Category Archives: Parenting

Year One

Posted in Daughters, Humor, Mommy Blog, Parenting by

Today was the little one’s first birthday. What the what?! How is that even possible, you ask. I’m not sure. Life is a complete blur since the second one came along. I can’t even begin to imagine what it’s like when you have 3, 4, or 5 kids. Good thing we’re stopping at 2!

When the big one turned one, I thought I was going to need a tranquilizer to stop my incessant crying from losing my baby, but this time it never even crossed my mind because I don’t have a moment to even think about something like that anymore…the curse blessing of a second child.

I’m trying to recreate the first one’s birthday for the second one so looking back, she can’t say that her sister was the favorite or anything like that. So in staying true to that, I would like to write a letter to my daughter about her first year. So here goes.

Dear my sweet darling,

One year old! It’s hard to believe. It seems like we were just leaving the house at 4 am to drive up to the birth center to have you. I remember crying a little at the thought of our family of three changing to a family of four and not knowing how everything was going to shift. But you came along, with your lovely little face and you fit into our family as if you’d always been there.

I was over the moon that I had two little girls–sisters–who would (hopefully) grow up to love each other and be best friends. I think you two are well on your way despite the lack of sharing and all the pushing going on these days. You seem to have your own language, yelling and shrieking back and forth, making Mummy crazier by the minute and you two closer.

You are a complete joy, except for when you’re tired…you become a complete bear, so thankfully you have the most kissable cheeks and adorable grin. They have saved you on many occasion.

You’re walking everywhere–sooner than your sister so you can brag about that someday. It’s the cutest thing to see you on two feet, stumbling around like a zombie baby. The only downside is that you’ve had more concussions than an NFL quarterback and a black eye from slipping in the tub. Your father is one click away from buying you a baby helmet on Amazon. But don’t worry, Mummy won’t make you wear it.

My most favorite thing is how you smell like toast when you wake up from your naps. The way you squeal and point whenever you see a bird. And how you scrunch up your nose when you smile. Oh, and the way you think you’re jumping by bending your legs and propelling your tiny body upward.

We took you to the zoo today for your first birthday. It was the perfect day–sunny and not crowded at all. Mummy was the only one to have a meltdown when I learned we couldn’t get nachos because the zoo changed their menu…the nerve!! (What’s the zoo got against delicious chips bathed in cheese and beans?) You were most excited to see the gorilla and you loved sliding down the hill with Daddy on a piece of cardboard. Then after taking a nap during the car ride home, we opened presents on the floor. We got you a cute book called Miss Lina’s Ballerinas, a pink owl pillow for you to carry around the house instead of the couch pillows, and a stand-up play center with lots of flashing lights and loud noises. You loved everything! After your sister asked to eat cake literally 100 times in a row, we put your party hat on, lit your one candle, and sang to you. You clapped along then ate your piece of cake with a huge smile, smearing the frosting all over your face. It was priceless! I tried to capture every second between three different cameras…not the easiest thing to do!

Now you’re snoozing away, conked out after your sugar rush and crash, officially one year old, officially a toddler (although you’ll always be my baby). I’m so excited for what the next year will bring. I’m sure it will be filled with giggling, tea parties, and lots of twirling.

I hope you had a very Happy 1st Birthday, my precious cutie pie! We love you more than we can say!

Hugs & Kisses my little Bun Bun!

The Mayor of Poopville

Posted in Family, Humor, Mommy Blog, Parenting by
My sash?

My sash?

Might as well be my new title. It’s not normal to pick up poo off the bathroom floor every day…or maybe it is if you’re me and you have two babies.

I was so smug when I first started potty-training my daughter a few months ago. One day she decided she had to go and she was going to do it on the toilet. Super easy…but I should’ve known it was too good to be true. She really set me up for defeat. Her first time going #2 ended with her exclaiming that she “Went poop in the potty” and when she came to get me to show me, sure enough there it was in all its humongous glory. I wasn’t even trying to potty-train and it was happening. That was my little genius!

