Today is my last post participating in Momalom's 5 for 10. The topic is "Yes." Have you ever considered how many job descriptions a woman takes on when she says "yes" to becoming a mother?
At work I was instructed I needed to update my resume. My resume! A lot has happened in the past three years! So I sat there at my computer screen wondering: Can I add that I have changed over 10,000 diapers? Birthed two heads more lethal than a wrecking ball? Contained more poopie eruptions than an active volcano—in the car, the middle of Target, and in (deep sigh) the bathtub! Functioned as a human tissue? Tamed more temper tantrums than a human resources manager, boxing referee, and zookeeper combined! Perhaps it is time to create a new resume of my own! One that applies to all us mommies out there. Ahem, here we go:
MY MOMMY RESUME
CONTACT: Find me anywhere you hear or see children; sometimes I wear them too.
EDUCATION
University of Real Life, Toddlerland
BA, Birthing Another
MA, Mothering Another
PHD, Praying hard daily, how else do you survive the BA and MA?
HONORS/AWARDS Finalist in the Semi Annual “My Baby Can Scream Louder Than Yours So-Please-Help-Me Jesus contest”; The Nursing-Mother’s “So This is What it’s Like to be a Cow” Award; “I’ve Sniff Bottoms More Frequently than a Custom’s Canine” First Place; “My Baby’s Head is a Lethal Weapon and I Survived Sleeping Next to it” Honorable Mention; Qualified to join the “I Abused my Diaper Bag to the Point it Exploded” Club. I write my own awards.
EXPERIENCE
Chief Household Officer (CHO), To see a full list of my daily responsibilities click HERE.
Hazmat Specialist, I consistently identify, quarantine, and properly dispose of more hazardous waste in one week than an entire hazmat team in a year.
Translator, I am fluent and proficient in translating Toddlerese.
Teacher, my curriculum widely covers everything from the basics to those deep questions in life such as: “What’s that?” “Where did it come from?” and “Why Mommy?”
Personal Chef, I not only prepare and serve three meals a day, but snack times too.
Stylist, this includes everything from hair to socks and clothing. In addition I have had to give several lessons in what NOT to wear to my 2YO including the “No, we don’t wear a bathing suit over our dress” and “No, we don’t wear our Dora-the-Explorer Costume to church.”
On-Call Nurse, I’m told my kisses aid in the healing booboos
Professional Gift Wrapper, my clients specialize in making their own unique “presents” multiple times daily. I excel at quickly, and carefully wrapping these gifts with many layers of plastic one handed, and sometimes at night with only one eye open, all while holding my breath for very long periods of time.
Potty Training Doula, I’ve coached my patients in birthing more poopies, than a pediatrics ward has babies.
Driver & Tour Guide, encouraging safety first, I personally lift each client into his/her seat and assist them getting their entire body strapped into the car all while serenading them with many popular songs, such as “Twinkle little start,” though out the drive. I even narrate and give detailed descriptions of the various locations we pass through.
Wrestler, how else do you suppose I would get my youngest opponent diapered, bathed, dressed, and fed?
Heavy Weight Lifting Champion, yes, that’s what I call someone who functions throughout the day while carrying two human beings under each arm pit, keeping in mind that after the first five minutes, everything becomes heavy.
Surgeon and Real-life “Operation Game” Champion, who needs that game of Operation when one can extract play dough, Cheerios, penne pasta, and crayons out of a moving target’s nose—This brings the careful navigation of a surgeon’s swift steady hand to a whole new level.
Personal Shopper, in addition to helping my clients choose the best products on the market, my clients enjoy a joy ride being pushed in the top front of the shopping cart.
Professional Entertainer, I write my own music, performing original songs for all daily activities such as “This is how we wash our hands” and “This is how we get strapped in the car.”
Story Telling Specialist, I can recite “Brown Bear” and “Good Night Gorilla” by heart, backwards, forwards, and in my sleep. That’s what happens when you’re asked to tell the same story over and over and over again.
Dental Hygienist, while brushing my patients teeth, offer two flavors of tooth paste, including the fluoride free bubble gum and fruit punch, I even sing the “this is how we brush our teeth song” to my patients!
Photographer, I capture that perfect shot of my clients. Yes, I do just about anything to get them to smile, including bribery, praise, and making a complete utter fool out of myself.
Inventor, I have used the diaper wipe to do all things, everything from wiping bottoms, noses, cleaning stains of carpets, shirts, cleaning the couch, to cleaning the baseboards of the house to functioning as earplugs. Desperate moments call for creative measures.
House Cleaner, it’s a tough job but somebody’s got to do it.
Police Officer, I excel at giving warnings, I’m the Time-Out enforcer, and have been told my facial expressions alone instill the fear of God in the disobedient.
Personal Coach, I give more encouragement and stickers than Santa Clause presents.
Dry Cleaner, While I do wash, dry, fold, and put away all the laundry, I do NOT do the actual dry cleaning; I just drop it off. Hey, I guess I can’t be all things to all people after all. You can’t say yes all the time. Just don't tell my italian Granmother this, and we'll all be just fine ; )
SPECIAL TALENTS
Multitasking Expert, I can nurse a baby while talking on the phone, updating my facebook status, sipping sweet tea, changing the channel on the TV, and chasing after my 2YO—all at the same time.
Mr Poopie Assailant
Have anything to add to the list above? Please share.
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Posted by Laura
Showing posts with label badge of motherhood. Show all posts
Showing posts with label badge of motherhood. Show all posts
May 19, 2010
May 13, 2010
Trapped in the Mommy Zone: Confessions of a Working Mom
It was an interesting day at the office: my diaper bag (laptop carrier) exploded. The copy machine malfunctioned. I found myself attempting to speak in code to my husband by spelling in front of adults who can spell! That’s of course after finding myself speaking to clients in not so cute toddlerease. Woops.
