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Mommy brain, forgetfulness. children

We’ve all heard of Mommy brain, right? You know that condition that makes everything foggy, forgotten and not quite sure if it’s really happening, supposed to be happening or already happened? Yeah, that’s Mommy brain. Hell, I’d bet my reminder list that most of us are in the throes of it at this very moment. Me, I’m convinced that I am probably on the verge of a full-blown case of sun-downers of the Mommy Kind. Shark week and a severe case of mommy brain seem to be co-existing in my life right now, running rampant if you will. I am not exaggerating when I say that if it weren’t for my head being attached, I’d have misplaced it by now. I have had some pretty near misses while experiencing my advanced stage of Mommy brain but some experiences stand out above and beyond the others in the humiliation department. Like this one…

Mommy brain, forgetfulness. children

Oh Mommy brain, why have you forsaken me?

It was a cold day in January and I had an OB/GYN check up. I was at that point in my pregnancy where I couldn’t see my feet. Let’s be honest, I couldn’t see anything south of the topside of my burgeoning belly swell. Who knows what the hell was going on south of that border? But I had a check up, nonetheless, and there was no way I was going in for it without a little landscaping down below beforehand. I refused to look like I had a chia pet in a headlock. It wasn’t happening.

I stepped into the shower and almost immediately; I was trying to lift my belly out of the way, to just be able to catch a small glimpse of my lady bits. Oh ,my poor lady bits I don’t think I’d actually seen them since conception.  All I could do was feel my way. Scratch. Bump. Crease. Opening. Labia. Clitoris. Baby. I’m making a mental note of the lay of the land, as I go. After much panting, praying and contorting, I started the near impossible task. This was a dangerous endeavor, to say the least. I’m no Helen Keller. I’d never done this before. There was a huge chance that some very important parts of me could be permanently severed and left behind to circle the drain. *Holy Mary, Mother of God, Pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death* Hour of our death? Yes, this could have been at any moment. Can you imagine the amount of blood loss one could suffer if I she severed a lip? That thing’s attached for a reason. Sure it may look like it’s coming detached but damn it, it’s not.

Mommy brain, note to self..no lip left behind

An hour later the deed was done. I grabbed the mirror and when I lifted my belly, what was revealed to me looked very similar to a teenager trying to grow his first beard. Patchy with tufts of what looked like tiny Fu Manchu’s scattered all throughout my groin region. And not the tiny Fu Manchu’s that you might see on some hipster band mates, no these were the scary tiny Fu Manchu’s that you might see on a little person Kung Fu Master with a bad attitude and one eye. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. I returned to the bowels of shower hell and after much effort on my part and a mirror that perpetually steamed up; I, finally, got the job done an hour and one freezing shower later.

I was so proud of myself.  I was going to walk into that appointment, drop trough, and show that handsome OB/GYN the most impressively landscaped vagina he’d ever seen on a woman that far into her pregnancy. Of that, I was certain. But wait; let’s take it to the next level. Why stop at just pretty? I grabbed the feminine hygiene spray and after a quick once over, I was not only impeccably groomed but I KNEW I smelled like a beautiful summer’s day. I got this.

After the exam was done, my doctor looks up at me and says, “Everything looks great and (with a knowing smile and a wink) very festive.” What the F*ck? That was inappropriate but I was a over cooked, over stuffed, waddling pregnant Godzilla in need of some extra attention. Hey, Big pregnant Girls need love too. Of course, I had no idea what he was referring to until I returned home. After a quick look in the mirror, to my utter surprise, what I thought was feminine hygiene spray was actually my 2 year olds Christmas themed Barbie spray. Yes folks, festive indeed. My hairless Chihuahua was now covered with green sparkly glitter spray. Nothing says Happy Holidays like a freshly decorated vagina.


*P.S. My birthday is next Saturday (9/25) and I would LOVE to reach 1000 blog followers via GFC by then. MY damn GFC was actually not working most of the past year so  if you loved this story, or you just love The TRUTH about Motherhood please consider clicking the GFC box and following me! Thanks. XO Debi

This is your vagina on Mommy brain

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Today, puberty is hitting at age 7. 8 years olds are wearing cleavage producing bikinis. Padded bras are being made to fit 4 year olds. They are making  heels to fit infants. What’s next, pole dancing lessons in utero? Any mommy worth her salt has to search high and low to find clothes that DON’T make her little girl look like a sex worker.It’s hard having little girls. Kids are growing bigger and taller, faster. Many are being born to older parents and the kids themselves are maturing faster than when we were young. I mean I remember still playing with barbies at 12 and NOT having any boobs.Now, girls are having sex by age 12. It’s freaking scary to think of how fast society tries to make our children become adults.