Now, pooping her pants is a daily occurrence. I try so hard not to get frustrated and upset with her because I’m aware that she’s only two years old and she’s still learning, but you would think that after squeezing one out in her undies caused an unfavorable response the day before (hell, even ten minutes before!) that she wouldn’t do it again. Wrong! I catch her worried deer-in-the-headlights duty face and know that I’ll be retrieving her stinky grenades once they fall from her pants as I hurriedly take them off of her in the hopes that she’ll finish her business in the appropriate place. That’s never the case though and I’m left with a doo-doo speckled floor and a baby trying to crawl right through it.

It’s a complete nightmare and beyond upsetting. I have to lock the little one out in the hallway while I clean up the bigger one and the floor which results in the little one screaming bloody murder because she’s all alone and the other one starts in with her ridiculous line of questioning. “You happy? You’re so proud of me? You’re not happy? You mad? You happy?” On endless repeat until she’s cleaned up and off the potty or until I slam my face against the door jamb–whichever comes first.

If it’s unclear, this is one of my personal levels of hell.

When I try to vent to the hubby, he doesn’t get it. How could he though when he’s never had to clean up as much doo doo as I’ve had to? And will continue to, there is another baby after all. (Kill me now!)

As far as Poopville goes, the hubby just passes through town every now and then, having to deal with it every once in awhile. He couldn’t even point it out on a map. Guess I’ll have to own my title and work on throwing a parade in my honor. I can see it now. The float will be covered in toilet-paper roses. I’ll sit on my throne waving my toilet brush scepter wearing a tiara made from empty toilet-paper rolls while a symphony of flushing guides me through town.

Maybe I should just be happy that I’m the Mayor of something, although I’d rather it were Skinnytown or FilthyRichTown. I’ll have to settle for Poopville for a little while longer. Who am I kidding–at the rate we’re going–a lot longer.

Dragon Breath Revisited

Posted in Comedy, Humor, Mommy Blog, Parenting by

Cut to two kids later  and I’m finally coming around to the idea that I need coffee, or more specifically caffeine, to survive.

mama needs

But I’ve been balking at this realization. I don’t want to succumb to the dragon’s breath that is in my future. As I’ve written before, my mom’s dragon breath has haunted me for decades and I’m not ready to submit my daughter to the same torture. Although now I like the idea of making her put up with my bad breath…she makes me put up with her shenanigans, so why not get some revenge where I can?!

First off, I’m not a hot drink kind of person. I don’t like to deal with a burnt tongue all day. However, I just learned that coffees come iced. Second, I discovered the wonderful world of lattes. They have more sugar than a Willy Wonka chocolate factory, which is right up my alley.

My kind of coffee

My kind of coffee

Recently I ordered a vanilla latte while the hubby ordered a plain iced coffee. I took a drink of mine, slightly grimaced at the coffee taste, but realized I could power through it for the caffeine buzz at the end of the rainbow. So what if it left an aftertaste as if I’d been licking the cat’s butt. Then I took a quick swig of the hubby’s and about vurped. I had the worst bitter beer face. That shit was lethal. Tasted like ass roasted in cow dung. At least what I imagine ass roasted in cow dung would taste like. I went back to my vanilla latte and it was pure heaven. Sweet, sugary heaven.

Now I’m on a quest to make my own iced lattes at home because I had a coffee epiphany. Coffee is crack–legalized crack. It makes everything better.

Makes me like my kids better. Makes me feel like I can conquer the world…or at least deal with my two *screaming idiots* for twelve straight hours without wanting to ship them to Siberia every other minute.

don't make meNo wonder my mom consumed three daily pots of coffee since I can remember. Mummy really does know best!

