How to get your Toddler to Behave Perfectly in Public

Either you’re here to amuse yourself with a bucket of B.S., or you knew I was going to bait you in with the headline and completely switch it up. One way or another, you know (I hope) that there is no possible way to ensure an event-free public outing if a toddler has anything to do with it. I know I’ve said this before (see here) but today, I stand here with the strength and self-awareness to tell you that I, Carter and Monroe’s Mom, still don’t know what the heck I’m doing with this whole mommying thing. But 4 years in, I have a just a little experience with managing how toddlers behave in public.

If you follow me on Instagram, you’ve seen this picture:

Acting a PLUM fool while Mrs. Claus was reading a story.

This was the day I thought I was grown. I believed in myself. I prepared. I had backup. And still, it was a fail that ended with a walk of shame through the Gaylord Hotel, a screaming toddler trailing behind me, a baby on my hip, and me crying on the phone to my husband.

That day scarred me. Bad. So for the next year, I didn’t take them ANYWHERE alone, essentially punishing them for that day–for being kids. Not only were we bored out of our minds waiting for my husband to get off work every weekend so we could finally leave the house, but I felt like a completely crappy mom scrolling through Instagram watching all the fun moms do cool things with their babies. I felt like I was standing on the outside of a big window, with my face pressed against the glass. I’ve been depriving my kids of memories and life experiences all because I was afraid they might act out in public. As this summer approached, I knew it was time for me to stop taking my parenting insecurities out on them and let them be kids out in the world.

Where did I go wrong that day at the Gaylord? I didn’t. Nothing I did was wrong per se. But since then, I’ve taken the time to analyze the environments I put them in, the things that stress them, and the things that keep them relaxed. That sounds like work huh? It is. Parenting is work. (Write that down) And that’s something that I needed to make sure that I kept top of mind. But I also needed to learn not to beat myself up while I’m still learning how to do this thing. We only have experience to grow from, but here are a few more things that you can file in under each one, teach one:

Read the rest HERE.


On Boundaries & Reclaiming My Space.

When I was invited to spend an evening with Marlon Wayans for the premier of his new show Marlon on NBC, I thought of every excuse not to go.

Excuse #1: For what media outlet? I haven’t touched this blog in almost 2 years. Who am I? I am no one.

Excuse #2: I’ve never done this before AND I don’t even know where the battery for my DSLR camera is. (because I’m too green to know that there would be a professional photog *facepalm)

Needless to say I went, and while I was there to create buzz around the premier of Marlon, It wouldn’t be me if I didn’t leave with a little life lesson in my back pocket.

I promise my mouth isn’t this big. Source: Alicia Renece Photography

Source Alicia Renece Photography

Source: Alicia Renece Photography

Me and Marlon! Source: Alicia Renece Photography

Those of us who relate to the world by sharing our stories, often struggle with boundaries. How do I balance sharing with y’all, and respecting people’s privacy like DJ Khaled taught me?

Marlon’s new self-titled show is loosely based on his life. It’s a family sitcom that offers a peek into the life of a divorced couple, closely co-parenting their children and still operating as a family. I took this opportunity to ask him how he sets boundaries when he’s developing his show topics. It was refreshing for him to echo the same concerns with his children and how they feel about him putting all their business in the streets. (In fact those seem like the only opinions that matter to him). My major takeaway from his response, was that you get a feel for everyone’s personal boundaries and act accordingly.

“I’ve made a couple mistakes, but you get to learn, ok–who’s sensitive and who’s not and you go from there.”

“I think everybody in my life understands who I am…My whole purpose is not to hurt the feelings of people in my life, my purpose is to extract the things that may be painful and turn those things into a smile”

And there it is. Dassit.