Sometimes it’s hard shifting gears from the home to office. Sometimes even though I’m away from my kids my mind is trapped in the Mommy zone! Let’s go through the list of embarrassing moments that I’m sure many working moms have experienced at one point or another.
You Know You’re Trapped in the Mommy Zone When . . .
1.) Your diaper bag also functions as a laptop carrier, briefcase, lunch box, makeup bag, and finally, after jamming in every last necessity, the lip-gloss, the hand sanitizer, the wipes, a change of clothes for baby boy, the animal crackers, it explodes in the car! Of course there is no time to run in the house and get a new bag, so what do you do? You carry this massive “briefcase” all day long as though it were a clutch on steroids.
2.) You nearly get pulled over while on the way to work because there was barely enough time to get dressed let alone drink coffee and you are now just plain delirious. You wonder if there is such a thing as a DWC? Driving without Caffeine.
3.) After dropping off the kids and driving to work, you’re is still listening to that horrendous CD of nursery rhymes that toddler requests to hear on repeat, until you realize: I can have quiet now. Why am I still listening to this!
4.) At the office your once sophisticated vocabulary now takes on an unprofessional and completely inappropriate cutesy baby talk. At random points throughout the day, you unintentionally begin talking to your co-workers/employees as though they were your dear 2YO at home, saying things like: “Excuse me while I go do peepee in the potty!” or “Oopsie-daisey! The copy machine is jammed again!” Or “The client canceled; how stinkey-winkey!” Of course your mouth drops in horror as these words are coming out of your mouth. But it is too late. You sound like an idiot.
5.) You felt so good about that nice blouse (especially since it took you all morning to find one that fit), until mid day, after several meetings, a well-meaning client tells you a bird has crapped on your shirt. You run to the “potty” to check it out only to discover it was no bird but your own baby who secretly vurped a clumpy loogie down your shoulder! After composing your embarrassed self, you return to your meeting, pretending not to be utterly humiliated and attempt cursing those “darn birds!”—but it’s not even that cool, because you’re still in the mommy zone and even though you say it in a dramatic angry tone, the words that come out of your mouth are more like: “Those silly-billy-gumdrop birds!”
But at the end of the day, driving back to pick up the kids and head home, you realize whether you’re staying at home or out at the office, every job has its moments. Some are embarrassing. Exhausting. Happy. Horrible. Hilarious. And some are just plain wonderful. Like when finally, you go to the door to pick up your kids and there are the two biggest smiles you’ve ever seen saying, “Mamma! Mamma! I missed you!” Yup, every job has its moments.
What are your Mommy Zone moments?
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Posted by Laura
Sometimes it’s hard shifting gears from the home to office. Sometimes even though I’m away from my kids my mind is trapped in the Mommy zone! Let’s go through the list of embarrassing moments that I’m sure many working moms have experienced at one point or another.
You Know You’re Trapped in the Mommy Zone When . . .
1.) Your diaper bag also functions as a laptop carrier, briefcase, lunch box, makeup bag, and finally, after jamming in every last necessity, the lip-gloss, the hand sanitizer, the wipes, a change of clothes for baby boy, the animal crackers, it explodes in the car! Of course there is no time to run in the house and get a new bag, so what do you do? You carry this massive “briefcase” all day long as though it were a clutch on steroids.
2.) You nearly get pulled over while on the way to work because there was barely enough time to get dressed let alone drink coffee and you are now just plain delirious. You wonder if there is such a thing as a DWC? Driving without Caffeine.
3.) After dropping off the kids and driving to work, you’re is still listening to that horrendous CD of nursery rhymes that toddler requests to hear on repeat, until you realize: I can have quiet now. Why am I still listening to this!
4.) At the office your once sophisticated vocabulary now takes on an unprofessional and completely inappropriate cutesy baby talk. At random points throughout the day, you unintentionally begin talking to your co-workers/employees as though they were your dear 2YO at home, saying things like: “Excuse me while I go do peepee in the potty!” or “Oopsie-daisey! The copy machine is jammed again!” Or “The client canceled; how stinkey-winkey!” Of course your mouth drops in horror as these words are coming out of your mouth. But it is too late. You sound like an idiot.
5.) You felt so good about that nice blouse (especially since it took you all morning to find one that fit), until mid day, after several meetings, a well-meaning client tells you a bird has crapped on your shirt. You run to the “potty” to check it out only to discover it was no bird but your own baby who secretly vurped a clumpy loogie down your shoulder! After composing your embarrassed self, you return to your meeting, pretending not to be utterly humiliated and attempt cursing those “darn birds!”—but it’s not even that cool, because you’re still in the mommy zone and even though you say it in a dramatic angry tone, the words that come out of your mouth are more like: “Those silly-billy-gumdrop birds!”
But at the end of the day, driving back to pick up the kids and head home, you realize whether you’re staying at home or out at the office, every job has its moments. Some are embarrassing. Exhausting. Happy. Horrible. Hilarious. And some are just plain wonderful. Like when finally, you go to the door to pick up your kids and there are the two biggest smiles you’ve ever seen saying, “Mamma! Mamma! I missed you!” Yup, every job has its moments.
What are your Mommy Zone moments?
Like my blog? Support my blog by voting for me clicking to the right of this post. You can vote once a day. We’re #2 in humor. Become a follower, leave a comment, share the love.
Posted by Laura
May 5, 2010
Womb for Rent? Baby Wants His Bachelor Pad!
Distorted sleeping arrangements while on a family vacation led me to a teeny tiny bed where I attempted to snuggle up to a wild baby boy who was dreaming of fighting a war and mommy was trapped in the battle! Thus came my guest post yesterday at Mommy Monologues on the hazards of sleeping with baby. But there is one more baby sleep fantasy yet to be exposed. And this is a big one. I didn’t realize it until the last night of our vacation . . .
