Category Archives: mommyLIFE

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.

 

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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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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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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In Defense of Moms with Social Lives

As it nears closer to the weekend, rest assured that somewhere in social media-land, a #judgynonparent is preparing a meme, tweet or status update shaming those of us who have children and choose to have a life outside slinging dirty diapers and juicy-juice boxes.

The cliché of neglectful young mothers is too often the crutch for lame jokes and Instagram memes. Being a young mother, and being friends with other young mothers is enough for me to finally address those who constantly critique our lifestyle choices.

It’s understandable that when you’re not a parent, there are some inner-workings of parenthood that you just won’t get. Like not understanding why I still tell you my child’s age in months, or that I would rather his hair look absolutely all over the place than put braids in it (I. Hate.The.Braids.). I get it. But then, there are just the downright judgy people — and I’ve addressed you before — like the woman on Facebook who called my child a “spoiled crumbcruncher” and implied that I was afraid of my kid, in response to my piece about tantrums (which she clearly didn’t read).

This is apparently what they do when Mommy is out with her girlfriends.

This is apparently what they do when Mommy is out with her girlfriends.

My question is this: Have none of you ever spent the night at granny’s so your mother could go out with her girlfriends? Or so your parents could spend a night out on the town? Secondly, why does no one ever question men about whose care their child is in? Men leave their kids at home with their mamma, to go to the club everyday, B…and there’s nothing wrong with that. Because you know why? During club time? It’s also bedtime. Sleep. Sweet dreams.

My parents have always been fairly sociable. I have fond memories of going to either set of grandparents houses for  so my parents could enjoy a night out. Not once did I think they didn’t love me or that they were abandoning me. Not once did I feel neglected and wonder why they weren’t tucking me in. And never did I not have a boatload of fun while my parents were away. Anytime outside of my recollection is probably because I was too young to remember and was obviously not traumatized, and probably was asleep by the time I knew what was going on anyway.

It’s not at all ok to consistently neglect your offspring in exchange for painting the town red with your crew, but I have trouble understanding what’s neglectful about leaving Baby Billy with Nana, so you can make a 10pm shindig. Baby Billy should be sleeping. You’ll be back by the morning and he’ll be none the wiser.

I can’t think of anything more annoying than someone probing me about where my child is, while I happen to be out cruising the city with my girls after dark. Like…its 11pm, he’s somewhere sleeping. Should I have brought him with me to celebrate my friend’s birthday at a bar? Or should I just be forever relegated to the company of a two-year old? Are we not allowed to enjoy nightlife now that we’re moms? What am I missing here?

It’s as if people forget that a child could have two parents and could potentially be spending the night building forts and playing video games with daddy while mommy enjoys a long-overdue happy hour. Or maybe the grands offered to take little munchkin for the weekend because they haven’t seen him. Either way, just know that wherever my child is, he’s well taken care of by someone who loves him and cares about his safety and well-being. K? K.

 

 

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The Terrible Two’s Are Officially Here.

Before yesterday, I had never experienced a public meltdown with Carter. Strangers hand out compliments in restaurants as I take them in and beam with pride. I go to the grocery store, Target, the mall, and other shoppers smile at me while he peacefully chants “mommymommymommymommy” up and down the aisles. Somehow, coming up on birthday number two, I feel a change coming on.

Yesterday I scheduled Carter an impromptu urgent-care Dr’s visit. I went straight from work to pick him up from daycare, and we headed to our 6p.m. appointment. Being by myself, I was nervous. The Dr’s office is generally not an entertaining place for a toddler and although I was hoping this wouldn’t be a test, I was pretty sure that it would be.

Being a good mother is not all innate. Most of it comes from trial-and-error and experience. For example,  I learned that Carter usually likes a snack after daycare, so I stopped at the vending machine on the way out and picked up a bag of Cheez-Its and a bottle of water for him since we wouldn’t have time to stop at home. Imagine me patting myself on the back for thinking ahead and going in “prepared”.

“There’s no way Carter will have a meltdown at the Dr’s.  office. I have snacks!”  