Life has a way of forcing you to sit still. Sometimes things happen so fast that you’re forced to just stand there and watch it happen. 2016 (and the first half of 2017) was a lot like that. Partly because I lacked the energy or inspiration to pull words together, partly because I just didn’t feel like it, but mostly because I felt conflicted about the direction my content was going in. 400-something days later and a drafts folder full of unfinished posts, I’ve realized that I don’t feel as guilty about being absent from this space as I think I’m supposed to, and it took that time away to realize that all of you come here because you like reading my stories. So I’m gonna write my stories.

My purpose is to share pieces of my life that inspire others and normalize parts of our lives that we think only we experience. Not only should I NOT feel anxiety about sharing, but I should share more, because every time I do, I’m making somebody feel a little more normal, prompting somebody to do a self-check, or showing someone something that I wish I would have known. And the responses that I get always let me know that it’s necessary.

Who knew a fool like Marlon Wayans could get me to feel comfortable enough to return to this space? If for no other reason than that (besides the fact that the show is hilarious) I’ll def be tuning in, I hope y’all will too! Check out the trailer below!

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3 Things Your Newborn Definitely Doesn’t Need

Everyone knows that aside from being able to eat, wear, do or say whatever you want, one of the top 5 pregnancy rites of passage, is pulling up to Babies-R-Us, parking in that VIP expecting mother parking space and waddling inside for the first time. I remember my first time vividly. I don’t recall exactly what I was expecting to find inside, but there were so many…things. A parking lot full of strollers, several rows of rocking chairs, baby bath tubs complete with shower head attachments, and arsenal of Boppy pillow covers.  Just aisles and aisles of stuff.

Then it happens. An eager employee hands you a scanner gun and you have free reign of the entire floor for a scanning spree! Walking through with that scanner in your hand, choosing items for your baby shower registry is simultaneously one of the most fun things to do and one of the most overwhelming things to do. What are the basics? Am I leaving anything out? That looks cool! Why is baby stuff so expensive? Every little angel’s needs will be different, but here are three things that your newborn definitely will not need. From experience.

Spare yourself.

Spare yourself.

Bottle Warmers

This was probably one of the first things I put on my registry assuming it was a necessity. I mean, how else do you warm up the bottles? The microwave. That’s how. I know you’ve probably been told that the microwave isn’t safe, but listen. When your baby is crying and hungry, who has time to set up the bottle warmer, and wait the 15 minutes it takes to heat up? Not I. I’m pretty sure after the first attempt I put it back in the box and took it back. From my experience 30 seconds in the microwave makes a perfectly warm bottle. Of course you should always test it to make sure it’s not too hot. But 30 seconds as opposed to 15 minutes is definitely the winner here. Or if time isn’t an issue for you, just go ahead and do it the old-fashioned way. Boil some water and toss the bottles in to warm them. Same thing. Less coins.

A Traditional Crib

Unless, you’re going to put the crib in YOUR bedroom, I can make a pretty sound estimate that your baby won’t sleep in it until around 8 – 12 months old.  If 2am treks from your bedroom to the baby’s room at every coo and cry aren’t your thing, you may just want to get yourself a bassinet, put it next to the bed and be able to handle night time feedings much more efficiently…because there WILL be night time feedings…for months.

Baby Food Makers

Cute idea. How very, “organic granola mom” of you for wanting to make your own baby food. The system usually has two parts. One that steams your fruits/veggies, another that blends. It also comes with cute little jars for storage. Again, cute. I can do you one even better. *leans in and whispers* Just buy a blender. Steam the veggies yourself in a microwavable bowl covered with saran wrap and blend when its done. Then make yourself a smoothie afterward in your multi-use, multi-functional, not-just-for baby-food-but-does-the-same-thing, blender.

What are some things from your baby shower registry that are currently collecting dust?

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6 Things I’m Doing NOW to prepare for the New Year

Yes. It is merely November and I’m already out here yelling “New year, new me” for the 2016. Don’t get left in the dust! There is no better time than the present to start thinking about how you’re going to tackle the year. Here are some things that I’m starting NOW to make sure I sashay into 2016 on top!