What’s the rush? Why are we pushing them towards adulthood? It’s like training your ass off to compete in an iron man only to find out that the prize is to perpetually compete in iron men. I try to insure that my little girls get to be little girls. I don’t dress them like miniature adults because they are not adults. I don’t let them watch adult movies or listen to inappropriate music. My rule is if I have to explain something that they shouldn’t know, then they are too young to be exposed to it.

I have friends who have had little girls ( ages 4-6) and I hear them say things like, “Yes, my daughter so and so  has a boyfriend in her kindergarten class”. They giggle and they smirk and I stand there thinking to myself…ARE.YOU.FUCKING. MENTAL?? Seriously, do they realize how utterly ridiculous they even sound saying these words?I mean to they even realize what they are contributing to? It’s like they are non-verbally telling their little girls, Thank God a boy likes you.You are worth something. WTF is this? 1950’s…CHINA?

I try hard to not make my girls feel like their worth is wrapped up in their sexuality..because it is not.Plus, I’ve come from a mom who has spent our entire life telling my sisters and I , “I just wish you had a husband and some children so I wouldn’t have to worry about you anymore.”( This statement alone could earn a person a throat punch…..if she weren’t my Mother) I mean what does that even mean? Is there some sort of exchange going on?Are we incapable of actually taking care of ourselves ( in her mind)? Are we worthless if not validated by marriage and children?

So,this afternoon when we had a play date at the zoo with my 6 year olds best friend..a little boy, for the first time ever, I felt a little uncomfortable.I’ve never felt uncomfortable with their behavior before. This little boy really is her best friend. They run to each other every morning and hug one another and hold hands in line…just like she does with any of her little girl friends. It’s never bothered me before because, I know the kid.I know his family. There is nothing sexual or devious about it. It’s just two little kids being affectionate.But today, as we walked behind the two of them and they were walking side by side with the occasional hand holding punctuated by about 27 random hugs, it felt excessive. Then when his mom told him to stop “manhandling her so much” ( on about the 26th hug) this was his reply “Mom,She’s my friend. She likes it. I like it. Leave us alone!” I was thrust into the future about 10 years and WTF?

My question is what is too much? Where do you draw the line between differentiating between being affectionate and being sexualized? What’s appropriate? What’s not? Is it reasonable to expect our children to behave as children when society is trying to make them adults at every turn? What are your thoughts?

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This morning, I was all excited walking around the grocery store.You know, it was Monday..my favorite day of the week.I was in desperate need of replenishing the fridge, since we had been gone all of last week. I was walking around, patting myself on the back because I was buying all organic and free range this and that. I spent a small fortune in the grocery but no worries. I was trying to find redemption with the food gods from all the hydrogenated, greasy, fat that I had put in my girls bodies over Spring break. That is nothing to speak of the damn burrito as big as my head that I consumed. (Shhh, it was totally worth the 1.5 pounds I gained.) That thing was sinfully delicious.But I digress…..yumm….burrito.

So,I’m walking around the grocery all head up my ass in a great effing mood for a Monday and then it happened.As Gabs and I were perusing the cereal aisle, contemplating which cereal would be the best tasting and the healthiest ( because today that was way up the list)and a mommy with a newborn happened toward us.She looked haggard and exhausted.Oh how I remember that feeling.Of course, I extended the Mommy olive branch and gave her the sympathetic “I feel your pain” smile and said, “Hi,I’m sorry are we in your way?” Which we clearly were not but I was trying to segue into “How old is your baby?’ “OMG, she/he is so freaking adorable”

What did she say? NOTHING.She completely ignored me and to add insult to injury pushed past me with the “You are such an asshole” look. WTF? I was flabbergasted and then I set straight to finding the “it’s not you, it’s me” scenario. Because clearly, it was HER!This is what I came up with:

  • Perhaps, she was deaf and did not hear me speak to her.
  • Perhaps, she doesn’t speak or understand English.
  • Maybe, she was so exhausted that she was incoherent, on Mommy autopilot.
  • Maybe she had a raging case of explosive diarrhea that was about to erupt.
  • Perhaps, she was heavily sedated.
  • Maybe she was rushing to get outside because her 3 year old was locked in the closet at home?
  • Maybe her dog was projectile vomiting in the car?
  • Maybe she was part of some weird scavenger hunt in which she was supposed to collect peoples happiness and dash hopes.
  • Maybe the baby was stolen.
  • Or maybe,she was just a mean Mother Focker.

