The TRUTH About Motherhood

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Ugly babies in the Cradle,Pretty at the Table
Let’s talk about the old saying, “ugly babies in the cradle, pretty at the table.” I had never heard of it and quite frankly, took great offence at the thought of an adult calling a baby ugly. Are there such things as ugly babies?
Have you ever heard this crazy saying?
As most of you know, I am walking around in a new baby (nephew) induced fog. I am seeing the world with new eyes and loving on my own daughters harder and stronger than I did a couple days ago because of my reminder of the preciousness of childhood. The moment my beautiful nephew entered the world, all I could think was how very blessed we all our to have our ~~babies~~ children in our lives.
From the moment I saw my daughters’ faces, they were the most beautiful baby, no human, I had ever seen. They still are. They will always be.
I am their mother and their birth was the culmination of a whole lot of love. Their very existence is a constant reminder of how very blessed I am in this life. It was like looking upon the sun. It was joyous and humbling. With each birth, I was metamorphisized into a better person (even if it doesn’t feel like it on most days).
I thought every mother felt this way when she saw her baby for the first time. I naively thought that every mother thought her baby was the most beautiful baby in the world because to her it is the most beautiful baby in the world. I never imagined someone would call their own baby ugly.
Ugly Babies don’t exist
This morning as I’m driving my girls to school, we are listening to the radio and the deejays are talking about a phrase used by parents “Ugly in the cradle, Pretty at the table” apparently this is something that parents say to console their children who they have told are ugly.WTF? Why would you ever tell anyone they are ugly, let alone your child?
READ ALSO: One in Ten Babies is Born this Way
Newsflash, people have mirrors they already know they are ugly. Kids know if they are not as cute as the kid next to them, but to their parents, they should be the cutest freaking thing in the world. It’s in the parent handbook. Didn’t they get it when they got that stupid ass free plastic diaper bag from the hospital?
Don’t tell your kids they are ugly. Don’t think your kids are ugly. And for the love of God, if you do think they are ugly (besides something being fundamentally wrong with you in the head) where do you think they got those damn ugly genes from?
Ugly Babies are A Myth
Look, I am living in the real world and I have perfect 20/20 vision so I do realize that some babies are cuter than others when they are born. Let’s be honest, most newborns look like one of two things; a little old man or a fuzzy ball sack. But we love them and to the parents who produced them, those babies are the most beautiful babies in the world.
By the way, how good do any of us look after taking a transatlantic flight or participating in fight club? Let’s be real, that’s pretty much what being born is like. How good did any of us look after giving birth and we were on the outside?
Precious
There are No Ugly Babies
I don’t know who came up with such a ridiculous saying as “Ugly babies in the cradle, pretty at the table” but I bet they were ugly on the inside and certainly need to be flogged. Stop using it!
Remember, next time you are thinking about saying how ugly a baby is, those ugly babies are somebody’s everything that is beautiful and good in the world. If you are a parent who has called your baby ugly, please email me a photo because I need to see what level of ugly it takes to make a parent call their own baby ugly.
READ ALSO: Does Advanced Maternal Age Really Mean You’re Too Old to Give Birth?
Please stop telling your babies they are ugly. They will look human in a couple of months. Now put your standard issued Mommy thinks you’re perfect glasses back on NOW!
Have you ever thought your child was ugly? Come on, you can tell me. I won’t tell anyone. We’ve all thought there are ugly babies out there, but usually not our own. I mean come on, we’ve all got an ugly cry. They don’t call it that because it’s pretty. I bet even Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie look pretty gruesome when they ugly cry.
I’m a realist, I am not opposed to the fact that there are ugly babies in the world. I am however opposed to the fact that there are parents out there who are stupid enough to not only think it but to say it out loud, to their little ugly babies. Just remember, there are no ugly babies just adults who should have thought before they spoke.
Do you think there is such a thing as ugly babies?
2012/01/04
Bella in Wonderland
Every year since Bella has had a birthday party, it’s always been a really big deal. I believe it has something to do with the fact that when I was little I seldom remember having a party.So,when it comes to my girls, we love to celebrate the party in a big way. I mean, who doesn’t love a party? I am fully aware that the Bellapalooza of 2009, when she turned 4, was a bit excessive. I do recall something like 4 parties being had in a one week span of time. There was the family party on her actual birthday, the Fancy Nancy tea and spa experience with her fellow ballerinas, then there was the birthday play date celebration and last but not least the extended family and traveling friends party. It really was Bellapalooza but it was so much fun & Bella has since referred to her birthday week as Bellapalooza.
