The TRUTH About Motherhood

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Violet Iodine to the Breast Rescue
With everything going on with my leg lately, I’ve neglected a lot of other things, even other parts of my body. Apparently, when your body is traumatized in such a horrendous way, all of your brain focuses on the injured party. But as I start to heal, I begin to feel all the feels that I have been suppressing.
For instance, I’ve barely felt any pain in my severely sprained right ankle because all my attention has been directed at my broken and dislocated left leg. Now that I am healing, I am suddenly feeling the aches and pains of all the sprains and pulls that I incurred in the rest of my body in the fall. I am even feeling my monthly migraines, cramps and breast sensitivity.
Ladies, you know what I’m talking about. Menstrual-related breast discomfort caused by hormonal changes that occurs during a woman’s menstrual cycle can lead to the buildup of breast tissue, resulting in breast lumps, tenderness, swelling, heaviness and aches. It’s awful and if you already have dense breasts, it’s that much worse.
I know I’m not alone because approximately 37.5 million women (an estimated 50 percent of all women during childbearing years) experience this, yet most of us don’t even know that there is anything that we can do about this situation. We just accept it and push through.
But what if it wasn’t something we had to suffer through? What if we could alleviate that discomfort? I mean being a woman shouldn’t feel like a punishment once a month. Being a woman is a beautiful thing.
Well, recently, I found out there is an option for relief from menstrual breast discomfort. There is a product called Violet iodine. It’s a once-daily, non-hormone supplement that is taken orally and made specifically for women to promote breast health and alleviate menstrual-related breast discomfort. It’s the first non-prescription molecular iodine supplement specifically designed to address this discomfort.
Violet iodine addresses the underlying cause of the symptoms rather than temporarily masking the discomfort. Most women begin to experience symptom relief after taking Violet iodine for 60 days, although some women may experience relief sooner.
Its completely drug-free, composed of two forms of iodine, that – when introduced into the acidic environment of the stomach – combine to form molecular iodine. Molecular iodine binds with other molecules in the body and targets the breast tissue via the bloodstream. It has been shown to restore the natural, healthy balance of breast cells and relieve monthly breast discomfort.
Violet iodine is available over the counter at CVS, The Vitamin Shoppe and at Drugstore.com and right now you can try Violet for 30% off at participating retailers. For more information about Violet Iodine you can check them out on Twitter and Facebook.
Do you experience monthly breast discomfort? What do you do to help ease the pain?
Disclosure: This is a sponsored post written on behalf of Violet Iodine but all opinions are my own.
2015/09/30
Is Blogging Dead?
Is blogging dead? A conversation with a fellow blogger in which she mentioned that blogging was dead has stuck with me over the past few days. They say Mommy blogging is on its way out and the blogging market is over-saturated. Some bloggers literally recoil with disdain if you refer to them as a “mommy blogger” as if you’ve intentionally insulted them.
I don’t think blogging is dead at all but I do think that there are varying degrees of success in blogging, just like in anything else and some are definitely written better than others, some tell better stories or are more interesting. I read blogs for different reasons; humor, well-written stories, relateability, interests and to learn how to do something but what keeps me coming back are the people behind the blogs. If I like the person, I tend to love the writing because I am invested in what they have to say.
I came to blogging late in the game; my girls were 2 and 4. I’ve been at this consistently for almost 5 years. Honestly, I had no idea what blogging was before I started my own blog and I only did so because I wanted to build my online presence for my writing portfolio. I was too exhausted to have started when the girls were babies. I could hardly find the time to shower, never mind write about my adventures in motherhood.
I started my blog at a point in my life when I was a mother. I was a writer who had children so the term never offended me but there was no way that I was going to let that moniker limit what I was going to write about. After all, it was my only “me” space. I wish I had started my blog when I was single and dating but then it would have been slightly x-rated and it never would have survived the transition to motherhood. You all would have all been, “You raise your kids with that past?” It would have been like the Sid Vicious chronicles.
I don’t think blogging is dead or dying but growing and evolving. I am getting more inquiries than ever to write for various brands and publications. I think what is more likely happening is that people are starting blogs with either unrealistic goals or no clear direction and then finding themselves bored or disheartened because they never achieved any level of “success” and quitting. But success is relative.