Either way, you never know what’s going through someone’s head or in their lives so I can only worry about me. I was annoyed for a minute ( maybe a couple more) but I went home and had a fabulous free range, grass fed, organic lunch with my girls and replenished my joy knowing that as she rushed passed me she carried with her a trail of toilet paper.I told you maybe she had explosive diarrhea. I would have told her but ,you know, she was so busy being deaf and making ugly faces at me that she probably wouldn’t have heard me anyway.


In case you missed it…I was featured on SheKnows Top 10 Blogs that will make you think. I am so thrilled and honored to be on this list among so many great bloggers and it was written by one of the bloggers who I respect the most, Naomi AKA Cool Whip Mom.

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How to exude confidence and be a priority in your own life.The following post was written over a year ago, when I needed a little self confidence boost and reminder to be a priority in my own life and all my relationships. I dug it out to remind myself how it feels to have confidence in your body, health, relationships and love. I think many of us can use this post to lift us up and remind us of who we are, even when we don’t feel like it.

Bringing the Feisty Broad back

I am a Mommy, first and foremost. It’s a fact of my life. I love it. I chose it. This is not something that I got trapped into, this was something that I intentionally chose, in fact, it was one of my loftiest aspirations. I used to be a daughter and sister, then a wife, then a Mommy. Somewhere in there, for a brief fleeting moment, I got to be “Debi”. I remember that girl, I liked her. She was a lot like me but had absolutely no real ramifications for her behavior. Awww, sweet freedom. I do miss you. It was awesome. It was pre filter on the mouth and brain for child security reasons, yet, post the imposed filter of my personal freedoms by my Father.It was wonderful; it was euphoric. I was selfish, care free, and completely oblivious to the wants and needs of others. I know it sounds perfectly awful. I always did exactly what “I” wanted to do, with no care or concern for anyone else. I know it sounds terribly vain and narcissistic, perhaps it was, but it was fabulous..for that time in my life…all 15 minutes of it. I was the priority. These days, I am “Mommy”, “Honey”, “Mama” ,”You”, “Mother”, “Mrs. Big Guy” ( now, Truthful Mommy) but hardly anyone ever calls me “Debi” anymore.I feel as if I have disappeared figuratively and literally. But for someone who is invisible, I certainly do stay busy. How can this be? It is absolutely mind boggling to me but I am fairly certain that I am not alone in this situation. Can I get an amen from my Mommies out there? I KNOW you know what I’m talking about.

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self esteem, confidence, priority

Photo courtesy of the internet


I go through life, these days, busier than ever before yet feeling like I really never accomplish anything in my days. Every night, I am thoroughly exhausted ( believe me..just ask the Big Guy)but usually I can’t sleep.Every morning, I am still so tired because I was up the previous night until 2 am thinking of all the “Stuff” I have to do the next day. No fair, right? Last year ( 2 years ago now), I made a conscious decision that 2009 was going to be the year of “Debi”. I had my mind made up, I was planning to plan to revive that feisty broad.It’s pretty bad when you are telling your husband something about yourself before he met you and he is looking at you like you are full of shit because the “you” he knows, would never do something like that.I was determined, I was making a comeback in my own life. That was my plan! Then, real life and minutia got in my way. So, around September ( my birthday to be exact) I put my foot down and started getting to it…for like the 100th time since I had realized that I wanted to change some things.

This time it was different though. This time, I made real efforts. I joined Weight Watchers ( yes, to my initial utter embarrassment. I had so convinced myself that I was not “that” fat but I was, in fact, “that” fat and let me tell you..admitting it was the first real step towards fixing it !) , I started walking and working out and making a genuine effort..and didn’t quit or make up excuses after I got bored with it. This time I approached it like an adult. I also joined some Mom’s groups that stress being a woman and not just a “Mommy”, I made new friends ( I had to we had just moved half way across the country from absolutely everyone we knew), I got a babysitter ( a first for my children aside from the very occasional grandparent) and I forced myself to go out without my children. At my husbands insistence, I even made it out to a few MNO! Life was turning around. People were calling me “Deborah” , granted it wasn’t Debi but hey, a more adult version of myself is a good thing, right? Then the holiday’s hit. We traveled and it was one thing after another. So, here we are at the beginning of 2010 ( 2011 now). I am still forging on to revive myself. I am the priority in my life now, well…I am one of the top 3, for sure. I am a work in progress, but that is ok. As long as I am on my own to do list, there is hope for “Debi”