Right? Yea, no. The moment I got Carter buckled into his car seat, he started to whine. So I smugly pulled out my bag of Cheez-Its, feeling like a veteran mom. I pour a couple of them into his cup holder and his face lights up with excitement. All I hear is humming and crunching — the sweet sound of victory. But in my head, I’m thinking that I should have gone down to the Starbucks on the first floor and grabbed one of those apple juice boxes before I left the office. Mental note for next time.

The drive to the Dr’s office was short. But as we’re pulling into the parking lot, Carter started to whine again. *deep sigh* Here we go. I turned around and very sternly through my teeth told him to “Cut.it.out.” It worked. Another small victory. Oh, but these were only two small battles in what was soon to be a war…and I was about to lose.

We park, I get out and lift him from his carseat…and here we go again. He wants his backpack. I’m pretty sure he thinks there are more snacks in there. There aren’t. His backpack is empty and the snacks are in my purse, but you can’t reason with an almost-two-year-old.  So I pick him up as a distraction from the backpack and carry him into the office. He’s quietly observing his new surroundings, pointing and saying “Dah-dee”. Cool. Babble away kid. I just need to make it upstairs to pediatrics so he can play with the toys. I’m so close, yet so far. At the check-in counter, I put him down so I could get his medical card out of my purse. He. Has. A. FIT.

This is new behavior and uncharted territory for me, so I’m not really sure how to respond outside of the comforts of home. It feels like every occupant of the waiting room had their eyes locked on me at that very moment. I kept my composure, handed him the bag of un-eaten Cheez-Its and turned back around to try to get him checked in. As we’re finishing up, I hear the sound of a bag hitting the ground, followed by the grunt of a frustrated toddler. He was over the Cheez-Its, and this was feeling like longest five minutes of my life…if it was even five minutes.

He proceeds to fall out on the floor AND roll around. I look up and my eyes are met with judgement from onlookers who I’m sure were thinking unsavory thoughts about “this young mom not knowing how to control her child”.  I turn back to receptionist so we can hurry and finish checking in,  ignoring the burning feeling of all the eyes on the room fixated on me. Instead of doing her best to get me checked in so I could deal with this sourpatch kid, the receptionist felt it her civic duty to ask that I “please pick him up for her”…Yes. Instead of minding her business and doing her job, or even offering him some consolation if she wanted to be of help, She asks if I can pick him up…for her. Would she have asked someone’s grandmother to pick their tantrum having child up off of the floor? If I appeared to be her age would she have asked me to pick him up off the floor? I suspect not. #Judgynonparent for sure. But I picked him up so we could move on.

He eventually calmed down enough for us to get checked in, and make it to a seat where I was able to pull up some videos on my phone to keep him entertained (what did parents do before phones?). My feelings of embarrassment quickly subsided and feelings of relief took over. He was done and I didn’t have a nervous break-down.

I’m a young mother. I DON’T know what I’m doing. But neither did anyone else when they experienced their first public meltdown. I’ll just continue to let experience be my teacher.

So what did I learn from THIS experience? Juice. I’ll definitely get the juice next time.

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I Let My Son Have Tantrums and You Will Deal

Hi,

I’m Necewrldpeace and I let my son have tantrums.

Tantrums are a natural part of life, especially as one is entering into the territory better know as the terrible two’s. Little munchkin gets upset, he finds a safe (soft) place to fall and commences rolling around on the floor and screaming as if one of his body parts is on fire. What do I do? Go about my damn business, that’s what. Cooking, typing, watching T.V., scrolling my phone, pretty much whatever I was doing before he decided to demonstrate his anger.

Beware these blocks. They are tantrum inducing.

Beware these blocks. They are tantrum inducing.