If you are going into blogging with the expectation of making a lot of money…back away from the keyboard now because unless it is all about the money and you are willing to sell your soul to the SEO gods, you want no part of this world besides no one wants to read that mess. If success is building community, telling your story and creative fulfillment than I say write your heart out. Open up those veins and bleed all over your blog because if you write it without filter, readers will find you. If you are a writer and you crave a constant creative outlet and you want to be acknowledged as a writer, blogging is a great springboard to getting your writing out there. Blogging has made it possible for me to make my living doing something I love. I don’t think blogging is dead but I think that blogging is being redefined.
When I started blogging, the community was filled with other bloggers who were doing exactly the same thing; trying to survive motherhood and navigate the muddy waters that lie between who we once were with are who we were becoming. Blogging was about human contact; not SEO, traffic and no one ever considered how viral something would be as a qualification whether or not to write a post. We clung to one another for dear life. We needed and wanted the companionship with other women and men who understood what it was like to go from a career to spending our days with tiny people who spoke a foreign language. The shared loneliness forged a bond between us all.
We visited one another’s blogs, we commented, we were invested and then as time went on the kids got older, we found ourselves parlaying our blog into paid work and then no one had time to comment anymore. It became about sharing and liking and tweeting. We wanted our fellow bloggers to know that we were still there but now we had deadlines and after school activities and ambassadorships and press trips and we needed to maintain our own blogs. Blogging is not dead. It is simply growing beyond what we thought it could once be.
New bloggers are entering the space every day. The difference is not that new bloggers are not coming, or that blogging is dead, it is that we bloggers who have been at it for a while have changed and evolved and we are looking for the next step in our blogging career but no longer have the time to engage like we once did. If we want to maintain connections and not become obsolete in the blogging world, we need to engage. Blogging can’t be an unrequited relationship.
Writing is how I process life. I can’t quit blogging. I won’t quit blogging because I still want those connections and need that creative outlet. Blogging has become more than just words on a screen to me. It’s become part of who I am.
What do you think, is blogging dead? What would make you stop blogging?
2014/01/07
Toddlers are A**holes and Other Parenting Misconceptions
There are a lot of parenting misconceptions out there. Those parenting books don’t tell you the truth about what it’s really like to parent a living, breathing child. I think they write about parenting in theory. One of the biggest misconception is that children are supposed to meat some kind of quality standard, like a piece of USDA regulated meat. It’s not true. They are people, not products. If I hear one more new mom tell me what an asshole her toddler is I just might throw up. Look, I have compassion. I really do. I totally thought that my toddlers were both assholes of epic proportions and then they got a little older.

Thinking your toddler is an asshole is the same thing as thinking you are in love when you are 15. You really believe you are but you only think you are because you don’t know what they hell you are talking about. You haven’t experienced the real thing yet. The same way in high school you think everything is so important but really it is the most inconsequential shit that will ever happen to you.
Toddlers are not assholes this is just one of many parenting misconceptions.
Besides, takes one to know one, right? If you really want to know what an asshole is try having a conversation with an eye rolling tween. There is nothing (as of yet) that is more egregious in parenthood than having a full-grown person talk back to you, roll their eyes and walk away.
The worst part is that my “tween” might look like a big girl but she still has this tiny baby voice and still wants hugs and cuddles but when she’s done with you, she’s done with you. It’s all eye rolls and stomping and looks that say without words, “ You are the stupidest person alive!”, we really should renaming the “tween” years, the “cat” years.
I remember the toddler years. I remember being told, “ I hate you mommy” (I have a feeling that one might be making a come back.) I remember full on tantrums in the middle of the grocery store. I remember wanting to cry because my 2 and 4-year-olds were breaking me and crushing my soul. I had no sleep, the sleep I was getting was filled with kicks to the face and head butts and all day long I was to dance monkey dance. I was the walking dead. I remember their favorite word was, “NO!” The saving grace for them was that they were so damn cute and I just forgave them of all the terrible shit they did to me. And believe me, terrible twos is a myth it’s the threes and fours that you really have to watch out for.
But even with all of that, I remember the random hugs and kisses and all the, “I love you mommy” for no reason at all. I remember the nightly game of, “I love you more.” I remember tiny arms reaching for me like I was salvation and soft cuddles that made my heart explode. I remember all of that. I never forget that.