The cakes made by the Big Guy!
This year, Bella was adamant that she wanted a Alice in Wonderland birthday party.This girl always wants a theme that is “not available” in stores. Of course you can’t find party favors for Alice in Wonderland, so we improvise..as always. But this year, I was determined to keep the party to 1! After 6 years of birthday parties, I’ve come to the realization that the party is about the birthday girl having fun..the rest is not important. So, after much searching and creativity, we found just the right decorations. It was a small party with all the immediate family and a few friends and classmates.
Obviously, Bella dressed as Alice.She dresses in costume for every theme party.
The Wonderland aspect of this party was really the friendship and family. Bella was over the moon that her friends from school and her play date friends were all there to celebrate with her. She was also over the moon because her Grandpa Manny, my Dad, who normally comes and serenades her on her birthday ( this is a long standing tradition in our home. He has serenaded me and my sisters every birthday with Las mananitas (traditional Mexican birthday song) since we were born. Bella was absolutely devastated that he would be out of the country for this birthday party) called from Mexico to play the guitar and serenade her.All was right with the world!
Bella (Alice) & her best friend.By sheer coincidence, he came as the Mad Hatter (her favorite character).*Awwww,swoon*
Party was a huge success and birthday girl was over the moon! The.End!
Wonderland punch!

2011/03/17
….And Then I BECAME a MOM!
Today, I have the pleasure of having one of my favorite people and a fantastically talented writer, my great friend, the lovely Laura Willard of A(n)(Un)Common Family guest post as my final guest in my month long 2nd year blogiversary celebration.
“And while being a mom is a huge part of who I am – the part that changed me in ways nothing else could, that made me get in touch with an inner soft side (one that could actually cry!), the part that suddenly realized what true, unconditional love actually feels like – it’s not all that I am. There’s more to me, even if it’s far less adorable than my kids.”
Laura’s blog is about motherhood, marriage and how she has evolved over the years while maintaining the woman she was before the kids. It started with child adoption and she touches on just about every single issue a mother or woman can face. She shares her soul and knowledge all with a twist of a wicked sense of humor. I love her and so will you. You can also find Laura on Twitter. Thank you Laura for sharing your Truth about Motherhood. On a side note, if you are planning to adopt a child, you may also want to include open adoption in your options.
I need to get a few things out of the way before I start:
(1) If I didn’t love Debi, I’d hate her for putting me at the end of a month-long lineup of fabulous bloggers that humble me. I mean, really? I have to follow those ladies?! Have you been reading this month? They are ah-ma-zing.
(2) I have no free time. Washing my hair is a luxury. Okay, fine, I probably wouldn’t wash that shit regularly even if I had time, but you get the point. Free time = premium. Still, when Debi asked me to post here, I was thoroughly honored, even though I can’t keep up on my own blog, because I was asked by an amazing woman and mom that I’m proud to call my friend (and pillow-fight-in-lingerie buddy for BlogHer, but that’s for another post..).
Debi embodies what women and mothers should radiate – support, love and honesty. She doesn’t sugar coat the journey that is motherhood, she doesn’t BS and she doesn’t hurt.
And she’s beautiful – inside and out.
Okay, now I’m ready to share MY truth about motherhood
Fine, I don’t have one.
You caught me with my pants down.
(Gross. I know. I’m scared for you.)
I didn’t have a vision for motherhood.
I married my husband when I was very young. I wasn’t quite drinking-legal yet (we won’t talk about how long I’d actually been drinking at that point). He was eight years older (no, he didn’t have money and no, I didn’t have a crappy home life). I knew he was The One, and I was right. Ten years later, he’s still The One.
(It’s okay. Go puke. I just did.)
I always knew I wanted to adopt my kids and when I told him while we were dating, he said, “Cool. That sounds good.”
So after we were married for six years and after I’d finished law school, we started the process.
I was in control of my life. I was smart. I was calm. I had life by the balls.
And then I became a mom.
It rocked my world. In the best way possible. But it was rocked.
I became a parent to a child that had an entire life’s worth of experiences before he came to us at 10-months-old. A lot of work, over one year of entirely sleepless nights and physical and emotional stretching that I didn’t know was possible, occurred during the first year. But I figured it out.
And then 14 months later, I became a mom for a second time to a child whose immediate medical needs made mine look boring. And whose personality was the opposite of my son’s. So I went back to the drawing board and learned how to mother from scratch.
