The TRUTH About Motherhood

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Slipping through my Fingers~It won’t be like this for long
Slipping through my fingers~ It won’t be like this for long. I know it seems like I have been dwelling on this topic lately but its just been that kind of a week. My little girls seem to be growing up at lightening speed this summer and, quite honestly, its breaking my heart a little bit. Where did my chubby little newborns crying for me to breastfeed them in the middle of the night go? I may have been terminally exhausted but it was a blissful exhaustion. I wore my exhaustion proudly as some sort of badge, screaming to the world, I am A Mommy! I am AWESOME!
Slipping through my Fingers
It’s true there is a feeling of entitlement that comes with giving birth. Nothing feels quite like it. Sure, I complained about having no sleep, and was constantly questioning the Gods why she never stopped crying. But secretly,(shhhh) I really didn’t mind at all. Much like I never really minded the unplanned co-sleeping, kissing booboos, or being the only person who could make their world right again. The same way I never minded having to lay down and cuddle them to get them to sleep, or have a lost lovey fed exed in from Grandma ChaCha because my toddler was inconsolable nor did I mind the tears they shed when I left them for the first time with someone else because ,secretly, I loved it all!I love being their everything even if it is a drag sometimes.
It seemed a lifetime before my little babies were capable of doing the simplest of tasks. Then ,it was like I looked away for a moment and suddenly , they were capable. Every milestone filled us with elation and pride. That first word couldn’t come fast enough; hearing their voices for the first time was like hearing the voice of God. Then quickly came rolling over, crawling, cruising, walking, etc..it all happened so fast it was like every accomplishment was hurled at me and knocked me onto my ass to sit helplessly and be witness to it all. The thing that no one ever tells you is that with every single new accomplishment, new worries ensue. Of course I wanted them to be more independent. But with each iota of independence they gained, I had to relinquish a little bit of my heart. I am so proud to be the Mommy of such bright and independent little girls, but the pride is short lived and quickly heartache takes its place, as I realize soon ….they won’t need me at all!
I can hardly believe how fast these past 5 years have passed and how much my life has changed from having my girls. Having them has certainly given me a greater purpose and increased my quality of life exponentially, in most regards. I can barely stand the thought that one day, in the not so distant future, I won’t be able to see them every day, and worse, they won’t mind.Why doesn’t anyone tell us about this before we get pregnant. The letting go has got to be the hardest part of Motherhood. I used to think they couldn’t live without me, but really, it’s me who will have difficulty surviving without seeing them every day. How do you survive when your heart has left your body? How do you function? They are like oxygen to my soul.Not in some creepy,I’m going to lock them in the basement until they are 40 type of way, I just mean how can you love someone so much and be expected to exist without them in your life at full capacity?
These precious moments that we have the privilege of being part of in our children’s lives pass by far too quickly.My rational self knows this is how this relationship is supposed to play out; my heart, however, has major problems with this whole situation and I am not afraid tell you, I think it is is trying to organize a coup on my good sense.This makes me reexamine my relationship with my own Mother. One day it will be me waiting patiently at home for my girls to call, and its likely that the calls will never come soon or frequent enough. Soon, I will be the one wanting and needing their attention. Sorry, Mom! Hey, karma..pay attention, none of this coming back around shit! I said I was sorry! Mom already has you working in cahoots with her to give me ” a couple little girls that act just like you (me)!” So, karma, lets stop all the craziness. I don’t want what I gave , I want more from my relationship with my own girls!
I just hope the Mother /Daughter relationship with my girls grows into friendship as they grow up.I want to be a woman who they look up to , want to emulate, and spend time with because of the kind of woman I am not just because they have to because I gave birth to them. I want them to come to me for advice and honesty and value my opinion. This is something that I have to work at now, because it won’t be like this for long.
But for now, I am going to cherish every single moment of co-sleeping snuggling and random “I LOVE YOU”s that I can get my hands on!
I had to share this video because, as some of you know, this is the song that my Bella looked me in the eyes and said ,”Mommy, this is me and your song!” She was dead serious and I was stopped dead in my tracks and brought to tears; as I am every single time I hear this damn song!I’m telling you, these girls of mine…they have got to stop growing up so fast!

2010/07/22
Moms & Dads, Parenthood is Not a Pissing Contest!
You know how sometimes you read something and it just rubs you the wrong way? Well, this post by Stephanie Metz rubbed me the wrong way. Her sanctimommy antics have caught my attention and not in a good way. Apparently, these days, to be a good parent we are not supposed to give a shit about our kids and sit back and just let life happen to them. Do them a favor and let them learn about life the hard way because that’s the way God intended it to be.