All through a sleepless night baby boy was hacking a cough all over me. So I turned my back to him in efforts to inhale a clean breath of phlegm-free air. What does he do? He gets into fetal position and digs his feet into my back. I try sliding over a bit to give my myself more room, but he’s inching closer and closer, pressing his pointy toes deeper and deeper into my spine until I’m almost falling off the edge of the bed. I think to myself, “Child, you can’t climb back in my uterus that way!” and that is when the revelation struck me: baby is attempting what is perhaps the greatest baby sleep fantasy of all—crawling back into that perfect warm place of his beginnings. Surely and steadily, baby's plotting to find a way to make mommy’s womb once again open for rent!
Think about it! Why is it that once baby is born he’s suddenly slurping spit up on Mommy’s new blouse, shrieking at pitches that just might pop an ear drum, exploding poop across a room at forces that just might dent the walls! It’s time to face the facts, ladies! Baby don’t like the cold, stark, new housing arrangements, and he’s trying to make mommy miserable enough to reverse that 9-month-eviction policy. He’s got plans of his own.
Consider this: For 9 months, baby had the perfect bachelor pad! There was no need to put forth so much effort to move when you're floating in weightlessness. Oh the ambiance was just perfect: no harsh noises, no blinding lights, the perfect warm temperature comparable to that of laying in the sun at the beach, but even better! No need for sunscreen. No need for scratchy clothes. Nothing to disturb his sleep. To top it off, it was a place that never needing cleaning or cooking or where he had to eat that yucky baby jar food, or worse, encounter random big-headed people with bad breath who invade his personal space and say things like, “My what chubby cheeks you have!” or “My, aren’t you gassy!” and “Oh look at that little cone head!” Baby had 9 months of freedom! There were no rules, no interruptions, no invasion of privacy, no cold wipes, and there definitely wasn’t that unending list of a mommy’s most frequently used word--NO! He goes from complete independence to being told when to eat, sleep, what to wear, and where to poop! Surely life was better BEFORE that catastrophic day when an earthquake sent him sliding and gliding out of his home! (And don’t we all wish it was as easy as that sounds!)
Let’s face it Mommies, can you blame baby? The problem lies in the fact that Mommy's womb is just plain AWESOME! Mommy’s womb was the ultimate jungle gym that he could climb the walls by simply rotating in circles without ever falling. Mommy’s womb was the ferris wheel at the fair that would go round and round but—no tickets needed. Mommy’s womb was the spa, a whirlpool of soothing warm water without a time limit or needing to leave a tip! Mommy’s womb was an unending adventure, where he could swing on that umbilical cord, playing Tarzan, King Kong, and Spiderman all in the same day! Mommy’s womb even came equipped with its own surround sound system and proved to not only be a comfy home but a really awesome ride--no need to pay for fuel--that's Mommy's job. Finally, the best part of Mommy’s womb was that it meant being constantly closest to Mommy; cause after all, he might be the smallest love bug, but he's surely is your greatest fan.
So, Mommies, baby wants the bachelor pad back and yes, it’s the greatest hindrance to our sleep but its also one of the greatest compliments in life! Had we not done such a great job growing a human being in our bellies for 9 months, packing on those extra pounds of loving, enduring stretch marks, nausea, fatigue, swelling, aches, a complete body transformation, and of course all those well-meaning-but-rude remarks about how cute you look when you waddle, baby might not want to go back to the place of his roots. And so, be forewarned before you try snuggling with baby: he’s gonna try to move back in and will do a number on your stats in sleep deprivation. Well, there’s only one way to fight this ultimate baby fantasy: just give it some more time--oh, it's that painful word--PATIENCE! Soon enough, baby's gonna realize it’s even better being in your arms, sitting on your lap, feeling your kisses, and staring into your warm eyes. When that day comes you just might get your sleep! But (sigh) you know what comes next. The desire for independence isn't going away. Before you know it he’ll be (gasp!) going off to college seeking a place of his own! On that day, Mommy just might wonder if he can earn his degree while still swinging from that umbilical cord--rent free!
Comments anyone?
Thanks for your continued voting for me in the top mommy blogs by clicking right of this post. We’re #2 in humor.
Posted by Laura
All through a sleepless night baby boy was hacking a cough all over me. So I turned my back to him in efforts to inhale a clean breath of phlegm-free air. What does he do? He gets into fetal position and digs his feet into my back. I try sliding over a bit to give my myself more room, but he’s inching closer and closer, pressing his pointy toes deeper and deeper into my spine until I’m almost falling off the edge of the bed. I think to myself, “Child, you can’t climb back in my uterus that way!” and that is when the revelation struck me: baby is attempting what is perhaps the greatest baby sleep fantasy of all—crawling back into that perfect warm place of his beginnings. Surely and steadily, baby's plotting to find a way to make mommy’s womb once again open for rent!
Think about it! Why is it that once baby is born he’s suddenly slurping spit up on Mommy’s new blouse, shrieking at pitches that just might pop an ear drum, exploding poop across a room at forces that just might dent the walls! It’s time to face the facts, ladies! Baby don’t like the cold, stark, new housing arrangements, and he’s trying to make mommy miserable enough to reverse that 9-month-eviction policy. He’s got plans of his own.
Consider this: For 9 months, baby had the perfect bachelor pad! There was no need to put forth so much effort to move when you're floating in weightlessness. Oh the ambiance was just perfect: no harsh noises, no blinding lights, the perfect warm temperature comparable to that of laying in the sun at the beach, but even better! No need for sunscreen. No need for scratchy clothes. Nothing to disturb his sleep. To top it off, it was a place that never needing cleaning or cooking or where he had to eat that yucky baby jar food, or worse, encounter random big-headed people with bad breath who invade his personal space and say things like, “My what chubby cheeks you have!” or “My, aren’t you gassy!” and “Oh look at that little cone head!” Baby had 9 months of freedom! There were no rules, no interruptions, no invasion of privacy, no cold wipes, and there definitely wasn’t that unending list of a mommy’s most frequently used word--NO! He goes from complete independence to being told when to eat, sleep, what to wear, and where to poop! Surely life was better BEFORE that catastrophic day when an earthquake sent him sliding and gliding out of his home! (And don’t we all wish it was as easy as that sounds!)