I’ve only been at this motherhood gig for three-and-a-half years. And yet I’ve learned more than I did during seven years of “higher education.” Would you like to know what I’ve learned?
(Of course you would.)
Not as much as I thought I would have.
Just when I think I know something, I learn something else that shows me that I didn’t quite know everything.
So I suppose I do have a few truths about motherhood. Motherhood teaches you something new every day. It humbles you to no end. Sometimes it stretches you so far you think you might break. But you don’t. And it fills your heart with unconditional love.
*P.S. Laura, you are amazing and I already loved you hardcore but after this post, I must say..you made me weep a bit:) What a wonderful way to end this series!XOXO
2011/05/30
Just say No to Kiwi fuzz
Wasn’t it yesterday that I was cleansing my face with Noxema, wiping it religiously with alcohol & then moisturizer…all in the name of preventing a pimple? You know, because I’d get 1 every other month due to hormones. But it was the END of the world.Ah, the teen years. I had so much wildly curly hair that I had no idea what to do with it, other than complain and wish I had less. Straighter.I was a perfectly healthy size 10 but I wanted to be a 7,so ,obviously, I was never happy. Always, working out and staring at myself in the mirror, wishing that I was someone else. My teeth were so bright white that they could blind someone and thanks to braces they were unnaturally straight.Unnaturally.I even complained about that. I was 5’7″,I wanted to be 5’8″ because that’s how tall you had to be to be a model and all the girls in the magazine were at least that tall. I had to be at the beach ALL the time because I NEEDED a tan.Did I mention that I’m Mexican…naturally olive. I constantly had perfectly manicured fingers and toes because,really, what kind of manual labor was I doing? Waking to school? Lifting a hand to flip all that hair?That was me at 17.
This morning, I revisited an old friend of mine,you may know him Biore strips.Oh my, Jeez!How long has it been since I’ve had time to give any attention to myself? Seriously, when I pulled that little strip off..let’s say it revealed some astonishing things. Either I had 10 years worth of deep black heads or I have began sprouting hair in yet another place that I don’t want it.Either way, when I puled that strip off..it looked like kiwi fuzz. I assure that I am not walking around in public looking like this because if I were, let’s be certain of one thing, the Big Guy would most certainly have brought it to my attention. This triggered a chain reaction. I realized that my simple regime of keeping away the zits has evolved in to a full fledged routine. When did this happen? Now there is cleanser, deep cleanser, astringent, toner and that’s just to keep it clean and my pores from looking like an escape hatch from within. Then I have to add wrinkle night cream because God knows that I’ve got to keep those suckers at bay.
All that hair that I was *ahem* complaining about, well, I’ve noticed that it’s thinned out considerably from stress of life.Now, I wish I had that big crazy bush atop my head.Of course, it has began to grow rampantly on other parts of my body. My upper lip, my arms, my legs, my eyebrows…you know just all the places that a woman doesn’t want all that hair. Size 10? Well, let’s just say that I’ve not seen size 10 in about as many years! YEARS! In college, I was a 5 and then somewhere along the way I passed 10 right up on my journey to size 14, 16, 18,16, 14.Things have been stretched out and moved about and nothing looks like it did when I was 17 on this body.This body is foreign to me.This body has lived. Years of drinking coffee to wake up, Diet Coke to keep going and wine to go to sleep has made it necessary that I use whitening mouth wash, whitening strengthening tooth paste, and I’m probably going to have to move on up to full on whitening bleach soon.Can someone please invent clear coffee? Peryl, can you put a word in with Starbucks?
Tan? I am so pale most of the year now that I am pretty sure that I glow. I’ve seen the beach 3 times in the last 10 years. I used to my entire summer lying on the beach frolicking in the water. Now, you have to bribe me with money and booze to even put on a suit and go in public. The poor fingers and toes, they have been held hostage by Mommyhood for far too long. It started with pregnancy hormones drying all my skin up and my poor feet have yet to recover. I am in such desperate need of a pedicure that I’m actually ashamed to let the spa manicurists see my feet. It’s so far past the point of no return that I may need a big burly man manicurists with a sand blaster.I’m seriously thinking of going a state over to have this miracle performed just because I’m too ashamed of the possibility that I may run into them in the general public. I don’t think I could handle their judging eyes and knowing looks.
