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The TRUTH About Motherhood

Tag: motherhood

  • Truthful Mommyisms

    Truthful Mommyisms

    I can’t remember exactly how or when I met the lovely Alexandra, the voice of Good Day Regular People. I do know that she is like the big sister that I never had. She is a wonderful woman who writes a very smart, funny, entertaining and honest blog. I love reading her because for me, she is very relate-able. We share a common thread, we are both Latinas and Mothers. But her pieces are more than just that, they are the voices of Motherhood that transcend race, religion,creed, or station in life. If you are not already a follower of Alexandra, I hope that you will be. Not only is she an amazing supporter for her bloggy friends, she truly does celebrate her fellow women and she is full of maternal wisdom.I am honored to have her here today sharing her very tender and intimate truth about motherhood. She is one of the bravest women I know.I know that once you read her, you will hold her in as high a regard as I do. Thank You Alexandra for sharing your story.  XO, Debi
    www.motherhoodthetruth.com

     

    Since I can remember, I have wanted to be a mother.

     

    To have my own babies, and have a laundry basketful of little bitty socks and soft, cotton onesies to fold.

     

    When I was five years old, I confessed to my grandmother, “Abuela, I can’t wait to have my own children.”  Her response to me was, “God waits to send the perfect children just for you.”  I smiled at the thought of what precious baby God would choose for me.  I imagined having a little girl, full of curls and large, dark eyes, all legs kicking and joyful giggling.

     

    I knew I would be a perfect mother, for that perfect baby. I would be the best mother there ever was. I would be loving, patient, full of kisses and good nature and never without a smile on my face and laughter in my voice. I would be a dream mom.

     

    As time went on, my baby fever never wained. And the longer life had me wait for that perfect baby, the more precise the vision of what type of mother I would be, became. With every year that my biological clock ticked on, the more mature and wisened I imagined myself in the role of a lifetime: that of a mother.

     

    I was growing impatient, and frankly, scared, when I was approaching 35 years old, and still without that one baby. That baby that my life felt empty without. That baby that would bring me all the happiness I felt I was missing. That baby that would make my life perfect. I knew that when that baby came,  the heavens would open and a chorus of angels would sing, and I would be happy, fulfilled, and never experience any sort of sadness or negative feeling for the rest of my life.

     

    Just five months short of my 36th birthday, I finally had that golden, much awaited, baby. The one that would bring me all the joy I knew would come with finally being a mother. All I had dreamed of was finally, here, in my arms.

     

    What wasn’t part of my life’s dream, however, was the shock of the feelings I was having after the birth of this baby.

     

    I was scared. I was in pain. I was confused and panicked. I was oh so very tired. And I had a baby that wasn’t crying, but screaming and inconsolable, painfully latching on to engorged breasts.

     

    I burst into tears. This was the moment I had been waiting for my entire life? This?

     

    What was wrong with me? I should be up and dancing and calling people on the phone, joyfully. Not laying here, in this hospital bed, hooked up to an I.V., with tears streaming down my face, holding a baby that I knew could read my mind that said, “I’m too scared to be your mama.”

     

    I kept all these feelings to myself, I was so full of shame. I never heard of anyone crying with unhappiness when their baby was born. And especially me. Everyone in my life knew that all I ever wanted, was to have my own baby.

     

    Fortunately, my Dr. was astute enough to know this was not a case of baby blues lite. She had me in her office by Day 5 of my beautiful boy being born.

     

    She sent me to a Post Partum Depression specialist. My wonderful Dr. would call me at home, to see how I was doing.  She located a PPD support group for me. She even called my husband and told him how important it was that he be home with me.

     

    Was this the way I imagined the birth of my life long awaited first baby to be? No. It so sadly wasn’t.

     

    This first baby is now 16 years old. But, the memory of his birth is a vivid, visceral one.

     

    I have worked hard, through therapy, to forgive myself for not welcoming his coming into the world with joy. I have had to forgive myself.

     

    The Truthful Mommyism that I’ve had to learn, is that I’m not perfect, but that does not make me any less of the perfect mother for my children. I am who I am, battle scars and all, and I’ve learned that facing and working through the challenges that life has sent my way, has made me see myself as a strong, brave, determined woman.  When my first child was born, not only did I have a newborn to take care of, but I did it with PPD, temporarily broken dreams, and, at the time, disappointment in myself.