Don’t let those entitled little snots think they are the center of your world. Life is hard and if you want to raise good citizens of the world, you have to make the hard choice and go against your maternal instinct and ignore your children’s needs, put your own needs first and to hell with what any tree hugging, baby-wearing asshole says about you. You have to do your children the favor of showing them just how hard life can be. Hey kid, you are born alone, you will die alone and I am not your mama..oh wait, I am. Anyways, don’t count on me either. I have things to do. Well, at least that is what all the anti-attachment parenting, baby bjorn burning, ferberizing people of the world might have you think.
I say if you had them, take care of them. I am not saying to put them in a damn bubble but you can’t just toss them off to the wolves as toddlers because it’s too “inconvenient” for you to have to exert yourself to raise them; to parent them; to protect them. If you didn’t want to be a parent then maybe you should have passed on the whole “having a kid” thing in the first place.
I’m not advocating that children should have their mommies and daddies do all of the heavy lifting but we have to at least teach them to stick up for themselves not just abandon them in the line of fire and hope they figure out how to bob and weave. Look, I have learned, the hard way, that kids outgrow the protective bubble so we have to teach them to live outside of our bubble of protection. We absolutely have got to give them a little space to figure out who they are and how to exist in the world when we are not there. If not we are doing them just as much of a disservice as those crazy moms who throw their kids to the metaphorical wolves. The point is we have to be present to teach them. There’s got to be a happy medium somewhere between attached at the hip, wearing a helmet and free-range, do whatever the hell you want because I can’t be bothered.
The rules of parenthood keep changing so quickly that my head is spinning. First, if you weren’t crunchy all the time, you were a shit parent. So we all ran out and bought all the organic food in pouches and cloth diapers we could find. Then it shifted and we were supposed to give our kids the freedom to be who they are. Who the fuck are they? Isn’t that part of the joint journey of parenthood and childhood to help them find out? Now, all the free-rangers turned on the helicopters and a parenting civil war ensued. So many casualties, what’s a new mom to do?
Who is she supposed to believe? Poor thing she’s standing there in a corner huddled with her newborn swaddled tightly, crying because today changing a diaper is like deciding which wire to cut; is it the blue or the red? If you’re wrong. BOOM! The whole damn thing will blow up and you’ve ruined this perfect person’s life forever. Don’t you know which diaper a kid poops in could be life altering? Bad.Parent! And now, the tide has shifted again and there has been an onslaught of mom’s shouting their battle cry at the children of the world, “YOU.Are.NOT.the.Center.of.my Universe!!!” just to prove to other mothers, and maybe to themselves, that they are more than just someone’s mommy. Look, I understand. We all begin to feel like were drowning in motherhood from time to time but I don’t think the answer is to throw our kids in the deep end and tell them to sink or swim.
My kids ARE the center of my universe and while, I am not going to fight every battle for my children I don’t think I have the stomach for watching them learn things the hard way. That’s my job, to be there to protect them and teach them how to live in the world and if all else fails, I want them to know mommy has their back.
We are better parents when we prioritize ourselves because over-exhausted and overwhelmed in martyr mode, renders us pretty much useless to everyone including our children. Everything ends up half-assed.
Sure, I miss peeing alone but I signed up for the “no pissing alone for 5-10 years zone” when I decided I wanted to be a mom. I knew kids needed my time, attention and love. What I didn’t count on was my own obsession with keeping them safe and happy. Can’t we all just get along for our kids’ sakes. Parenthood is not a pissing contest. Motherhood is YOUR journey with YOUR children.

My girls are the center of my universe because I love them enough to let them be.
2013/11/19
Happy Halloween~ No Treat for You Fatty! Throat Punch Thursday
Tonight is Halloween. Kids wait for this one day the other 364 days of the year. What would you do if tomorrow night your sweet little girl went up to a neighbor’s house trick or treating and instead of getting a treat, she got sized up by the neighbor and the neighbor handed her a letter explaining that she has surmised your child to be obese and you are a shitty parent for letting her get that way? NO.TREAT.FOR.YOU.FATTY! I’ll tell you what I’d do. I’d march up to her house and stick my boot up her condescending ass and show her just how much I appreciate her advice.
Tomorrow night my girls are going trick-or-treating. They love Halloween, as does the Big Guy and myself. I love the whole season; the horror movies and the costumes and decorating our yard. It’s a fun holiday. There are no deep religious meanings that I need to worry about and the girls look forward to walking around the neighborhood showing off their costumes and getting treats from our neighbors.
My girls get about a bucket full of candy. They are allowed a couple pieces of candy per day for about two weeks and then the bucket gets taken into my husband’s office and made available to all the adults who need their sugary fix. I don’t see this kind of candy consumption as a problem. It is only once a year. My children aren’t diabetic, nor are they morbidly obese , they are healthy and active kids. A few pieces of candy is perfectly okay to me. Some people disagree and feel it is their personal moral obligation to stop overweight kids from themselves by refusing to give them treats.