1. Cleaning My House

Y’all know me. I’m messy. And sometimes ( many times) I let things get so cluttered that I can’t even think straight or feel comfortable and relaxed in my space. Next thing you know, the clutter is so overwhelming and it takes SO much to straighten out. In 2016, I want to work on my energy. That includes my living spaces. I want to make sure that when I get home, everything is peaceful and zen. Screaming kids are enough, I don’t need my space to scream as well. Feel me?

2. Planning to Plan

More often than not, I suffer from some form of analysis paralysis which leads to procrastination, all because I fail to plan properly. I leave everything in my head and try to unravel it later and, well…no…it doesn’t work. I spend so much time thinking about what I need to do, when I need to do it, and how I’ll do it, that I’m exhausted before “go time”. Not this year. I already said in my newsletter that I will be using a planner to get me right for the 2016. You know what they say: prior proper planning prevents piss poor performance…so we’ll see how that goes.

Get a new planner...and actually use it.

Get a new planner…and actually use it.

3. Taking Inventory

My clothes, shoes, email subscriptions, refrigerator, contact lists, EVERYTHING. If it’s not contributing to good energy then it must GO. That simple.

4. Creating Design Plans

We bought our house in July 2014. I’ve made the tiniest amount of progress on decorating, but my main problem? I just don’t know what I want. So I’m taking time to figure out what the heck it is that I want in each room, so that when I see it I can buy it.

5. Re-setting Goals

It happens to the best of us. We set goals, things shift and we lose sight. But that doesn’t mean that we can NEVER try again right? So I’m coming for everything that I didn’t carry out last year AND some more.

6. Highlighting the Positive

I think positive energy will be the theme of 2016 for me. With that said I want to try to make sure that I’m in control of my moods, emotions, and thoughts. One way I plan to do that is by dedicating some time each day to pointing out 5 positive things to focus on. I don’t want to let negative things take up residence in my space so, I’ll choose to focus on everything that is good.

Have you started planning for 2016 already? What are some things you’re going to focus on?

What are some things you’d like ME to focus on? Take the survey below to give your 2 cents on Real Life Actually 2016



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One of These Things is Not Like the Other

I always thought that children who cried when they weren’t being held, or recoiled at the touch of anyone other than their mother, were spoiled. I imagined it was a result of conditioning that can only be achieved by the parents smothering the child since birth. Especially since my Carter was just SO well-behaved since his first breath of CO². Well. I’m here to offer a very heartfelt public apology for judging. What brings about the change of heart? See the quotes below:

“You mean…you want me to sit here while you try to cook or clean? And I’m supposed to be quiet? Are you insane?”

“Sleep? Girl what is that?”

“You’re not doing anything with your hands, that means you should be holding me.”

“You’re doing something with your hands instead of holding me.”

“That spot on Daddy’s chest? Mine…all night.”

Those are all things that my almost four-month old, Monroe telepathically communicates to me through her incessant and unwarranted meltdowns.rare-form

I read a post from Mattie James at Mattieologie last week, where she beamed about how her darling little Maizah was such a great sleeper. She was even nice enough to share the steps she and her husband took to get her to that point. As a parent that is EVERYTHING. The comfort in knowing that you’ll get a good night’s rest? Unmatched. I caught my lips forming a smile as I read it because I remember those days. I would (and still will) brag to anyone within earshot about how my Carter was sleeping in his own bed, through the night by the 6-week-old mark. I would puff up my chest about how I could take him anywhere and he was so well-behaved while other people’s kids were running amok in Target. Not MY baby. Low-key, I THOUGHT I was the shit.

Carter was arguably thee easiest baby to parent. Feed him, play a little peek-a-boo, sit him down, and he’s perfectly content with staring at you while you do whatever it is that you need to do. He didn’t even cry when he was wet. Apparently I gave myself too much credit. I learned quickly that it most likely wasn’t that I’m a super awesome parent that yielded me such a mild-mannered child…I mean that helps…but the fact is, Carter’s personality and temperament just made for an easy job. He really had me out here thinking that parenting was a breeze. 