Let’s face it Mommies, can you blame baby? The problem lies in the fact that Mommy's womb is just plain AWESOME! Mommy’s womb was the ultimate jungle gym that he could climb the walls by simply rotating in circles without ever falling. Mommy’s womb was the ferris wheel at the fair that would go round and round but—no tickets needed. Mommy’s womb was the spa, a whirlpool of soothing warm water without a time limit or needing to leave a tip! Mommy’s womb was an unending adventure, where he could swing on that umbilical cord, playing Tarzan, King Kong, and Spiderman all in the same day! Mommy’s womb even came equipped with its own surround sound system and proved to not only be a comfy home but a really awesome ride--no need to pay for fuel--that's Mommy's job. Finally, the best part of Mommy’s womb was that it meant being constantly closest to Mommy; cause after all, he might be the smallest love bug, but he's surely is your greatest fan.
So, Mommies, baby wants the bachelor pad back and yes, it’s the greatest hindrance to our sleep but its also one of the greatest compliments in life! Had we not done such a great job growing a human being in our bellies for 9 months, packing on those extra pounds of loving, enduring stretch marks, nausea, fatigue, swelling, aches, a complete body transformation, and of course all those well-meaning-but-rude remarks about how cute you look when you waddle, baby might not want to go back to the place of his roots. And so, be forewarned before you try snuggling with baby: he’s gonna try to move back in and will do a number on your stats in sleep deprivation. Well, there’s only one way to fight this ultimate baby fantasy: just give it some more time--oh, it's that painful word--PATIENCE! Soon enough, baby's gonna realize it’s even better being in your arms, sitting on your lap, feeling your kisses, and staring into your warm eyes. When that day comes you just might get your sleep! But (sigh) you know what comes next. The desire for independence isn't going away. Before you know it he’ll be (gasp!) going off to college seeking a place of his own! On that day, Mommy just might wonder if he can earn his degree while still swinging from that umbilical cord--rent free!
Comments anyone?
Thanks for your continued voting for me in the top mommy blogs by clicking right of this post. We’re #2 in humor.
Posted by Laura
Baby Sleep Fantasies Exposed: The Dangers of Sleeping with Baby
Today I'm really excited to share that I will be guest posting for a great mommy blogging friend of mine, Kate @ mommy monologues. Kate, like me, is relatively new to the blogging world and has already built herself quite a following. Can you blame us? She's hillarious, encouraging, entertaining, and honest! Not to mention proof that you CAN make real mommy friends in the bloggy world, even when you fear stalkers.
So please, go there and comment! Share the love. My post is about exposing the dangers of sleeping with baby. And no, I'm not talking about the dangers to baby! Sleeping with baby can be a real Hazard to MOMMY! That's something the doctor failed to warn me about. That's something that I learned new dangers while forced to share a bed with the toddlers while on vacation at the beach last week. I really have some battle wounds to show for myself now! Click here to find out my TOP FIVE LIST!
Thanks again Kate for the opportunity to share such an important warning on your blog!
Posted by Laura
So please, go there and comment! Share the love. My post is about exposing the dangers of sleeping with baby. And no, I'm not talking about the dangers to baby! Sleeping with baby can be a real Hazard to MOMMY! That's something the doctor failed to warn me about. That's something that I learned new dangers while forced to share a bed with the toddlers while on vacation at the beach last week. I really have some battle wounds to show for myself now! Click here to find out my TOP FIVE LIST!
Thanks again Kate for the opportunity to share such an important warning on your blog!
Posted by Laura
May 1, 2010
Confessions of a Nursaholic
So I'm on vacation at the beach when baby boy comes down with a bad ear infection. Stop the world, stop the partying! It's time for Melodramommy to enter back into the place she most dreads: (gasp!) Urgent Care. All was great and dandy in the waiting room: we sat on the furthest side of the room away from the possible germ carrying other patients, and after an HOUR wait, we were called into our own private room. Could life get any better? YES! The nurse gave us a toy truck for baby boy that he could keep. (I had to swipe it away when she wasn't looking so it could undergo proper sterilization methods back at home) and then she even gave him a cherry ice pop to suck on while waiting for the doctor. I was so impressed, with all sincerity, I was going to write a post about how AWESOME this place was, how maybe I was wrong about my take on Urgent Cares ... UNTIL the doctor walked in.
"So your baby is just over a year old?" She smirks at me.
"fifeteen months." I answer.
"AND, How long did you breastfeed him for?" Assuming that I breastfed him, and I did. But why the assumptions.
"Ten months." I answer, feeling ever so proud of that fact that I lasted that long, considering he got his teeth in at FOUR months.
THAT is when she says the UNBELIEVABLE! THE UNIMAGINABLE! THE, WHY-DON'T-YOU-SLAP-ME-IN-THE-FACE-SINCE-YOU'RE-BEING-JUST-AS-OFFENSIVE Response.
"Well, Mommy, it's too bad you couldn't have lasted nursing him 6 more weeks. It would have provided more health benefits for him and it probably would have helped him to not get this infection."
WHAT! WHAT! Did she really just say that to me. That's when I wanted to get my NY accent on and fire at her, "EXCUSE ME! I said, EXCUSE ME. ARE YOU TAWKING TO ME!"
At the moment, I chose to compose myself and contain my offense and just get her to care for my sick baby. That was a mistake that I will post more about later. But for now, in honor of all my nursing mom friends, who have either nursed before, are nursing now, or are yet to nurse AND when you encounter people like this doctor who are completely IGNORANT of the pain you when through and have ZERO appreciation or understanding the sacrifice it takes to offer this gift to a child .... THIS POST IS FOR YOU : ) And yes, I debated for a while now if I should post this confession because it describes pretty much everything a nursing mom goes through, but after the offensive encounter in the face of such ignorance, I feel it has to be shared.