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self confidence, woman, self esteem, priority

Photo courtest of Google image

My point being, with a little real concerted effort, I am 25 lbs. smaller than I was in September, I have made some wonderful new friends, and I am feeling more like the starring role in my own Cinderella story versus the cat that belonged to the ugly stepsisters. I feel like by getting back to “Debi” and introducing that intelligent,beautiful, healthy, cultured, well read, strong woman to my girls that I am not only regaining my independence, my very existence… I am showing them ,by living example, that they are important and vital to their own life story.That no matter who they are, what they think, what they look like, what they choose to be or do in their lives, they must be present and they must be content with the versions of themselves who are present because they are imperative to their own happiness and nothing is more important than feeling like you matter and being fulfilled with who you are in your own life. Who I am is a direct reflection on who my daughters will someday become. I want them to know they can have the world and that they deserve it all and so does Mommy. I want to teach them how to exude confidence and be a priority in their own life. I want to have it all and I want them to know they can too. The paddles are out, Clear…..

Obviously, life derailed me again with yet another move and the whole commuter arrangement but this piece reminds me of two things one; I am SO WORTH the EFFORT and two; I am NOT a QUITTER. I persist and I work hard and then I conquer. I am woman hear me roar. How do you exude confidence and stay a priority in your own life?[/fusion_builder_column][/fusion_builder_row][/fusion_builder_container]

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I am NOT the Mommy who tells her kid about the Boogie Man. I decided this a long time ago because well, its just a tool parents use to scare their children into behaving well. I know, this coming from the same broad who tells her daughters that magical kneecap breaking elves are sent from Santa to keep a watchful eye over them and report back to the Fat Jolly guy, doesn’t make a lot of sense. So, why, you ask, do I draw a line at the “Boogie Man”? Simply because, I tell them monsters are not real and I think they are too young for the whole God/Satan discussion. Therefore, no one is allowed to even joke that the Boogie man is getting anyone in this house. Capiche?

Unfortunately, I had a little slip today. Yes, one of my girls did something ( I can’t honestly even remember what it was at this point) and I made the comment that the Boogie man something or other. As soon as I said it, I wanted to eat the words. I wanted to swallow them whole and push them deep down inside my stomach but it was too late. Those 2 words had fell on to the most astute ears of all time, the ears of Gabs. You know like the ides of March but much more dangerous.

What did I do? Well, I don’t lie to my children ( well, I don’t want to ) so how can I get out of this?I’d said it, she knew it meant something not good, so how the hell was I going to explain it all away? My thought process; Sesame street, Cookie Monster ( big blue friendly dude); Mommy fuck up,Boogie Monster; Crazy invisible guy who comes and eats the boogies of little kids who don’t listen. What a train wreck! Clearly, I should have put more thought into this craziness.

I know, its a terrible cover. One day she’ll know that the Boogie Man is a synonym for Satan but for now she thinks that the Boogie Monster is an invisible dude who comes around if he hears little girls talking back, fighting, telling their Mommy or sister they hate her, or being generally not good ..its the only time he is even aware of their existence.But if he hears, he’ll come and suck all the boogies out of their noses in the middle the night ( sort of like one of those giant bulb suckers which of course, they detest)but ONLY if they are not good.

What white lies have you told your children when caught in a compromising position? How did it work out for you?We’re you ever busted? I’m pretty sure this whole boogie monster thing is going to blow up all over my face. It’s just a matter of time.Bella listened to my explanation and gave me the “I’m not sure but I’m pretty sure that you’re full of crap Mom” look when she heard the whole sordid explanation. Gabs, on the other hand, she’s been the best she’s been since birth! Bella was pretty good too. She’s not taking any chances with Christmas being so close and all.That’s my smart cookie!Happy Mothering!

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Congrats everyone! You’ve made it an entire month, and damn it, I hope you’re all better parents for it. Or I’ve completely bored you to death with my soap boxing:)

No worries, I will be posting once again about how my girls are driving me out of my mind, I’m missing my husband terribly as he works in yet another state ( damn economy), that I am so stressed that my hair is falling out or I’ve roared at my children or some other nonsense.Those posts will gain me forgiveness for all this forced upon “betterness.” But first, don’t forget tomorrow starts the BE a BETTER ME challenge to help me shift my focus on me..and for you to shift the focus on you. After all, we deserve to be a priority on our own to do list.

