Category Archives: wifeLIFE

The Rules of Engagement: Who Gets to Be Married?

Let me just preface this post with a long deep sigh. A sigh for the douchebags and for the a**holes alike.  In short, people are draining. In long, it’s becoming increasingly clear to me that people view marriage as some type of reward for a woman’s “good behavior”. I know this because of the amount of bandwidth being wasted to point out what behaviors will get one wifed, what SHOULD get one wifed and who should not, by any circumstances be wifed.

Unwifeable: Women who enjoy taking trips with their girlfriends

Unwifeable: Women who enjoy taking trips with their girlfriends

This past weekend Kimye tied the knot. Yay. Good for them. *throws confetti* I’m not a Kim K. fan. Short of the fact that she has perfect eyebrows, a nice body and is usually dressed quite impeccably because Yeezy taught her, I don’t understand her purpose. BUT I draw the line at judging her relationship with Kanye and bad-mouthing her  nuptials. One, because I don’t really care. The ring on her finger doesn’t add to, or subtract the one from mine. Two, because for what? Kanye watched Kim Kardashian rise to fame just like the rest of us. He saw Ray-J, Reggie Bush and Kris Humphries parade her on their arms just like we did… and he obviously doesn’t care. Despite the droves of haters who have dedicated their week to pointing out the fact that Ray-J, among others hit it first, Kanye and Kim are married. It was a gorgeous wedding, Kim looked beautiful, and Kanye smiled. Be mad about it.

From my observation, there is a certain type of woman who concerns herself with deciding who is worthy of becoming someone’s wife. She has most likely spent her life carefully calculating ways to guarantee a diamond on her ring finger. This is usually the type of woman who posts pictures of her latest culinary masterpiece on Facebook, complete with a caption about how her future husband will never go hungry. Her go-to critique of other women most often begins with “Who would want to marry her when she…”. She also posts Instagram memes that outline the importance of not letting your man leave the house hungry or horny, and other key components to getting chose. She thinks that there are certain actions and behaviors that get you married, when really, the only requirements for a successful marriage is that the two people involved be in love, compatible and able to resolve conflict effectively. You don’t need to be the pristine image of June Cleaver to provide that.

Wife her!

Wife her!

When someone comes along who hasn’t quite followed “the rules” and just so happens to be a couple carats heavier on her left hand, it doesn’t sit well with some people. Someone like Amber Rose who once made a living as a stripper, someone like Tiny who people may not find that attractive, and even someone like Kim Kardashian who for the third time is making her way down the aisle while we can still view her goods on the world-wide web. According to society, these women don’t deserve to be married especially when there are so many GOOD women out here who are just waiting to be scooped up into holy matrimony and wash someone’s boxers.

Everytime someone says something negative about Kim’s marriage or anyone else who has been deemed undeserving, all I hear is “Why does she get to get married when I’m the one who’s followed all the rules?” Meanwhile, as you’re tallying qualifications to put on your wifey resume, there are others who are simply going about their day, living their life as they please and just so happen to be getting wifed up on the way–some several times.

We could count Kim’s or anyone else’s domestic shortcomings all day, but we have no clue about the reasons why Kanye has chosen Kim to be his. We know nothing about the way Kim makes Kanye laugh when he’s feeling down, we aren’t aware of the sweet gifts she sends him while he’s on tour or the motivational pep talks she gives when he’s missing his Mom. There’s a reason why men keep asking her to marry them and I’m pretty sure it transcends her huge butt.

From my view, it looks like Kim and Kanye are in love, and the funny thing about love is, all of the check-list-y, wifey material mumbo-jumbo goes out the window when you’ve found your soul mate. When that person comes along, they won’t come with a red pen to mark your errors. They won’t ask you your body count, won’t care if you know how to cook or not. It won’t matter if you wear granny panties to bed, or if you enjoy going to the club with your girlfriends on Friday nights, and the opinions of those of us who live on these interwebs will matter not.






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On Doing Things “Out of Order” Part 3


A resounding theme when you’re un-wed and expecting. Boy, the dirty looks you get from people’s grandmothers on the metro when your belly is filled with child and your engagement ring isn’t yet accompanied by a wedding band. Suddenly, everyone else becomes the perfect picture of sainthood as they are quick point out your proverbial scarlet letter.