Look, I think a child’s weight is the business of the child, their parent and their pediatrician. I am not a pediatrician nor am I a nutritionist so I would ever tell another parent what they should or shouldn’t feed their child and I would never punish a child who is heavy by telling them, “No, you’re too fat. You don’t need it!” because it’s cruel.
Her reasoning?
“I just want to send a message to the parents of kids that are really overweight,” she said. “I think it’s just really irresponsible of parents to send them out looking for free candy just ’cause all the other kids are doing it.”
This woman has no idea what is going on in these children’s lives. Maybe they have a glandular issue or are puffy from chemotherapy. Maybe this kid’s mom just died and he’s been eating his feelings. Maybe this little girl had eating disorders and has just recently been on a road to recovery. Or maybe it’s just none of her damn business. If she wants to be the part of the village that doesn’t contribute to the childhood obesity epidemic, maybe she should just turn off her damn light and not pass out candy to anyone. If she feels morally opposed to contributing to the obesification of our children, why not pass out healthy snacks? Pass out something other than candy? Or just don’t participate. But taking it upon yourself to withhold candy and dole out punishment for being overweight, seems like just going out of your way to be mean.
What do you think? What would you do if your child came back from someone’s door on Halloween with a note telling you that your kid is fat, she’s not getting a treat and you’re a sucky mom?

Happy Halloween!
2013/10/31
Kids Grow Up
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

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.
2011/05/09
How Rock Band Karaoke and Pomtini’s Saved One Mom’s Sanity
Things have been hectic, to say the least, around here the last few months. There was a time \, not so long ago, when I was positive that I would lose my mind at any moment. The girls realized that they outnumbered me during the week and they decided that was the time to strike.
Devious little boogers they are, it seemed as though they were plotting and conniving to make my life a living hell while their father was away. I was certain that they were striving to make me go mad. They almost succeeded. Oh yeah, they almost broke me. You know that feeling you get when the day is just too long, the kids haven’t listened at all, the laundry is piled to the ceiling, toys have exploded all over the living room, and the children have definitely been possessed by a demon of some sort? Yeah, that’s the kind of few months I was having.
READ ALSO: How to survive a commuter marriage with a part-time parent
Then one night, after a string of hectic days culminating with Bella’s 5th birthday, my husband suggested that I come downstairs and play Rock band with him, my brother, my sister and her fiance. It was a very typical family gathering of our bunch. I have always loved to sing but not exactly thrilled about singing into a microphone in front of people. I wasn’t sure Rock band was my thing. Isn’t that more for prepubescent teen rock band wannabes and frat boys? But it was amongst family, they were drinking, my husband made me a Pomtini (the girls had finally went to bed) and……a star was born.
I sang the hell outta “Take another little piece of my heart”, “We got the Beat”. “Linger”, even a little “Painkiller”! I was in a zone and having the time of my life. I was in my basement, drinking Pomtinis with my favorite people in the world and singing like no one was watching! It was liberating, it was soothing, and it allowed me a place to channel all of that frustration and aggravation I had been trying to contain. You know the days when you feel like you are trapped in Munch’s The Scream?
This is how How Rock Band Karaoke and Pomtini’s Saved One Mom’s Sanity
The next morning, I woke up and I felt calmer ( almost creepy calm) and I was able to function on a much higher level as an adult. Isn’t that ironic? I was actually able to step back from the situations of chaos; the exploding toy boxes, the toddler catfights (Meow!Kitties have claws), the dog pissing on the floor because I was up til 2 am posting after the kids went to sleep and wasn’t up at the crack of dawn to let the bitch out, and more. Rock band allowed me the time to have perspective and to be alone in my head for a few minutes. Serenity now!
READ ALSO: Finally, a normal marriage where no one leaves
Now, when I feel the craziness getting to be too much…I grab the girls, head downstairs and we Rock out to Rock Band. I sing as many songs as it takes to get the frustration out and the calmness back ( hey it sounds prettier than screaming at the kids and it serves the same purpose).
Our sessions have lasted anywhere from 15 minutes to 2 hours. The girls pretend they are my backup singers and dress up in their princess costumes and dance around, so we are spending quality time together versus me screaming and flying off the deep end. I’d rather have them fondly recollect memories of their goofy Mommy singing Margaritaville instead of their mean Mommy throwing the toys from the floor into the garbage, or burning the laundry because she got sick of looking at it.No, now (on most days) I have been able to back up and say, as my child screams bloody murder because her panties socks a knat an ant her sister is irritating her, “I understand you are frustrated but it will all be OK. Take a breath and calm down. Let mommy give you a hug!” Opposed to, ” Oh my Freaking God, they are just panties, socks, a knat, and ant, your sister! What is wrong with you?”