     

    I did it, I survived, and I am proud to say, that I am proud of myself.

  • Motherhood~ Misery peppered with Moments of Profound Bliss

    Motherhood~ Misery peppered with Moments of Profound Bliss

    Today, reaffirmed my definition of motherhood…Misery peppered with moments of profound Bliss. It was Mother’s Day and my husband and the girls agreed to let me sleep in.*Bliss.

    motherhood~misery peppered with moments of profound bliss

    I woke up at 8 am when the Big Guy walked into our bedroom, apparently the girls had woken up 3 times during the night and refused to bother me because it was Mother’s Day. So, the Big Guy was up all night with them, fell asleep at the end of their full sized bed curled up like a little dog. The exception being that he is not a tiny dog, he is a full grown, 6’5″ man. Can you say crick in the neck. He laid down, I woke up. He slept in til 1o and I got to listen to the girls fight over the 1 Barbie because the other 107 Barbies were not the ONE they both wanted to play with.*Misery

    motherhood~misery peppered with moments of profound bliss

    While he was sleeping in, I called my own Mom to wish her a happy Mother’s Day. The Big Guy woke up & decided to make my favorite breakfast, only the waffle maker is packed, we were out of the regular pancake mix and the kids nabbed all the bacon*misery But after he woke up, I walked into the kitchen and he had coffee made for me, just the way I like it.*Bliss

    motherhood~misery peppered with moments of profound bliss

    We’re having a showing next weekend so the yard needed to be mowed.My husband told me that I needed to take “pride” in my garden and go out there and pull the weeds *Effing misery (Mother’s DAY!!!) Homemade jewelry from the girls, accompanied by a list of all my great qualities and a hand drawn picture of how they see me and loads of kisses and hugs through out the day! *Bliss

    motherhood~misery peppered with moments of profound bliss

    Trying to brush Gabi’s hair after a long night of tossing and turning and her telling me 27 times that she hated me (ON MOTHER”S DAY) *Misery
    motherhood~misery peppered with moments of profound bliss

    motherhood~misery peppered with moments of profound bliss

    A beautiful rose gold ring with a 2 carat amethyst surrounded by chocolate diamonds *Bliss
    www.motherhoodthetruth.com, Misery peppered with moments of profound bliss

    The Big Guy making a dinner of filet Mignon with mushrooms, lobster tail with butter sauce, fresh asparagus, and panzanella salad while I got to catch up on my DVRd shows *Bliss

    motherhood~misery peppered with moments of profound bliss

    The Big Guy having to leave Sunday night, leaving me with 2 sad little girls who cried for 3 hours straight, a sink full of dinner dishes and a dirty house that has to be shown in 4 days *Misery

    Maybe I had it backwards, Motherhood~Bliss peppered with moments of profound misery!

    Also, my official 2nd blog anniversary was Saturday and I almost missed it because we were celebrating the Big Guy’s birthday but never fear, I celebrated with a glass of Pinto Grigio and a sliver of Coconut cream pie!Do I know how to party or what? Hope you will all help me continue celebrating by stopping by and enjoying some of the amazing bloggers that will guest posting this month.

     

    Today, I am hosting the Mother’s Day May Blog Tour 2011! Instead of celebrating moms for just one day this month, we’re celebrating them all month long with a blog tour! There are some really amazing bloggers on this thing, so be sure and follow along. Tomorrow’s featured blogger on the tour is Ani.

  • Kids Grow Up

    Today, I have the pleasure of sharing with you the awesomely wonderful and ever mentoring GiGi, of A Kludgy Mom. GiGi is the true living example of sisterhood through motherhood. She is not only a fabulous writer with her hands into about just about everything on the inter-webs these days ( she’s an overachiever folks), she has been a rock solid mentor for me. I’ve never met someone who has so little time but has such a giant heart that she is makes time to be generous with her time to help a friend. If you don’t already follow her, you are doing yourself a great disservice. She is witty, snarky, deep and amazing…depending on the day. Basically, she is always worth a read and a follow. Please check her out. Thank you GiGi for sharing your Truths about Motherhood today and helping me celebrate my 2 year Blogiversary. XO Debi

     

    Kludgy Mom

     

     

    Dear Deb wanted me to write about MY truths about motherhood.