I’m not too far removed from being a judgemental person myself, but after a certain number of my own experiences and reaching a certain age and level of comfort with myself, I began to worry less about what other people were doing and why they were doing it. My philosophy? Dew yew bew bew. Why is that so hard for other people?

When people get a glimpse of my ring finger, I’m usually met with an excited, upbeat “Oh how long have you been married?” To which I respond “Almost two years!” They’ll continue on about how great it is for young people to be married, how this generation doesn’t know anything about true commitment, etc, etc… “And you guys don’t have any kids right?” As if that fact alone would further validate our union. “Actually yes, we have a son!” The tone quickly changes, and I’m met with an un-enthused “Oh…well how old?” usually coupled with a look of disapproval, or disappointment–one of the two. “He’s one” I’ll say. Another “Oh.” As if that somehow changes things. As if the fact that we’ve had a child for almost as long as we’ve been married, somehow negates the commitment, love, friendship, support and everything else that our marriage provides us. Then the conversation is over. I know that I’ve just been judged.

I belong to a certain caste of women. Single mothers, mothers who have children outside of wed-lock, mothers who wore their baby down the aisle under their wedding dress, mothers who aren’t single but aren’t married either, and others who don’t follow societies timeline.We are the ones who did it wrong.

What does that even mean? I often see couples being lauded for “doing it the right way.” The right way, meaning “first comes love, then comes, marriage, then comes the baby in the baby carriage.” To be honest it still offends me. My son was created from love. He’s a product of love, and a source of love. Yet, people have the audacity–people who most likely engage in the same un-married sex that produced my son–to imply that my husband and I “did it wrong” because we weren’t married before he was conceived. Or because we decided to quickly have a wedding instead of doing the typical year-long engagement.

I’ll never forget this exchange with an older woman from my old job. I don’t even remember her name, and I’m not certain that she even knew mine, but she had this to say:

“Does your mother know you’re pregnant?”

I’m not one to disrespect my elders, but my face probably read something along the lines of “girl what?”

She then took a look at my engagement ring and continued:

“Oh yea, I guess ya’ll gotta hurry up and get married before that baby come.”

Well technically yes. We wanted to have our ceremony performed before I gave birth. Because who wants to plan a wedding while tending to a newborn baby? Wedding planning is scressfull(yes scressfull). But I’m almost certain by her tone, she too was implying that this was a shot-gun wedding. Something that was a last-minute arrangement as opposed to a last-minute RE-arrangement.

I don’t get what people don’t understand about the difference between a wedding and a marriage. Wedding = event. Marriage = lifetime commitment. It generally takes about 3-6 months to plan an event. For an event as expensive as a wedding, people usually plan for the next year to give themselves time to make payments. Hence, year-long engagements. So. If we know we’re getting married and someone else is paying for it, and they have the money now…then we’re waiting a year for what? Until everyone else feels comfortable? We had been discussing and preparing for marriage for years prior to this, but who’s business is that besides ours?

But you know what? July 7, 2012, after 5 happy solid years of dating, I was married to the love of my life. And on November 24th 2012, I gave birth to my little prince. We are happy, we are thriving, and we are blessed, in spite of doing it wrong. And there is not a thing that anyone’s judgement can do to change that.

Cheers Bitches.

_CGM1788Read PART 1 and PART 2


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On Doing Things “Out of Order” Part 2.

Planning the wedding was by far the least exciting part of the ordeal for me. Primarily because I didn’t do my “bride homework”. You know, I wasn’t on Pinterest scrapbooking my fantasy wedding years prior to my engagement–although I’m not sure that was a “thing” yet. Whatever it was that I was supposed to do, I didn’t do it (typical). I was never the type to spend my time fawning over wedding dresses or engagement rings or what my colors would be or those stupid chairs that cost extra at the reception venue. It was nice to watch the brides do it on TV, but for me, it was just too much.

Wedding planning is stressful, no matter how much fun David Tutera makes it look, it’s just not that fun. Add a gestating baby into the equation, and you introduce hormonal imbalances, clothes not fitting, nausea, heartburn, swollen feet and all of the other niceties that make pregnancy so grand. *sarcasm* Something had to give–and it wasn’t going to be the baby, so naturally wedding planning took a backseat. After a certain point in the planning, my response to everything was some form of “I don’t care”.

Don’t get me wrong. There were minor details of the wedding that I did care about. I wanted beautiful singers. I got them. I wanted to be married in the church that my parents were married in. I was. I wanted blue shoes. I wore blue shoes, and I wanted a flattering dress. Well obviously THAT happened.

