Body by Baby

Many of us feel embarrassed of our post baby bodies. Some of us are surprised that we didn't snap right back to our pre-baby bodies. The truth is, no matter how fast you bounce back to your pre-pregnancy state, you will never be the same. Be it from stretch marks, wider hips, sagging breasts, or just a new state of mind about your body, you are now forever changed by the miracle that is childbirth.

So, because Gisele and all her friends make it seem like stretchmarks don't happen, I started Body by Baby. Stretchmarks do happen. So does saggy skin. And saggy boobs. And that is ok. Because we are real women. Our bodies aren't perfect. But they didn't get this way on their own. They got this way because we are fucking awesome and CREATED A HUMAN IN THEM. What's a stretchmark or a muffin top when we actually made life?

This is what a real woman's belly looks like. This is what having beautiful babies does to a girl. And it is awesome:

This is Sara from The Titleless Blog. She is the mom of a 6-month-old little girl.

Here is her story:

This is me after an 8 lb. 4oz. baby girl. I feel fortunate that I don't have stretch marks (on my belly that is!) and I've lost 42 of 45 pounds gained. The rest is probably boobs (or one can hope!). However, pregnancy definitely rearranged the landscape, so to say. My belly button is bulbous and I can no longer suck in the extra skin. My skin even changed texture. It's loose and stretchy now. Six months after giving birth, I was hoping it would go back to normal, but it hasn't. I also still have that annoying dark line down the middle of my abs. Will it ever go away? I still feel like I look about three months pregnant (compared to what I looked like before). All in all, I can't complain because I hardly have time to exercise and I eat whatever I want.

Thanks, Sara. You are the shit for sharing with us what we all hide from each other.


Body by Baby all started here, but you glorious bitches have kept it going. Feeling frisky? Send me your own Body by Baby portrait and I will share it with all six of my readers the world. Anonymously or not. Your choice. Email them to me at ilikebeerandbabies @ gmail . com (remove spaces).

Benadryl-Induced Madness

The Quiet Contemplator has had a nasty cough for a few days.

 

So she could finally get some sleep without waking every 15 minutes from a hacking cough, I did as my pediatrician recommended and gave her some Benadryl. Big mistake. Apparently Benadryl is the equivalent of crack to The Quiet Contemplator.

It started out well enough. She took down the magic potion without complaint.

Then she started acting a little strange. Her legs were a little wobbly underneath her and actions were a bit odd.

Then she started full-on tripping balls. Her pupils looked like a rave kid's from the '90s and she started spouting gibberish.

Then she lost her shit and had an out of body experience. She started swinging her arms like a ninja and shouting nonsense at inanimate objects. You were not allowed to get within her force field of awesome because she would shout, "DO NOT TOUCH ME!"

 

Then she immediately fell into a stoner coma, only to wake the next morning.

Overall, I would say that the Benadryl experiment was a complete success.

Speak Up

One of these days I will stop raising my voice to anyone I see being rude to someone else. Today is not that day. Tomorrow isn't looking so good either...

The other day, I was with my family at a fast food-type restaurant. While my husband and son were getting a table outside, my daughter and I were getting our drinks. While grabbing some ketchup at the drink station, I overheard a conversation between a manager and an employee who were refilling the ice machine with buckets of ice.

The manager and employee's interaction with each stopped me in my tracks. It made the fierce mama bitch inside of me boil until I could no longer withhold the explosion. I knew that I was going to erupt, and wasn't sure what to do about it, since my daughter was standing there with me and would surely see me lose my shit. But I did it anyway.

The manager, who had to be all of maybe 17, was reprimanding the employee for asking questions. And being incredibly abusive and overpowering to the employee, who was maybe in his 30s.

The employee asked, "How much ice should I put in?"

The manager responded, "You need to fill it up! Just like I told you last time. And every other time. Fill. It. Up. All the way!"

The employee, embarrassed, stuttered, "But how many bu…bu…bu…bu…"

The manger cut him off, "JUST FILL IT UP! All the way to the top. Like I tell you every time! Why is this so hard. Put ice in it until it reaches the top!"

The employee asked again, "OK, but how many bu…bu…bu…"

The manager cut him off again and went about with more abuse.

This is when I lost it.

I said, "He is just asking you how many buckets he will need to fill it up. You don't have to be rude."

The manager said, "I am not being rude."

I said, "If you talked to me like that, I wouldn't be too happy about it. Stop being rude and just listen to him. He is just asking you a question."

The manager was speechless.

I then took my daughter's hand and walked her outside to our table. I was steaming mad. My daughter was confused, but if there is one thing she will learn about her mama, it is that she will ALWAYS defend someone who can't defend themselves.

You see, the employee was a young man with Down Syndrome.

A little while after we sat down to eat our meal, the manager came out. His cheeks were red and you could tell he was embarrassed and felt like an asshole. Because he was.

He said, "I am sorry if you thought I was being rude, ma'am. You see, Steve's dad asked for us to be direct with him and that is just what I was doing. Being direct."

I said, "There is a mile-wide line between being direct and being abusive and you were being the latter. I can go ahead and speak for Steve's dad and say that if he ever witnessed you treating his son the way you did, his fist would get direct with your face."

The manager said more apologies and then walked away. Obviously ashamed of his actions.