    Do we have a year?

    We are giant figures in the lives of our children, and yet, we are just a tiny thread in the quilt that is the community of mothers.

    What do I know about motherhood? I know this.

    There will always be a woman who had an easier childbirth than you.  There will always be a woman who didn’t feel the baby come out, didn’t need drugs, cut her own umbilical cord and perhaps even performed her own c-Section while listening to Mozart and having her toes done by the in-hospital pedicurist.

    There will always be a woman who had a more difficult childbirth than you. There will always be someone who was torn farther, bled more, went into labor earlier, had stronger contractions, and took a bigger dump than you. In front of a movie-star handsome ob-gyn.

    And then, one day, the kid grows up, and none of that matters.

    There will be times in the early days of motherhood that you drown in self-doubt. You will beat yourself up because you couldn’t breastfeed. You will beat yourself up because you’d like to take a break from nursing but can’t. You agonize over whether formula will cause your firstborn to grow up just like Jon Gosselin. You agonize over whether you will be ridiculed because you’ve chosen to breastfeed until your baby is 3 or 4.

    And then, one day, the kid grows up, and none of that matters.

    There will be moments where you secretly (or obviously) applaud yourself as your child achieves developmental milestones. You puff your chest out as you are congratulated at your toddler’s good behavior. You wear a self-satisfied grin as people call you a good parent. Because you know you are.

    There will be moments when you are looked at funny because your kid is thrashing around on the floor at the mall because you wouldn’t buy her an Icee. You ignore whispers of “it’s all the parent’s fault.” You wonder where you went wrong.

    And then, one day, the kid grows up, and none of that matters.

    There will be times when you feel like every single minute of the day is a battle, your enemy tiny and silent. You will consider forcing food down his throat to get him to eat. You will bribe. You will time-out. You will spank, even though you swore you wouldn’t.

    There will be times when your kid eats so much you can’t believe you raised such a greedy, gluttonous, insatiable pig. You will watch with disdain as giant hunks of steak and ice cream and broccoli get shoveled into his hungry mouth.

    And then, one day, the kid grows up, and none of that matters.

    There will be plans you develop to teach your kid the building blocks of learning, to stimulate curiosity.You flash card. You read. You sing in the car. You count peas. You take him to Sylvan at 13 months of age demanding why he doesn’t know his phone number yet.

    There will be times that you are so damn tired of your kid asking why Santa wears red, why a beetle is called a beetle, how a remote control turns the TV on, whether he can dismantle his Nintendo with a screwdriver and who is Lady Gaga.

    And then, one day, the kid grows up, and none of that matters.

    In the end, it all boils down to one universal truth, doesn’t it?

    Kids grow up.

    Kids are born. We are offered the job of mothering. We accept.

    They eat. They sleep. They grow. They learn. Much of it with our guidance, and much of it truly on their own.

    We do the best we can.

    Our obsessive focus on the minutiae of each mothering moment – positive or negative – seems silly in hindsight. Once-agonizing decisions that consume hours of our day fade into the blurred mosaic of memory. We are just moms.

    Kids grow up. And none of that other stuff matters. Moms grow up, too.

  • Daddy Juice ~My water to wine

    Daddy Juice ~My water to wine

    Sometimes,in those fleeting quiet moments, where coherent thought still exists in the recesses of my mind, I think about the meaning of life. I know it surprises me when it happens too. Usually, I’m trying my damnest just to keep babies alive and thriving without traumatizing them in any way that is so awful as to trigger a major mental breakdown in the future. Because, just so you know, I totally hold my parents accountable for my years of therapy..my therapist agreed with me,so there is that. But in those almost extinct moments of quiet, I ask myself some of the big questions of life. One that crept up on my unusually peaceful drive home this morning in the rain was “Why are there no miracles anymore?” I mean, there are everyday miracles like the sun shining or gravity or a mother’s blind love for her child. But what about the real BIG miracles? What happened to seas parting? People walking on water? Water into wine?