Posted up, looking flawless.

Posted up, looking flawless.

Other than that, I was most concerned with post wedding day. The most refreshing and reassuring thing we could have done for our marriage preparation, was to participate in private pre-marital counseling. Do this. It was hands down, the best part of our preparation. It’s not something I thought of on my own. Pre-marital counseling is actually a requirement of the Pastor who married us. If after our counseling sessions, he didn’t see it fit for us to enter into a union, then he wasn’t going to officiate. Period. Was I nervous? Not in the least bit. Getting married wasn’t some fly-by-night decision that we made to save face. This was real, and something that we had been preparing for since our college days.

Each one of our sessions made me more confident in my ability to be a great wife, his ability to be a great husband and the foundation of our marriage. We impressed the Pastor with our knowledge of each others needs, and our ability to communicate with one another. Love Languages? Aced that. Communication exercises? Murdered them. If I ever had a shadow of a doubt that we were made for this (which I didn’t) Pre-marital counseling washed that all away. We were ready. Been ready. *insert OG mean mug here*

But of course this story isn’t a smooth one. If you plan to walk down the aisle with a baby-bump front and center, then you can expect to be judged. That’s right, don’t start throwing your congratulatory confetti just yet.

Of course everyone is a critic. The judgement, the speculation–that all happened, just like I knew it would. I even had someone call my wedding a “shot-gun wedding”. To my face. Let that marinate. I tried not to give it much energy. After all,  a marriage only involves two people, and if you’re not here to support it then you can kindly kick rocks with open-toe shoes on. That tough-girl mentality sounds good in theory, but it was no match for human nature and pregnant hormones. I cried about it, (and I’m not a crier) but you know what? Que sera, sera. Whatever will be, will be, and people would just have to get the entire hell over it, because it was going to be.

Fast Forward to Part 3

Did you miss Part 1? Read it HERE.





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On Doing Things “Out of Order” Part 1.

It’s nearing wedding season and soon, the hills will be alive with sound of eager brides. All of the Instagram timelines will be flooded with photos of gorgeous brides in their white gowns, carefully chosen to match the one  on Say Yes to the Dress. We’ll see their Pinterest perfect decorations and pictures of the newlyweds dancing their first dance as Mr. and Mrs.

Wedding culture has become quite the cult obsession. I personally, am always up for a good Four Weddings, or David Tutera marathon. Just assume that most women you know have their entire wedding planned to a “T” before they even have a suitor. From the time we’re little girls, we dream of the day we get to wear our big white princess dress.

Here’s the thing: I don’t think any of us dream of walking down the aisle, toting a 5-month pregnant belly. But it be’s like that sometimes. I did it. (and looked damn gorgeous too).

Point me in the direction of the nearest chicken wing, thanks.

Point me in the direction of the nearest chicken wing, thanks.

My Husband and I met in college circa 2007. I went to school in kind of a college town and his school was about a 15 minute drive from mine. A facebook message here, a midnight walk at the harbor there, and I was quickly caught up in the rapture. I recognized qualities of a husband in him immediately. He had drive, he had charisma–personality for days. Now, he didn’t have a lot of money, and he wasn’t flashy, but those bills? Always paid. The one thing that really stood out to me, was the way he could actually articulate his feeling and emotions–like sit and have a productive conversation about how he was feeling. A guy with emotions? Picture that. To me, that translated to fiscally responsible and emotionally available–not to mention we clicked like we were best friends for years on our first date.Win, win and win in my book.

Young & fresh, with a bomb blow-out, might I add.

Young & fresh, with a fresh blow-out.

The first serious discussion about marriage happened around year 2 or 3 of our relationship. We were still in college, and knew that it wouldn’t be coming ANY time soon, but he let me know that he was working towards a future life with me (otherwise why am I still dating you), and that’s how we continued to carry our relationship–as two people who would eventually be married. All of our plans involved each other and careful consideration for how it would affect our future family. Where we would live, If we would consider moving out of state, how children would be raised, anything involving either of our future, we discussed it with the other. We were on the “right track”.

Fast forward to year 5. We’ve both graduated college, I slowly started filling up his drawers with my things  moved in with him in a cute little apartment in a trendy DC suburb. It felt so good, and so natural to come home to him every day and exchange the highs and lows of our days. Life was great–even with him being neat and me being a slob. We were doing what young couples do. Going out on weeknights, sleeping in all day on Saturdays–the life. I was even being probed for styles of engagement rings I might like. Even still, I didn’t expect to be married for at least another two years. We were just living.

