PMS~ There is Premenstrual Syndrome, more aptly called the one week a month that I hate all living creatures for even having the gall to breathe, little lone have the audacity to speak to me or ask me for anything at all.But then there is the ever so lovely, PMS and having the responsibility of mothering. Are you effing kidding me? Who ever thought this was a good idea? Come on, it is not an understatement to say it is potentially as deadly a mix as pills and booze.

My dearly beloved husband has departed (no he’s not dead…yet) to the great state of Virginia, for business leaving me, with my last shreds of sanity, alone with my two beautiful girls.


I have been trying my best to keep them occupied, so they don’t feel the void of their father’s presence as much as they might, say sitting around the house doing nothing. We have been running to and fro, engaging in every last activity I can come up with. This is being done for a dual purpose; 1) to keep my daughters’ completely preoccupied with other activities so they are not missing daddy too much ( and constantly whining about it, as they have so boldly demonstrated they are quite capable of doing) and 2)to keep my house in spic and span condition on the rare chance that there is someone in this world who is actually looking to buy an awesome house in a great subdivision in this awful economy. This has been my life since my husband has made his departure. And if I may say so, myself, I have been doing a damn good job at both, though tiring and nerve racking as it has been.

PMS you Sneaky Bitch! I’m busy! Go away!

Then, from out of nowhere, since I myself have been so preoccupied with all of these activities and have forgotten the beast from within that never misses her visit, she arrives and she is taking no prisoners. I have been ripping heads off of cable companies, phone companies, and even the occasional bystander for 2 days now.I had the good sense of self awareness to realize what was happening, while I was visiting my parents and my 4 year old, who has decided she can’t hear anymore, had a sleep deprived melt down and wanted to leave my mothers house…at bedtime. Yes, at bedtime! This happened after, the previous night, her 2 year old sister had decided that she wasn’t caring for sleeping (all three of us) in Grandma’s full sized bed and proceeded to punish me by screaming ,sporadically, without cause, at the top of her lungs… all night long. Yes, ladies, all night long. Remember those nights with a newborn, when you were so sleep deprived that you prayed for death, just so that you could sleep? This was way worse. Anyways, back to the meltdown, so rather than calm her down, soothing her, and coaxing her to lay down at Grandma’s like I normally would have done. I said, “OK, go potty!” and I proceeded to chuck every bit of crap we brought into the back of my SUV..with the speed of lightening and the fury of the a goat on crack. My parents watched silently and my children, being that they are apparently aware that Mommy gets a little crazy once a month, were unaffected. They simply said their good byes to the grandparents and ignored my mood completely.

Driving home, completely besot with myself, and completely over my kids meltdown, it hit me…” You crazy bitch, calm down. It’s PMS week” We, Ella, Abbi and myself (Sybil for the week) made it home without any real incident. That night, as I put them in bed and looked at their sweet little faces, I thought to myself, do these kids know how truly dangerous their Mama’s PMS really is? Luckily not. Normally, my husband is here to offset the true glory that is my PMS but with him gone, I was left to deal with it all on my own and it was not pretty. I spoke with my husband and let him know that I am having my beast visit this week. He is coming home, after two weeks of being gone, his response to me was ,”Oh God. Can it be over by the time I get there?” Luckily for him, I was not in the throes of the syndrome or that could of warranted him a tongue lashing to not soon be forgotten, at the very least. I have come to the conclusion through this ordeal that it should be a law of nature that once you have children you no longer can experience the “syndrome.” It truly is quite counter productive and very much as reckless and deadly as “Pills and booze”.Of course, if pills and booze were involved I believe I would be much more likable this week anyways. But alas, as does mothering and PMS not mix neither does mothering and pills or booze. As all good mothers do, I will suck it up and put on a happy face. My girls are awesome blessings and as long as I can keep that in perspective maybe I can keep the beast at bay, at least until my husband gets home:)

PMS, You may have Won the Battle but Not the War!

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birth, labor, contractions, bringing home baby

I will never forget the moment the nurse came into my hospital room and said, ” OK, as soon as we can get you a wheelchair, you guys can go home.”

She shared a warm, heartfelt smile with the three of us, this new little family of ours. My heart sank, my stomach turned, and my eyes immediately welled up with tears. I was frightened and overwhelmed, excited and ecstatic but I felt like I was going to vomit.