    Then it hit me, right over top of the head…babies. Babies are a miracle.  I don’t mean in the they are such a blessing in my life sort of way. I don’t even mean the we tried for 7 years before we got pregnant sort of way. Though in there own respects,they could certainly be considered miracles. No, what I’m talking about is the fact that the goo that was left behind on Ms.Lewinski’s dress meets an egg in a moment of uncontainable passion and , in that moment, something that so closely resembles snot turns into Daddy juice and is on it’s way to having a heart beat and breathing, walking around, smiling, and living in the world. I mean think about it, really think about it. It’s really quite profound, the whole process. It’s like creating something grand from absolutely nothing.It is my very own water into wine. There is so many miracles involved with babies, aside from creating them; growing them, sustaining, the way they make our hearts grow, our minds expand, our lives richer. See what happens when it rains and I have a minute of quiet time? I see the little miracles in my own life. How did I not see this before?

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    Miracles #1 & #2

     

    What are our ever day miracles? Do you believe in miracles? I’d love to hear your thoughts on this discussion. Maybe it’s the rain, or spring and all the new life all around but I am seeing little miracles every where. Go enjoy the little miracles in your life.[/fusion_builder_column][/fusion_builder_row][/fusion_builder_container]

  • The Truth about Co-Sleeping

    The Truth about Co-Sleeping

    Time to give you the real truth about Co-Sleeping and more importantly, how to safely co-sleep with your baby. Since I scared you all straight with my earlier post and all the good news the world has to offer, I’ve decided to redeem the day. I’m a half full kind of gal and I refuse to let the cold hard reality of the world change that.

    When I became too obsessed with scheduling and time, I removed my watch. I’ve not worn one in about 5 years now. I was seriously about to get carpal tunnel from all the twisting of my wrist to check the time. So, I eliminated it from my day.I’m about to do the same for CNN. Anyways, in the spirit of redeeming myself, I have decided to write about something that is very positive in my life…co-sleeping. We have been safely co-sleeping since our first baby was out of the bassinet and I’d love to share with you how to safely co-sleep with your baby.

    co sleeping, co-sleeping, the truth about co- sleeping, the family bed, parenting styles

    Co-Sleeping makes us Closer

    Oh, yeah. I know some of you are rolling your eyes and tsk-tsking me for committing such an unthinkable crime against parenting dogma but the family bed is where it’s at for us. I know, I come off as somewhat snarkilicious on here, at times. It’s OK. You can say it, I’m fully aware.

    READ ALSO: Co-Sleeping is not for Sissies

    But when it comes to co-sleeping, I must admit I become completely full on granola; share my life, share my bed with my babies. Crunchy even. I did not plan co-sleeping. I planned on 2 weeks in the bassinet and then a seamless transition to the crib shortly thereafter. But like everything else in motherhood thus far, I was thrown a curve ball.

    co sleeping, co-sleeping, the truth about co- sleeping, the family bed, parenting styles

    Co-Sleeping is safe if done appropriately

    When it came down to it, Bella would fall asleep in my arms after nursing and when I tried to put her back into her bassinet, she would wake up…always. Tired Mommy say what? I did what most exhausted, “so in love with her newborn that she can’t stand to miss a second of this creature’s life, doesn’t truly know where she ends and the baby begins” Mommy would do…I laid her in bed with me. Right there, between my husband and I..in a positioner ( I know those things have since become about as taboo as those unsafe walkers of the Hewlett- Packard commercials). If your child isn’t potty-trained yet, you must always be prepared with items, like those Monogrammed diaper bags.

    I can say that in those first few months, sleep was not the sleep that people without children experience. No, my sleep was half-awake, hearing every single noise, breath, fart of the night, being uber aware of any motion in the entire house and the yard, pseudo conscious delirium…at best.

    I was terrified that I’d roll on top of my sweet co-sleeper and smother her. I know you were all thinking it. So, in those first few months I never really got any sleep of any benefit. But what I did get was a crazy tight bond. You know the bond you get from breastfeeding? When you co-sleep, for me, the bond is that times two.

    READ ALSO: Breastfeeding Sucks

    There is something magical and reassuring about waking up and looking over and seeing that little face so peaceful in the middle of the night.The smell of a little next to you, the feel of little gangling arms and legs, surprise hugs and kisses, even the occasional head bunt, reassuring karate chop and rogue face punch have become endearing to me.