My theory is this, kids are born so ugly that they are cute and we have so much love for them that it almost kills us. The thought of losing them is crushing and losing one can nearly kill you, at the very least makes you wish you were dead. Then they become toddlers and they do become little terrorist assholes but they are now so cute and have those cute voices and say the sweetest things that we forgive them all their transgressions.
As they enter preschool and elementary school, we love them so much it is almost unbearable to let them leave us for the day. The letting go is awful. We sulk and cry and then we enjoy every moment we get with them after school, watching them blossom into amazing, smart, funny little people. Sure there is whining, interrupting, sibling squabbling and for some reason they never want to go to bed and use more toilet paper than is humanly possible but overall they are awesome.
Then they hit the tween years and they become eye rolling, gum popping, Justice wearing, whining, 1-D loving part-time strangers. Some days they are your baby and the others, they are some sort of wildebeest in designer clothing. One minute they want to tell you everything and the next, they eye roll you to mind your own damn business. Still, I enjoy the moments when we have real conversations and I love that she is at an age where she wants to dress and be like me. Not like an adult but actually coordinate with her mom. It makes my heart all squishy. If only she knew this power she has over me. Shhh, let’s keep that under wraps.
Then, they become teens. Hormones are out of control and they quite frankly are nowhere as cute as they were in the early years. Bad skin, awkwardness and bad attitudes prevail. You are basically financing them but are not entitled to any interaction (that costs extra, my friends). It’s like trying to get the girlfriend experience from a hooker, all that extra money but still, no fucking kissing on the lips. None of it’s real. They hate you and, truth be told, you don’t particularly like them either. You still love them but they are not your favorite people.
Then sometime around senior year, they turn back into normal human beings. They’ve finally got the hang of those damn hormones and they’ve probably had a crisis or two enough to know that you are not going anywhere but now, they are leaving you. My theory is that the only reason moms and dads don’t drop dead on the spot the minute their “babies” go away to college is because of all the growing pains we experience when they are tweens and teens. The pain is necessary to lessen he blow when they have to leave us.
This is my theory and I’m sticking to it and every time my tween rolls her eyes at me, I feign irritation but inside, I’m thanking her for making it easier to let her go in the end. For now, I will take every single kiss, cuddle and eye roll and cherish it because one day she might be across the world and I’ll be longing for the days when I could see her face and when she say, “ I love you,” I’ll always know that I love her more.
What was 1 of your biggest parenting misconceptions?
2015/06/30
Netflix Hit the Mark with Grace and Frankie
I am a proud member of the Netflix #StreamTeam but all opinions and binge watching of Grace and Frankie were all my own.
As many of you might have read, this month has been quite a bit of crazy. It was non-stop go-go-go until life intervened and brought it all to a screeching halt when life hit me right in the eye with a nasty infection and no, that’s not a sexy euphemism for anything. At first, I was freaking out because I had so much to do and found myself completely out of commission. Add to that the antibiotics that had the side effect of not only destroying my digestive system but had the added effect of spontaneous narcolepsy. I guess it wasn’t too bad, especially since the vision in my left eye was blurry and I couldn’t work anyways because…you need sight to work on the Internet to see all the sees. I found myself partially blind and almost completely unplugged. It was like it was 1987.
Anyways, I spent my week and a half laying on my couch contemplating my imminent demise, adapting to the new unimproved elephant man face that I was sure to be sporting for eternity and feeling sorry for myself so I did what anyone in my position would do, I binge watched Netflix with my one good eye, in between trips to the bathroom, crying and naps. I finished season one of Bloodline so I had to find something else to distract me.
I kept thinking about my poor kids being known at school as the kids of the lady with the weird face. I felt like Gilbert Grape’s Mom. Then I started trying to rationalize the situation. Hey, there are kids with two mommies, two daddies, or a mommy, daddy and a step mommy and/or daddy. Some kids live with their grandparents and some live with aunts and uncles. My kids would just be the kids from the family with the super tall dad and the mom with the weird face who does that crazy thing “blogging” for a living. I needed to get out of my head so I searched for something to make me feel better. I needed something to put my “weird face” mom status in perspective. I need something to make me laugh, cry and get out of my own head.