Today I share with you some wisdom from Kristen at Motherhood Uncensored!

Be a Better Parent Challenge #31: Parent the kids you have

It is the greatest challenge of all, I believe, but also, the greatest reward – when you can take in all the advice (and assvice) and apply what works FOR YOUR SPECIFIC CHILD. For God’s sake don’t compare your little miracle to any other child. Your child is their own unique person. Keep in mind the square child you are trying to fit in a round hole may be the next Picasso, Einstein, Freud, Austen, Shakespeare,President. Let them be the best them they are and nurture, support and love them no matter what!Do that and you will be without a doubt the best parent to them that they could ever need or want.

I’ve spent the last 5 years trying to make certain parenting philosophies work for me and I’ve come to the conclusion that there is no one right way; there are loads of ways that work for different combinations of parents and children.My children are who they are and that is like no one else and I wouldn’t want it any other way. I think they are pretty friggin spectacular albeit high maintenance. I made them that way, I chose to raise them with high expectations and lofty goals and the firm belief all things are possible through hard work and dedication.They are not entitled, they know that life is work and it can be as beautiful and amazing as you want it to be. Whatever they decide to put in is what they will get out.

We bog ourselves down with wanting to be the best parent and we have in our mind what that is – does she make homemade bread, does she read four stories to her kids every night, does she toss out her television?How do her kids behave? Where are her kids at educationally in comparison to where my kids are?Does her homemade baby food and breast milk make her a better Mommy than me? Am I limiting my kids potential by not going organic? Should my kid be taking more classes? OMG, did I mess my kids whole life up by using disposable diapers? Did that drop off the changing table make them unable to play the flute? Why is my kids talking /walking/potty training later? What did I do?

Don’t lie – you’ve played that game in your head.Hell, you’re probably playing it right now!It’s a stupid game. Do your best for the kid you have, help them excel in their strengths. Don’t judge them for their weaknesses. Be the parent you wish you had.

I say, toss all those ridiculous ideas of comparison and regimented milestones out. Listen to what your gut is telling you. Listen to your heart. Mommy intuition is a great thing. AS I always say, there is nothing you can tell me about my child that I don’t already know…at the very least in my heart.

Read blogs, books, and websites.And then figure out what works best for your kid. And your other kids.It’ll probably be different for each one, because our miracles are as unique as their fingerprints.SO be ready to work, but remember what you receive out of this parenting gig is  a plethora of kisses, a lifetime of love, and the priceless journey of raising and knowing these amazing little humans we brought forth into the world! Love them! Love yourself!Happy Mothering!

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Slipping through my fingers~ It won’t be like this for long. I know it seems like I have been dwelling on this topic lately but its just been that kind of a week. My little girls seem to be growing up at lightening speed this summer and, quite honestly, its breaking my heart a little bit. Where did my chubby little newborns crying for me to breastfeed them in the middle of the night go? I may have been terminally exhausted but it was a blissful exhaustion. I wore my exhaustion proudly as some sort of badge, screaming to the world, I am A Mommy! I am AWESOME!