In all of our years of dating there had never been a pregnancy scare. Never. Coincidentally, my now husband  expressed his interest in having children sooner than later (which I quickly shot down). ” I don’t want to be an old parent” he said, “I want to have my first child before 30” he said. (He was nowhere near 30). Shortly thereafter, I found myself looking at a positive pregnancy test.

I’d be lying if I said that I was immediately happy. This can’t happen to me! I’m supposed to do things the “right” way. I wanted to be married for at least two years before we started working on kids!

But–life comes at you fast and not always wrapped in the pretty package that you expected. After many discussions ranging from “I don’t want you walking around with a belly and no ring on your finger” (him) to “I never wanted to marry you in a courthouse, you deserve more than that” (him) to “It’s not that deep, we can get married after I have the baby” (me) to “We’ll pay for the wedding so when the baby is born you can just focus on that” (parents) to ” Oh, in that case I guess I’m getting married this summer then” (me).

It was decided. We were getting married–in three months…

Read Part 2 HERE.

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4 Things That I Used to Think Were Dumb

Saving the world  from all things dumb.

Saving the world from all things dumb.

I’m a cynic. The number one rule of being a cynic? You have to think everything and everyone is dumb…except for you, and things that you like. I have a pretty extensive list of things that I think are dumb, but more recently as I’ve crossed over into the mom/wife sector, I’ve been forced to change my tune. Starting with:

How old is little munchkin? 15 months.
I know, I know. I used to be one of you. Yes, by the measurement of birthdays, little munchkin has had only one. Hence, one year old. However, between the 12th month and the 24th month so many things happen that differentiate a 12 month old, from an 18 month old, from a 22 month old. Just saying that he’s one doesn’t capture that. You may not care, which is cool, but…then what did you ask for?
Date night
A specific night designated for going on dates? But why? Just go on a date. Must it be that deep? Why yes…yes it must. Between being a mom of a 15 month old *wink wink* and being a police wife, times is hard–actually, there really is no time. If you don’t pre-meditate an evening (or day) of purely adult activities sans munchkin, then eventually, you and your husband/boyfriend will shrivel, die and be buried in a toy box full of yo-gabba-gabba stuffed animals and blocks. And THAT my friends, is not fun.
Video Taping/Photographing your child doing potentially dangerous things
Me two years ago: So you see your child standing on a chair and the first thing you do is whip out your phone and take a picture? Get him off the chair!
Me now: Look at Carter. He thinks he’s so grown trying walk up the steps like a big boy. Let me take a picture so I can show this to his girlfriend when he turns 16.
*shrugs* Cute is cute. Plus, us moms have the reflexes of spartan warriors. (wait did they die? insert people who didn’t die) If Carter was going to take a tumble down the steps, I would be able to catch him with one hand and simultaneously photograph him with the other. Cuz I got skills like that.
Using Formula instead of breastfeeding
Why would you pay for milk byproduct, when there’s liquid gold flowing out of your boobs…FOR FREE. I’ll tell you why–because if you do a little thing called going back to work, sometimes, there isn’t a capacity for you to harvest said liquid gold while on the job. If you don’t harvest your crop then guess what? The crop runs dry. But baby must eat. So insanely expensive powdered milk byproduct it is. Unless you want to like…buy breast milk off of eBay or something. Your call.
Now that I’ve come to terms with the fact that all of these things aren’t that dumb. I guess I’ll have to find new things to criticize unless I’ll be kicked out of the cynic club. Let me get to work!
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Flaw #156.2

A couple weeks back, a friend hosted a “sister circle” discussion at her house, complete with sweet potato pie, mimosas, women with natural hair, and sitting in a literal circle. Topic? What does it mean to be a woman? Profound ideas were tossed around about biologically being a woman, spiritually being a woman, and what influences how we view womanhood.

After being equally mesmerized and intimidated by the intelligence of everyone in the room, I finally decided to contribute my two cents.

“To me, it means that you fully know yourself–there’s nothing anyone can tell you about yourself that you don’t already know, even your flaws…like a point of self-actualization.”