Enter Miss Monroe. I knew from the time I felt her little flutter kicks in my tummy, that she was going to wreak havoc on my life, like only a little princess could. As a matter of fact, just last night, she woke up at 3am ready to party. Like…Ma’am!

The -turn-up- face

If I had experienced what Monroe was giving on my first go round? Let’s just say I may have waited a little while longer to have a second child. But this is just another early reminder that my kids are two totally different people. They aren’t robots that can be programmed into model citizens, and I’ll need to treat them accordingly.  Also, I may need to take Mattie’s advice and try this bath schedule business out.

We shall see.


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For Colored Girls Who’ve Considered Lipo When Working Out Isn’t Enough

Listen. Going to the gym sucks. It’s not, nor has it ever been the move. Idc. It’s not fun. It’s not refreshing. It’s not exhilarating, or any other colorful words you people use to camouflage your anguish.


I’m almost four months postpartum, which puts me a little behind on sculpting my summer body. In case anyone else missed it, it’s summer already and despite breastfeeding and pumping, my belly didn’t melt off like those bombshell moms on Instagram.

See, the last pregnancy I didn’t really care about getting all the way back to my pre-mommy figure because I planned on getting pregnant again pretty quickly. So I worked out…but not that hard. Because why waste all that work just to get all fat again? Right? Right. Follow Me.

But now that I’m done having kids (I think?) I’m on operation bad boosh a la Joseline Hernandez. Except I like to eat Bonchon chicken and am an active french fry connoisseur. Which means I need to be in the gym if I want a snatched waist.

The thing is, I get all excited and research my workouts and have my whole routine in my head for when I go to the gym. Then I get there and the thrill is gone. The only thing keeping me going is 2 Chainz radio and images of Meghan Good in all of her petite glory. Is that normal?

Need New Workout shoes (1)

Example: I go hop on the Arc trainer for some cardio, then head over to the free weight machines like I do EVERY time. Out pops the annoying guy who decides for some reason that you need him to show you how to use the equipment (shoo fly). Or you have the old lunks who leave all their stuff strewn across the equipment that they’re not even using. Like…why is this a thing? Why can’t the doctors just go in and suck all the fat out immediately after giving birth? Why must I cry?

Next comes the group of people who coddle you as if you ‘ve never worked out a day in your life. Irritating. I know it comes from a good place, but I’m not a stranger to this lifestyle. To get back in shape after baby number one, I was in the gym at least four days a week. I don’t need your gym life tutorial…really. Thanks though.

not a baby

Then you have little hiccups like the one I just had. I tried a new form of birth control. And the side-effects–well actually there was really only ONE side-effect. Within a week, I looked 6 months pregnant. Like…SUPER bloated (no, seriously, look up Mirena and bloating) Just as I had started seeing some favorable progress from the gym. Can you imagine how discouraging that is? You put yourself on a plan, start eating like you have sense, then all of your hard work is just null and void because you’re trying to avoid being pregnant again. Like…can I just not be pregnant? Anyway. I stopped that form of birth control and the bloating eventually went down, so now here we are.

I feel like I’m back at square one. But I’m going to keep going to the gym and every time I feel unmotivated I’m gonna think of Draya. That’s an attainable goal for me. I just need y’all to prepare to get tired of me and get your screen shot fingers ready. Cuz once this tummy is flat? Y’all WILL get these crop tops and all these stretch marks. Yaherrrrrd?!

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On Adjusting: How I deal with Anxiety.

So. I’m a mother of two now. And after three months of frolicking, in the summertime breeze with my husband and two kids, I started back at the J-O-B last week.

I didn’t even let month two of maternity leave set all the way in before the thought of going back to work killed my fun. You could say that the month of July was just one long ass Sunday.