Who knew that something I normally would have shunned and turned my nose up at would end up being the very thing that quite literally may have saved my sanity, my relationship with my girls, and my credentials as their Mommy. The Pomtinis didn’t hurt either!
If you need a release and going bald from stress, going gray from stress, getting wrinkles, beating your children, are not avenues that you’d like to explore then I’m suggesting a little stress relief by banging some drums, jamming to some fake guitar, singing your heart out, or just dancing like no one else is around! I promise, you may feel silly in the beginning (because unlike Daddies, Mommies don’t initially feel that it is cool to be playing in a pretend rock band) but by the time you are done with one set, you will feel calmer and more relaxed and even happier! Happy Rock band mothering!
This is how Rock band Karaoke saved one mom’s sanity.
2010/07/14
Sneaking Away for Me Time is Every Parent’s Right
Being a parent is a 24 hour a day, 7-day a week, 365 days a week “job” and if it weren’t for being able to sneak away to Netflix for some “me” time, I’m not sure how I’d survive it. Believe me when I tell you that I am very happy to be a part of Netflix’s stream team. Some people have hobbies or second jobs, I have Netflix to escape reality. As a parent, you are never truly off duty. Never. I feel like my life is a constant game of memory (because I’m always putting things up away from the children then trying to find it when I need it again) and hide-and-go-seek on the world’s longest loop. It is exhausting trying to not mess your kids up, filling childhood with memories and happiness while not being allowed to lose your sh*t (be human).
My girls are 9 and 11-years-old and I feel like the pregnancy brain, morphed into mommy brain and now, I have the worst case of “My kids have got to be at 27 different places at the same time, I can’t even remember where my keys are or why I walked into this room” brain ever. I think I’ll bide my time here until senility sets in.
A couple weeks ago we took our summer vacation to the East Coast and there were two consecutive days when I was confined to a hotel room with my girls. They were bored. I was trying to work and basically, it all ended in a case of too much of a good thing. I really needed a day off when we got back. Honestly, there is nothing quite like being locked in a room with kids to make you painfully aware of how precious “me” time is because when limited to one singular room, any parent will tell you…there is no escape. It’s like prison, only the bars are parenthood and social etiquette.
To get some time alone, I stayed up later than the entire family and binge watched Season 2 of Bloodline on Netflix.
By the way, this season of Bloodline was awesome. I swear, I think Danny was in this episode even more than last season which was ironic since… well, I don’t want to spoil anything but if you watch, you know what I’m talking about!
At home, I can simply saunter off to my office or hide out in my bedroom, closet, back deck, bathroom…you get the point? But when you are trapped in a one room abode, there is no escaping. Heck, the bathroom at our hotel was one of those cool, sliding barn doors made out of green glass. It looked amazing but it had one fatal flaw; no lock.
In case you were wondering, and if you are a parent yourself you aren’t, staying up alone late at night did give me some “me” time but it was a temporary fix because eventually, I needed to sleep later than they did and so by the end of the week, I was exhausted and they were ready to go early in the morning which resulted in the inevitable, “What are we going to do today? I’m bored!” chorus that they chanted incessantly, in their little kitty voices in that ONE room. I don’t know how the pioneers did it with their one room houses.
After our 15-hour drive home from Boston, I was feeling kind of burnt out. Like our 9-day vacation was too much. Moms you know what I mean. I was on constantly. Suddenly, I felt like I had newborns again because of all the time and attention they were requiring, only they are 9 and 11 and almost as tall as me and I haven’t been in newborn/toddler mode in years. It was hard. It was like I was looking at young adults but they were usurping every ounce of energy out of me because I was their entertainment, all the time.
We got home and the exhaustion was compounding with no end in sight. Then my Mother-in-Law (God bless her) called and offered to take the girls for not one but two days. (Is it just me or did you just hear choirs of angels singing too when you read that last sentence?) I gladly obliged, I mean who am I to keep a Grandma from her granddaughters?
The first night they left just happened to coincide with the release of the new season of Orange is the New Black (OITNB) on Netflix. I am a super fan so I was super excited. I was able to indulge in an interrupted binge watch of the first few episodes. Good thing because this season is really engaging. It had me on the edge of my seat the whole time. I don’t want to ruin it for anyone but expect the unexpected and there will be tears of laughter and sadness.