I looked at my, obviously, just as freaked out husband and I whispered, ” Are they really going to let us go home with her?” I knew the answer.

I had been planning on this moment since the moment I knew I was pregnant. But amongst all the anticipation, I had forgotten that, in the end, this tiny, perfect newborn baby was going home with us.

I thought to myself, “My God, what will we do with her? She is so tiny”

In my head, I just knew, she was so perfect. I didn’t want to be the one responsible for messing her up. They make you take a test and get a license to drive a car but no test, no license, no qualifications for taking care of a baby. It really is insane.

At that moment, as we were staring at this tiny little piece of perfection strapped into the giant, all engulfing car seat, scared witless, the nurse came in with the wheelchair. I exhaustedly sat down in the wheel chair and embraced my new life. A baby had changed everything.

I realized that this was truly the first day of the rest of my life. Absolutely everything that I had known up to that point was completely irrelevant in my life and I didn’t care. As they placed my beautiful, little miracle into my lap, our eyes locked and her gaze held me. I fell in love, deeper then anything I have ever known to that point. In that millisecond, I became an extra in my own life and she is the star…and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

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Second baby syndrome is real and anyone who says it isn’t is a damn liar. Fast forward to two years after the birth of baby Bella. We were blissfully happy with a gorgeous, though demanding toddler (whom I was completely in love with) who wanted all of my time, every single waking moment. She had decided long ago that co-sleeping was the thing for her, and was still in our bed, with no end in sight. Not that I minded, it was comforting to see her tiny cherubesque face in the middle of the night as she head butted me when I awoke for the 100th time to pee because I was 9+ months pregnant. It made it hard to bask in the glory of the pregnancy of baby number 2, when baby number 1 was still a baby.

The second time, I only gained 18, ok 20, lbs. But for some reason I seemed a lot larger. It was pregnancy 2.0 and I was like Godzilla. The first pregnancy was nothing like the second pregnancy. I didn’t start showing until I was 8-months pregnant. I looked a little thicker in the waist but at my baby shower (2 months before my daughter was born) people were teasing me that I didn’t look pregnant. And I really didn’t, well, only in my ass.

There I was, bigger than before  ever, chasing a sprinting toddler who had the energy of a boxer puppy on crack cocaine, I was absolutely drained. I had all day sickness for 4 months. It was so bad that I had to wear sea sick bands! I looked pretty ridiculous. Motherhood is hard, y’all.

No one was quite as impressed that I was pregnant the second time around. Don’t get me wrong, we were all ecstatic. We planned for baby #2, and got pregnant right away, it was just different because the time that I used to bask in all of my procreating glory last time, was now being used to shuttle a 2-year-old to classes, play dates, and constantly trying to explain and prepare her for her coming soon baby sister. I had to prepare myself to go through labor again and come out the other end the mother of two kids.

I was obsessed with making baby # 1 not feel left out or abandoned by the pending arrival of baby #2 so much so that when I actually did go into labor, I only stayed at the hospital long enough to give birth, spend the night and then I went home. I was there about 32 hours total. I blame it on the screen saver on my cell phone. It was my 2-year-old smiling like she was the center of my universe and the guilt that she had to make room for someone else, gutted me completely. The betrayal.

Second baby syndrome was in full force in our home.

I loaded up my brand spanking new baby girl, all the mega maxi pads with wings, mesh panties and Dermoplast they would give me and I went home. But bringing home baby was different than the first time. There was no 15-mile an hour drive home. Step on it, Jeeves, I’ve got a baby at home that needs me. There was no time to recoup as a family. The Big Guy took a week of paternity leave and we took turns staying up with a colicky, jaundiced newborn and quelling the fear of lemurs under beds, singing Wiggles songs and dealing with regression. Second babies are exhausting.

What once was a mandatory 6-weeks before we went out into the world was a day. I had a newborn who needed to be checked. I had a 2-year-old who had classes to attend and play dates. I couldn’t punish her plus, I didn’t want this to be the beginning of years of therapy and sibling rivalry. What used to be packing the equivalent of luggage to leave the house became keys, diapers, wipes, a bottle, snacks and a stroller. Believe me, it was twice the babies and 1/2 the stuff. Baby wrangling is hard, folks.