I guess I just fell into a big worry-spell. I worried about how I would manage in the mornings, having to be at work at 7:30 after a night of no sleep with a typical 3 month old. I worried about if I would have time for the gym after work AND make sure there was a hot meal available for my husband and kids. Not that he requires or even expects that of me, but because that’s just something that I like to do. I worried about being able to supply enough breast milk. I worried about what my email inbox would look like after 3 months of not checking it. I worried about the state of my job. I worried about the cost of daycare for two kids. I worried. (I go into a little more detail in the newsletter…you subscribed?)

I’m a chronic worrier. To the point where there are physical effects. I get hot, breathing gets hard…it’s…a lot. I’m pretty sure I should be seeing some type of psycho-therapist and popping some Xanax. But I refuse to give in to this. (Or maybe I should smoke some weed…no? Ok, no.) Anxiety can be crippling.  But then I remember that I don’t have to let things consume me. Mental health is just that. Mental.

What is worrying stopping you from doing? Click To Tweet

By no means am I a therapist or liscensed to give any type of medical advice. And if you really think you should seek some medical attention, you should know that there is absolutely nothing wrong with that.

There’s so many things you can do, to prevent yourself from going down that black hole of worry. Here’s a couple of things that I do, specifically.


How does the saying go? Prior proper planning prevents piss poor performance. Often, people stress about things because they didn’t plan. You need to be somewhere at 7? Give yourself enough time for traffic. There’s supposed to be 15 people at Sunday dinner? Cook for 25. You don’t have to speed and weave through traffic. You left early enough. you planned. You don’t need to agonize over whether or not anyone invites extras over for dinner. There’s enough food. You planned.

Be Flexible
Sometimes, things don’t go as planned. It’s ok. Recognize that. It’s ok to deviate from the original plans. You may find that its actually a better fit if you give it a try. And more importantly if things don’t go as planned, you kind of don’t have a choice but to deal. Being open to flexibility is the difference between bending and breaking.

Don’t Concern Yourself with Shoulda, Woulda, Coulda
Black ass bottom line: It doesn’t matter. What are you going to do about it right now? Everything else is irrelevant.

Adopt Unbotheredness

What is worrying stopping you from doing? If I consume myself with worry, then eventually I’ll need to go decompress. Decompress = laying in my bed, not talking to anyone and sleeping so I don’t have to think. But that’s unproductive. You could spend that time thinking about what you could do to make your situation better, and doing it. Skip the worry, do what you can, and toss the rest up. You’ll live.

and when all else fails…

Do Something Fun

Sometimes you CAN’T think of a plan, or CAN’T fathom anything other than what you planned, or CAN’T stop thinking about how you could have prevented something, or CAN’T shake the feeling of stressing out. Sometimes you just have to step away and come back later. I find that meeting up with my girls, hitting a happy hour, and acting like you don’t have a care in the world helps. If even for just those couple of hours, that becomes your reality.
The most important thing, is recognizing that you have control over your thoughts and your actions. And that’s ALL you have control over. You can’t control what anyone else does or says, you can’t control how people feel about you, you can’t control the weather, traffic, and sometimes, you can’t control the hair that grows out of your own head. But you can control what you do about it, and that’s what counts.


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Off the Record

In honor of my birthday, I’ve decided to give you, my readers, a monthly inside scoop on Real Life Actually. Because sometimes life gets a little TMI for the innanets. Because sometimes you guys ask me for secret recipes and I don’t just pass those off to ANY old body. Because I want you to be the first to know about any major announcements–and there will be. And quite frankly, because everything won’t go on the blog. But it can still come straight to your inbox real, unfiltered, and off the record. 

If this sounds like your steez–and I already know it totally is, then go ahead and subscribe to Off the Record. Promise you’ll love it! 

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Because I Can Never Do Anything “Right”: A Birthing Story

I guess I had always imagined that when my water broke, there would be this dramatic deluge of liquid coming from between my legs. That’s how they show it on TV anyway. In reality, it doesn’t happen like that. Most people have it manually done at the hospital, like I did my first time. So color me confused when I began to feel liquid slow leaking from my nether-regions on a random Monday.

