Tuesday, September 16, 2014

29 Things Only a New Mother Would Understand

Ah, new motherhood. Now that the hard part is over, the really difficult part begins. Even though being a new mom is one of life’s greatest challenges, it’s also one of the most rewarding. Read on for a few things that only a new mother can understand.

1. The complete joy of a warm sitz bath.

2. Being so afraid to poop that you avoid the bathroom at all costs.

3. Having incredible boobs … that hurt so badly you’ll kill anyone who so much as brushes up against them.

4. That taking a shower is a luxury, not a necessity.

5. The isolation of being alone with a tiny, helpless human. All. Day. LONG.

6. Celebrating your new eau de parfum: slightly spoiled milk, cabbage, and A+D ointment.

7. The fear that every other mother in the world is doing a better job than you.

8. What a dairy cow feels like.

9. Loving your other half for giving you such an amazing gift.

10. Hating your other half for the way they eat/sleep/breathe.

11. What it feels like to have no shame about whipping out a boob in public.

12. Crying. All the time. For no reason.

13. The feeling of victory that fitting into your pre-pregnancy clothes awards you (no matter how much muffin is left on top).

14. Using the baby as a legitimate excuse to get out of absolutely anything.

15. Wearing granny panties that are made out of mesh and come up to your eyeballs.

16. Why you can no longer do jumping jacks. Ever again.

17. Watching a horror movie and sympathizing with the zombies.

18. Going so crazy with fatigue you find yourself mindlessly rocking a jug of milk to sleep at the grocery store.

19. That “mother’s intuition” is real. And it is powerful.

20. The pure joy that is a first glass of wine after nine LONG months of sobriety.

21. The joy/embarrassment that are Preparation H pads.

22. Being so in tune with someone that your body actually produces food for them on demand.

23. That whoever came up with the cutesy term “baby blues” had never actually suffered from postpartum depression.

24. Accidental shoplifting.

25. Leaking through your shirt during an important presentation at work.

26. Waking up in a cold sweat, convinced you rolled over on the baby — only to find them sleeping soundly in their crib.

27. That “sleep when the baby sleeps” is the stupidest phrase anyone has ever uttered.

28. Being proud of the fact that your stomach looks like it was attacked by a tiger.

29. The amazing feeling of being the one who created this unique human being.


This post was written by me and originally appeared on Healthline.

If you share this post, I will buy you a pony. I suck at Twitter. I am OK at Facebook. Pinterest is my bitch. I am also on Bloglovin' and Instagram.

Thursday, September 11, 2014

Sometimes they surprise you

Children are funny little creatures. Just when you think you have them all figured out, they surprise you. Whenever you are sure they will go left, they zig right. If you know without a doubt they will pick white, they choose black. 

It is these changes of pace that keep us parents on our toes. They sometimes show us that our babies have blossomed beyond what we thought they were capable, while at other times they remind us that our children still need a little patience in a task we thought they had mastered.

This happened to me a few weeks ago when we transitioned our kids from the school they have both been going to for the last few years, to a new school that is a feeder into the kindergarten they will attend. 

I thought the The Quiet Contemplator would throw open the metaphorical saloon doors of this new opportunity and make it her bitch, while The Cool Cucumber approached it with trepidation. Boy, was I wrong on both parts. What I didn’t take into account with this new phase in theirs lives was the way my children learn and absorb things. While I knew they would both thrive in this new and exciting environment, I thought that they would both approach the change differently thank they did.

You see, my daughter likes rules and things being “right” and instructions. This new school is more about investigation and children being part of the creative process. So the first few weeks were very hard on her. She missed being told what to do and how to do it. She didn’t yet know how to come up with her own hypothesis or original ideas. When you gave her a table full of loose materials and told her to “explore”, she felt lost. She wanted you to tell her what the end product was supposed to be so she could please you by making it. 

I spent every night of the first two weeks holding her as she cried for her old friends and old school and telling her it would get better. It would get easier. That eventually she would love this new place. But I was not sure. I spent event second of those two weeks doubting my choices that had gotten us here. Would it get better? Would it get easier? Would she eventually love this new place? I wasn’t so sure anymore. 

We needed a good hard look in the mirror.

