The TRUTH About Motherhood

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Even More Mommy truisms
Here are a few more of my Mommy truisms;
- Incessant whining can literally cause insanity. I know…I’ve seen it happen!
- Tantrums are kinda funny, unless they are in public..or its your kid.
- Spanking children is unacceptable, timeouts are worthless, but threatening that the cops will come works every time in my household.
- Daddies can change diapers, bathe kids, wipe asses and noses, brush hair and teeth, read books and play with and dress our kids just as well as we can; they just don’t because we NEVER ask. Relinquish control ladies. You will thank me later!
- In reference to the previous truism, if Daddy doesn’t perform up to your (probably impossible) standards..Try , try again. If you don’t..that’s what he wants!
- Grandparents are priceless; live it, love it, learn it!
- Cheerios, Cheez its, & Goldfish are not acceptable as the norm in your car, your floor , or your bed…it’s nasty. Even if another single adult never gets into your mini van, SUV, Mommy taxi…eventually, you will have to hit a drive thru and some snarky , pimply faced 16 year old will be using you as a cautionary tale. Come on, you don’t want to give them the satisfaction. We already have to live down the whole “MOM Jeans” thing.
- Even if your kid says “no”, even if you are tired of arguing..brush their hair!You’re the parent and you will be that mom!
- If you ever want your kids to enjoy religion, please take them to church as children. Learning faith as an adult is so much harder than instilling faith into the heart of a child. It’s like trying to convince an adult that Santa is real!
- Breastfeeding before your milk comes in, is like spending the day with an insatiable piranha.
- Labor doesn’t feel like a big cramp (WTF? What crazy drugged out person said this?). It feels a lot more like an angry Ghoulie trying to stab his way out of your lower abdomen with lightening speed and a very dull butcher knife!
- The ring of fire…well, they don’t relate it to hell because it feels good. It feels like exactly what they call it. I don’t know about you but I don’t want fire anywhere near that region of my body..ever.
Last but not least for tonight,
- You don’t forget the pain of childbirth…EVER! Those broads that say you do…………………CRAZY LIARS!I found this out the hard way, so I know of which I speak. Happy Mothering!
2010/06/30
Who am I?
Letting go, who am I without them?
Letting go. Who am I now? Have you ever asked yourself this question? I think I have asked it of myself a thousand times since I’ve gone to college but today, I asked myself the question and I have no idea. How do I define myself?
I’ve spent the last 8 years of my life, either pregnant or holding a little one in my arms or my lap. For the last 8 years, I have been a mommy to the point that I have, quite literally, forgotten my life before them. It all seems like some story that I read about someone else. Above all else, I define myself as a mommy. It’s not just what I do. It is who I am. I am Bella and Gabi’s mommy. And I am blessed. I sometimes take that for granted.
I catch glimpses of the person I used to be in my daughters from time to time; in their fiery spirit and outrageous sense of humor and style. I see all the potential that I used to have and all the freedom of the future. I took that for granted too.
This morning, as I sat here alone with my thoughts, for the first time since school has started. Alone in our new home where we have started our new life surrounded by unfamiliarity, I felt profoundly alone. I miss my children.
They are only gone for 7 hours a day but with so much changing in our lives, I long for the comfortable familiarity in their little kitty cat voices, the shuffle of their feet beneath my own as we walk through the house, their laughter at the silliest of notions that carries through the air like the sweet smell of bread baking.
I miss their too-tight, never-gonna-le-me-go hugs and their delightfully slobbery kisses. I even miss the sibling rivalry fueled by pure love and devotion that just recently drove me to near insanity.
I miss the sweet smell of tops of heads, as their tiny, waif-like bodies cuddle beneath my arm and draw themselves nearer to me than I even knew possible. I miss the not knowing where I ended and they began.
I thought the small instances of letting go would be easier.
I used to think that all the time was too much. That event he best mommy needs at least a few minutes to herself but when my arms are empty and the house is quiet, I’d give back every golden minute of silence for just a sliver of their crazy. I am lonely. I miss my children. I am a mother with no children to feel the empty space and time.
Who am I? I am still a mommy. I worry every morning that I send them out the door that I will miss something. But that is part of letting go and growing up. It sucks big balls and I hate it with a passion but I am sure this means that I am evolving. No one stays the same, ever.
I used to be a girl full of spirit and dreams and potential and then I became a Mommy and all my dreams and hopes, all of my passion was focused on raising my daughters. It still is but now I have 7 hours a day to remember who I am. This is the time for me to have it all.
I am blessed. I have the pleasure and honor of being mommy to these two amazing little girls. I am married to my best friend and I finally have the time to appreciate it all and realize my own dreams as well, without feeling like I am ignoring my family or shirking my mommy duties. I should be ecstatic for the time to breathe finally but I am too busy feeling the pains of letting go, while trying to hold on.