 

*Screaming idiots is a term of endearment in our household*

Caillou = The Worst

Posted in Comedy, Daughters, Family, Humor, Mommy Blog, Parenting by

Before I became a parent, I was one of those annoying people who used to talk about what I would and wouldn’t let my hypothetical child do (don’t worry, we all do it). Well, not watching TV was on that list. Remember I said before I became a parent.

Then the baby turned into a toddler and against my better judgment I let her watch a little TV which became a lot of TV. Big mistake because she somehow fell in love with the most miserable cartoon ever created…Caillou. Although it seems every children’s show throughout history has driven parents to drink (don’t even get me started on Barney!), this one really takes the prize. For those of you who haven’t been tortured by listening to Caillou’s whiny, nasally voice complain about everything, consider yourself lucky. He is a snotty little wanker with a bald head and a terrible attitude. An attitude that my daughter has adopted. She’s like his little clone.

This is totally a thing!

“Teaching kids to be whiny brats since 1997.” See, it’s totally a thing!

I brought this on myself by letting her watch him in the first place. Then I made matters worse by buying her a set of Caillou books, a puzzle, and the DVD. It’s the damnedest thing. You want to give your child the world even if it’s something you can’t stand, because a teeny tiny piece of you enjoys watching it with her because she loves it so much. I’m not saying I like Caillou–I loathe him, if loathing a cartoon character is possible– but I like making her happy and more importantly, keeping her quiet while Mummy cleans the kitchen.

But we finally had enough. Daddy put his foot down once we realized she sounded just like that bratty little twat. So we banned him and have been a Caillou-free household ever since. And I must admit it is nice! Wish I would’ve done it ages ago! I don’t hum that stupid theme song every five minutes like I used to and I don’t have to look at his stupid face and listen to his stupid parents who are drawn the exact stupid way but with different hair.

We’ve moved on to Sophia the First. At least she’s a pleasant little girl who became a princess overnight, so there’s no pretentiousness there. I’ve never heard her complain once. She talks to animals and remains friends with the village folk. Now, there’s a role model my daughter can look up to! However, if she starts saying the animals talk back to her, we might have a problem.

The Commoner's Princess

The Commoner’s Princess

Top Ten Signs You Might Be a Mummy

Posted in Babies, Comedy, Daughters, Family, Humor, Mommy Blog, Parenting, Writing by

If…

Your day is over before it even begins.

You forget to order ice in your iced coffee.

You think a complete meal is two animal crackers and a sip of watered down grape juice.

You haven’t gone to the bathroom by yourself in over a year.

You have more peanut butter on your clothes than your toddler does.

You shave your armpits twice because you can’t remember if you already did it or not.

You can’t remember the last time you moisturized…anything!

You want to punch that no-good Caillou in the face.

You think sleeping until 7 is a luxury (or sleeping at all, for that matter!).

You would sell your soul (or maybe your children) for a glass of wine and a bubble bath.

truth

WWAD? (What Would Audrey Do?)

Posted in Babies, Comedy, Daughters, Family, Humor, Mommy Blog, Parenting, Writing by

My mother bought me a beautiful book about Audrey Hepburn written by her son. It’s called Audrey Hepburn: An Elegant Spirit. Since she’s my ultimate style icon, I can’t wait to read it. After quickly flipping through the book, I came across the sweetest picture of her holding her son when he was an itty bitty baby. She looked so peaceful and serene that I immediately felt unworthy of my children because I don’t know if there’s one photo of me holding my babes that looks as sweet.

On a typical day this is what we all look like:

angry bears

Let’s take a closer look. Yep, that’s one angry Mama Bear.

angry mama

Not very Audrey.

baby bear

And that’s one angry Toddler Bear. Throwing fits cause that’s what she do.

daddy bear

And panicked Daddy Bear with his “Oops I crapped my pants” look.

My days are far from perfect. Especially lately.

I imagine Audrey led a pretty perfect life. I mean, just look at her.

lovely

If she were a family of bears, this is what they would look like:

perfect

All happy and shit.