The first day, the Big Guy took a vacation day so we slept in and had a day date. We went out for lunch to Cheddars, then we went to see The Conjuring (which is creepy and fantastically scary in the best possible way) followed by getting ourselves one of those new Caramel Espresso Granitas from Starbucks because we never get to just walk around the mall like teenagers or cool couples without children sipping on the latest Starbucks concoctions ( I really wanted to order the Pink Drink off the secret menu but I was afraid the pimply faced barista behind the counter would give me the stink eye because I’m over 22) and then, shopped in peace and silence at Von Maur
After spending a sufficient amount of time and money on ourselves, we headed home, picked up take away for dinner and just were. Remember what it feels like to just exist without it being for the soul purpose of serving little people? It was absolutely amazing.
The second day, we slept in again and after slowly sipping hot coffee got dressed and ran a few errands. Thought we were cool because we even managed to fit in grocery shopping for the week and then we got into a fender bender in the parking lot. That kind of ruined the mojo of the day but we were so well rested and happy, we just smiled like fools and handed the kid we crashed with our insurance card. It’s amazing how your perspective changes when you get to sleep.
That evening, before the girls came home, the Big Guy played Call of Duty and I watched a few more episodes of OITNB. Turns out, we both needed “me” time, “us” time and lots of sleep. By the end of the 48 hours, we both actually really missed our girls and I think they missed us too. It was good for everyone.
The thing is when you go on vacation, you usually come home needing a break from your life because vacation usually means running all over like a chicken with your head cut off, just in a different location. We all needed some time apart, we all needed sleep and now we are all much happier especially since last night, I finished the last episode of season 4 of OITNB but of course, that makes me sad too because no I have to wait a year for the next season. I have no self-control. I’m like a kid left alone in a room full of candy. Don’t ever ask the kid why he ate all the candy, ask yourself, why did you leave a kid alone in a room full of candy. OITNB is my candy.
What do you do during your “me” time to relax? Let me know in the comments below. Do you shop until you drop? Do you sleep in until you wake up on your own? Do you have a hobby?
Do you have a favorite show on Netflix to binge watch?
2016/06/21
Like taking Candy from a Baby
Before we had children, the Big Guy and I were all about Halloween. It was all about the haunted houses, getting the cream filling scared right out of us, picking out a cute costume and having a great party to celebrate.It was always over the top and spooky and we loved it.We lived for it.
Halloween 2008
Now things are different. Now, we have our girls. Halloween is all about dressing up like your favorite story book character, walking around the neighborhood and hearing people ooh and ahh over our girls as they tell them “Here, you’re so cute. Take a couple more pieces!”I find it quite hilarious. I told my husband last night, this whole being cute making life easier thing starts early in life.I’d never noticed before. I couldn’t believe how many houses the girls went up to and some elderly gentleman ( Grandpa like) or Daddy type would tell my girls to take an extra helping from the goodie basket. Really, maybe I was over analyzing the whole thing, maybe it was my sickness impeding my senses but we tell our kids not to talk to strangers. We raise them to never take candy from strangers. I try to raise my daughters to know that their worth as a being has nothing to do with the way they look.Yet, we go out on Halloween trick or treating..begging for candy from strangers.Cohorting with strange adults for candy.Smiling and kowtowing for a piece of candy. Then on top of all these mixed messages, they are actually being given more candy simply for being cute.I guess this is where it all begins. This is where little girls learn that being attractive makes life easier for you; that it makes the world respond to you in a more attentive way.
Halloween 2009
What kind of message am I sending to my girls? I’m sure this went on when I was a kid too but I didn’t pay attention because I WAS the kid.I was just ecstatic to get the candy.I didn’t think of mixed messages or talking to pedophiles but now all that comes flooding to my brain when I think about my girls.Funny how, my biggest concern at Halloween was razor blades in apples and cyanide ridden popcorn balls ( remember, Mom used to toss those things directly into the garbage?)now I have to consider pedophiles, non politically correct feminist squashing candy tactics, and how to explain how it is wrong to talk to strangers ever..except for on Halloween night.Life was so much simpler when my biggest worry was whether or not I would get scared enough.Then, I had children and what scares me the most is that the worrying will never cease. Having your heart walk around outside your body is hard work.Happy Halloween!
Halloween 2010
2010/11/01
Join Us for a My Girls Dollhouse Twitter Party and Giveaway
***UPDATE* Due to such AMAZING interest tonight I will be giving away 2 #MyGirlsDollHouse and 2 Gift Packages valued at $75 each! But you HAVE to RSVP via the Linky and you HAVE to be in ATTENDANCE to win!! Good Luck to ALL!!!! Two Wicked Cool Toys PRIZE Packages for Christmas. Two LUCKY Winners will receive: $75.00 Prize Pack which includes Wicked Cool Toys: Scanimalz, WWE items, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles items, Wiggles.