It’s time to figure out who I am again and show my daughters that they can be everything they want to be in life, maybe just not all at the same time but right now, I miss my daughters and I am counting the minutes until pick up so I can see their adorable little faces as they light up when they see me…as I know mine will be when I see them. Letting go is so bittersweet.
Letting go is the hardest part of growing up.
2012/09/20
Mommy, I Want Another Baby
As I lay here cramping, a cruel reminder, stifling my tears as my 5-year-old brings up an old topic; one that we try not to discuss but has been lingering around my heart lately; the miscarriage we had last year.
It was this time last year that we conceived our third child. I know that. I’ve thought about it every day since Fat Tuesday but tonight, my 5-year-old asked me a simple question as she lay on my stomach and I read her a bedtime story, ” Mommy is there another baby in your tummy?” (more…)
2013/02/25
Mommy,Please Brush your Teeth
Brush Your Teeth!
Brush your Teeth,please ~The other night, my 4 year old and I were having a particularly specific conversation about the benefits of brushing your teeth. Not unlike the big reveal of the Boogie Man, I said something that went into her brain and got completely twisted. She’s not unlike her Mommy in this way. I’m pretty sure she thinks in my six degrees of separation way, as well.
It started harmless enough, my nightly, “Brush your teeth, please” before bed, was met with a healthy dose of 4 year old, “Why?”
Me: ” You need to brush your teeth to take care of them because if you don’t, when you get old, they will all fall out!”
Her face kind of crinkled and she brushed her teeth. I didn’t even have to ask a second time for her to…
Please Brush your Teeth!
The next night, she wanted to watch a episode of H2O on Netflix. I tried to convince her to watch an episode of something I wanted to watch, I think it was Cake boss.
She answered, ” No, Mommy, you can watch what YOU want to watch when you are by yourself!”
Me, “Well, I’m never by myself.”
4 year old, “When we get big and leave.”
Me, ” Oh, so when I am old?”
Her, ” Old like GiGi ( who is 83) and Maxie ( who is 85)?”
Her face got really sad and her eyes got glassy. She was truly upset.
Her, “Mommy, Please Brush Your teeth! I don’t want you to get old and die!”
And I brushed my teeth with the supervision of one tiny concerned 4 year old who doesn’t want her Mommy to get old. Because obviously, when I explained the previous night that if you don’t brush your teeth when you get old your teeth will fall out; she heard, if you don’t brush your teeth…you will get old and die. And so I ask you for the sake of your life,
Please BRUSH YOUR TEETH!
Photo Credit
2012/03/06
The Fat Whisperer
The Fat Whisperer, not to be confused with the vagina whisperer is a totally different beast all together. Instead of being the bringer of of all things awesome, the fat whisperer brings the truth and leaves crying women in it’s wake. I admire the honesty and determination of the fat whisperer but I think perhaps, I could probably live without the brutal honesty of the fat whisperer. Sometimes when faced with the fat whisperer, it is best to just turn your eyes downward and not ask questions because more than likely you will have something whispered to you that you wish you never heard.
I try to raise my girls to know that people come in all shapes, sizes, and colors and most importantly to be comfortable in their own skin. Why else do I expose them to Wal-Mart and public parks? I pound this into their tiny little heads with my Mommy mallet voice. But I am human (as is evidenced by my love handles). In the presence of my daughters, I REALLY try to refrain from the self-deprecating questions such as “Do these jeans make me look fat?” “Does this dress make my hips look wide” “Does this turtle neck look like its going to make my head pop off my shoulders”. It’s a 24-hour a day job, just trying not to be a bad example. Apparently, I’m failing miserably.
4 year old: “Mommy, I want you to be tall and straight like Daddy.”
By the whisper, I concluded that she was trying diplomatically to say something that was, in fact, insulting (sort of like a southern belle giving a compliment. No? Is that just my Mom?)
The fat whisperer cometh
My husband is 6’5″; I understand that he is taller than me. But what the hell did she mean by “straight”?
I couldn’t leave it alone, “Mommy is a girl and normally, we are shorter than boys. I can’t do anything about that.”
The 4 year old, “But you can get straight!”.
Completely befuddled I ask, “Honey, what do you mean that you want me to be “straight like Daddy”? *In retrospect, I can’t believe just how completely clueless I was.
The Fat Whisperer speaks the Truth
Fat whisperer 4 year old sizes me up and says, “You know, straight, with none of this!”
By this, I deduced from the fact that she was rubbing my love handles that she meant my extra jelly on the roll I sport around my midsection. Talk about an awkward moment. The Mommy’s perfect goggles had come off. I was hoping that I had a few more years of perfection but no, the fat whisperer has spoken and I must work out. No more avoiding the gym.
I’m not morbidly obese, or maybe I am to her, who knows what I look like to a small child. I am no longer a size 5. I’m a well-established resident in double-digit land.
To add insult to already injured ego, the Fat whisperer was engaged in a full on dialogue with an “imaginary friend”. Well, that’s what I’m assuming. If not, we’ve got bigger issues than the size of the junk in my trunk.
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This is real, not Photoshopped and we still don't know what the hell the blue image is.