I found Grace and Frankie.
Netflix’s new funny and fearless original comedy featuring Jane Fonda, Lily Tomlin, Martin Sheen and Sam Waterston, is a perfect example of how today’s families can shift, rearrange and blend in unexpected ways. When Grace and Frankie’s husbands, who are in their 70’s, leave them after 40+ years of marriage—to be with each other—the women find themselves facing a change that they never expected, especially at this point in their lives. But they shift their perspective to get through it together with the support of their new blended family and, of course, a wicked sense of humor.
Grace and Frankie is a testament to women supporting women, sisterhood overcoming all the unexpected hardships, shifts and changes that life throws our way. Friends are what sustain us throughout life. It starts on the playground and goes on throughout our lifetimes. Shared experiences and memories only strengthen that bond.
It is also a beautiful reminder that families come in all shapes, sizes, sexual preferences, colors and beliefs. Family are the people who stand beside you, love you and support you and that is all that matters. It’s more than blood and genetics, it’s love and friendship.
Grace and Frankie had me laughing so hard and then crying the next. Life is beautiful and wonderful and unexpected. Life is messy and complicated and not usually what we planned for. In the end, we need to be happy and loved, the heart wants what the heart wants and the heart doesn’t adhere to social norms or expectations. Grace and Frankie is by far one of my favorite new shows on Netflix.
I also found another brand new show that I’m hooked on, Between, which is Sci-Fi series starring Jennette McCurdy. A mysterious disease strikes a small town’s adult population in this tense-sci-fi drama. Pretty Lake’s teenagers think they have their futures in sight with college, the military and even motherhood. But suddenly the town’s grownups start dropping like flies from some unknown plague and the government quarantines the town. Survivors quickly realize that they are trapped, no one is allowed in or out and they are going to have to figure out how to survive on their own, with no adult supervision or guidance. I’ve only seen one episode because unlike most Netflix series, this series is weekly but from what I’ve seen totally worth it. And don’t forget, Orange is the New Black is back on June 12, 2015. I will definitely be watching, will you?
What was your favorite show on Netflix this month?
What did you think of Grace and Frankie?
2015/05/30
I Shaved my 7-Year-old
Last fall, I received a personal laser hair removal system because I’d already shaved myself silly for the past 30 years and waxing hurts my feelings. My 7-year-old saw it and asked what it was. I told her. Then, she mentioned the hair on her arms. She said if the laser hair removal treatment worked, she wanted me to use it on her. I took notice but didn’t want to make a “thing” of it. It felt like a little punch to my gut that this was a concern of my 2^nd grader. It broke my heart a little.
For those asking, opulentlasers.co.uk has the permanent laser hair removal at home which you can check out now.
I’ve always believed that when my daughters came to me about hairy legs, out of control eyebrows or the inevitable extra lip hair (because God knows I am living proof of maintenance) that I would help them. It wouldn’t be an issue, until they came to me if it bothered them. As long as they love the skin they are in, that’s all that matters to me.
I remember being in middle school myself and having hairy legs and my dad forbidding me to shave my legs. I had to wear ugly tube socks to hide the Sasquatch I was evolving into. It was humiliating. Eventually, embarrassment and humiliation got the best of me, I butchered shaved my legs and nearly took my ankle off with it. I never wanted my girls to have to sneak and shave their legs, tweeze their eyebrows or, heaven forbid, wax their mustache. Mostly, I never wanted them to feel that awkward humiliation or be stumped when someone else pointed out what they already knew.
So, when my 7-year-old came to me for a second time last night and asked me if I could laser her tiny little arms, I looked her straight in the face and asked her, “Why do you want me to take the hair off of your arms?” And she answered, “Because it bothers me, Mommy.” I made the decision to stick by my guns and I agreed to shave her arms.
You see when she originally asked about it, I consulted my aesthetician and she recommended shaving her arms. When my daughter came to me, very seriously, after several months and still wanted the hair gone. I had to do what was best for her.
I took her to my bathroom. I explained that hair is natural and we all have it. Some of us have more than others but that if this were what SHE wanted, I would shave her arms. She was sure.
I washed her arms. Lathered them with shaving cream and almost surreally,
I shaved her tiny arms from her elbow to her wrist.