I spent a lot of those first few weeks reevaluating what motherhood should look like. You know it’s so easy to be a great parent when you don’t have children but once you add real life, breathing, children who you love more than life itself to the mix, things get a little less black and white. I broke all of my own rules. Wiggles in the middle of the night? Sure. Co-sleeping? Absolutely. 5-second rule for the binky, hell yeah! Bottle when needed if the breasts don’t provide enough. Yes, a thousand times yes. Don’t sweat the things that you can’t change. Love your children and do what works for your family. That’s the good stuff; all the love.

Second baby syndrome is awesome.

It means you have a second baby to love and twice the love to receive in return. Who gives a shit if your house looks like it’s been hit by a Tornado? Who cares if your legs haven’t been shaved in 3 weeks. Look at their faces. That is unconditional love and it’s priceless. They grow up. Way too fast. Your house won’t be dirty forever. Before you know it, they won’t need you for everything and soon after that they will need you for even less. Enjoy every minute of it now.


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loss of a pregnancy, miscarriage, pregnancy, birth, the first pregnancy

That brings us to the gloriousness of pregnancy. Well, for me, pregnancy was pretty glorious. I only gained 18 lbs. with my pregnancies (of course I started out on the chunky side), mild all day sickness with my first, I had an ass for the 1st time in my life (not so bad), boobs got a little bigger, no hemorrhoids, no excess gas, still loved sex, still slept on my belly, no stretch marks (well, one but it disappeared after birth).No craziness.

I just basked in the glory of my pregnancy. It was amazing and I devoured all the attention, ate whatever I wanted (that was allowed), was completely engulfed in the whole experience. Read every book (with and to my husband), sharing facts like they were going out of style. Rented a Doppler, sang to my fetus, played music to it, talked to it, swayed it to sleep. It was an unexpected bliss like nothing else.

Everything about my pregnancy was amazing.

I took every class, drove a little slower and kept a journal of my pregnancy. No one told me that I should pamper myself, because it was the last time I’d be able to do anything alone, for the rest of my life. No one told me that I would from the day of delivery on I would forevermore be referred to as “mommy”. No one told me that I would lose my own identity and forget where I end and my children begin.

Oh, to go to the toilet without a chaperone trying to eat the toothpaste. Those were the days. But, I wouldn’t trade one moment of toothpaste eating tag to pee alone again, if it meant that I didn’t have my daughters. Alone time is over rated anyways, yeah, just like date nights and spontaneous sex, said the jealous, tired Mommy.

That was my first pregnancy!

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couple,periods, pregnancy, hot flashes, wonder woman within, adam and eve

It seems like the phases of womanhood boils down to periods, pregnancy and hot flashes. It sounds utterly simplistic but it’s anything but. Each phase brings with it a renewed perspective revealing to us an undiscovered inner strength and the Wonder Woman within us all.

If I’ve scared you with some of the information in the previous post, that was not my intention. For those of you who have been through any of the phases of womanhood already, you’re laughing because it’s all true (and believe me, misery enjoys company). If you’ve not been through all of it yet; you’re either laughing hysterically thinking, this lady and her metaphors are hilarious, or you are heeding my warning and doubling up on the birth control. Either way, I speak the truth.

READ ALSO: Rantings of a Crazy Lady or My First Pregnancy

Nothing in life is free. Chances are your mother told you this. Mine did. Remember men don’t buy cows who give free milk. Wow! That’s a sexist thing to say not to mention, did they just call women cows? Speaking of being a woman, why Eve why? Our first foray into motherhood is marked by blood. I mean that should be a red flag ( pardon the pun) of what’s to come. We get our periods, which means theoretically we can know the joys of pregnancy.

Ironically, if we’re young and/or single the chances of pregnancy is obviously greater. It’s not enough that we’re blessed by nature’s gift that keeps on giving, we must be on constant alert as to not be taught a lesson. If you don’t want to get pregnant and you are young or single, be extra cautious because you are in the highest risk category of those most likely to conceive.

There is a Wonder Woman Within us all

In contrast, if you’re a married woman, in your mid 20’s or 30’s, with the closest thing to sufficient income trying to get pregnant, now it becomes infinitely more difficult. How badly do you really want it? Sometimes it’s easy with a little careful charting and planning (isn’t that sexy?) but other times you have to really work for it… hormones, in-vitro, etc. and it’s anything but sexy. In fact, it’s downright ugly sometimes.