I made the fatal mistake, “You’ll still love Mommy even if I’m not straight, right?”
Exasperated, “Yeah, Mommy! But some people are like ‘Hey look at that fat girl!’ But I’m like, ‘Hey, don’t say that! She’s my Mommy and she’s perfect!”
Then she looks me in the eye and shrugs, “I still love you anyways, Mommy!” and walks away.
Then she turns back to me and says nonchalantly, “It’s OK Mommy, they say it about Daddy and Saffron (the dog) too. They’re like ‘Hey, look at that stupid guy walking that ugly dog!’
I can lose weight, but what about the moron I’m married to and that damn ugly dog? The moral of the story is buy skinny mirrors for the house, put blinders on the kids and forbid all imaginary friends lest you fall victim to the Fat whisperer.
The Fat Whisperer
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2011/10/24
Impostor in the House of Mommy
Some days I wonder what am I doing? Who have I become? What have I done to deserve this? Whose life am I leading?Really, whose life am I leading?Someone please tell me and when the hell did I become someones Mommy and wife?
We all compare ourselves to other Mothers.They are our gauge. They are who we measure our self against when we are alone in our thoughts.Most likely we feel like we are coming up short.At least I do, on those days when the whole thing feels like its a house of cards and I have sneaked into the game but have absolutely no idea what he hell I am talking about or doing. I feel like I will be discovered for my deceit at any moment and my rouse will be ousted for all the world to laugh at.This is motherhood for me. I do have moments where I feel like damn, I am doing a stellar job.I am kicking ass at this gig and then I remember that I forgot to brush my 3 year olds teeth…again or that I forgot to read my 5 year old’s library book that has to go back today or we are having cereal for dinner..AGAIN. Or when they are both having meltdowns and arguing with me simultaneously and I lose it. Those are the shameful moments.The moments that I want to crawl into a cave, fall into a pool of snot and tears, and wave my white flag admitting defeat.
But who, WHO is going to do this job better than me? Who else is going to love my children with their everything; I love my kids with my entire being.That is why they can make me crazy and break me down.That is why I feel like a failure. That is why my standards are set so high. Not because I love them less but because I love them more than I know how to express. When Motherhood is good it is blissful, when my girls are sweet little angels and we are cuddling up watching some Disney movie while munching on pizza and milk or lying in bed at night, quiet and still like Gods most precious creature. These moments , I almost can’t stand how wonderful they are.These are the moments that make me question why I don’t have 6 kids like my Mom. But when its bad, its gut wrenching and mind fucking and it hurts..bad.I don’t think there is anything quite as awful for a Mother than being overwhelmed and exhausted and having to be helpless as your child runs a 105 degree temperature. You do everything you possibly can, while your hurt breaks for a whimpering child and you wait for something worse to happen.Or having to lie on top of your 3 year old little boy to hold him down as they do a spinal tap on him for his leukemia and hear him scream “I hate you Papi” as he cries helplessly and lashes out at the only person he knows that loves him so unconditionally that it doesn’t matter what he says, Papi will still love him.The helplessness is crippling.
So, when I feel like I am an impostor in the house of Mommy I have to remind myself that I am human, first and foremost. No one is perfect. We are not born Mommies. We are not sent off to school to train for this job. There is no license or certificate of achievement. There is only loving..lots and lots of loving , growing and learning. What makes you feel like a spy in the house of Mommy? What do you do when you feel overwhelmed and under qualified for this job? What makes you feel accomplished? What do you do with your children that you know is right and amazing? Now, go forth and love your munchkins because no body can do that better than you!Breathe…. Happy Mothering!
2010/11/17
This Blogger’s Life … Jill Smokler
In celebration of my 5th year of blogging, I have decided to start a weekly series called This Blogger’s life.. featuring one amazing blogger each Friday. I will always ask the same 15 questions to all the bloggers.For my inaugural post I am interviewing my amazing friend and fellow blogger, Jill Smokler ( the force behind ScaryMommy.com).
This is how it will work, every Friday ( same bat time, same bat blog) I will be interviewing one of the many amazing women ( or men) on the internet. Those who inspire me, mentor me and even some of those bright new up and coming bloggers. The blogging world feels so small sometimes because we share some of the most intimate moments with one another; marriage, pregnancy, birth, labor, raising children, divorce, sex, fashion, travel, food and everything in-between. It’s the greatest tribe I’ve ever had.
I love conferences because it’s a giant hug fest amongst some of the women that know me best but there just never seems like enough time to hang out; to talk. So, I decided why not interview some of these amazing people, who I am proud and lucky to call my friends. So without further ado, I give you the inaugural
This Blogger’s Life…Jill Smokler aka Scary Mommy.
Why did you start blogging? March of 2008, I was home with three little kids and desperate for a hobby of my own. A friend started a blog and, on whim, I figured I’d try one, too. Never, ever thought it would last past a month or two.

