrational fears in the middle of the night?
What are your top bedtime tips?
Here’s a new tool for your bedtime treasure box, The Pajanimals, available only on 24-hour preschool television channel Sprout, features four fuzzy friends who wind down for bedtime in a cozy and reassuring way. The show helps you tackle common bedtime issues like getting out of bed, bad dreams and scary monsters. Check out Sprout’s bedtime tips! Seriously, they are so simple and very effective. Also, by replying below four of my lucky readers will win a prize package – including a Pajanimals DVD and The Sleepeasy Solution book, proven by Hollywood’s celebrity parents and written by the sleep experts at Sleepy Planet.
This is a sponsored conversation written by me on behalf of Sprout. The opinions and text are all mine. Official Sweepstakes Rules. The bedtime drama, all mine.

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2012/03/14
Wal Mart convention on the Midway
Ahh, remember the joy and excitement of going to the fair when you were a child? I do. It was something I looked forward to every summer. I have fond memories of going to the fair and couldn’t wait to take my girls. There is just something thrilling about risking your life on rickety rides, the smell of a 3000 calorie funnel cake, waiting for your lemon shakeup as some prepubescent acne faced girl shakes her milkshakes more than your shakeup and doing it all in the presence of pedophiles disguised as carneys (cue the Joe Dirt clip) . I mean, doesn’t that just scream good wholesome American fun? So, of course, I had a ~~memory lapse a lapse in judgment~~ a small stroke and took my girls. Dear God, why did I do that? Oh yeah, apparently everything is remembered through ~~rose colored glasses~~ beer goggles because my memory was a damn liar! That little bastard put me and my girls in danger.
When I was a kid, I was always so excited to go. As an adult, not a little kid spending the day in the safety of their parents making memories or as a teenager sneaking off to meet some boy, a real honest to goodness grown up…a Mommy no less; I’m here to tell you that the fair is no place for a family after dark. Weird people come out of the woodwork like roaches scattering and strange behaviors ensue. I mean there are some things that just can’t be unseen! I swear I do not remember the fair being such a freak show and complete assault on my senses; a plethora of ugly people , the stench of garbage and port-o-pottys enveloped me. There was no escaping it.No offense to anyone who may intentionally associate with ,be related to, or themselves be an avid member of that freak show.
It was like a Wal mart convention on the Midway. Here , I am walking around with my two girls in tow..thank God for my in laws who were with us serving as a little bit of a shield to all of the craziness.
Only the crème de la crème hit the fair after dark. You know the ones; crimped hair, tube tops, camel toes and ass shorts, mullet wearing, one toothed wonders who make up most of the population of the countrified beer garden? Yeah, those are the ones we were hanging out with that night. Luckily, my daughter’s were unfazed and will spend the next 20 years recollecting “the fair” with a great fondness saturated with laughter and recollections of Grandma ChaCha buying them popcorn and Grandpa Denny riding the carousel with them. But one day, when they take their own children, the magic of the fair will be exposed to them and the spell will be broken.God willing. I hope they don’t devolve into the avid nightly fair goers of whom I speak. There are no fireworks or free concert, in the world, worth exposing your children to the FAIR at night!
Moral of the story; there is a reason the fair only comes to town once a year!
2010/07/27