When we were done, she hugged me and said, “Oh, Mommy! They are so smooth. Now, I don’t have to wear my fleece every day in class to cover my arms!”
She was ecstatic. She ran downstairs to show her dad and her sister. And then I died a little bit inside, as I held back the tears because I realized that she hadn’t given me the entire story.
I followed her downstairs, pulled her aside and asked, “Baby, why do you wear your fleece every day in class?”
Then she said something I never wanted to hear, “ Well, *Sophie asked my why my arms were so hairy. Then she told me they were weird. Then she laughed.”
I can tell you that as a mom, I wanted to punch this other 7-year-old in the face because she has put it in my daughter’s head that her arms are weird because they have hair on them. That will never go away. She’s never going to forget that moment that someone laughed and called her “weird” because of her body. That infuriates me.
I know some of you reading this are thinking why on the earth would you shave your 7-year-old’s arms? I realize that it sounds vain and cosmetic and no I don’t want to encourage my girls to believe that they need to change to meet society’s expectations of beauty. This wasn’t about that. This was me helping my daughter feel better about herself because it bothered her just like I would take her to a dermatologist if she had acne or get her braces if her teeth were crooked.
I shaved my daughter because that’s what she needed to feel happy in her skin.
I’m thrilled my daughter feels more confident without the hair on her arms but I’m hoping, since I didn’t have the entire story, that I didn’t send the wrong message. I don’t want her to think she has to conform to other people’s concept of beauty because I think she’s perfect already.
What would you have done in this situation?
Would you have shaved your 7-year-old if you could see it truly bothered her?
2015/03/09
I Love you More, A**hole

Dear sweet little girl of mine,
You steal my heart with every glance. You can be the sweetest, kindest, most loving little soul that ever lived and then you can not be just as quickly. I don’t know what it was that set you off this morning.
You had plenty of sleep.
I woke you in plenty of time.
You didn’t even have to wear a uniform today.
All you had to do was wake up, put on something you actually wanted to wear, eat breakfast, brush your teeth and go to school.
At 7:15 a.m when you finally came downstairs, you yelled at me because you couldn’t find the one pair of jeans that you wanted to wear (because the other 500 pairs are not “the One”) then you proclaimed that you wanted to take lunch.
Your hair wasn’t brushed. You were indecisive and sarcastic about your breakfast choice and you lost your mind over a pair of socks. SOCKS!
I am trying to make your lunch because you “HATE” the egg omelets that they are serving today. It’s 7:25 and in your haste and anger, you spilt a drop of milk from down your too-thin, already vetoed shirt. At which point you stomp off barefooted, yelling back to me at 7:27, “I HOPE YOU’RE HAPPY MOM!”
I’m not. I’m REALLY not.
Your sister has dressed herself, eaten breakfast and brushed her teeth today. She has also assembled both backpacks and is now looking for gloves for you both. You still don’t have on any socks, nor are your teeth brushed as you dump your breakfast down the kitchen sink. It’s 7:35, we were supposed to have left 5 minutes ago.
Beloved child of mine, I know that at the tender age of 7-years-old socks, shirts and lunch seem like BIG problems but they’re not. I lost a job, there’s a blizzard outside, I’m trying to quit sugar, I have 47 grey hairs, I can’t remember the last time I shaved my legs, I have bills to pay and it’s “that” time of the month. Please, stop tap dancing on my nerves. It’s taking every ounce of my strength not to shake you.
At 7:43, when books are being thrown about and feet are being stomped, I offer to brush your hair to which you roll your eyes at me. I roll mine too.
Your sister is standing at the front door, sweating in full winter gear, trying not to pass out while holding your backpack, violin and COLD LUNCH. As I brush your hair, I try to remember how sweet and kind you are when you cuddle deep into me every night before bedtime. I try to remember that beautiful glorious smile that lights up my life; your tiny voice whispering, “I love you, mommy” and the sticky love notes you leave me all over the house. I try to remember that you are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Then you grunt and startle me back to reality. It’s 7:45, school begins in 5 minutes.
You growl and mutter something ugly under your breath, I honestly can’t even remember what it was. I tell you how very disappointed I am in your behavior this morning. I inform you that you will be grounded from all electronics for the duration of the week. You begin to sob inconsolably. I’m not sure if it’s the loss of the electronics or my disappointment that has caused this outburst.
