Tag Archives: parenting

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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I Let My Son Have Tantrums and You Will Deal


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.


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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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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