To my son:

You’re angry, maybe even frustrated. I get it. But you’re going to have to start using your words. I know that you know words because you use them when you want to. You swiftly remove your pacifier and demand to “EAT” when I act as if I don’t understand your sign language. You excitedly exclaim “HOT!” with wide eyes when you see someone preparing food — whether it’s hot or not, but that’s neither here, nor there. And you  muster up enough understanding of the english language to proclaim that you are “TIKKY” (stinky) when you’ve just about had enough of the droopy diaper. See? Words. When words don’t work, there are plenty other ways that you have demonstrated to me that you can communicate. You grab me by the hand and tug me where you want me to go, which is effective. You also point to things that you want. Effective. Writhing around on the floor and screaming? Not effective. You will learn.

image

But this message is not really for my young grasshopper. It’s for all these judgy non-parent, parenting experts who insist on publicly offering their two cents. I read an article recently about how rude it is for parents to allow their bratty children to disrupt their local Target and Safeway with their screaming fits. According to said non-parents, the proper thing to do, is take your rugrat and promptly exit the establishment so the other customers can enjoy their shopping experience sans screaming. I’m sure most readers find that a reasonable request. Who wants to listen to a screaming 18-month-old while they’re trying to decide between Crest and Colgate?

Subscribers to the judgy non-parent school of thought seem to agree that by ignoring tantrums, you are enabling the child and allowing them to take control of a situation. A child should be immediately disciplined in public (so they can then call CPS on you), or removed from the situation (Which is probably what the child wanted in the first place). If you don’t prescribe to these methods, you must be one of those pushover moms who can’t control their kids and is raising a bunch of hellians who will grow up to terrorize society.

Well, you know what judgy non-parent?  If you think for one second, that I’m going to abandon my shopping cart full of household necessities and leave a store, only to have to come back to said store later that day or another day with the same child, and risk having to do that ALL over again…then you, Ma’am or Sir, are sadly mistaken. In the words of Tamar Braxton, you tried it.

Children learn quick. You know what they learn when mommy stops what she’s doing for little munchkin’s tantrums? They learn that throwing a tantrum is the quickest and easiest way to get out of a situation they don’t want to be in, or to get what they want. “I’m tired and ready to go. If I start screaming, then mommy will take me home.” And that, ladies and gentleman is not how it’s supposed to go down.

But I get it judgy non-parent. All you want to do is aimlessly peruse the aisles of Target in peace. Reasonable. But I need to buy a case of diapers to take to daycare tomorrow because little one is all out. We also need toilet paper, razors, a box of q-tips, and a box of pasta for dinner tonight. So if the little one just so happens to pop-off in this  here Tar-jhay today? You will just have to deal.

Sorry, not sorry.

 

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#TBT: Longing for my Throwback Body

Every day, I’m forced to walk past an entire wall of mirrors in order to begin my morning routine. More often than not, I stop and take inventory of what my body has become. Some days I stand and admire the hourglass curve that’s taking its sweet time to re-appear in my torso. Other days I stand there poking and prodding, wondering how much a quick lipo/tummy tuck would set me back.

Yes. I’m a tiger that earned my stripes and my c-section scar is a badge of honor and all that other psuedo-inspirational, instagram meme stuff. But to be real, I’m 25 and if I can be selfish for just a moment, I just want my body back to way it was before.

The thing about being a young mom — given the state of your post-baby body, you may or may not be able to participate in trends made for the twenty-somethings like your peers do. It sounds shallow, but some days you just want to be carefree about what you wear and not have to worry about your “mommy tummy”. I’ll never again know the joys of rocking a breezy crop top with a pair of low riding jeans, and you won’t catch me in a bikini unless the bottoms cover my belly button.

Crop top + high waist. Still MILF-Y.

Crop top + high waist. Still MILF-Y.

Most days it’s “kissmyasssowhat” (Michael Blackson voice).  I had a baby. I have stretch marks. I have a c-section scar that separates one part of my abdomen from the other, which is sometimes visible under clothes. It is what it is. But just when I start to feel somewhat comfortable, there’s a photograph coming across some social network timeline of a mom with a perfectly flat, stretch mark-less stomach. Why can’t EYE look like that?

Don’t mistake this for me saying that I don’t think I’m MILF-Y. Cuz I’m most definitely MILF-Y. I just have to do things a little differently now, like pay attention to the materials I choose, and be mindful of how things will fall on my tummy. If I want to wear a crop top, I have to make sure that whatever I’m wearing on the bottom covers up my tiger stripes. I have to make sure my dress isn’t SO tight in the front that it may show a roll. When an outfit doesn’t flatter you quite the way you imagined it would, it eats away at the tiniest iota of your confidence. We all have those moments. Right?