Finally, 7:47 a.m. we are headed out the door. You are annoyed at me that you will be late. I hold my tongue. As we pull away, you yell, “I forgot my ballet shoes.” Before I can respond, you begin to sob again.
“I’ll find them. Don’t worry.” You continue to sob.
We arrive at school, 4 minutes late. Before jumping out of the car, you unbuckle yourself, jump forward and hug me tightly, “I love you, Mommy.”
“I love you more!” I say to both my girls, as the other one jumps forward and gives me a kiss and squeezes me from behind. It’s 7:54 a.m. and I am spent. Even after all of this, the saddest part of my day is watching you both walk away.
Love You More!

2015/01/14
The Boob Fairy : How to Explain Breasts to Young Children
Have you had the conversation about breasts with your daughters yet?
I spent so much time trying to figure out when the perfect time to explain menstruation, puberty and where babies come from with my daughters that I completely forgot to talk about breasts.
Yes, they know that girls develop breasts sometime between being their age (6 & 9) and my age ( grown*) but, as I found out a couple weeks ago, they have no idea how one gets from point A to point B. Hell, maybe they believe there is a boob fairy; second cousin twice removed of the tooth fairy (she’s a giver).
Anyways, as the mom of two little girls who will one day be young ladies I try to make it my mission to make life full of “teachable moments”. I’ve gotten pretty good at it too, if I do say so myself.
Flowers on the side of the road at a makeshift memorial, I explain how young drivers should always be on the defensive and not be texting or on the phone. I explain that driving is a full-contact sport that demands all of your attention or you could end up with a memorial on the side of the road or causing someone else’s memorial on the side of the road. Vomiting and dizzy from the stomach flu, I see the perfect opportunity to discuss the effects of alcohol and relay how this is exactly how it feels when you drink too much. By the way, my 6-year-old has committed herself to never drinking more than half a beer and then calling a cab.
Sometimes that backfires on me like the time she was frantic that to have a baby the doctor must cut you open and rip the baby out (my sister had a c-section after the baby was stuck) so to “help” I explained that babies come into the world via your vagina and there isn’t usually a surgery in which a doctor cuts your stomach open. I thought I was helping. She went ghost white, looked down at her vagina, sized up the situation and has sworn off children for her lifetime. Wait until she realizes that sex is what puts babies into bellies that come out of vaginas.
So, the other day, as I was driving our daughters to ballet, we passed a coed group of neighborhood kids playing basketball in a driveway. Immediately, the girls began to argue whether or not a slender, young girl was in fact a “boy” or a “girl”.
Then, I hear this from my backseat.
A discussion about breasts.
6-year-old: “That was a girl who just made that basket. Girls play basketball!”
9-year-old: “Yeah, well, it was a boy because his chest was FLAT like a pancake!”
I explain to them that girls can be flat chested. And some girls develop breasts later than others. In fact, I was completely flat chested until I was 15. I am talking undershirt city. Hell, they stopped making undershirts big enough for a girl that old. Back then, a camisole wasn’t even an option and tank tops were only for summer, not a fashion layering piece. My girls and anyone who has met me knows that I am no longer flat chested. Apparently, good things come to those who wait. For those interested, here’s How to get bigger breasts naturally by Sandra Hale.
Take that girl, who shall remain nameless, who got her size B boobs at 11 and liked to point out the fact that I didn’t need a bra yet. My size D’s say hellllloooooo.
9-year-old: “ Uhm, mom….YOU have MELONS!”
Giggle.Giggle. Rabble. Rubble.
6-year-old, very concerned, “Mommy, I don’t want melons. I want apples!”
Me: “ Well, kiddo, you get whatever God and genetics give ya! Sorry.”
6-year-old: “Mommy, what’s genetics?”
Me: “It’s the genes you get passed down from your parents.”
Immediately, I see terror in her eyes and then I hear this.
6-year-old, head bowed and whispering a prayer, “Dear God, please don’t give me melons. I want juicy apples! In the name of the father, the son & the Holy Spirit! Amen!”
I look in the rear view mirror and see her doing the sign of the cross.
Then I died….laughing (on the inside like any good mom.)