My point? What happened to all the waiting to grow up? I squandered all my beauty trying to grow up and now I’m etching closer and closer to 40 and trying to hold on to every ounce of youth I have left. I used to wake up bright eyed, bushy tailed and beautiful…now, I wake up tired! At least I get to look at my bright eyed,bushy tailed beautiful girls, right? Wrong! It’s not enough anymore to just bask in their glow. Mama is making a declaration..Mama needs to give herself some of the TLC that she’s been giving away by the bushels to others.There is no way that I’m walking around looking like my nose is covered in kiwi fuzz….anymore.KIWI FUZZ! I think I just vomited in my mouth a little at the very thought. I’m seeing a manicure and pedicure in my very near future, as well. Flip flop season is on the horizon.Time to make that dreaded trip to the next state over to meet with the big burly manicurist.
What do you do to make yourself feel beautiful? What do you think is the most important reason for you to be beautiful to you? Let’s all get our pretty back.hell, let’s bring our sexy back. And for God’s sake, Just say no to Kiwi Fuzz!

2011/03/15
Fashion Police, Puh-Lease!
There is nothing quite as sobering as walking around a “fashion” mall after having children. Instantly, I am aware that since having my children, my body has shifted and contorted in ways that no longer allow “fashion” to fit me the way it used to ~ the way it’s supposed to…the way in which it would actually look “fashionable”. No, instead I end up looking like a sausage in an ill fitted casing..in silk bloomers. Let’s just call it what it really is #Fashionfail.
Next, I realize that since having my girls, I don’t actually have any extra money lying around to afford high “fashion”. Hell, I can’t even afford a low fashion makeover. Well, that is NOT entirely true. I can afford it. Or I could, if all my assets were fluid and not tied up in, oh I don’t know, private school tuition, ballet, soccer, headbands, tutus, kids concerts, enough toys to fill my very own Toys R Us, organic food, $8 gallons of milk, doctors, dentists, clothing and shoes for said children.It’s like a gave birth to two of the most adorable little money pits on the face of the earth. I give willingly but at times, like my visit to the “fashion” mall, I am slapped across the face with my sacrifices.
Finally, I try to just give in and let myself visit a place I’ve not been in many years..you know what I’m talking about. That place in your mind where you gingerly ( as if I’ve been able to gingerly do anything since having kids) linger over beautiful clothes, outfitting yourself in your head. Perusing books and art. Fingering the purses and admiring the shine of some audaciously over priced piece of silver jewelry. You know, something oh so Bo-Ho chic.Trying on multiple pairs of lovely shoes in every possible style, color and heel height available. You remember, pull back ..way back, into the recesses of your mind…shopping. Ahhhh, exhale.Isn’t it absolutely fabulous? I used to be that woman who would shop all day long, until I found the perfect ensemble. The perfect piece of jewelry. The perfect heel. I thrived there, between the racks and amongst the other shoppers.So, when I walked into Anthropologie ( already devastated at my state of affairs) you can imagine the deflated feeling that overcame me when the moment I eyeballed something of splendor…my 3 year old began to whine. The Big Guy heavily sighed in aggravation and my 5 year old said, “I want to go someplace else!” Apparently, I am not even allowed the simple courtesy of being able to window shop in peace. They have taken one of my most sacred past times and turned it to shit….in a matter of minutes.
I left thinking, forget the fashion mall, who needs a $300 shirt anyways? Nobody NEEDS it but damn it, what I wouldn’t give to have the option to decide of my own volition if I even wanted to buy the damn thing.On most days, I LOVE my girls so much that I can’t stand it. But after the trip to the “fashion” mall, I can’t decide if I’m excited for them to be teenagers and enjoy “shopping” with me (of course, then I still won’t be able to shop because again I will be buying everything for them) or perhaps, I am excited for them to be excited to shop so that I can return the favor and NOT let them enjoy their shopping experience. Turn about has to be fair play in motherhood, right? I mean, my mom wished on me a child exactly like me and I got two. The least I can do is dole out some karma, right? Isn’t that my Mommy duty?