In a little over a month, my girls and I will be reinstating our annual Miami trip — only interrupted for two out of four of us to give birth. This is the first time post pregnancy that I’m going somewhere where most of the people surrounding me will be quite scantily clad. Of course I don’t want to be the one looking like a covered up granny,  but I’m pretty sure I would feel most comfortable in a one piece WITH a sarong to cover up ALL of my stretch marks–they get on your legs too. But that’s not what I’m going to do. Because I’m just too fabulous for that. Too fabulous, and too MILF-Y.

Miami. Pre-baby.

Miami. Pre-baby.

For the past few weeks I’ve been scouring the net trying to find, mommy-friendly outfits that also won’t have me looking like a “mom” if you know what I mean. I came across a leopard print bathing suit from ASOS. It managed to combine a youthful look with a cut that would cover my major worry spots, so I went out on a limb and ordered it. When it finally came, I carefully peeled back the packaging and examined the size 6 bathing suit.

“This thing looks TOO damn small…

I thought to myself as I began to prepare myself for the worst. I put one leg in, and then the other, and finally pulled it all the way up and tied the strings around my neck. It fit! I have to admit I was surprised. I stepped in front of the mirror and was indeed feeling myself.

I still do wish I could wear some of these really cute cut-out bathing suits and bikinis or wear a little crop top without something high-waisted, but for all of those moments when I’m down on myself, there’s twice as many more that I’m feeling myself — and with good reason *hairflip*.

I think I’ll be alright for the summer.

 

 

 

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Advice You Can Save for Your Mama

As a parent, I’m sure that among the list of top annoying things, floating somewhere around number 1 would be, “telling me how to parent my child”. It’s not that I’m an ungrateful prick, but because every child is different, It takes a while for each parent to become familiar with the mannerisms and temperament of each child.

So.

While I do appreciate your unsolicited advice on how you parented your child 15+ years ago when they were growing up, I would rather focus on learning MY child and being the best parent I can be to suit HIS needs. Capiche?

These are things you shouldn’t say to a parent…you  know, in case you were wondering.

You should take his Pacifier now

Over the weekend, my little man was running a fever and refused to eat or drink on top of acting abnormally stank. So I took him to urgent care. The Doctor wrote it off as some “cold virus probably spread through the other kids at daycare” (turns out he actually had strep throat which he kindly shared with me). All of that aside, she didn’t let me leave without (twice) recommending that I strip my little munchkin of his pacifier. Not in a suggestive, “maybe you should consider” way but a ” you should do this, lest you will ruin his life” way.

Girl. Annoying.

My son is 17 months old — not 5 years old. No he doesn’t walk around all day with it in his mouth. As a matter of fact, according to his daycare teachers, he doesn’t even use it while he’s at school. Second, he doesn’t feel well and he’s screaming. Why would I not let him have the one thing that’s keeping him quiet at the moment…better yet, why is that any of your business? I came here to see what this fever was all about. Didn’t ask what you thought of his pacifier. K? A 17 month old sucking on a pacifier is not dangerous or damaging behavior so shove it lady.

Carter being unruly with his wild hair and pacifier.

Carter being unruly with his wild hair and pacifier.

 

You should do something with his hair

My munchkin wears his hair as it grows out of his head. He doesn’t like people touching any area above his shoulders for starters, so sitting in a barber’s chair is a definite no-no for him right now. Furthermore, I’m just not a fan of the baby boy in braids look on MY son. What the rest of you do with your kids head is your business…see how that works?

You should start spanking him

*blink blink* I’m not here to get into the whole spanking debate, just know that I got my butt worn out from who knows when, until high school age and I STILL managed to do whatever I wanted. So there’s that. A tap on the hand here or there may be necessary for a little shock value, but what you won’t see is me taking my frustration out on a 17-month-old baby because he can’t comprehend what it is I’m asking him to do (or not do). Save your explanation. I don’t care. If you ever suggest to me that I should spank my baby, expect to be met with a laser-sharp glare, followed by cold silence and a couple quick blinks. Just don’t.

 

What unsolicited advice could YOU do without?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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