Here’s hoping the boob fairy is good to you my little sweet and you are blessed with the “juicy” apple breasts that you are hoping for but I have a sneaking suspicion you won’t since you come from a long line of melons.

2014/04/29
Shhhh, I’ve Got a Secret
I am thrilled to announce that I have partnered with Lionlock as a brand ambassador.
This makes me happy because not only do I get to share my love of a great and very useful product with you but they even pay me to do it. What? It’s like getting paid to eat chocolate without the calories.
I know many of you, like me, work, play and live online and for security reasons you probably have 25 different passwords. Me, I have so many passwords that I have passwords scribbled all over the place in my office in notebooks, on napkins, up my arm and none of it is really effective because if I misplace the password source, I have to try seemingly endless combinations of letters and numbers, some with capitalization and one even requires a “symbol”. What? Yeah, that account may be lost to me forever. It’s like when you hide all the scissors in the house from the kids only to realize you can never find them again. Yes, just like that and my mommy brain apparently doesn’t remember where I hide scissors, passwords or locker combinations.
So you are probably wondering what is this Lionlock she is rambling on about?
Lionlock is a password management tool for small businesses, teams and parents who live their lives online and honestly, these days, who doesn’t? LionLock can securely store all kinds of protected information, including but not limited to passwords, website logins, bank accounts and credit card details. They refer to this information as “secrets” because it should be protected. Each account or password is it’s own separate secret. For example, your bank account information is one secret. Your 7 CMS logins are each their own secrets. Your five email account passwords are each their own secret. Now, unfortunately, Lionlock can’t help you at all with those misplaced scissors.
LionLock encrypts and stores all of your Secrets using AES-256 which is the same level of encryption the government uses for Top Secret documents. It’s like having your own personal secret service trained ninja assistant who keeps all of your online secrets in “the vault”. Only Lionlock’s vault can’t be plied open with vodka.
Lionlock’s vault stores all your information in one secure place that you can access from your work computer, home computer or any of your mobile devices. This is great for small businesses because a staggering 60% of small businesses suffer a cyber attack or major data loss in the first six months of operations. But it’s also great for me because when my mommy brain fails me, I know that my Lionlock account wont!
If you want to share your secrets with team members or your husband, you can decide to grant them access. If you change your mind, access denied. Change your Lionlock access password and that’s it. You only have to change one password. It’s that simple.
I am very excited about having the Lionlock password management tool in my online arsenal and getting to work as an ambassador for a product that I genuinely think is awesome. I think it’s perfect for everyone who has multiple accounts online.
Now that I’ve told you all about Lionlock, I’d love to invite you to our #Lionlock Twitter Party on Tuesday, February 25th at 6:00 PM PST/ 9:00 PM EST! We’ll be giving away prizes and having great conversation.
**Lionlock Twitter Party Alert**
WHAT: #Lionlock Twitter Party
WHEN: TUESDAY, February 25TH, 2014 FROM 6-7 PM PST/ 9-10 EST
HASHTAG TO USE WHEN TWEETING IT UP: #Lionlock
WHO TO FOLLOW: @TRUTHFULMOMMY @Lizz_Porter AND @LIONLOCKDC (SPONSOR) >
PRIZES: Four $25 Visa Gift Cards and one grand prize $50 Visa Gift Card
RSVP: PLEASE RSVP BELOW.
Join in the #Lionlock party for fun conversation and a chance to win some great prizes!
Please RSVP with your twitter name and link to qualify for a chance to win prizes during the #LIONLOCK Twitter Party.

Photo Credit: Ellen von Unwerth
Disclaimer: This is a sponsored post on behalf of Lionlock but all opinions are my own.
2014/02/12
Marriage Equality Now & Forever
Marriage equality is not an honor it is a right, like the right to breathe. They say that love is blind. The heart wants what the heart wants. God makes no mistakes. We teach our children all of these lessons on love and equality. We pound these ideas into their heads before they can even walk. We brainwash them to equate happiness with marriage and children and a house in the suburbs with a white picket fence.
Where does marriage equality fall in all of this? (more…)
2013/03/27
The Elf on the Shelf Problem
Our elf on the shelf elves have once again arrived. Well, three out of the five have arrived. Currently, we have Ed, Analee (because someone who shall remain nameless forgot to remove the nametag…. I’m talking to you Grandma) and Rick Astly ( that bastard’s never gonna give you up! Can you say Single white Elf Male?) We are still missing Herbie Hancock and Rick (i) James (bitch!)