What’s one piece of advice that you would give to a new blogger? To have fun; blogging starts as a hobby – very few people make decent money from it and those who do, certainly don’t immediately. If it’s feeling like a job or a burden, you’re missing the point.

What are the three words that describe you best? Stubborn, passionate, driven

What is your favorite website? My own. I mean, it better be, right?

What is your favorite thing to do when you’re not blogging? Walking on the beach with my kids, looking for shells. That’s my happy place.

What’s the most important thing you’ve learned about yourself from blogging? That my path in life is really up to me.

How do you balance life and blogging? Not very well, unfortunately. Since the time the site became my sole income, I’ve constantly been searching for that happy balance, but still don’t think I’ve found it. As a side hobby, it was easy, but as a job, never. I’m not sure you can ever truly balance life with work you’re passionate about, though – something always suffers.

How has blogging changed you or your life? Pretty early on, I realized that blogging could be the vehicle that allowed me to do something I enjoyed from home and not have to go back to an office job. I’m thankful every single day that it has allowed me that. The lifestyle isn’t easy, and I’m always working, but I’m working for me, doing something I love and I can still be the one to pick the kids up from school every day. None of that would have been possible without the blog.

What do you think makes a successful blog? A great blog? Are they one in the same? I think a great and successful blog is one that serves its purpose — if you set out to entertain your friends and family and do that, you’ve succeeded. If you want some fun freebies and perks and you get them, you’ve done it. If you want a record of your days with your kids, that’s a pretty awesome gift to give them. I think there are a million ways to have a successful blog, it just depends on how you define success.

If you were to stop blogging today, what would you do with the rest of your life? I can’t even imagine! Seriously. I’m stumped.

How do you balance telling your story, without telling the story of others in your life? The older my kids have gotten, the less I write about them for that very reason — their stories aren’t mine to share. It’s a tough road to navigate, though, and I’ve definitely learned the hard way that most people don’t appreciate being blog fodder.

Blogging has changed a lot, just since I started 5 years ago, what do you miss about blogging in the early days? What do you love that has changed? I miss the intimacy, I miss having time to visit all the blogs I care about and I miss the focus being on quality content rather than virality; sites like BuzzFeed and ViralNova drive me crazy. I do love that there’s much more acceptance of less than perfect sites than there used to be. It’s no longer taboo to admit not loving every second of motherhood and that’s definitely a win.

How do you consistently come up with relevant and shareable content? I’m lucky to have people send me content, because I certainly couldn’t do it alone!

If you could have a dinner party for 6 people, living or dead, who would you invite? Erma Bombeck, Hilary Clinton, Tina Fey, my grandmother, Mark Zuckerberg and Steve Jobs. Hello, random dinner party.