    By bed-sharing, when my little one wakes in the middle of the night, they put a hand out to find me or the Big Guy and they are reassured and go back to sleep. There is something to be said for being within arms reach. It makes me happy. I  never planned to co-sleep but co-sleeping found me. It took hold and it is one of the best parenting decisions that I have ever made up until this point. I’m just exhausted of people making co-sleeping parents feel like it’s some sort of dirty secret. I think it is natural, beautiful and amazing.

    Both girls, ages 3 & 5, are currently still co-sleeping with me during the weekdays, while the Big Guy is out of town. On the weekends,  they sleep in their own bed…at least they start out there. I don’t see a problem with it. I think it is every parent’s decision. It’s more about what works for your family. For ours, we’re doing it the Jolie-Pitt style..for now.

    My plan is once we are all back in the same house to put the girls in a bed together and me and the Big Guy in one. What are your thoughts? How old is too old to co-sleep? Are you absolutely against co-sleeping? Why? Why not? Do you do co-sleeping? When did you stop co-sleeping? When will you stop co-sleeping? I’d love to hear your thoughts and opinions on co-sleeping?

    Co-Sleeping is Natural

  • RAW

    RAW

    If you have landed here tonight looking for whimsy, snark, or a mommy truism; you may want to stop reading. No, tonight is a post for me. Sometimes you just need a post where  you can get it all out of your system; where you can rage, wallow, and come out the other end a stronger, better person for surviving. That’s what this post is going to be. This is me trying not to drown. If you are a woman and you’ve ever felt swelled up, rolled, and pinched into the corner that is your life and the gravity of reality has hit you all at once like a ton of bricks, this may be a post you can relate to. If not, I am happy for you.You are dismissed…

    Today, I woke up after 10 full hours of sleep. Probably the most peaceful rest I’ve had in months, truly. My sleep is about as effective and complete as my 3 year old cleaning her room.Some things may get moved around, she goes through the motions, but in the end, the effort was useless.The room is NEVER any cleaner,but there is a perceived sense of “cleaned”..but not really. Every night, I more or less pass out from exhaustion than drift off into peaceful slumber.When I do go to sleep, its that Mommy one eye open, both ears functioning like dogs, and I wake if the dog farts in another room..across the house. It’s just the way I’m built. Probably much like you. But last night was different,last night..I relaxed before bed time ( like I did before kids), I watched a movie, and a let myself “fall” into sleep. It was glorious. I always took that for granted but it really is a wonderful thing to experience. But then I woke up.


    Funny thing about a full night of restful sleep.It gives your mind time to rest, relax, repair itself and, heaven forbid, in my case, think clearly.  I woke up this morning and the fog had lifted off my brain.Anyone who’s followed me for any length of time, knows my story. Quick recap; The Big Guy lives in another state Sunday through Friday ( due to work location)for the past 11 months. We (myself and my two littles) live here ( due to several external factors). He comes home on Friday nights ( this is my Christmas each and every week). It is hard. Really, really hard…on all of us.But we’ve been doing it for so long that I am on autopilot most days.Basically, living for the next Friday, the month, the year when this horrible living arrangement is over.Always, looking toward the end in sight.Worst of all; I love my husband.I honestly, truly; really love my husband and more than that I like him.

    But this morning, with the fog dissipated and my brain functioning at full capacity, all of the sudden reality slapped me right across the face with the force of  freight train and I could no longer restrain myself from facing reality. I had to get it out.I tried to hold it in. After all,the Big Guy is in this same situation and I try not to let on how hard this is for me. I admit to having a mini meltdown every 3 months or so, but this was like nothing I’ve ever felt. It was overwhelming, raw pain. It was like losing someone, or something and then I realized..I am. We are being robbed of our life together. It’s NOT fair.

    I guess I should tell you the whole story of this morning.I woke up fine and then, I realized it was Sunday ( which means the Big Guy is leaving..again) which normally leaves me with a knot in the pit of my stomach  but today it was like somebody stabbed me in the chest. At that very moment, I was making breakfast for the girls who have decided that they are going to refuse me everything I offer them, at least three times. And that is what cracked me. I started to tear up, I couldn’t eat because I couldn’t swallow anything with that giant lump in my throat and I walked away so the girls wouldn’t see. My emotions were overwhelming me.I was drowning.