Then, the other morning, it just clicked. I came out of the shower and she showed me that she had conducted an experiment. She wanted to see what would happen when she let the marker sit on a tissue (what happened was that the purple marker bled through the tissue and all over my new butcher block countertops, but that ain’t the tale I am telling’ right now, yo). She was so proud! She wanted to take it to school and show her teachers and her new friends. It was the validation that I needed that I had made the right choice for her. That I didn’t break her, but that I helped her learn to fly. Thank you 8 pound, 6 ounce newborn infant Jesus because I was really starting to wonder about my parenting decisions!

On the other side of the coin, I thought that The Cool Cucumber would struggle with the change. I thought that breaking him out of his finely tuned routine would freak him the flock out. Instead, he embraced the new school like he had always been there. He loved not having to be put into a creative box. He thrived in the new environment that let him explore and make up his own mind. From day one, he basically walked in, looked back at me and said, “Hey, ma. Don’t let the door hit ya where the good lord split ya.” I was shocked. It was incredible to witness and has been so amazing for him. It has cast a new light on him for me. Brought out glints of things that I did not know were inside of him. It has been wonderful.

Change is good.

So though we think we may know how our kids will act in certain situations, they often surprise us. Sometimes for good, and sometimes for bad. But they always keep us thinking. Moving. Changing. Evolving. Without them to wake us up out of our cruise control lives, we sometimes wouldn’t notice that there is more than one way to react. Think. Be. 

For this, I am thankful.

If you share this post, I will buy you a pony. I suck at Twitter. I am OK at Facebook. Pinterest is my bitch. I am also on Bloglovin' and Instagram.

Thursday, September 4, 2014

In case you needed a good cry today

I just watched this video of a 7-week-old hearing for the first time and had to share. If you don't cry the second time his mom says, "He's smiling" and hear her voice break with happiness, you need to get yoself a defibrillator, stat. Truly amazing.


If you share this post, I will buy you a pony. I suck at Twitter. I am OK at Facebook. Pinterest is my bitch. I am also on Bloglovin' and Instagram.

Wednesday, September 3, 2014

My kid is adorable. Your kid is annoying.

I will be the first to admit that I am not a huge fan of other people’s kids. I mean, they are great and all, but I have my own kids to love/be annoyed by. I often find that things that I think are absolutely adorable when my kids do them are incredibly annoying when other people’s kids do them. Things like:

Participating in any Kind of Recital
When my little pumpkins are the ones picking their noses during a dance recital, that shit is precious. I mean, come on, it is better they unload their boogs on the stage than on my couch, right? But when I have to sit through a piano recital or school play for children that did not come forth from my very own loins? I would rather stab myself in the leg with a rusty fork. Because anything is preferable to sitting in a musty gym on a metal folding chair watching Timmy’s tuba solo. Seriously. Bring on the tetanus.

Showcasing their Newly Learned Skills
My husband LOVES showing off our kids’ latest skills. He is horrible at annoying innocent bystanders by making them watch our kids perform some mundane task. Yes, our 3-year-old can count to 10, but NO ONE ELSE CARES. Absolutely no one wants to see that shit in action except us. And even I have a threshold of how many times it is cute. Hell, even their GRANDPARENTS fake excited when they do it. Our friends that are over to hang out and merely tolerate our spawn? They have no interest in seeing our son display his new-found abilities. Unless he can juggle cats. Everyone would be interested in seeing that.

Answering the Phone
This may be one of my all-time favorite things to do to other people and my all-time most hated thing when people do it to me. Because it is adorable when my daughter answers the phone, “Hewow, Gwampa.” But when I am calling to see if you want to go have a drink because I am losing my freaking mind and your kid answers the phone, talks gibberish for 5 minutes and then throws it down and walks away? THAT is annoying as shit. Shivers.

Wearing Shoes That Squeak
Have you ever been to the playground in the mall and had a cute little toddler wobble over to you with those shoes that have little squeakers in the bottom? Cute, right? For about 5 minutes. Then the claustrophobia of the germ-encrusted play pit starts to set in and you suddenly develop tunnel vision, cold sweats and feel faint from all of the “fun” everyone is having around you. That squeak is like the tell-tale heart--every squeak seems louder and closer that the one before until you just. can’t. take it anymore.