What’s the one thing that people would be surprised to learn about you? Years ago, I was offered a job to work at Martha Stewart Living – kind of the anti-Scary Mommy workplace.

What’s the one post that you are most proud of? Probably this one – It was the most raw I’ve ever felt, and I still sometimes go back and read the comments when I need a pick me up.
Thank you Jill for allowing me to interview you. You were one of the first blogs that I ever followed and you inspire me with your big heart and authentic voice. You always stay true to who you are. Thanks for always sharing your truth and being scary awesome. XOXO
Hope that you all enjoyed my first This Blogger’s Life interview with Jill and if you liked her here, go check her out at ScaryMommy.com or better yet share her hilarious series of Scary Mommy books with the moms in your life.
2014/05/09
First Day of Kindergarten Hurts Like a Mo Fo
It’s the night before kindergarten again and I am not ready for this. UGH! I am dreading it now. I’ve been breaking down all day because my dog’s very sick and we’re not sure if she’s going to make it and now, I am sure tomorrow the crying will be of inappropriate proportions. As I sit here typing, the thought of reading that damn book “The Night before kindergarten” has me choking on tears and knowing what the kindergarten hallway looks like, think a mine field with mothers crying like they are Mary and their kindergartener is Christ on the Cross. It’s every thing I can do NOT to turn around and say fuck it. Never mind, I will home-school; thank you very much.
Oh yeah, I fell prey to this menagerie of crying Mommies last year when I had to tiptoe over their strewn carcasses as I made my way to the 1^st grade corridor. It was brutal. I was holding it in and squeezing my Bella’s hand to reassure her. Damn the letting go. It hurts so bad. I hate the first day of kindergarten. I’d like to throat punch the first day of kindergarten or maybe even roundhouse kick it in the nuts.
The First Day of Kindergarten
I started this post yesterday when I was filled with trepidation and bursting at the seams with nauseating nostalgia. I was up most of the night unable to sleep. Gabs woke me up twice and the dog woke me up about three times. There was not much sleep to be had anyways. This morning I woke the girls up and the Big Guy too. The Big Guy made pancakes while I got the girls dressed, one by one, in a haze of no sleep and a fog of can I really do this? Let my baby start the leaving process. I don’t think I am built to let my children go.
If it were up to me, I would keep them snuggled up in my arms for all eternity. I know it’s crazy. Babies are born to grow up and become adults and go off on their own but why does the letting go have to start just when they are really starting to be interesting? I dressed both girls to perfection in their cute little navy uniforms with the hairstyle of their choice and we were off. Me with the camera on hand and the Big Guy under strict instructions to video tape everything.
As we drove along the same route we have driven so many times before to drop off her sister, I looked to the backseat and saw the baby I loved so much beaming with excitement and fidgeting with nervousness. I pretended not to notice the trepidation. She caught me staring at her and smiled just a little bit bigger. My heart, my mommy heart was starting to quiver. Silently I command myself, “ Don’t ugly cry, lady. You have to wait until you get outside of the building. Never let them see you cry.” Yes, my inner monologue is a pretty bossy bitch.
She has no compassion for me or the first day of kindergarten.
When we arrived at school, she was the first one out of the car. “Mommy, take my picture!” as she posed in front of the welcome sign. I followed silently snapping photos, committing every second of the letting go to memory. Smiling my nervous smile that only my husband recognizes. Gabs and her sister bounced through the hallways, sprinting towards the new year of new experiences; toward growing up. I could feel the pull at my heart as I watched their tiny bodies walking away from me.
After a photo or two beside the “KINDERGARTEN “ sign, it was time to let her go and trust someone else in the world with my most prized possessions; my children. This is the hard part. This is where I swallow hard and hug tight and slowly watch helplessly as I do the right thing and encourage her to go. Oh, how it hurts my heart and stings my eyes. Swallow that lump lady! I swallow so hard that I almost choke on this familiar lump. She runs back for one last hug and whispers, “I love you, Mommy. I’ll be okay.”
I slowly turn and walk away. I sneak one last backward glance she is smiling and coloring with new friends. As I walk away, I can hear her giggle and engage in excited conversation and I remember the words she just spoke to me, “I’ll be okay.” I know she’ll be okay and I trust that she’ll be safe there because of how commended this kindergarten is just like https://www.paulofreirezapopan.edu.mx/.