CONFESSIONS OF A NURSAHOLIC
There's no doubt that nursing your baby is a wonderful and unique experience that has incredible health benefits for both baby and mommy. But let's face it, good things usually come at a cost. For all you nursing mothers out there who know exactly what I'm talking about, we can surely toast a bottle of bosom's milk to the melodramommy's journey in breastfeeding.
You attend your first nursing class and feel ever so ridiculous holding a scary Chucky-like hospital doll to your bosom in order to "practice" feeding positions.
Yet, in order to practice your nursing positions upon returning home from class, because you certainly don't own a scary Chucky hospital doll, you instead grab your 1980's Rainbow Bright doll that your well-meaning mother saved in her attic for over 25 years waiting to give it to you so you could pass it on to your child, and you practice, practice, practice.
The big day happens. Finally, baby is born. You pop baby on that booby only to discover you CAN'T remember the proper nursing position that you spent so much time practicing. And, it doesn’t even matter because you are enjoying one of the sweetest moments of your life.
In comes the requested lactation specialist who presses her cold hands on baby's face and your boob. Emphasis on cold. Her advice helps.
A day or a few days pass. Your milk comes in and you are suddenly an instant Victoria Secret Model. You welcome with enthusiasm this surgery-free enhancement--anything that will better balance and deter away from the sagging, still very prominent, NONpregnant belly. That is until you get home and realize that pretty much all of your tops are either too tight, too low, or too complicated for nursing.
Ice packs, warm presses, nursing covers, nipple shields, lalolin cream, nursing pads, nursing bra, nursing pillow, nursing pillow cover, gel pads, a breast pump, breast milk storage bags, and a nursing book. Thank God for baby showers!
Nipple shields! What type of name is that anyway! You can't figure out what to do with those and wonder if they are in fact some evolved medieval torture device.
Well, off to the stores to buy a nursing bra. Yes, you need to get re-fitted and upon doing so, you're astonished to discover how many cup sizes you've indeed blossomed. It’s like going through puberty all over again. Oh the sacrifices of a nursing mom. WAIT! There's actually a cup size for that letter of the alphabet.
Then it happens, maybe at first, maybe hours or days later, baby latches on WRONG. Your nails grip and nearly pop that boppy pillow, and you shriek so loud you startle baby. Baby cries. You both cry. With a deep breath you try to sooth baby and ask God to soothe you.
Discomfort. You establish new rules with hubby: there simply is NO sharing in babyland.
You pump your first eight ounces, shrug your shoulders, and realize, "So THIS is what it feels like to be a cow."
And then, you finally get into the swing of things. You're suddenly a nursing pro. You don't even need your nursing pillow, nursing pillow cover, the lanolin cream, or the gel pads. You can nurse with one hand. You can nurse walking around the house. You can even nurse in your sleep!
Baby is growing. Baby is happy. You're happy. You're losing weight. You definitely don't feel guilty eating that hot fudge sunday because you frequently remind yourself of the fact that nursing burns an extra 500 to 1,000 calories every day. So Super-size me! Life is good.
Baby has his first growth spurt. You think, yes, baby, you can nurse as much as you want as long as you continue to suck that fat off my thighs, my rear, my belly, etc.
Then one day, baby discovers the world around him and you. You're in the middle of nursing and a sound, be it the phone, the doorbell, daddy, the TV, OR no apparent reason at all and baby jerks off that boob to explore the world around him but forgets to detach himself! To say that is NOT a fun moment would be an understatement. You are NOT amused.
Another growth spurt. You nurse and nurse and nurse.
Then it happens. Daddy delights in spotting his son's first pearly whites, exclaiming, “isn’t this Awesome!” You respond: "NO, I am NOT excited about little "Chomper's" teeth growing in early any more than YOU would be skinny dipping in a lake full of piranhas!"
You are soon to discover your other child/children attempting to "nurse" her/their baby doll(s)---or in my case her stuffed cat! Funny, but sweet.
You become the ultimate at multi-tasking in that you finally manage to nurse baby hands free so that while nursing you simultaneously can be talking on the phone, yelling at toddler, sipping a glass of ice water with one hand, updating your facebook status with your other hand, and of course, using your big toe to reach the TV remote to change the channel.
Well, in spite of it all, that day comes when it is finally time to wean your little one, who now isn't so little anymore. You have that first sniff of a NONbreastmilk poopie and exhale thinking, WHAT THE HECK IS THAT! Then, it's the middle of the night when baby awakes hungry and your drag your bare feet on the cold floor across the house to the kitchen to heat up a bottle--they're dirty. You wash it. Your out of formula! No, not a trip to Walmart now! Perhaps, the grass is greener--or shall I say---the milk is sweeter on the other side of the teat!
And yet, when all is said and done, you find your heart forever savors that special bond created through all those tender moments; from those midnight warm soft touches, to the early morning snuggles under cotton sheets, you'll never forget that sweet smell on your little one's breath or the melodic sounds of his soft suckling. You retire the breast pump, give away your nursing cover, nursing pillow, and nursing pillow cover. And, while you're in the middle of burning all those horrid nursing bras, you realize breastfeeding wasn't just about feeding baby. It was a journey into perhaps the sweetest exchange of giving and receiving love.
Thanks for voting for me 1x per day by clicking to the right of this post.
Posted by Laura
"So your baby is just over a year old?" She smirks at me.
"fifeteen months." I answer.
"AND, How long did you breastfeed him for?" Assuming that I breastfed him, and I did. But why the assumptions.
"Ten months." I answer, feeling ever so proud of that fact that I lasted that long, considering he got his teeth in at FOUR months.
THAT is when she says the UNBELIEVABLE! THE UNIMAGINABLE! THE, WHY-DON'T-YOU-SLAP-ME-IN-THE-FACE-SINCE-YOU'RE-BEING-JUST-AS-OFFENSIVE Response.
"Well, Mommy, it's too bad you couldn't have lasted nursing him 6 more weeks. It would have provided more health benefits for him and it probably would have helped him to not get this infection."