Unless you have a pair of Wee Squeaks. They have removable squeakers so your kids can be as adorable as you want at home and you don’t have to annoy every single person in a 100-foot radius when you pop into Target to pick up your next box of wine. The squeakers were the only way I could get my son out of Crocs. Once he would wear the Wee Squeaks, I just popped the squeaker out and TA-DA: my son looked less like a gardening-addicted hobbit when we went out in public (you can see how freaking cute his/her new kicks are in the annoying video below).


The post is sponsored by Wee Squeaks but they did not force me to say nice stuff about their shoes at gunpoint. If I didn’t like them, I would let you Boozehounds know fo sho.

If you share this post, I will buy you a pony. I suck at Twitter. I am OK at Facebook. Pinterest is my bitch. I am also on Bloglovin' and Instagram.

Thursday, August 21, 2014

Slapping ALS in the face one donation at a time

It was only a matter of time before I got nominated for the ALS Ice Bucket Challenge. I love the idea. As I watched it happen more and more, I started thining about what it would be like to one day wake up and be given the diagnosis of having Amyotroohic Lateral Sclerosis, sometimes known as Lou Gehrig's Disease. My brother-in-law is famous in our family for once actually uttering, "Whoa, Lou Gehrig got Lou Gehrig's Disease? I bet he didn't see that one coming."

Here is a little info on ALS from alsa.org:

Just what is ALS?

Ice Bucket Challenge
ALS was first found in 1869 by French neurologist Jean-Martin Charcot, but it wasn’t until 1939 that Lou Gehrig brought national and international attention to the disease. Ending the career of one of the most beloved baseball players of all time, the disease is still most closely associated with his name. Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS) is a progressive neurodegenerative disease that affects nerve cells in the brain and the spinal cord. Motor neurons reach from the brain to the spinal cord and from the spinal cord to the muscles throughout the body. The progressive degeneration of the motor neurons in ALS eventually leads to their death. When the motor neurons die, the ability of the brain to initiate and control muscle movement is lost. With voluntary muscle action progressively affected, patients in the later stages of the disease may become totally paralyzed.

Instead of showering myself with ice-cold water in the name of charity, I decided to take it a step further and give my unwitting friend a hurricane shot. What is a hurricane shot? Oh, click away and see for yourself:


I did this because ALS is something you don't see coming and is a true diagnostic slap in the face. If you are offended by this, you should be more offended that it took a silly challenge to bring to light a devastating condition that ends the lives of amazing people every day.

So learn more about ALS. Then donate. I did.

I nominate Ilana from Mommy Shorts, Amy from Pregnant Chicken and Jill from Scary Mommy.

If you share this post, I will buy you a pony. I suck at Twitter. I am OK at Facebook. Pinterest is my bitch. I am also on Bloglovin' and Instagram.

Wednesday, August 20, 2014

29 Things Only a Pregnant Woman Would Understand

Morning sickness, insomnia, an ever-growing belly and the long, agonizing wait of labor…it's all worth it! Enjoy these 29 things only someone who's endured the nine-month journey of pregnancy would understand.

1. What it feels like to be completely terrified and excited at the same time.


2. Morning sickness that lasts. All. Damn. Day.


3. That pantiliners aren’t just for periods.


4. That sometimes you get diaper rash even when you don’t wear diapers.


5. Mucus plugs. ‘Nuff said.


6. What Dolly Parton must feel like.


7. Cankles that engulf your entire leg.


8. How to waddle like a penguin.


9. The awesomeness that is the ability to grow a freakin’ human being.


10. Willing the worst pain of your life to come. SOON.


11. How you can be hot when there is ice dripping from the air conditioner.


12. What it is like to have to pee every 15 minutes. All. Night. Long.


13. Crying because the fast food worker got your order wrong.


14. The urge to punch complete strangers in the neck when they comment on how big you are.


15. The need to organize. ALL THE THINGS.


16. The first time you feel the life growing inside of you move.


17. How to trim the hedges when you can no longer see them…


18. How Jabba the Hutt really feels.


19. The importance of fiber.


20. When a baby does a flip off your cervix and lands on your bladder.


21. That you plan every trip out of the house around access to clean restrooms.

22. What it feels like to be punched in the stomach from the inside.


23. Getting excited when you get diarrhea because it means the baby might be coming soon.


24. What it’s like to pee a little when you cough. Or sneeze. Or breathe.


25. The reason ASPCA commercials make you cry.


26. What that dude in the movie Alien felt like.


27. Sleeping in a fortress of pillows.


28. Why you put dirty dishes in the cupboard and mayonnaise in the dishwasher.

29. Loving someone deeply before you even meet them.

This post was written by me and originally appeared on Healthline.