    Then lunch rolled around, I served the girls lunch..same thing.They didn’t like what it was, why did I give them this;I should know better; and they both refused again. To which, the weight was too much and I broke. I started to cry this time, part anger; part despair; part frustration. Then I went to the bathroom and I cried for what seemed like forever but I think it was more like 45 minutes.Every time, I thought I was done I’d remember one more piece of shit that was piled on my plate. Finally, I pulled it together enough to come out of the bathroom.The Big Guy was concerned and checking on me, I think he thought I was trying to escape down the toilet bowl. I felt as though I had some catharsis, crying my heart out..there in my desperately needing to be cleaned bathroom. Then I came out.

    He had sent the girls to their rooms and the Big Guy was helping me take down the Christmas tree in silence and then I opened my mouth to speak. My heart was heavy, so heavy that I felt as though trying to force the words out of my mouth might choke me to death but I had to do it. He stood there in silence and listened as I fought for my life. I told him how I have no one to talk to and I’m all alone. I told him how I’ve been so busy trying to be strong for everyone else that I’ve neglected to deal with my own feelings. I opened up about how hard this is on me and the girls. How they are acting out in anger to the situation.They are hurt, they are confused. I explained how I feel like a failure as a mother because I am so tired, and so busy and always patching just to get by instead of nurturing because it’s all I can do to get by from one day to the next. I told him how I am overwhelmed by never having enough money because we are living in separate places, leading separate lives. I told home how much that bothers me. I told him how I feel like a failure at my dreams because its just one more thing that I don’t have time for. I feel like I am not utilizing my opportunities in a way I am supposed to. I see my friends, my age, achieving their goals, managing their families, making head way on their dreams…I feel like I am banging my head on a wall..a brick wall…falling short in every single category. On top of all that, the thing that I think actually made the weight too much to bear, the plans we had to be together this summer has been put on hold. We had a place to stay but now that choice is no longer an option (one of the reasons I hate putting my happiness in the hands of others). So now, the end in sight that has kept me going all these months..is gone. This was too much today. This broke me..but only for a day.

    I’ve got it all off my chest,I cried, I screamed, I raged and now,I am moving on. Just one more thing I feel like a failure at, I am always positive. I am a half full type of girl. I always believe that everything is possible through hard work and determination and I truly believe that. I do, with all my heart, but my problem is I haven’t been acknowledging the situation. I’ve been so busy getting through it that I’ve not been dealing with it. This is me, feeling sorry for myself…for 24 hours, acknowledging, admitting that it is HARD, sucking it up and moving on. I will not be defeated. This situation has not broken me, as I first thought; it has bent me, it has rattled me and I will move forward stronger with an ever greater determination. I make my own success and happiness; that is what I am focusing on. I will tread water until I regain my strength to swim, but I will not drown.

    Have you ever felt like you were overwhelmed in your life? In motherhood? How do you deal with it? What do you do to get over the hurdles of motherhood and life?

  • Why did I teach my girls to spell

    Remember the good old days when you could spell any word that you wanted your children NOT to understand. I don’t know how many times we spelled “B.A.T.H”, “S.L.E.E.P”, “N.A.P.” “O.U.T.S.I.D.E.” and every single curse word..ever! In fact the other night, my friend and I were at dinner talking and she burst out into spelling a curse word.We both chuckled because the youngest person at the table was my baby sister who is 32. But its just one more of our Mommy moments.

    Unfortunately for me, my brilliant 5 year old is phonetically spelling everything now and when we spell..she figures it out. So, no more talking about how they won’t be going outside, or can’t drive their Barbie Escalade in 50 degree weather. No more whispered spelling about what we plan to do after the girls go to sleep. No more talking about what just transpired with the crazy mom. No, because now my child who hears absolutely nothing I have to say to her can hear everything I spell that is of absolutely no concern to her.Worse, she can understand what I am spelling and takes great unabashed joy in deciphering my Mommy code!

    Damn! Why did I ever teach my kid to spell? I am fairly certain my life is going to hell in a gasoline doused hand basket, any day now. She’s already heard too much. She has cracked my code but worse is she cracked it before telling me she understood. In theory, I may or may not have said something about a certain crazy mother, teacher, neighbor or family member that may get repeated at the most inopportune time.It’s like I’m being held hostage by a kindergartner, without her knowledge.I can’t ask her not to say anything because a) I’m not sure entirely what she has deciphered and understood and what she has not b)if I do broach the subject and ask her not to repeat any thing, what kind of an example am I setting? I’d be teaching her that its OK to be mean and ugly and then to lie to cover it up.Yeah, because that will never come back to bite me in the ass.