I know she will. Will I? I didn’t cry, though I really wanted to. I loosen my white knuckled grip on my little girl’s childhood and I look forward to afternoon pick up when I can once again fill my arms with my little girls and my heart can be happy. How did you deal with the first day of school, daycare or kindergarten?
I know eventually this won’t be so hard but today, on the first day of kindergarten, letting go hurts like a motherfucker.
2012/08/17
How the Grinch almost Stole Mommy
The holidays for me are usually all warmth and fuzziness, mostly. Don’t get me wrong they are chocked full of craziness but right underneath the surface of all the chaos, complete happiness is bubbling its way to the surface and about to spill over. But for some reason, this year things feel… off. It all looks great on paper, we are doing all the things that should be done to make wonderful memories for our girls but for some reason, I don’t feel like my heart is in it. I don’t feel the bubbly goodness rising to the top as it should be this far into December.
Maybe it has something to do with the fact that I am watching the finances closely since this year has been full of new jobs, relocations and maintaining separate households, which is nothing to speak of the fact that our whole life has been suspended and not quite right with the Big Guy not living here. Maybe my lack of enthusiasm has something to do with being overwhelmed by the to do lists and not enough time to accomplish the tasks at hand. I have been buried under snow for most of December and there’s been no time for shopping, baking, enjoying. Its been a series of appointments and dates. Truly, I feel like my girls are being jipped out of their Christmas. I’ve been so caught up in all the obligations that I’ve been snapping at my girls and firing snark from my mouth like an AK-47.I know on more than one occasion, lately, I’ve given them the “are you retarded?” look and may have even said something to that effect, but not quite as awful. But the sentiment was there and that is as guilty as saying the words themselves. Thoughts become words and words become actions.Well, even thinking that makes me a really horrible Grinch of a mother, in my book. I don’t want to be THAT person.I don’t want my girls to think it even fathomable that I could mean such awful words.The thought of them believing that I think they are anything less than amazing or that my love is conditional upon whether or not they are pleasing to me, makes me sick to my stomach.I want to be happy, excited and gay. I need to get my warm fuzziness boiling back over. I want to spread it all over my children like warm molasses.
Christmas is not about things to do, places to be or presents to open; Christmas is about love, peace and people.I want my girls to look back on their childhood Christmases and remember the cuddles in front of the fire, spontaneous Christmas cookie baking, making fudge with Daddy, snowball fights, and watching Christmas Movies; staying up late to put cookies out for Santa and going to mass with the whole family.It’s firsts snows and snow angels.It’s togetherness.It’s a series of moments that form a lifetime. I want it to be a feeling in their heart.I want it to be the spirit of something larger than us; of hope, love and joy. I’m clearing out the clutter of my life and my mind and going forth, my only true obligation is going to be to see to it that my girls are happy.Everything else is secondary.
Fah who for-aze! Fah who for-aze!
Dah who dor-aze! Dah who dor-aze!
Welcome Christmas, Welcome Christmas,
Come this way! Come this way!
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2010/12/08
Overtired Mommy heard what?
So, I am looking around and checking out some of my favorite blogs when I read a post title that almost simultaneously gave me a brain hemorrhage and made me pee myself a little laughing so hard (Y’all remember my post about stress incontinence..its no laughing matter:). What is the title you ask? Well, what I read was “Abuse with Caution”, this is a Mommy blog. I’m wondering what the hell she’s doing? She’s beating her kids and announcing it to the world. Further more, she is giving tips and suggesting that if you decide to follow suit, you must do so with extreme caution. It made me think of all those Anorexia/Bulimia websites that they’d tell teen girls to go to in order to learn to avoid developing eating disorders but all it really did was teach girls how to have the eating disorder and hide it well. Sorta counter productive don’t you think? I am flashing back to “No wire hangers” and conjuring pictures of some poor little mass huddled in the corner, whimpering as their parents abuse them with non bruising items such as pillows…Styrofoam…hot dogs…pillow pets…silly string. I don’t know. I was so confused and bewildered at how and why you would post such a thing. I had to check it out. Upon further inspection, I realized what the title actually was..”Advise with Caution” a post about giving pregnant women advice. Oops, my bad. Sorry Peryl @ https://blog.seattlepi.com/parentingadabsurdum/..I almost called the bloggy authorities to come rescue your kiddies from being beaten to near death by cotton candy! Boy, do I need some sleep! Happy Mothering…and remember, NO wire hangers!
2010/04/30