WHAT! WHAT! Did she really just say that to me. That's when I wanted to get my NY accent on and fire at her, "EXCUSE ME! I said, EXCUSE ME. ARE YOU TAWKING TO ME!"
At the moment, I chose to compose myself and contain my offense and just get her to care for my sick baby. That was a mistake that I will post more about later. But for now, in honor of all my nursing mom friends, who have either nursed before, are nursing now, or are yet to nurse AND when you encounter people like this doctor who are completely IGNORANT of the pain you when through and have ZERO appreciation or understanding the sacrifice it takes to offer this gift to a child .... THIS POST IS FOR YOU : ) And yes, I debated for a while now if I should post this confession because it describes pretty much everything a nursing mom goes through, but after the offensive encounter in the face of such ignorance, I feel it has to be shared.
CONFESSIONS OF A NURSAHOLIC
There's no doubt that nursing your baby is a wonderful and unique experience that has incredible health benefits for both baby and mommy. But let's face it, good things usually come at a cost. For all you nursing mothers out there who know exactly what I'm talking about, we can surely toast a bottle of bosom's milk to the melodramommy's journey in breastfeeding.
You attend your first nursing class and feel ever so ridiculous holding a scary Chucky-like hospital doll to your bosom in order to "practice" feeding positions.
Yet, in order to practice your nursing positions upon returning home from class, because you certainly don't own a scary Chucky hospital doll, you instead grab your 1980's Rainbow Bright doll that your well-meaning mother saved in her attic for over 25 years waiting to give it to you so you could pass it on to your child, and you practice, practice, practice.
The big day happens. Finally, baby is born. You pop baby on that booby only to discover you CAN'T remember the proper nursing position that you spent so much time practicing. And, it doesn’t even matter because you are enjoying one of the sweetest moments of your life.
In comes the requested lactation specialist who presses her cold hands on baby's face and your boob. Emphasis on cold. Her advice helps.
A day or a few days pass. Your milk comes in and you are suddenly an instant Victoria Secret Model. You welcome with enthusiasm this surgery-free enhancement--anything that will better balance and deter away from the sagging, still very prominent, NONpregnant belly. That is until you get home and realize that pretty much all of your tops are either too tight, too low, or too complicated for nursing.
Ice packs, warm presses, nursing covers, nipple shields, lalolin cream, nursing pads, nursing bra, nursing pillow, nursing pillow cover, gel pads, a breast pump, breast milk storage bags, and a nursing book. Thank God for baby showers!
Nipple shields! What type of name is that anyway! You can't figure out what to do with those and wonder if they are in fact some evolved medieval torture device.
Well, off to the stores to buy a nursing bra. Yes, you need to get re-fitted and upon doing so, you're astonished to discover how many cup sizes you've indeed blossomed. It’s like going through puberty all over again. Oh the sacrifices of a nursing mom. WAIT! There's actually a cup size for that letter of the alphabet.
Then it happens, maybe at first, maybe hours or days later, baby latches on WRONG. Your nails grip and nearly pop that boppy pillow, and you shriek so loud you startle baby. Baby cries. You both cry. With a deep breath you try to sooth baby and ask God to soothe you.
Discomfort. You establish new rules with hubby: there simply is NO sharing in babyland.
You pump your first eight ounces, shrug your shoulders, and realize, "So THIS is what it feels like to be a cow."
And then, you finally get into the swing of things. You're suddenly a nursing pro. You don't even need your nursing pillow, nursing pillow cover, the lanolin cream, or the gel pads. You can nurse with one hand. You can nurse walking around the house. You can even nurse in your sleep!
Baby is growing. Baby is happy. You're happy. You're losing weight. You definitely don't feel guilty eating that hot fudge sunday because you frequently remind yourself of the fact that nursing burns an extra 500 to 1,000 calories every day. So Super-size me! Life is good.
Baby has his first growth spurt. You think, yes, baby, you can nurse as much as you want as long as you continue to suck that fat off my thighs, my rear, my belly, etc.
Then one day, baby discovers the world around him and you. You're in the middle of nursing and a sound, be it the phone, the doorbell, daddy, the TV, OR no apparent reason at all and baby jerks off that boob to explore the world around him but forgets to detach himself! To say that is NOT a fun moment would be an understatement. You are NOT amused.
Another growth spurt. You nurse and nurse and nurse.
Then it happens. Daddy delights in spotting his son's first pearly whites, exclaiming, “isn’t this Awesome!” You respond: "NO, I am NOT excited about little "Chomper's" teeth growing in early any more than YOU would be skinny dipping in a lake full of piranhas!"
You are soon to discover your other child/children attempting to "nurse" her/their baby doll(s)---or in my case her stuffed cat! Funny, but sweet.
You become the ultimate at multi-tasking in that you finally manage to nurse baby hands free so that while nursing you simultaneously can be talking on the phone, yelling at toddler, sipping a glass of ice water with one hand, updating your facebook status with your other hand, and of course, using your big toe to reach the TV remote to change the channel.
Well, in spite of it all, that day comes when it is finally time to wean your little one, who now isn't so little anymore. You have that first sniff of a NONbreastmilk poopie and exhale thinking, WHAT THE HECK IS THAT! Then, it's the middle of the night when baby awakes hungry and your drag your bare feet on the cold floor across the house to the kitchen to heat up a bottle--they're dirty. You wash it. Your out of formula! No, not a trip to Walmart now! Perhaps, the grass is greener--or shall I say---the milk is sweeter on the other side of the teat!
And yet, when all is said and done, you find your heart forever savors that special bond created through all those tender moments; from those midnight warm soft touches, to the early morning snuggles under cotton sheets, you'll never forget that sweet smell on your little one's breath or the melodic sounds of his soft suckling. You retire the breast pump, give away your nursing cover, nursing pillow, and nursing pillow cover. And, while you're in the middle of burning all those horrid nursing bras, you realize breastfeeding wasn't just about feeding baby. It was a journey into perhaps the sweetest exchange of giving and receiving love.