But to make myself feel better, I’m going to say that she had some rough days with her son. I bet she didn’t raise her voice like I do or want to strangle the bejeezus out of her toddler like I want to, but I bet she got frustrated and counted to ten while taking deep breaths or locked herself in the bathroom for a three minute escape.

Some days all that gets me through is thinking of this moment:

asleep

When we’re all asleep and I’m free to dream that I’m Holly Golightly wearing a glittery necklace eating a croissant in front of the Tiffany window instead of the grumpy Mama Bear that is my all-too-true reality.

sigh

sigh

 

Toddlers Are the Devil’s Spawn

Posted in Babies, Comedy, Daughters, Family, Humor, Mommy Blog, Parenting by

devil child

This is the title that was orbiting my brain all day yesterday. Needless to say, it was a bad day.

But today is a great day! Mainly because my two-year-old is on her way to becoming potty-trained and (knock on wood) it’s been pretty painless so far!

Out of the blue, she told me she had to go pee so I put her on the toilet in my bathroom and she went! Like she had been doing it all her life. I freaked out, starting praising her up and down and spinning circles like a dog when he sees the treat jar. I was ecstatic! So I full-on committed to no diapers except at naptime and bedtime. Talk about scary! It’s like handling a hair-trigger grenade except when this one explodes it’s pee and poop.

Just fifteen minutes before this miraculous event, I was in the shower wishing I could spank the snot out of my little darling because she decided she needed to scream as loud and high-pitched as she could for no damn reason. Mind you, I’m trying to get in and out of the shower as quickly as possible while the little one is sound asleep and in the confines of her crib. It’s not enough that I set her up in my room with her favorite cartoon on, a cup of milk, and even crackers to keep her happy. I came barreling out of the shower, my blood boiling and informed my daughter that we don’t scream like that while her sister is sleeping…or ever. I wanted to pull out all of my hair and all of hers. Then she turned around a few minutes later and filled me with so much pride, erasing my anger.

While she’s not always easy to deal with or discipline, she’s been pretty good when it comes to everything else. So I guess I can’t really complain, but why stop what I’ve always been good at?

She took really well to her big girl bed, with moving, with having a sister and now learning to use the potty. All the major things. It’s just when she’s having her tenth meltdown of the day and I’m working with four hours of broken sleep and a demanding, whining 9-month-old that I start to wish I had a full-time job doing anything else.

Then I start thinking of all the things I’d be missing and it makes me sad. The way she and her sister chase each other, crawling around the kitchen island and their squeals of laughter. The way the big one will sit and read to us as if she’s the librarian at story hour. The way the little one looks at the big one like she knows she’s her sister already and loves every single thing about her. These are my favorite moments.

Why can’t these moments happen more than the blood-boiling moments? These are the moments that my mom says keep you going. And she’s totally right. Cause if it weren’t for these things, these two would be orphans by now.

Another milestone I would’ve missed: her first poopy in the potty. While this might not sound like something anyone would want to witness or remember, it made me giddy. Crazy, that you become a parent and another human being pooping in a plastic potty chair can make you elated. Now that’s jacked up!

At least I didn’t take a picture of it, like the hubby asked. I was too busy trying to make sure her baby sister didn’t grab ahold of it! But boy was I impressed!

What the Hell is a Virtue Anyway?

Posted in Babies, Comedy, Daughters, Family, Humor, Mommy Blog, Parenting by

You know, it’s when something’s virtuous. Like that means anything to me. My life used to be words, but now my brain is complete mush and I couldn’t define the word virtue if my life depended on it. Kinda like Winona Ryder’s character in Reality Bites trying to define irony during her job interview. Irony…when something’s ironic. “I know it when I see it.”

One of my favs

One of my favs

So if patience is a virtue then I’m the least virtuous person ever. I’ve never had much patience and any shred that I might have left since becoming a mom is used up on my toddler by 9:30 am. I don’t even have enough patience to make it through the two minutes on my electric toothbrush. Who has that kind of time? I ask it every night.