I can say without a doubt in my mind that that young boy will never abuse a person with a disability again.

The thing of it is? There were 15 other people standing around who watched the abuse take place. And they didn't say a thing. They just got their napkins and ketchup and went on about with their days. It wasn't their business, right?

But it is our business. As parents, especially, we need to say something when we see someone else's baby being mistreated.

What good are our voices if we don't use them to defend those who can't defend themselves?

Always speak up for those who can't be heard. Always.

Body by Baby

Many of us feel embarrassed of our post baby bodies. Some of us are surprised that we didn't snap right back to our pre-baby bodies. The truth is, no matter how fast you bounce back to your pre-pregnancy state, you will never be the same. Be it from stretch marks, wider hips, sagging breasts, or just a new state of mind about your body, you are now forever changed by the miracle that is childbirth.

So, because Gisele and all her friends make it seem like stretchmarks don't happen, I started Body by Baby. Stretchmarks do happen. So does saggy skin. And saggy boobs. And that is ok. Because we are real women. Our bodies aren't perfect. But they didn't get this way on their own. They got this way because we are fucking awesome and CREATED A HUMAN IN THEM. What's a stretchmark or a muffin top when we actually made life?

This is what a real woman's belly looks like. This is what having beautiful babies does to a girl. And it is awesome:

This is Courtney. She is the mom of three boys, ages 5, 3 and 16 months.

Here is her story:

I think I got off pretty lucky considering I grew three people in there. Aside from some stretch marks, a little muffin top and hemorrhoids that are obviously here to stay (thanks for that one #3), I am happy with my post-baby body. I never really liked bathing suits anyway.

Thanks, Courtney. You are the shit for sharing with us what we all hide from each other.


Body by Baby all started here, but you glorious bitches have kept it going. Feeling frisky? Send me your own Body by Baby portrait and I will share it with all six of my readers the world. Anonymously or not. Your choice. Email them to me at ilikebeerandbabies @ gmail . com (remove spaces).

My Son is a Blatant Opportunist

Those of you that have been around a while know that I am a fan of drawing shitty stick figures now and then, as evidenced here and here. Well, I want to start sharing more of my real life here so I will be featuring my abhorrent scribbles from time to time to illustrate my stories. I apologize in advance for making your eyeballs bleed. They will hopefully bleed less as I figure everything out. Hopefully.

Anyway.

Today's tale is about how much of a fatty The Cool Cucumber is. That boy can eat. A lot. He could eat a grown lumberjack under the table. Then have dessert. Lately, his love for food has also led him into a life of crime. My son is now the petty larcenist of the dinner table.

The Cool Cucumber and The Quiet Contemplator both have set places at the dinner table (Child Protective Services frowns on you making them eat off the floor).

After dinner, they both get down from the table and we go do something wonderfully enriching and educational. Like watch Dancing with the Stars. The other night, I noticed that The Cool Cucumber had toddled away from the living room and back into the dining room. I snuck in behind him and found that he had climbed the dining table bench and bellied himself up to the table to finish his sister's dinner. I have been watching him the last few nights since and this is what I observed:

He surveys the table to see if there is any food left on The Quiet Contemplator's plate.

 

He then looks back to see if anyone is watching him.

Once he has established that the coast is clear, he climbs the bench to reach the plate.

 He then plants his butt down and inhales all of the food that is left.

 

I am oddly proud of his blatant opportunism. That's my boy.

Caption This

Here is how Caption This works:
You send me your funny photos. I caption them and share them with your fellow Boozehounds. Got a funny picture you want to see featured here? Send it to me at ilikebeerandbabies @ gmail.com (remove spaces) and I will work some comedy magic. Or not. It might not be magical at all. It might be crap. Whatever. Send me your pics anyway.

 

And the winner of the caption contest came from Real Mom on NJ.

Want to see your kids on Caption This? Send your funny photos to ilikebeerandbabies @ gmail.com (remove spaces).

Serenity Prayer for Parents

This link is printable. Enjoy.

Body by Baby

Many of us feel embarrassed of our post baby bodies. Some of us are surprised that we didn't snap right back to our pre-baby bodies. The truth is, no matter how fast you bounce back to your pre-pregnancy state, you will never be the same. Be it from stretch marks, wider hips, sagging breasts, or just a new state of mind about your body, you are now forever changed by the miracle that is childbirth.

So, because Gisele and all her friends make it seem like stretchmarks don't happen, I started Body by Baby. Stretchmarks do happen. So does saggy skin. And saggy boobs. And that is ok. Because we are real women. Our bodies aren't perfect. But they didn't get this way on their own. They got this way because we are fucking awesome and CREATED A HUMAN IN THEM. What's a stretchmark or a muffin top when we actually made life?

This is what a real woman's belly looks like. This is what having beautiful babies does to a girl. And it is awesome:

This is Danyell from The Medicated Mommy. She is 26 and the mom of Crystal who is 8, Jade who is 7, Shane who is 6 and Jubilation-Leigh who is 4-months-old.

Thanks, Danyell. You are the shit for sharing with us what we all hide from each other.


Body by Baby all started here, but you glorious bitches have kept it going. Feeling frisky? Send me your own Body by Baby portrait and I will share it with all six of my readers the world. Anonymously or not. Your choice. Email them to me at ilikebeerandbabies @ gmail . com (remove spaces).