Thanks for voting for me 1x per day by clicking to the right of this post.
Posted by Laura
April 22, 2010
How Many Miles Mommy Walks a Day: The Answer
So the question is how many miles and steps does a mom of toddlers walk in a day? Let’s think this through: from that moment just after sunrise when the alarm sounds, and yes, I’m referring to a very cute alarm clock that prances in the room with a princess dress, a tiara, and little warm hands that yank at the covers as a sweet voice rings anything from: “I wanna cuddle with you!” or “I leeeeeeaked!” or (to the tune of "Jingle Bells") "Raisin Bran! Raisin Bran! I want Raisin Bran," that is when the mad-race begins.
Let’s review a typical day’s not-so-brief checklist of events:
Dream someone is poking you. But wait, this is no dream! Pry eyes open. Unsuccessfully ask Toddler to go back to sleep. Numerous pokes later ...
Put toddler-girl on the potty. Wipe, get her new pull up or panties. Wash hands!
Get baby boy. Hold breath while changing poopie diaper. Dispose of diaper somewhere far far away out of sight and smell—aka, the garage. Wash hands again!
Bring both children downstairs. Holding toddler girl’s hand and carrying baby boy while counting the steps down.
Brew coffee.
Put boy in high chair and give him a bottle.
Give Toddler girl juice and make and serve breakfast.
Sit on the couch, sip coffee, and stare at the wall (a most important task that is constantly interrupted with numerous requests)
Wash baby boys face and hands.
Clear table.
Wash high chair tray, seat, and crumbs on floor so baby boy doesn’t eat them later.
Unload dishwasher from last night.
Kiss Daddy Goodbye.
Another potty visit for Toddler girl.
Toddler girl requests art time. Get her set up while chasing baby boy around who still walks like Frankenstein but is so much cuter.
Bring both kids upstairs.
Brush teeth of all who have teeth.
Get baby boy dressed for day. Don't forget the hair gel!
Get toddler girl dressed for day. Get the detangling spray!
Chase after Toddler girl who stole the lipgloss.
Get self dressed while chasing baby boy who wants to put his hands around the potty seat or eat plant dirt or touch the TV or pull down the shades or climb the gate … you get the picture.
Oh No. Toddler girl is trying to use potty by herself but was unsuccessful wiping!
Wow, and that’s all before 9:00 A.M.
So fast forward a bit more: 10:30 A.M. Baby boy goes down for nap, while mommy has toddler girl play with playdough as Mommy cooks dinner (this is a new thing I’m trying on my days off from work where I cook dinner in the morning cause I’m waaaaay too exhausted by 5:00 P.M.),
Suddenly, it's time for lunch. Get baby boy. change diaper. Prepare something. serve food. Repeat the meal cycle. oh, yeah! Mommy needs to eat too--but eats standing up while cleaning up the mess from cooking dinner and lunch!
Play with both kids, folded a load of laundry, administer several time outs, chase after baby boy who wants to crawl up the steps, into the cabinets, and eat a book or a shoe or some foreign matter under the couch. Have chat with toddler girl: that yes, we should share; but NO don’t share any cheese with baby boy!
Nap time-only for baby boy. Toddler girl is making lots of requests to play. Mommy encourages her to have quiet time in her room but for some reason Mr. Poopie attempts to make an appearance right around this time. Will a mother ever get to sit down?
Finally a moment of peace. A Moment of free time comes and goes. Oh, it is time for snacks. Yes, let's watch some "Baby Can Read" so mommy can wake up from the nap she never took.
Add a Target run or a short walk to the neighborhood playground.
A bathroom break for mommy, when be careful, the unexpected is bound to happen (a later post shall explain.)
Oh My! Daddy is home! Another adult to talk to!
Have kids greet Daddy in Greek! It makes his day.
Repeat the cycle for Dinner! YAY! Family dinner time is one of Mommy's favorite times of the day!
Clean up a big mess while Daddy plays with kids OR while daddy cleans mess and mommy lays down. Daddy is awesome like that!
Perhaps a stroll to the park or just stay at home playing with kids as a family.
Bath time, Reading time, Bed time!
Mommy and Daddy perform the famous tucking in. Mommy can hear the hallelujah chorus as the children finally drift off to wonderland.
8:00P.M. Mommy looks at a monstrous pile of laundry that gnarls at her from across the family room, but she cannot fathom folding anything right now. She cannot fathom doing anything at all. Mommy is comatose. Daddy is comatose too.
11:00 P.M. And the pedometer reads: 14,881 steps and 7.03 Miles. SEVEN MILES! What, what! Seven Miles! That's a whole lot of walking in diapers, potty training, and mommyland for one day. I've done this now for three consecutive days, nothing out of the ordinary. They are all reading just shy of 15,000 steps! Wow! No wonder this mother be-ith tired.
Working Moms: Aside from working at home in the evenings, I work as a copywriter at the office two days a week. On those days, even though I sit mostly at work in front of a computer writing, it is the hours before and after work that I am pressured to get even more done than a typical day because of all the required preparations for two kids and the house. Thus, today, for example, a day in the office the pedometer read 9,303 steps and 4.39 miles. So working moms, you too should pat yourself on the back cause not only are you working hard all day, but you are getting extreme amount of steps before and after work to do the juggling act you do.
And now, I am reminded of my Italian Grandmother, who after a long day working and then pruning the rose bushes, would collapse in the recliner and gasp a loud bellowing cry, "E'MADONE (that's Italian for Oh, Mother of God) I'M-A DEAD-A!" Yes, dead is how I feel too, Grandma. Good thing like-it-or-not, resurrection comes in the morning.
Please keep the votes coming! You can vote 1x per day by clicking right to this post. We are almost ranked in the top 25 over all in the top mommy blogs and are the #2 humor blog.