If you share this post, I will buy you a pony. I suck at Twitter. I am OK at Facebook. Pinterest is my bitch. I am also on Bloglovin' and Instagram.

Wednesday, July 16, 2014

Thank god for mother's intuition

Monday morning, The Cool Cucumber was scheduled to have a new set of tubes put in and his adenoids removed at 6:15 a.m. Like last time, I was leery about the adenoidectomy.  I decided to squash my inner "Danger, Will Robinson!" and go ahead with the adenoid removal.

The night before surgery, I prayed to God, my brother and my mother-in-law to either help the surgery be a success or give me a big, unmistakable sign that it was a bad idea. Well, a sign I sure got.

Monday morning at 3 a.m., mere hours before we were due to leave for the hospital, I noticed the light in our hall bathroom on a ad a familiar sound echoing within the porcelain. Yep, The Quiet Contemplator had a tummy bug. You really can't get a bigger sign than that other than the damn same-day surgery wing of the children's hospital burning own.

Worried that the tummy bug would take its usual course through our family and knock us down one by one like a row of vominous dominoes, I called and canceled the surgery. Because who wants to be tossing their cookies when their throat has been sewn back together a few hours or days prior? Not I, said the fly.

Well, today The Cool Cucumber is tossing those cookies, over and over again. His sister was so sweet to share her esophageal parasites with him. Their close like that. If I had blown The Quiet Contemplator's spewing off as just an anomaly and went ahead with the surgery, The Cucumber would be busting open fresh stitches with an incredibly high risk of hemorrhaging (one of the biggest risks of adenoid removal). Excellent.

Crayons aren't the only thing they like to share...

Now was this tummy bug a sign, or just a coincidence? I may never know, but I know I sure as hell have had enough bad vibes about the adenoid removal that I won't be going forward with it unless it is 100% necessary. As I said last time, I don't believe that adenoid removal is a bad thing AT ALL. The Cool Cucumber just has problems coming out of anesthesia and I believe is at an increased risk of bleeding after. Plus, when your mommy instincts kick up as much as mine do when adenoid removal gets brought up, you listen.

If you share this post, I will buy you a pony. I suck at Twitter. I am OK at Facebook. Pinterest is my bitch. I am also on Bloglovin' and Instagram.

Wednesday, July 9, 2014

Why I Burned My House Down

We just got back from a family camping trip, and by camping, I mean we stayed in a cabin with air conditioning, a bathroom and a refrigerator stocked with cheese, chocolate and wine. I like to rough it when I get in tune with nature. I'm a baller like that.

Anyway, I was just sorting through all of the wet towels and shorts my son had crapped through when a friendly little stowaway crawled out of our dirty laundry: a spider. Um, hell-to-the-no, mother fucker. Your ass ain't got to go home but it sho nuff ain't staying here.

Actor portrayal of actual events.

As the spider leisurely crawled out of a pile of our dirty drawers, my daughter saw it and said, "Mama! Remember that book Be Nice to Spiders? We should save him!"

Me: You're right. I will pick him up and take him outside.

The Quiet Contemplator: OK!

(Insert TQC's instant loss of interest and her leaving the room. Then insert me crushing the spider to death with a shoe and sending him to heaven, because I am surely not letting some immigrant spider hole up in my casa while I sleep.)

RIP, spider. I hated you well for the short time I knew you.

Warning: a spider was harmed in the making of this post. Why? Because fuck spiders, that's why.

If you share this post, I will buy you a pony. I suck at Twitter. I am OK at Facebook. Pinterest is my bitch. I am also on Bloglovin' and Instagram.
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