This year, I am hosting my first ever Holiday Gift Guide and I have the privilege of sharing with you some of the hottest gifts this year. I think the My Girl’s Dollhouse by Goodtoy is going to be the it toy this Christmas. If you were at BlogHer this year, you may have remembered being astonished by the My Girl’s Dollhouse at Sweet Suite. FInally, a place for all of their American Girl Dolls to live. I walked in and it caught my eye immediately because it truly is astounding to see in person. My first thought was, “My girl’s would go crazy for this!” I just knew it would be the gift that made their jaw drop on Christmas morning. If you saw it, you know exactly what I am talking about. Have you ever walked into a room, a store, or seen something on television that you just knew your kids would lose their ever-loving minds over? The kind of thing that you just knew would be the gift to end all gifts and then on Christmas morning or birthday eve or whatever the case may be, the gift fell flat…like a fat man into a shallow pool? Well, this is not “that” gift. This is the gift to end all gifts for little girls. This is a dollhouse for American Girl dolls, or any other 18 inch doll. It’s called the My Girl’s Dollhouse and is one of the first of many quality children’s products under its Goodtoy brand. I saw this thing in person at an expo in July and, at 40, I nearly flipped out at the sight of this huge dollhouse. I’m pretty sure, I can safely say, that my daughters would lose it on Christmas morning. My daughters have just begun to get into American Girl. They each have three dolls, and they love to dress up like them and serve them tea and spoil them rotten. American Girl Dolls are my daughters’ favorite toy right now. I am fine with it because they are wholesome, are historically teachable and my girls love them. The My Girl’s Dollhouse is a giant, high-quality, customizable wood dollhouse for 18-inch dolls and their furniture, clothing, and accessories. Can you say American Girl Doll dream house? Because that is what it is. The My Girl’s Dollhouse is 6-feet tall, 5 feet wide and 2 feet deep. It is huge. It comes in four styles, classic and whimsical and built with exactly the same high quality wood. But the real fun begins inside the house. The house has five rooms that the girls can customize to their own liking; match their bedroom to the American girl’s bedroom. There are 12 different styles of rooms to choose from. The house has two rooms on the main floor, two rooms on the second story and one huge room that acts as the attic. The attic has a bar to hang the dolls clothes on; think of it as the American Girl Doll Dream walk-in-closet. But remember the house does not come with the dolls or the furniture, which is all your responsibility to provide. Luckily, we already have some dolls and now I just have to set out looking for the furniture. I’ve been scouring the Internet for the best deals on the furniture and I have found some really cute pieces. There has never been a dollhouse mass-produced for 18-inch dolls, the My Girl’s Dollhouse will be the first of its kind. I think this is going to be a big seller, hot commodity toy this Christmas season. Every little girl is going to want one. I was lucky enough to be provided one My Girl’s Dollhouse to review by Good Toy and I will be hosting a Twitter party on Wednesday November 20th, at 9 pm. EST and one lucky participant will win a My Girl’s Dollhouse of her own and make this Christmas be one your little girl will never forget. What do you think of a dollhouse for the American Girl Dolls?
I’d love to invite you to our My Girl’s Dollhouse #MyGirlsDollHouse Twitter Party on Wednesday, November 20th at 6:00 PM PST/ 9:00 PM EST! We’ll be giving away 1 My Girl’s Dollhouse during the Twitter Party!!!
WHAT: My Girl’s Dollhouse #MyGirlsDollhouse Twitter Party
WHEN: WEDNESDAY, November 20TH, 2013 FROM 6-7 PM PST/ 9-10 EST
HASHTAG TO USE WHEN TWEETING IT UP: #MyGirlsDollhouse
WHO TO FOLLOW @TRUTHFULMOMMY AND @GoodToyCom @WIckedCoolToys (SPONSOR)
Grand PRIZE: My Girl’s Dollhouse. Retail value $399.00
RSVP: PLEASE RSVP BELOW.
Join in the Goody Toy #MyGirlsDollhouse party for fun conversation and a chance to win this unbelievable dollhouse for the little girl in your life!
**Please RSVP with your twitter name and link to qualify for a chance to win a prize during the Good Toy #MyGirlsDollhouse Twitter Party.
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Disclaimer: This is a sponsored post but all opinions are my own.[/fusion_builder_column][/fusion_builder_row][/fusion_builder_container]
2013/11/09
The Moment I Stopped Caring What Other People Think of Me
It happened sometime this week, I stopped caring about what others think about me. I don’t know why or the exact moment when but maybe there is something to exposure therapy.