I don’t know why I couldn’t rationalize that I was in labor. Like…duh. I was two weeks out from my due date, I had already started nesting at home, and here I sit, at work clueless, waiting for the situation to resolve itself. Except it didn’t. I finally decided that my situation was getting a little too “liquidy”, and just maybe a little abnormal. So I drove myself to the OB’s office expecting to be checked out and sent home to rest or something. Instead, she sent me straight to the hospital. Do not collect $200, do not pass “Go”. As a card-carrying member of procrastinators-r-us, I didn’t have a bag packed or any arrangements made for someone to watch my son like a smart, prepared mother would, because well…me.

Three hours later, I finally make it to the hospital. I was able to relax for a quick second before my doctor and nurse came in and started explaining what was about to go down. Apparently I’d been having some pretty healthy contractions already. “Oh? Contractions that you can’t feel?” I thought to myself. This is would be easier than I thought!

You see, some of you may remember that I had an emergency c-section with my first, and I was adamant about trying for a “normal” birth this time–very risky, as is having several c-sections. So, to avoid complications, my doctor advised that I wait until I was 4cm dilated before I got my epidural. Piece of cake right? I’m already having contractions that I can’t feel, so getting to 4cm without pain med’s should be a breeze…RIGHT?!

But then…ohhh but THEN. She started talking some mess about me not being dilated at all.  The solution? A foley bulb. They attach a plastic balloon to the end of a catheter, insert that into your cervix and blow it up with saline, or water, or whatever they use. Sounds fun, huh? Not only did that process feel like hell, but Helllloooo contractions! *waves* I can feel you now! AND I can’t even get an epidural until this ball has stretched my cervix to 5cm and it falls out on its own. So I sucked up the pain for the rest of the day…and overnight…and well into the next day until the bulb fell out.

This is a foley bulb. Use your imagination.

This is a foley bulb. Use your imagination.

I was so relieved to finally be cleared to get an epidural, that I almost didn’t notice I wasn’t in pain anymore! I considered asking for the epidural anyway as a precaution, but hubs coached me to continue “thugging it out”. The pain had subsided anyway, so I tested my gangsta and held off, because I’m trill like that.

But THEN, they started me on a Pitocin drip. And this is where it got real. Pitocin is a drug that basically makes your contractions stronger so they can be more effective. Part of the reason I had to get a c-section last time is because my contractions weren’t strong enough to progress me past 8cm. You can’t push until 10.

Anyway, the pain drastically increased, but I thugged it out like hubs said, until it became unbearable. I quickly traded my gangsta credentials and asked for my epidural, complete with my own button to push when I needed an extra dose of it. All was well…for like 15 minutes until the pain slowly crept its way back in. Y’all. When you get an epidural, you’re not supposed to be able to feel anything from the waist down. I knew something was wrong when I could still feel my legs, not to mention those damn contractions. So I asked epidural guy to come back and he did, armed with another dose of epidural straight into my back. I wait and wait for the pain to go away and for the sensation in my legs to disappear. It didn’t. Guys…GUYS. My epidural wasn’t working and the pain was kicking in.  And guess what? The doctor said I couldn’t have another one. By this time, I’m like 9cm. 1 more cm to go. I had to quickly come to terms with the fact that I was about to complete my birthing experience without effective pain meds. Cute. Sure people do it all the time, but I hate it had to be me.

Maybe 30 minutes later I let the entire floor know that I was ready to push. The doctor finally comes in and is basically like “Ok girl,well prop your legs up and push.” Just like that, huh? Did I tell y’all my epidural wasn’t working?

Anyway, I pushed for about 5 minutes and out popped Monroe and that was that. And no I didn’t poop on the table, you nasties. Now give me my gangsta cred back.

That's all folks!

That’s all folks!



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“Morning Sickness Isn’t Just in the Morning”, and Other Pregnancy Lies.

So if you’ve missed my subtle social media hints, I’m about 5 months into the process of becoming a mother of two. Yup! I’m pregnant!