READ ALSO: What Does Birth Feel Like?

The older you get, when it should actually be easier for you to care for a child, the more you want it, the harder it becomes. There is, however, a group in there (who I hope you all fall into) that has a wonderful, loving marriage and after celebrating their fifth year anniversary decide that it is time to bring a child into the family. They go on a nice, sexy vacation somewhere; have a little drink, do a little dance, get down tonight and wham, bam! 10 months later a baby changes everything. No worries, you planned for it (as best you can plan for such things in life). That’s the fairy tale. It’s the dream we all had right after we planned our weddings when we were twelve.

Here we are 18 years and a master’s degree later. We all know that in our hearts this pregnancy/motherhood gig is what puts us over the top. We rule. Motherhood is the phase of womanhood that brings out our wonder woman within. We’re forever are on a pedestal for giving our husbands children (they can’t do that on their own). They can do a lot of shit, but they can’t have babies without us.

READ ALSO: The TRUTH about Motherhood that No One Will Tell You

Motherhood turbo launches us into sainthood. But it’s a slippery slope because; the same is not guaranteed for those poor unfortunates (I only say unfortunate because you never know how the guy’s going to react in that situation) girls who get pregnant on accident. Then you run the risk of some jackass taking away your glory and treating you like you owe him, for sticking him with a baby. Be careful.

Enjoy your glory because soon will come the hot flashes and then the unavoidable invisibleness that soon follows. Really, it’s just the next phase of womanhood and what no one realizes until they are going through it is that it is fabulous too. With invisibility comes the freedom to say and do what we please. It also means our children are probably old enough to let us pee alone and sleep through the night and that’s worth celebrating.

Wonder woman within party at my house.

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I remember being pregnant as a first time mom-to-be and obsessing over the age old question of what does birth feel like?  It’s a lot like death, we fear it because we have no freaking idea what it really feels like until we are waist deep in it. I was terrified to find out. I knew that there was NO WAY that a baby the size of a watermelon passing through an opening the size of a grape was going to not feel like I was dying. I asked people. I begged to know what birth would feel like. I never got a straight answer.

All anyone ever told me about birth was “It’s such a blessing” (which it is) and you forget about the pain of childbirth as soon as you hold your beautiful newborn baby in your arms. Hate to be the bearer of bad news first time moms-to-be,but that part is complete bullshit; an absolute, bold faced lie. Unless an anvil fell on your head, immediately after giving birth, while holding your newborn and by some miracle missing your child and knocked you unconscious leaving you with amnesia…you will never forget the pain of childbirth. It is an indescribable, unforgettable, and unbearable pain. Who could forget that?

So when our sisters, friends, and other beloved women in our lives ask us,

What does birth really feel like?”

I’ll tell you why, it wouldn’t change a thing. The pain would still be ‘that’ pain, and all it would do is make our girlfriends freak out and it would still hurt. Besides if you dare to be different and actually go against the code and tell someone the truth of what birth feels like, well, they won’t believe you anyways.

I told my best friend that while waiting for the anesthesiologist to arrive to administer my epidural, I told my husband if he didn’t find the damn doctor “with the needle” then I was going to jump out the large picture window that was in my hospital room. He knew I was serious. She thought I was kidding, speaking metaphorically to demonstrate the point. I assure you, I was serious. Dead serious! Not until she was in the throes of her own delightful birth did she recollect my words and realize that I was telling the truth. At that point, it was too late.The scary, horrible, painful truth about what birth feels like is not something you can explain to someone who has never gone through it. For me, child birth feels like a near death experience.

I asked my sister in law (who had 4 children at the time, with no epidural) what giving birth really felt like and I never got a straight answer.Just the typical, you’ll forget about the pain once you hold your baby in your arms and look down into those beautiful eyes. After, I went through the unforgettable ordeal of childbirth, I called her and asked her “why didn’t you warn me?” Her answer to me was this, “ It wouldn’t have changed anything and it would have freaked you out. Once you’re pregnant, it’s too late to change your mind because of a little pain (Little?) Besides, you never would have believed me!!!” And you know what? We were on the phone (states apart) but I swear, I heard laughter in her voice. You know that, I just punked you laugh.

birth, what does birth really feel like, pregnancy, labor, delivery, giving birth

This club, it really does enjoy watching its provisional’s squirm. She was/is right; I would have thought she was crazy, a wimp, a liar, perhaps all of the above but I never would have believed and certainly could not have comprehended what child birth really felt like.