I used to hate going to the pool or beach in my bathing suit. It’s always been uncomfortable because I’ve always been uncomfortable in my own skin. I’ve never been truly happy with what I see in the mirror and then suddenly, I believe it was Wednesday … I just stopped giving a f*ck. It was like I just couldn’t be bothered to worry about it any longer and it was like a million-pound weight was lifted off of my shoulders. I could breathe again.
You see, I have daughters; beautiful, smart, funny, amazing daughters and I’ve got to be the example of self-love. I’ve always known this and I’ve given it the old college try but my default is self-deprecating. But those little girls’ eyes they are always watching. I can’t hide how I really feel so I have to change the story.
I’ve always made a conscious effort to change and be free with my body in front of the girls. Even though it is counterintuitive for me but I do it because if they see Mommy (appearing to be) comfortable changing, or dancing around the room in her panties and bra or just normalizing nakedness then I’m showing them that it’s okay. That our body is just the skin we live in, it doesn’t define us (even if in my brain I was scrutinizing every single bend and reach). I was faking it ( and not as good as I’d liked) until I made it.
Then a couple weeks ago we were at BlogHer and the girls came with me and instead of spending my free time drinking in the lounge it was mandatory that I lounge in the pool with my girls and I couldn’t refuse because “I don’t want my friends to see me in a bikini ” because WTF does that teach my girls about female friendships? Especially since they had met so many of my friends and thought they were amazing. So I did it!
I walked all over Disney world in outfits matching shirts my tweens because the oldest wanted to. I let go the thought that Joe some stranger I didn’t know might think I was trying to reclaim my youth because I was dressed like my girls. And I fumbled all over that lazy river with my family, jumping and bending and falling all over that tube and I didn’t care who saw me because my daughters were smiling and laughing with me and every time I caught the Big Guy looking at me, it was with those adoring eyes; like I was the sexiest thing in the pool. In that moment, nothing else mattered. I got over myself. I’ve realized something, I have a tendency to get in my own way a.lot. I never needed a bully, I did just fine all on my own.
That was a 10-day trip of just letting stuff go. Then all this past week, at home, I took the girls to our clubhouse pool and by Wednesday I realized I didn’t care who looked at me or what they thought. I realized, I’m just as awesome as my kids think I am. Slowly, I’ve been finding myself letting go of the expectation of who I think I’m supposed to be and am beginning to love who I am because damn it, I’m pretty awesome.
By yesterday, I was bathing suit shopping with my daughters. The 3 of us together in the dressing room as the Big Guy waited outside the dressing room. We were laughing at how terrible some of the suits looked and looking for the redeeming qualities in others.
Honestly, I even tried on one that we affectionately referred to as my “GLOW” outfit, complete with a Hulk Hogan pose and I died laughing doing it. (Sorry, not sharing that pic because the boobs made it look a bit indecent.) There may have even been some boomerang shenanigans in one of my suits. The thing is there were no tears, feeling of disgust or anger. It’s just a bathing suit (a piece of clothing) and it has no power over me. I think this was the first time in my life that I actually knew that.
The Big Guy was astonished when I came out with a smile and a suit. I even sent him pics from the dressing room to get his thoughts. He was expecting the usual dressing room self-loathing funk that usually settles over me like thick fog whenever I go into those little rooms but I just couldn’t be bothered with wasting time on this nonsense. I have memories to make with my girls and too many have already been wasted with me tugging and pulling at my clothes. Too many years have been wasted hiding behind a number. I’m curvy and I kind of love that I can appreciate that now.
That’s when I realized, that we’ve just got to own that shit. It’s our body. It’s our story. It doesn’t matter if we feel too big or little, short, tall, fat, skinny, ugly or pretty. None of us is perfect. We all have our struggles with something, physical or mental or both. Life is hard enough without being our own worst critic. We have to get out of our own way to happiness. We all deserve happiness. It starts with acceptance.
There is nothing wrong with wanting to be healthier. That is doable. But healthy doesn’t necessarily mean a certain weight or BMI, those are guidelines. Healthy is a way of life, not a number. It’s crazy, I’ve never questioned how smart I am. I can quantify that with my I.Q. score and degrees and no one can ever take that away from me but somehow, I’ve never felt that same sureness about my body. I’ve always given the power to others and I’m never doing that again.
Wishing to be taller, shorter, built differently, having a different face, or body parts will just serve to make us feel less than because we can’t change who we are. Sure there are surgeries and diets but why? Who are we doing it for? Believe me, I’ve spent 30 years learning this lesson the hard way. The person on the inside, that’s the person who counts. You matter.
I realized something pretty eye-opening recently, being the mom of daughters has given me the gift of self-love and acceptance. You see I’ve always measured myself against other women and someone else’s impossible standards and I always fell short because when you’re pursuing someone else’s dream, you’ll never get there. You’ll never be truly happy.