When I’m standing in line at Target and the old lady in front of me buys four cases of Diet Coke and a package of Depends then stands and peruses her receipt as if she’s checking lottery numbers, I tap my foot and sigh as loud as possible not giving two shits that I sound like a jerk. I never did this before becoming a mummy. I used to politely smile and wait my turn, but I don’t have time for bullshit anymore people…I’ve got two screaming mimis at home and a family member who is doing me a favor so I can run out and get toilet paper in peace.

I wish I could be the laid-back relaxed mom who says “no worries” and actually means it. I’m the complete opposite. Everything is a worry and all you morons are in my way. I should get that tattooed on my forehead. Then when I’m driving 45 in a 25 or losing my cool waiting in some sort of line then everyone around me will know where I stand.

One time I was waiting in line to get gas and of course the gas station was packed with cars in each lane. My two ticking time bombs were strapped into their seats directly behind me, so I was on edge to begin with. I waited behind a lady in a truck who was taking a painfully long time. Finally after what seemed like ten hours (every minute is an hour in baby time…kinda like dog years) she was getting ready to leave but she didn’t pull away like any normal person, because she couldn’t, her truck wouldn’t start. Arrgh, so I wasted ten hours minutes waiting for nothing and then I’d have to wait another ten minutes before I could even fill up. So I sped off opting to go to another gas station five minutes down the road only to see it was shut down for a remodel. Such is the luck of a virtueless mummy!

Needless to say, I’m a work in progress.

Night & Day

Posted in Babies, Comedy, Daughters, Family, Humor, Mommy Blog, Parenting, Writing by

I loved being the baby of the family and the only girl. It meant I could get away with murder while my brothers took the fall. Muahahaha!

There wasn’t anything wrong with being the third and final kid except when it came to baby pictures. There are three total.

I always thought I wanted a little sister, but now I’m glad I never got one. I can’t imagine how she would’ve stole my spotlight! Sharing is still not my strong suit.

Birth order is fascinating now that I’m a mom with two girls. It’s always interesting to hear how it affects children and what characteristics are true. Lately I’ve been struggling with some mom guilt over not being able to give my second baby what I gave my first i.e. my undivided attention and patience. I don’t possess either of those things anymore.Probably never did!

This baby is lucky to get a bottle of milk thrown at her in between running laps around the front yard or a clean diaper before playing horsies or spinning. Forget story time or any kind of one-on-one time. This kid won’t even know what a book is. She probably won’t be able to read until she’s twenty at the rate I’m going. It breaks my heart because I was reading to my first born in utero and all the second born heard were reruns of Sesame Street, the never-ending whine of her older sister, and me shushing the whining. Granted, that’s all she still hears.

Everything is so different than before. There’s just no time. No time to sit still and read. No time to sit. No time to still. Definitely no time to read.

My guilt goes beyond reading though. The first one got professional photos done, four different sessions at 3.6.9. and 12 months. We have enough to wallpaper the house.

Professional shoot

Professional shoot

The second one got pictures at JC Penny…once.

See what I mean?

See what I mean?

While they’re still as cute, there’s just no comparison. The first one got all brand-spanking new clothes while the second one gets all her hand-me-downs, stains and all. The first one’s baby book is nearly done while the second one’s is completely blank. She’s 8 months, people. Eight months!

The first one will get to do everything before the second, while she watches from the sidelines. All the second one gets is shushed during nap time because she’ll wake up her sister with her squeals and then everyone pays the price. I never thought I could get frustrated with a baby–surely I’m a monster. Of course I love her with all my heart, but like I said, it’s different this time.

It’s too bad we can’t all be first borns or better yet, only children. I understand a little of why my own mummy will defend her first born tooth and nail They’re the cherished ones, the ones that got the best of us, or maybe the worst of us because we had no clue what we were doing and we have to defend them if anything but to save ourselves. Now I’ve just gone cross-eyed.