2011/04/11
Throat Punch Thursday ~F*ck Cancer Edition
This weeks Throat Punch Once again, Throat Punch Thursday has us back in Florida. Why does it seem like we are always in Florida on Thursday? Thursday recipient has had it coming for a long time. I mean for at least 12 years but , actually more like 20 years, for me personally. In general, this recipient has had it coming for as long as it’s been around. You know who I am referring to..CANCER! That sonofabitch has hurt a lot of people for a long time and almost everyone has been touched by it. I lost my Grandmother to it. I lost a close friend to it. It has completely rearranged the lives of many women I know. The last straw was when my nephew , who was only 3 at the time, was diagnosed with cancer. Thankfully, he has had a full recovery and is now a freshman in high school but that didn’t make going through it any easier when he was 3. I hate cancer….with a passion. I don’t hate too many things or people, I strongly dislike but I HATE cancer. Every time I see a friend who lost her mother, or almost lost her mother to cancer, my heart breaks. When I see my girlfriend who was diagnosed with breast cancer 5 months after having her child, my heart hurts. When I look in my nephews beautiful face, I am reminded of what he had to endure at such a young age and I can barely breathe. When I look into my girls eyes and realize that this awful thing could ever touch them, it is unfathomable. Oh, yes, I effing HATE cancer! Then I came across this bit on CNN ( you know, my source for all the sunshine I spread on Thursday)
Now, cancer just got kicked up a notch on my list.As if there weren’t enough reasons to hate cancer, this video made me want to choke cancer out and watch the life of it slowly go out. I feel that it is high time that this bastard be eradicated from the planet. Don’t you agree? To CANCER I give the reverse right legged roundhouse to the back, coupled with two lightening swift throat punches to the gullet, followed by nunchucks to the head and for good measure. I would spit in cancers face.I know,you’d expect a lady not to be so vulgar but that’s how much I HATE cancer!If you want to read the entire article about Mary Villet please go here.

Who or what is worthy of your throat punch today? Come link up. Grab a Throat Punch Thursday button ( under buttons tab), include it in your post, link up, comment and enjoy the relief that comes come relieving yourself of the stress of the world’s stupidity.
2011/04/28
It Hurts Like A Mother
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.
2011/05/05
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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2011/05/12
Happy Accidents
Happy Accident Today is the 12th year wedding anniversary of the Big Guy and myself. I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the way we met and came to be engaged. It’s really a sweet story and when I recount it, it makes me warm and fuzzy inside. But knowing how dangerously close this all could have gone a completely different direction, it reminds me of how a Happy Accident changed the course of my entire life.

The Big Guy and I had a mutual girl friend in college who really wanted us to meet, as friends I mean REALLY wanted us to meet. She hounded me for weeks. After several failed attempts to meet one another, finally we were in the same place at the same time. I remember ditching my LSAT class that Monday night in September just to finally make his acquaintance. I walked into that bar alongside our mutual friend never knowing how this night would alter my perception of the world. I was expecting this guy to be the best thing since sliced bread. I mean after all, it was my friend’s best friend and she had nothing but good things to say about him. Instead of a knight in shining armor I found someone unexpected. My friend and I walked up to the bar and as I’m looking for the typical college frat boy, she stops short in front of this long, lanky, bleached blonde hair with BLUE tips, an eyebrow ring and smoking a cigarette boy.WTF?? I thought to myself,well, at least she’s not trying to set us up. To me, he looked like someone that I might have dated in high school when I was going through my “alternative” phase but no one I would date as a grown woman. She introduced us. I was cordial. I said, “Hi,I’m Debi” he nonchalantly cast his eyes downwards toward me and said “hey” barely acknowledging my existence.I immediately did not like him. I could barely stand him. Who did he think he was?Seriously?
As the night progressed, we ended up back at the house he shared with several other guys and they were having a party. Needless to say, the girl who introduced us and begged me to accompany her to the party, promptly disappeared, leaving me alone once again with this guy who , at first glance, seemed quite rude and disinterested in even having a functional conversation.
I had an astronomy exam that I desperately needed to study for and all I wanted to do was go home.But, being me, I had absolutely NO idea of how to get home.Finally,after hours of me sitting there waiting for my friend to reemerge, he offered to walk me home. Which, at first, I found the idea ridiculous but out of necessity I agreed. I was completely at his mercy. I was praying that the walk was quick and that he was not a serial killer. It started off as a walk, then he took me to the roof of the parking garage to point out constellations and we began to talk.Really talk. Then we continued walking, I learned later that he took the longest possible way home. I remember being at the soccer fields, lying on our backs looking up at the stars at that moment as night meets dawn and the birds start to sing and you are so deliriously tired but the excitement of the newness propels you forward. In those few hours, we shared our entire life with one another. After a stolen kiss and butterflies, he finally walked me home…and we’ve been together ever since.
Today, as we celebrate our 12th Anniversary of marriage, I look at him and thank God for happy accidents. I am also reminded that love can find you anytime, anywhere and to never judge a person by a first impression.Life is made up of second chances and good things can only happen if we’re open and willing to experience all of the happy accidents that life has to offer. I love you baby! Thank you for walking me home that night so long ago.
2011/05/15
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.
2011/05/16