My daughters have made me realize that I am the only standard of measurement that should count and no one else’s opinion of me should matter because being my best me is all that matters. Hmmm, the students have surpassed the teacher. I taught them that shit and I firmly believe it… for them but now, I believe for me too. The only standard I need to measure is my happiness.
My happiness matters and it has nothing to do with how I look in my bikini or how I think other people perceive me (because believe me, I’m way harder on myself than anyone has ever been on me). It’s about feeling good enough and when I see myself reflected in the smiles of my daughters’ eyes… I am fucking amazing to me and nothing else matters!
Now tell me, what’s amazing about you? What is the one thing you love about yourself?
2017/07/03
Antoinette Tuff Saves Atlanta Children from Gun Wielding Maniac & Excuse My Use of Hyperbole
Today I want to introduce you to a real life hero Antoinette Tuff because I decided that the world needs one less Throat Punch today. In light of recent events, I feel the need to clarify that you all know that my Throat Punches are not literal, right? I mean, I am not some caped, unitard wearing crusader running around the streets of the world LITERALLY throat punching bad guys.It.is.Hyperbole. Most of you are writers, you know what this means. I am not the Throat Punching Dexter of the Midwest. It’s a figure of speech people. Okay, now that that’s been clarified, let’s move along to some hero-worship.
I looked at my list and there are plenty of people in the world who deserve to be called out for their bullshit. But today, a common thread in all of these stories is that none of them would exist if there were just a little bit of compassion and human kindness in the world. Today, I am highlighting the caring and compassion of Antoinette Tuff.
Yesterday, a 20-year-old man in need of a mental health intervention, Michael Brandon Hill, allegedly slipped into a Georgia elementary school, Ronald E. McNair Discovery Learning Academy, with a high-powered rifle and nearly five hundred rounds of ammunition. A terrified but colossally brave, Antoinette Tuff, the bookkeeper in the front office, physically positioned herself between him and the 800 innocent children inside. Then, Tuff called 911 and for 25 minutes, spoke to Hill, like a person not a criminal, and saved the day. I have no idea how she kept her cool but I think she is amazing for doing so.
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“He said he don’t care if he dies, he don’t have nothing to live for,” Tuff told the operator. “He said he’s not mentally stable.”
“should have just went to the mental hospital instead of doing this because he is not on his medication”
She bravely spoke openly about her own struggles with depression over the past year and convinced him to remove his weapons and turn himself in. She was the negotiator between the shooter and the police. She never belittled him or tried to run, she showed human compassion and saved a school full of children from being injured or killed. She saved his life too.
I am in awe of Antoinette Tuff’s bravery. I can’t say what many of us would do in that same situation; probably run unless it was one of our own children locked inside in harms way. I’d like to think I’d be able to stand my ground and show some compassion and protect the children, maybe even stop the situation from going any further. But I don’t know that many of us would. I think most of us would run out of sheer terror our legs would be going before our brain could stop them.
This could very easily have been another Sandy Hook. Thank God for good people like Antoinette Tuff. She stopped what could have been a massacre by simply extending some human compassion and quick thinking. This Thursday, Antoinette Tuff is my hero.
We are all human; black, white, brown, gay, straight, single, married, parent, childless or childfree, Christian, Jew, man, woman, pretty, ugly, able, disabled, mentally ill, genius, educated, uneducated, democrat or republican. We share the same fears and insecurities and we all have to get up, live in this world and try to find happiness within our own heart. We all deserve respect and human kindness because we are all just trying to survive the day.
I was going to write a Throat Punch Thursday but I already wrote a post on Tuesday about the asshole neighbor who wrote an anonymous letter to the family of an autistic teen suggesting his parents euthanize him and you all know that I am not the violent type. I’m a hugger not a mean girl. Every Thursday, I just like to call out those who are worthy.
Then I considered giving Forbes Magazine my Throat Punch because honestly, they deserve it. Forbes either thinks very little of women to think that GOMI is a top site for women, they didn’t research at all or they think all women are mean girls. We all know GOMI and choose to, for the most part, ignore it because come on people, we can switch the channel. I believe in freedom of speech. I just hate that Forbes listed it as a great site for women with its success built on reducing women to a punch line. But I won’t write that post because my friend Morgan at the 818 already wrote NO, YOU GET OFF MY INTERNET .
So, what do you think? Do I offend you with my use of the term Throat Punch Thursday? Have you been living in fear that I might show up at a blog conference and karate chop you to the neck? Rest assured. I will not. I promise.Who knew people who lived in glass houses were so sensitive? Let’s move on, my unitard is starting to itch.

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2013/08/22