Slipping through my Fingers

It’s true there is a feeling of entitlement that comes with giving birth. Nothing feels quite like it. Sure, I complained about having no sleep, and was constantly questioning the Gods why she never stopped crying. But secretly,(shhhh) I really didn’t mind at all. Much like  I never really minded the unplanned co-sleeping, kissing booboos, or being the only person who could make their world right again. The same way I never minded having to lay down and cuddle them to get them to sleep, or have a lost lovey fed exed in from Grandma ChaCha because my toddler was inconsolable nor did I mind the tears they shed when I left them for the first time with someone else because ,secretly, I loved it all!I love being their everything even if it is a drag sometimes.
It seemed a lifetime before my little babies were capable of doing the simplest of tasks. Then ,it was like I looked away for a moment and suddenly , they were capable. Every milestone filled us with elation and pride. That first word couldn’t come fast enough; hearing their voices for the first time was like hearing the voice of God. Then quickly came rolling over, crawling, cruising, walking, etc..it all happened so fast it was like every accomplishment was hurled at me and knocked me onto my ass to sit helplessly and be witness to it all. The thing that no one ever tells you is that with every single new accomplishment, new worries ensue. Of course I wanted them to be more independent. But with each  iota of independence they gained, I had to relinquish a little bit of my heart. I am so proud to be the Mommy of such bright and independent little girls, but the pride is short lived and quickly  heartache takes its place, as I realize soon ….they won’t need me at all!
I can hardly believe how fast these past 5 years have passed and how much my life has changed from having my girls. Having them has certainly given me a greater purpose and increased my quality of life exponentially, in most regards. I can barely stand the thought that one day, in the not so distant future, I won’t be able to see them every day, and worse, they won’t mind.Why doesn’t anyone tell us about this before we get pregnant. The letting go has got to be the hardest part of Motherhood. I used to think they couldn’t live without me, but really, it’s me who will have difficulty surviving without seeing them every day. How do you survive when your heart has left your body? How do you function? They are like oxygen to my soul.Not in some creepy,I’m going to lock them in the basement until they are 40 type of way, I just mean how can you love someone so much and be expected to exist without them in your life at full capacity?
These precious moments that we have the privilege of being part of in our children’s lives pass by far too quickly.My rational self knows this is how this relationship is supposed to play out; my heart, however, has major problems with this whole situation and I am not afraid tell you, I think it is is trying to organize a coup on my good sense.This makes me reexamine my relationship with my own Mother. One day it will be me waiting patiently at home for my girls to call, and  its likely that the calls will never come soon or frequent enough. Soon, I will be the one wanting and needing their attention. Sorry, Mom! Hey, karma..pay attention, none of this coming back around shit! I said I was sorry! Mom already has you working in cahoots with her to give me ” a couple little girls that act just like you (me)!” So, karma, lets stop all the craziness. I don’t want what I gave , I want more from my relationship with my own girls!
I just hope the Mother /Daughter relationship with my girls grows into friendship as they grow up.I want to be a woman who they look up to , want to emulate, and spend time with because of the kind of woman I am not just because they have to because I gave birth to them. I want them to come to me for advice and honesty and value my opinion. This is something that I have to work at now, because it won’t be like this for long.
But for now, I am going to cherish every single moment of co-sleeping snuggling and random “I LOVE YOU”s that I can get my hands on!

I had to share this video because, as some of you know, this is the song that my Bella looked me in the eyes and said ,”Mommy, this is me and your song!” She was dead serious and I was stopped dead in my tracks and brought to tears; as I am every single time I hear this damn song!I’m telling you, these girls of mine…they have got to stop growing up so fast!