My only hope is that they’ll be BFFs, balancing each other out and when it comes time to split up my jewelry collection they won’t kill each other.

Lesson Learned

Posted in Babies, Comedy, Daughters, Family, Humor, Mommy Blog, Parenting, Writing by

3 men

Remember in Three Men & a Baby when the grandma says, “I think she did a doodle?” when referring to the baby having a poopy diaper? Well, I wonder what she would call a volcano of poo erupting out of the top of a baby’s diaper? A doozle? A poozy? A whole lotta shit? This is what I found myself wondering as I placed my messy, squirmy baby in the back of my car as we were parked in the middle of the library parking lot. I didn’t know what to call this explosion of doo doo. All I knew was that it was everywhere.

It was our first visit to story time today. I was a little apprehensive, wondering if my toddler would behave and sit through it. I gave her the benefit of the doubt and heard my hubby’s voice in the back of my head saying she needs to be around more kids, so I committed to going. We arrived just at 11. As with most children’s activities, things tend to start a few minutes late while moms and kids straggle in. Not story time, they are prompt. Of course.

Hurriedly, I parked the car and threw my baby in the Bjorn before getting the big one out. We high-tailed it into the library where the librarian was already reading the first book. We quietly sat down in the back. Ok, I sighed, we made it. Two seconds later my daughter was shouting that she wanted a bean bag. So an understanding dad handed one down the line for us. Phew. Crisis averted.

Then I smelled it.

The little one had shat herself. And boy did it stink. There was another mom sitting close by and I inwardly winced, hoping she couldn’t smell the ripeness coming from our corner. A squeal of delight from the little one–who isn’t so proud and happy after pooping out their entire insides? Six sets of eyes turned to look at us. I smiled politely and tried to distract her. So I took her out of the Bjorn and that’s when I realized it wasn’t just a poopy diaper. It was a poo geyser and it was raining down on me.

Meanwhile, the big one started pulling books from the nearby shelves, exclaimed that her sister was “6 months” when really she’s 7 months going on 8, and took her sandals off. The librarian wasn’t even finished with the first book and I needed to leave already. But if I tried to leave, the big one would suffer a Chernobyl meltdown and then I’d follow suit and everyone would laugh at me.

So what did I do? Waited until the librarian went through the first book, sang a dang song about owls where everyone introduced themself, then read a second book about owls. The big one listened for five seconds at a time before pulling out more books and whining off and on. It was a complete disaster.

When she finished the book, she explained it was craft time and the kids could make little owls out of pine cones. They were very cute and I was bummed we couldn’t make one, but I had to change the little one. She’d sat in it too long as it was. So I went to put the big one’s sandals back on her but somehow they had poop on them. How, I had no idea. So she couldn’t wear them, she’d track it through the library. I had the little one pressed against my chest, hoping no one could tell she was oozing poop and I half-dragged the big one out to the car with no shoes on her feet. Mom of the year status.

Oh yeah, cause I failed to mention that the diaper bag was still in the car. What would I need with it when we were only going to a 20 minute story time?

Luckily, the big one didn’t have a meltdown about leaving.

At the back of the car, I threw the big one in and set the little one down to notice that I had poop all over my shirt, my hands, the big one’s shoes, and probably my hair, not to mention the baby! I smelled like a porta-potty at the fair. Makes me gag just thinking about it.

After what seemed like forever, I finally got everything and everyone cleaned off just as the parents and kids started making their way out of the library holding their little owls. Damnit, that would’ve looked cute on the windowsill.

So to salvage what ended up being a horrific first story time, we went to the park to look for squirrels. The big one was happy about that and the little one was happy to be clean and I was just happy to be out of that tiny, smelly room.

We’ll give it a go again next week. A little bit of poo will not stop this mummy. But you better believe I’m taking my hulking diaper bag in with me.