So you’re probably thinking that maybe I have some sort of nasty little elf on the shelf fetish or way too much time on my hands, I assure you that it is neither of those. Well, maybe I do have a little extra time on my hands seeing as I was just downsized from one of my 12 jobs. Damn, what ever will I do with all of that free time the last week of every month? But I digress, we have so many elves because when the girls were small we were moving a lot and the elves got packed away in storage lost on their way back from the North Pole! So every year, we had to replace the lost elf. Look, my mommy brain is not what it once was and I forget shit…like where elves went into the witness protection place the year before or sometimes even the night before.

Our elf on the shelf problem started with Analee.
He came in a beautiful gift box with a letter from the man in the red suit because he knew the girls were having a horrible year leaving their friends and everything they knew and moving across the country. Analee came to give love and moral support.
The next year, Analee “lost” his way to our house because we had moved back to Indiana so “Santa” sent another elf, Ed (this is what happens when Daddy names the elves) to entertain the girls while their daddy was living in Iowa for work. They only saw the Big Guy once a week and we assured them that the elf could check in on daddy each night before he went back to the North Pole and reported to Santa. Then one day, Analee found us and just showed up on the Christmas tree like a damn serial killer stalking his prey and then the two became Santa’s henchmen because we don’t tell our girls about the boogie man.
The following year, we had moved in with our in-laws because 2 years apart was too much for all of us. Unfortunately, we had forgotten our two little buddies they couldn’t find us because we had moved yet again. Enter, Herbie Hancock (he likes to rock down to electric avenue) coolest elf ever. He even has a naughty and nice placard to let the girls know where they stand. But by this time, Bella was 6 and Gabi was suspicious of that damn placard, “Mommy, why does he look like a stuffed animal?” (Because we spare our children the damn traditional scary elf on the shelf) “Because Santa doesn’t want children to be afraid” Near miss. This kid is on to us. I just know it.

Then last year, we moved into our house and it was the mass exodus of elves. They descended upon our house like locusts. Analee, Ed, Herbie Hancock, and then Rick Astly ( what a mischievous little guy he is. You never know what you’re going to wake up to.) He looks like the traditional elf on the shelf, I’m trying to throw the 5-year-old off the scent. Then she demanded to know why no one arrived in the official Santa box and you guessed it, Rick(i) James showed up a couple days later in the box from the North Pole with an official letter addressed to the girls.
So the winter of my discontent 2012 was the year of the elves (that were very mischevious). The mischievousness rubbed off on the girls and so we had to tell them about Santa’s “special” cameras that are installed in the fire alarms throughout the house. Elves were popping up in toilets and refrigerators, backpacks and boxes of cereal or not moving at all or being chewed up by crazed puppies.Kids were dancing naked in front of the fire alarms mooning Santa and blaming shit on their sister. I was still stumbling across rogue elves covered in cob webs in April.
This year we have 5 elves, 3 have arrived, 2 will be here any day I am sure of it. Oh and Gabs is back on board, since finding out that a classmate of hers had a pocket elf who has gotten elderly and now in his wheelchair talks openly to the child. No longer hiding his secret. What an imagination and guess what she prayed for that night? Her very own pocket elf, but not “an old one in a wheelchair” a regular one. Now, we have another elf to remember to displace. As of yet, he is still nameless and harmless ( no baby Jesus stealing or conga lining with the 3 kings…yet) I’m think we name him Too Short or maybe Prince Napoleon.
So to all of you who say that elf on the shelf is stupid, I say to you…stick to your guns. Our elves have played a wonderful part in comforting my girls when they were small and our lives were upside down and we all missed the Big Guy but now, the elves are running amuck and I keep forgetting where they are at night and one keeps stealing baby Jesus and eating all the Fat Boys and Mentos in the house.
I know it’s nonsense and has absolutely nothing to do with why we celebrate Christmas but I also know that my girls love their elves and look forward to their magical appearance every year. It is magic and I am not taking that away from them.
What’s your most creative idea for elf on the shelf shenanigans?

2013/12/06