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I thought this Motherhood gig was all about me shaping, molding, teaching these little, adorable human beings of mine. I knew it would be loads of work, and it is. It is a grueling 24 hour a day job that never stops. I knew (in theory) that was what I was in for but I never expected what I actually got.
As tired as I am most days and holding on for dear life to my last string of sanity, I am always amazed. I never expected to learn anything from my children. Come on, everything they know..I taught them, right? Apparently not. I guess I have to relinquish some of the pride in my nurturing because I have to admit, I’m pretty sure there is a lot of nature in it.
For instance, my 2 year old who is so honest at times that she actually scares me.Many times I have asked her to do something and she will simply say no. Ask her why, she will say because she doesn’t want to.In a world full of excuses, this little girl makes none. She is who she is, and that’s who she is..Deal with it! It used to annoy me that she would just say no she didn’t want to.Let’s be honest, us Mommies, we do a lot of things that we don’t want to. I know for a fact I don’t want to do dishes, fold laundry, cook, run errands, pay bills, keep appointments or obligations but that’s my life. That’s being an adult, right? The more I think of it, why can’t I take a cue from my 2 year old in her infinite wisdom. I mean wouldn’t it be the nicer thing to do then to be insulting and come up with ridiculous excuses why you can’t do things. I appreciate her honesty and her braveness with her integrity is admirable. When my 2 year old does decide to help you, it is whole hearted and it is selfless and it is beautiful. From my 5 year old, I have learned to be fearless. I know where she gets this, I do remember a time when that was me.Since having my girls, I have become much less reckless and more cautious because every day with them is the most important of my life. My Bella will do whatever it takes to achieve her goals. It doesn’t matter if it scares the hell outta her, she will pursue it with a fierceness. There is not much she can’t do. In fact, I don’t think there is anything that she can’t do..if she puts her mind to it. Her spirit is free and her heart is open. She loves with abandon and if you are lucky enough to be one of those who she does love; she will walk through hell to make you happy.
My daughters have reminded me that I can do anything that I set my mind to.They have also reminded me to have integrity and pride. I am embracing love with full abandon. I am learning to be honest with myself, to be fearless and to relish all that life has to offer. They have also taught me that a child’s giggle, their little hand in yours, a snuggle, a kiss goodnight, their true smile..can melt your heart and make you feel more vulnerable then you ever thought possible. They have taught me that the world is a beautiful, miraculous place where everything is possible.
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I just dropped Bella off at kindergarten roundup/2 hour orientation at our churches school. I know she is in good hands. I know its only for two hours. I know she loves it. But just like the first day of preschool, she had on her “nervous” face. My girl is a very brave, get through anything kinda little girl. Don’t get me wrong, this girl can whine with the best of them but when its something important..she knows. She sucks it right up and carries on. No tears, no argument, no tantrum. She is amazing. Anyone, who has a child, knows that as happy as our child’s true smile in the face of happiness can make us feel, is how equally terrible our child’s “nervous” face can make us feel. The only thing more heartbreaking is the real “scared ” or truly “sad” face that  I ,personally, never want to see.We want to make everything easy and safe for our child, but like most milestones/firsts in our child’s life, we can’t protect them from everything. Some things they simply have to work through. Like when they were learning to walk and would fall, or when they were learning that fire was hot and decided to touch the glass front of the fireplace. We can try and warn prepare them or make the house safe but we can’t stop everything , short of placing them inside of a bubble of love with no contact with the outside world.I think the safest place for them would be to just hang out in the womb until they were around 25. Of course, that could make life a little uncomfortable for us Mommies.
This morning went a little smoother than I expected. Her little sister didn’t go full on crazy, when we dropped her off. Remember the first day of preschool incident? Gabs dropping to her knees and screaming “Bella..My Bella” it sounded a lot like Brando’s “Stella”. It was heartbreaking.In the end, it was what caused my inappropriate breakdown in the middle of the grocery store ( at least I was out of sight of Bella). Today, Gabs in her infinite maturity looked at me and said, “Mommy, where Bella be? Why she not come with us” To which I answered, ” She has to stay at school for a couple hours to meet her new teacher.” I was waiting for the drama. I was all ready to do the scoop and run quick exit of the building. Surprisingly, Gabs nonchalantly says, “OK, Mommy!Me love Bella!”What? Was I the only one having the slight breakdown. Apparently, Gabs has matured beyond my years in the past 7 months. Well, I wasn’t the only one…all the other Mommies and most of the Daddies, left with overflowing eyes.
It got me thinking. I did this last year for preschool,the first day of children’s liturgy, now for roundup. I’m sure for the first day of 1/2 day Kindergarten and then again for full day 1st grade. When does this pain go away? Seriously, its like every time I turn around a little piece of my heart is being ripped from my chest. Its completely awful.I thought my heart being broken days were over when I got married. Why is it no one told me that I’d fall more deeply in love with my children than any man I had ever known? Probably the same reason no one told me how bad labor actually was, I wouldn’t have believed them if they had. The pain of labor, wow..that takes me back. Who knew that was just the beginning of the pain but at least that was tolerable because there was an end in sight. All they are doing is growing up, becoming more independent ( as I want them to be. I want them to realize as much of their potential as is possible) but it breaks my friggin heart on a daily basis. What they don’t tell you in the parenting manual is that from the moment these little heart breakers exit the womb, you spend every day having to let go, just a little. I think its nature/God’s way of preparing us parents for the big exodus to college at the age of 18. If we didn’t start letting go in small doses at the age of 3, we’d never be able to survive when they left for college. It’s not fair. Thank God with that comes the ability to love with no bounds and to have that love returned to you , every single second of every single day. My baby’s can keep taking pieces of my heart because just like it grew to accommodate each new child, there is an infinite amount of times it will regenerate to supply a lifetime of love for them both. So, take it….take another little piece of my heart now baby!