Flaws. I know my flaws like the back of my hand. Basically, you can’t tell me nothing *Kanye voice*. The one that really holds me back? I’m LAZY…as hell. Lazy to the point where if I have to pee, I wait until I can’t hold it anymore because I just don’t feel like getting up. Lazy to the point where I set my alarm for over an hour before I need to, because I know I’ll just lay in bed and watch the news (Yes, planned laziness). Lazy to the point where I use the “house yoga mats” at the gym because I don’t feel like digging in my trunk, underneath of the heavy stroller to get mine out before class. Lazy to the point where I think out entire blog posts in my head and forget them because I didn’t want to get out of bed to grab my journal and write it down.
Laziness in action.

Laziness in action.

Knowing your flaws is necessary. Mostly so no one else can use them against you. You can’t hurt me by telling me something negative about myself. I already know…thanks. But then again, that’s only half the battle. Another part of being a woman–or an adult for that matter is seeing your flaws and actually working on them. (Like really? I have to change? UGH.)Being a woman means that I recognize that laziness hurts me, and that saying “I work better under pressure” is just a cop-out that allows me to procrastinate.
Laziness hurts my productivity when I don’t feel like cracking open my laptop at home after a long day of working, mommying and wifing. It hurts my health when I don’t take that extra 25 minutes in the morning to do a T25 workout. 25 minutes that I’ll spend doing all of absolutely nothing. It hurts my home life because I know my husband is tired of me throwing my reject wardrobe choices in the chairs at the foot of our bed when I don’t feel like hanging them back up. AND–this is important– it hurts my hair…because more often than not, I just don’t FEEL like braiding my hair before bed. Serious problem guys.
So. For the sake of being a woman. I’m going to try to take small measures to increase my daily productivity. But where to start? I don’t even feel like thinking about it…
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FAQ That I Wish Weren’t So F

aren't we all...*side eye*

aren’t we all…*side eye*

I get it. I’m young. I’m married. I have a child. That’s not the ideal situation of most 25 year olds because…I don’t know, fun, life, career, sowing royal oats. Whatever it is that 25 year olds like to do besides be married and have kids.

My familial status somehow makes me the pink elephant in everyones room, warranting lots of questioning, opinion sharing and the like. Actually, I love answering these types of questions and feel it is my public duty to help people my age not be so afraid of this step in life. *cape blows in the wind*

But seriously, I just thought I’d share a couple questions that people ask me allll the time, in hopes that maybe a few more people will understand the life of a 25 year old married, mama.

Ready? Ok.

Was your pregnancy planned?
No. No it was not…well at least I didn’t plan it. A lot of pregnancies aren’t planned. This isn’t exclusive to young parents. I would have liked to “prepare”, but I’m a firm believer that everything happens for a reason. Nothing is put in front of you that you aren’t built for. That being said, to all the non-parents: There isn’t a THING you can do to prepare yourself for the experience that is childbirth/parenthood. #dontbelievemejuhwatch

Do you feel like you’re missing out?
Missing out on what? $200 dates? Textationships? Yea, I want no parts. If it’s going out and hanging with the girls you speak of, then no. I don’t miss that either. Why? Because I still go out and hang with the girls.

Here’s how it usually goes: Girls ask me if I want to go somewhere. I ask my husband if he’s doing anything or has plans. I let him know what I plan to do. I go out with the girls. If he had something planned already,  I don’t go, or I see if I can find a sitter depending on how long I plan on being out. Voila. Magic.

Why the rush to get married?
I wouldn’t exactly call 5 years of dating a rush. But simply put, My husband is my partner in everything. We’ve grown together (and are still growing), we’ve entered into careers with the support of one another. We’re experiencing life together. If you build your empire alone, and I build my empire alone, then what’s OURS? When we’re 50 and looking back on the life and family that we built, we will have done it all together. I was with him shooting in the gym and vice versa.

“Everyone is getting married and having kids and I’m just over here…”
I’ve seen the memes. You’ve seen the memes. I mean… I commend people who are “over here trying to own several business, travel the world, be the CEO, get abs” and whatever else those memes claim to be exclusive to young singles. But there are actually people who are married, have kids, travel the world, become CEO’s, get abs and tons of other awesome things. And there are plenty of single childless people who don’t. *gasp*

I for one, am in an exciting career in my field of study (I actually nailed the interview for this job while I was 8  months preggo), I’m in the process of starting my own business, I’m blogging, I’ve been mentoring with a non-profit since 2011 and have just recently been placed into a leadership position there. So to those memes, I fervently flip my hair.

Anything else?

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