    No thank you! I have already learned my lesson, from my Mother’s flurry of “I hope you have a little girl just like you when you grow up” that has since hit me over the head and kicked me in the ass ten fold. NO, I know the bitch that karma can be and I choose not to taunt or tempt her. I will keep my mouth shut. Stop spelling in front of my big brained baby and really just try and be a better person. After all, isn’t it my mouth that got me into all of this trouble and not my daughter’s big brain or astute hearing skills? But I still would like to know Why did I teach my girl to spell? Next thing you know, she’ll be deciphering for her little sister.Happy Mothering!

  • Where’s my fairy?

    Seems like the damn Cleaning fairy has once again missed my house! Damn her. Now, I suppose I will have to spend the whole day tomorrow not only trying to pull together some crap for my neighborhood garage sale but trying to get my house up to par before my husband returns home this weekend. You know, I am so glad when he comes home but since when does he get the “guest” treatment? I mean, wait a minute, aren’t I the one holding it all together all week long? Why should I be trying to convince him that the house is always immaculate? He’s lived here full time before..he knows these kids are like Tasmanian devils on crack. Who am I trying to fool? and why is he going along with it? That’s it, I’m boycotting! The Cleaning Fairy better get her ass over here STAT! By the way, why do we always try and convince our visitors that our house is always spotless, especially our other Mommy friends? Doesn’t it only serve to make them feel like they are less of a Mommy because they are at an immaculate house..knowing damn well there are Goldfish and Cheerios keeping company on their floors? I’m making a decision..I have to stop this madness. I’m doing it for all of us. So next time you are over my house and its not immaculate, don’t judge me…I’m doing it for you! I am sacrificing my own cleaning standards and anal retentiveness, so that you may live more peacefully and happy!Happy Mothering. I’m off to bed. See you in the morning dirty house and I may or may not give you the attention you so crave in the morning!

  • And then just like that..my heart melts

    Me: “Bella, what do you want to be when you grow up?”
    (her standard answer used to be a teacher and a movie star, but I actually think the whole modeling ordeal has changed that a little:)
    Bella: (non-nonchalantly) “Umm, a mom!”
    Me: “A mom? Anything else? You can be a Mom and anything else you’d like to be when you grow up.”
    Bella: “No, after college, I just want to be a normal Mom.” (WHAT? WHAT? WHAT? At least she got the Motherhood after college drilled into her head:)
    Me: (I’m perplexed) ” Why do you want to be a Mom?”
    Bella: “Because Moms take care of their kids and love them all the time. That’s all I want to do!”
    Me:” Bella am I a normal Mom?”
    Bella: “Yeah, but you work online so sometimes your not normal”
    Me: DUMBFOUNDED..scared to ask what that means. But before I had the chance she told me.
    Bella: “But don’t worry Mom…you always love us!”
    I always do! I guess I’ve set such a shining example of Motherhood that my daughters just want to do the same. Or else, I’m doing such a pissy job of it, she wants to show me how its done. How I love my girls!

    1/2 hour later

    Me: “Gabi, what do you want to be when you grow up?”
    Gabs: “UMMMMM, ME want be a MOMMY!”
    Me: “Why?”
    Gabs: “Ummmm, BECAUSE! ( What she meant to say is because Bella said so)
    Me: “Any other reason why?”
    Gabs: ” You a Mommy!”
    Me: “Yes, I am. You can be anything you want to be baby”
    Gabs: “You Great Mommy!”
    Ah, I always knew she was my sunshine. She brightened my day so much, she will never know what those words meant to me today.

  • She Gotta BUMP!

    https://player.ordienetworks.com/flash/fodplayer.swf

    I LOVE THIS VIDEO!!! KUDOS to ROB PEARLSTEIN!!!! YOU ROCK, MISTER! Cause there’s nothing so sexxxy as Motherf*ckin MOTHERHOOD!!! LOL!!! Hope this makes you all smile!