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Well, its been quite awhile since I have been in the situation of breast feeding, with mine now being the ripe old ages of 2 and 5 (and a week,sniff, sniff), but I am totally all for boobie bagging it. I mean , it was by far one of the most intimate experiences I have ever had the privilege of sharing with another human being. Looking down into the eyes of your precious little ones face, as you sustain their life is monumental. The look of love and gratitude; it is amazing and I wouldn’t trade it for the world. Sure, I get the same look from my husband when he’s down there but let’s face it; I’m not sustaining his life:)  Anyways, I was one of those poor unfortunates who, try as they may, the boobies just didn’t function properly. They have always been big and beautiful (thanks Mom) but apparently pretty useless when I actually needed them. So, it was SNS (supplemental nursing system) from the get go. Oh, what? You are not familiar with this term? Lucky you! It is a wonderful medieval contraption that you hang from your neck,   it holds formula in a container..that is exerted from a small tube that is taped to your nipple ( hoping to supplement what your poor under functioning, handicapped boobies can’t produce) and if you are super lucky (as I was) you can add to the mix a nipple guard!Sweet! Lovely, right? P.S. The nipple guard is not a little guy  in a fuzzy hat who guards the nipple, its a pliable plastic covering to help draw the nipple out. My poor little boobies, they had such a complex; they figured they couldn’t come to play , so they were trying to hide on the bench. I have a friend of mine, who never even attempted to breast feed (because according to her, “those” were for fun not function) and here I am bargaining with the devil and praying to Jesus to let me produce enough milk to feed my starving child and , it just never came to fruition. I gave it the old college try, I took the fenugreek, the mothers milk tea, I tried everything possible to stimulate breast milk production but I could never fly solo, I always had to use that damn SNS! So, both girls got breastfed for about 6 weeks. I’m sorry, who was I fooling. The embarrassment and sheer horror of that SNS (it still gives me nightmares to think about harnessing myself into that thing) and only producing maybe 1/2 to 1 ounce when my kid was eating 4 -6 oz, was too much. So, I never had to decide whether or not to breastfeed in public (because anyone who knows me, knows that I am such a hypochondriac when it comes to my babies that they don’t go out into the general public until after 6 weeks). So, I am not trying to be judgy. When I see a Mommy feeding her baby, first I feel “awww” ,then that is followed by a little uncomfortableness, then ” what a tender , sweet Mommy/baby moment”. Generally, I think it is beautiful. Personally, I never did it outside the house but that was just my situation ( because the time of breastfeeding coincided with the 6 week waiting period of taking my newborns out into general population ….cause I am a lil crazy like that). Anyways, today I take my 2 and 5 year old to toddler story time @ the local library. We are sitting there and I notice a couple of the Mommies have some newborns (awwww, moment) . Mommy A ‘s 3 month old girl is getting that fussy, hungry cry going. Mommy promptly pulls out  what looks like an apron and there goes the baby, under the apron, suckling to her hearts desire as Mommy watches on as her 4 year old little boy participates in story time. Way to go Mommy, she was on the ball. Directly next to her, I notice a little girl around the age of 4 assuming the position in her Mommy’s lap. What? I think, a little regression perhaps. You know seeing the baby next to her go under the apron. She’s no fool , she knew what was going on under there. Then the 4 year old sticks her hand in her Mom’s(Mommy B) shirt and is fondling her. I am like, WTH is going to happen here? It  felt like I was witnessing snuff. Then, this woman, whipped it out and this little girl took a hit..like a shot of whiskey from a shot glass.WTF??? Seriously, I swear I am not against breastfeeding. In fact, I am a little envious of those Mommies with aprons..that means,God bless em, their parts are functioning correctly. But there has always been something creepy to me about a child old enough to be drinking out of a regular cup (past the sippy cup age), who can say “Give me a hit off the old teet mom!” Or anyone old enough to spell boobies, draw boobies, or talk about the experience still actually feeding off the breast. I don’t think a kid who can unbutton your shirt and  wipe their own ass should still be breastfeeding. I mean, unless there is some weird disease and that is the only thing the kid can eat to survive…then I think its a little creepy and a little sad. Then ,in my head, I kept thinking if one of my girls ( who are watching this whole thing go down and my 2 year old was watching very interested like) comes over to me and tries to see what all the fuss is about, we’d have serious problems. How do I explain, ” I know honey, you know how you like chicken nuggets and  lemonade? Well, that little girl still likes boobie milk!”So, my question to you is..am I wrong to be creeped out by this? Am I just out of the loop because of my own shortcomings? Would I feel differently if I had the ability to sufficiently breastfeed my own kids? I don’t think so but then again , I guess we’ll never know. All I know is I left the library today feeling just a little bit violated and dirty. I wasn’t staring , and didn’t see any actual boobies..but the kid was wiping her mouth and sporting an “ahhh” ( you know that sound you make when you’ve been running and you take a long cold swig of ice water? Yeah, that’s the sound.) I’m now sufficiently terrified to go to story time again; I may be off the library entirely.

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