What did birth feel like to you?

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truth, motherhood, parenting, babies, pregnancy,toddler, the truth about motherhood

When you were pregnant did you ever wonder what the hell the truth about motherhood was really going to be? Did any of us really consider what was about to happen or were we so overwrought with hormones and “mothering instincts” that we just assumed that it would all come naturally? Silly girl, I guess that was a lesson we all had to learn the hard way. That’s the funny thing about motherhood, it’s the most important job in the world and nature counts on us “learning as we go.” So strap on the biggest mom goggles you’ve got because life’s about to get mom colored.

I bet you never realized that motherhood is a club, more exclusive than the Junior League, the country club or any other social/philanthropic women’s club you’d ever encountered up until now. I know it seems like they let anyone in but they don’t. Sure lots of women can get pregnant and technically be a “mom” but there’s more to it than just egg meet sperm. It takes a tough broad to really by a mommy; to invest her life in such a thankless pursuit. 

It’s called motherhood, full of bliss and insanity, and it’s situated right in the middle of a war. It’s like the middle east with screaming newborns and crying moms but instead of AK-47s we’re all being held hostage by one emotion; love…unconditional, never ending, all consuming, kiss your baby on the lips, eat half chewed up Cheerios and smell a baby’s butt in public…LOVE.

Welcome to the TRUTH about Motherhood

This is where I will give you the real, true to life play-by-play of this lunacy we call parenting. Believe me when I tell you that I never thought I would become this person. Before I was an actual mom, I was the best mom ever. I knew everything and had parenting down to a science but then actual living, breathing human beings entered the picture and all my thoughts on parenting went to shit.

Yes, there are many, many women in this club, from all countries and walks of life. Do you know of any other sorority where the initiation rite is growing and producing a human being? Seriously, that’s a little steep. It’s a never ending membership. Once you’ve joined, you’re a lifer and believe me it’s more stringent than any other club I belong to. It’s like being jumped into a gang. There is no way out. It’s a ’til death to we part sort of situation so hold on to your hats ladies, shit’s about to get real up in here.

motherhood, mother

 The Real TRUTH about Motherhood

Once you are in the “Motherhood”, you are continuously scrutinized for your choices; from conception (whether its planned or a completely unexpected pregnancy), to delivery, what you wear, what your child wears, how you speak to your child, what classes you take and the lists goes on to infinity and beyond. Worse still, most other mothers never tell you the “truth” about how hard motherhood is but they will judge you for your mistakes. Double edged motherhood sword in the house. The secrets of motherhood are securely hidden from the newbies under lock and key by other mothers; being careful not to reveal an inkling of the real truth for fear that the species may cease to exist.

But I think we are tougher than that. I think we moms are stronger than we give ourselves credit for being and I think our best chance of being the best moms we can be to our children is through forging a real sisterhood through motherhood. There is strength in numbers and if we all just be real with one another, we can lift one another up. Help one another survive without too much guilt and a whole lot of beautiful memories.

motherhood,the truth about motherhood, pregnancy, babies, parenting

You aren’t usually told the hard truth about pregnancy, labor, subsequent siblings, bedtime, discipline, after baby body or any of the other gruesome aspects of motherhood by your friends and neighbors.  You will hear all about the awesomeness by your mom friends. You will have rainbows and unicorns coming out of your ass. But that’s not reality. I’m Debi, a very Truthful Mommy and this is the truth that your mothers, sisters and girlfriends might never tell you!

This is the beginning, so if you are ready for the TRUTH about motherhood, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, as it happens to me, stay tuned! I’ll be giving you the good, the bad, the ugly of motherhood. I’ll be irreverent and brutally honest, so hold on to your hats. Shit is about to get real. Welcome to The TRUTH about Motherhood. My TRUTH about Motherhood!

motherhood, parenting, mother, the TRUTH about Motherhood


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