Baby #2

Baby #2

At currently 2 years post baby number one, I have to admit that I felt the slightest tinge of jealousy seeing other women basking in their pregnancy glow and getting all the attention. Looking back, pregnancy was such a fun time. I felt like a goddess and could wear whatever I wanted because, who gon’ check me boo? That super tight unforgiving jersey knit maxi? The one that usually puts your little “pooch” on display? That was my preggo uniform complete with side of belly, boobs and booty.

I would often think back to the royal treatment I remember getting. Once, Nordstrom employees bought out a chair and bottle of sparkling water for me while my husband was shopping. I also got to skip to the front of those crazy lines at the last Presidential election. The incessant compliments of how gorgeous and glowing I was didn’t hurt either.

Now that I’m doing this again, I realize that I’d been looking through rose-colored lenses. Pregnancy is beautiful thing, but it also sucks sometimes — actually lots of times. Here are some times in particular that my body has so conveniently reminded me of the second time around.

Baby #1

Baby #1

Morning Sickness

Whoever coined this term had to have been…idk high or something. First, let’s get one thing straight. Morning sickness is really “when and however long I damn well please” sickness. Personally mine would begin in the morning and camp out all day or resurface when the spirit so moved it. A condition typically reserved for the first trimester, (first 3 months of pregnancy) I found that this time, the”morning sickness” lingered until the end of month 4…which is a long time in preggo. Random bouts of nausea, food aversions, and not being able to brush your teeth without gagging is really not the move. When I say food aversions? I mean, the mere thought or smell of a food can send you into vomit city. Not cute. Or fun.

Eating for Two

Are you hungry for two? Certainly. Preggo hunger is the most intense hunger you’ve ever felt in your life. So why not just eat right? No. Part of what makes it cruel and unusual punishment, is that your tummy is now filled with baby and amniotic fluid, and your organs are rearranged to accommodate your new guest. So your stomach? Yea, not much room to expand. While you may be starving, you take two bites of that cheeseburger your new dependent so violently demanded that you eat, and you feel like your stomach is now in your throat and could combust at any given second. No relief in sight until you expel all bodily waste, aka anything that isn’t your baby. Any fart, poop, pee, or burp must go IMMEDIATELY. Speaking of pregnancy farts — you know how people say “it smells like something crawled inside of you and died”? I’m pretty sure something crawling inside of you and living, is 10 times worse. That’s how bad they are. Oh, and there’s also heartburn.

Everyone loves Pregnant Women

Well, this isn’t exactly a lie. People are really nice to you, especially at the beginning of your pregnancy. Everyone wants to know how you’re feeling and if you need anything. There are also those really sucky people too. The people out there who are wondering why it is, that pregnant women need to rest so often or need priority when there are seats around or why it’s any of their concern. I’ve even heard people say things like “It’s not my fault she’s pregnant”  — which, no it’s not your fault, but just saying. I prob need to sit more than you do now. Being that my lungs were ousted from their rightful spot, and are now competing with my intestines, heart, kidneys, liver, and sack full of baby (which as you could imagine, makes it really hard to breathe). Also, my stomach is really heavy so I can’t stand for long periods of time because my equilibrium is off for some reason, and my stomach is hanging from my body so I need to like…rest it on my lap or something. But like me, you’ll soon find that no jaun kerr.

Oddly enough, the rudest behavior I’ve experienced while pregnant was from men on the metro. I’ve had men push past me to get the available seats, I’ve had men shove past me, not caring that my skin and a little fat is the only protection that my baby has from their stiff elbow. I’ve even had other women step in to say “Excuse me she is pregnant, you need to move,” Or offer me their seat because a man didn’t. I’m not saying chivalry is dead but…basically people think its cute and great that you’re pregnant but nobody cares about your woes, B. Oh, and around month 8? Even your husband/boyfriend/baby’s father is going to get tired of you. Prepare.

What are some pregnancy myths you’ve discovered?


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