Posted by Laura
Let’s review a typical day’s not-so-brief checklist of events:
Dream someone is poking you. But wait, this is no dream! Pry eyes open. Unsuccessfully ask Toddler to go back to sleep. Numerous pokes later ...
Put toddler-girl on the potty. Wipe, get her new pull up or panties. Wash hands!
Get baby boy. Hold breath while changing poopie diaper. Dispose of diaper somewhere far far away out of sight and smell—aka, the garage. Wash hands again!
Bring both children downstairs. Holding toddler girl’s hand and carrying baby boy while counting the steps down.
Brew coffee.
Put boy in high chair and give him a bottle.
Give Toddler girl juice and make and serve breakfast.
Sit on the couch, sip coffee, and stare at the wall (a most important task that is constantly interrupted with numerous requests)
Wash baby boys face and hands.
Clear table.
Wash high chair tray, seat, and crumbs on floor so baby boy doesn’t eat them later.
Unload dishwasher from last night.
Kiss Daddy Goodbye.
Another potty visit for Toddler girl.
Toddler girl requests art time. Get her set up while chasing baby boy around who still walks like Frankenstein but is so much cuter.
Bring both kids upstairs.
Brush teeth of all who have teeth.
Get baby boy dressed for day. Don't forget the hair gel!
Get toddler girl dressed for day. Get the detangling spray!
Chase after Toddler girl who stole the lipgloss.
Get self dressed while chasing baby boy who wants to put his hands around the potty seat or eat plant dirt or touch the TV or pull down the shades or climb the gate … you get the picture.
Oh No. Toddler girl is trying to use potty by herself but was unsuccessful wiping!
Wow, and that’s all before 9:00 A.M.
So fast forward a bit more: 10:30 A.M. Baby boy goes down for nap, while mommy has toddler girl play with playdough as Mommy cooks dinner (this is a new thing I’m trying on my days off from work where I cook dinner in the morning cause I’m waaaaay too exhausted by 5:00 P.M.),
Suddenly, it's time for lunch. Get baby boy. change diaper. Prepare something. serve food. Repeat the meal cycle. oh, yeah! Mommy needs to eat too--but eats standing up while cleaning up the mess from cooking dinner and lunch!
Play with both kids, folded a load of laundry, administer several time outs, chase after baby boy who wants to crawl up the steps, into the cabinets, and eat a book or a shoe or some foreign matter under the couch. Have chat with toddler girl: that yes, we should share; but NO don’t share any cheese with baby boy!
Nap time-only for baby boy. Toddler girl is making lots of requests to play. Mommy encourages her to have quiet time in her room but for some reason Mr. Poopie attempts to make an appearance right around this time. Will a mother ever get to sit down?
Finally a moment of peace. A Moment of free time comes and goes. Oh, it is time for snacks. Yes, let's watch some "Baby Can Read" so mommy can wake up from the nap she never took.
Add a Target run or a short walk to the neighborhood playground.
A bathroom break for mommy, when be careful, the unexpected is bound to happen (a later post shall explain.)
Oh My! Daddy is home! Another adult to talk to!
Have kids greet Daddy in Greek! It makes his day.
Repeat the cycle for Dinner! YAY! Family dinner time is one of Mommy's favorite times of the day!
Clean up a big mess while Daddy plays with kids OR while daddy cleans mess and mommy lays down. Daddy is awesome like that!
Perhaps a stroll to the park or just stay at home playing with kids as a family.
Bath time, Reading time, Bed time!
Mommy and Daddy perform the famous tucking in. Mommy can hear the hallelujah chorus as the children finally drift off to wonderland.
8:00P.M. Mommy looks at a monstrous pile of laundry that gnarls at her from across the family room, but she cannot fathom folding anything right now. She cannot fathom doing anything at all. Mommy is comatose. Daddy is comatose too.
11:00 P.M. And the pedometer reads: 14,881 steps and 7.03 Miles. SEVEN MILES! What, what! Seven Miles! That's a whole lot of walking in diapers, potty training, and mommyland for one day. I've done this now for three consecutive days, nothing out of the ordinary. They are all reading just shy of 15,000 steps! Wow! No wonder this mother be-ith tired.
Working Moms: Aside from working at home in the evenings, I work as a copywriter at the office two days a week. On those days, even though I sit mostly at work in front of a computer writing, it is the hours before and after work that I am pressured to get even more done than a typical day because of all the required preparations for two kids and the house. Thus, today, for example, a day in the office the pedometer read 9,303 steps and 4.39 miles. So working moms, you too should pat yourself on the back cause not only are you working hard all day, but you are getting extreme amount of steps before and after work to do the juggling act you do.
And now, I am reminded of my Italian Grandmother, who after a long day working and then pruning the rose bushes, would collapse in the recliner and gasp a loud bellowing cry, "E'MADONE (that's Italian for Oh, Mother of God) I'M-A DEAD-A!" Yes, dead is how I feel too, Grandma. Good thing like-it-or-not, resurrection comes in the morning.
Please keep the votes coming! You can vote 1x per day by clicking right to this post. We are almost ranked in the top 25 over all in the top mommy blogs and are the #2 humor blog.
Posted by Laura
How Many Miles Does Mommy Walk in a Day?
How Many Miles Does a Mother Walk a Day? The Pedometer reading says …
Come over to my house around 8:00 P.M. and you’ll see a not-so-pretty sight: a woman with frazzled hair (sorry, it was either make-up OR hair today not both), a greasy forehead (hey, I’m Italian and hoping it will later pay off with fewer wrinkles but in the mean time, pass me the proactive bottle) and a shirt with special markings decorated by tiny fingers as her lifeless body melts into a couch with her arm and legs spilling over the edges—but she doesn’t have the strength to clean herself up. In fact, it takes all the energy in the world for her to simply lift her nail-chipped finger and press down on that TV remote to change the channel. Why is she so tired? After all it’s only 8.P.M.
So I bought myself a good ole pedometer to wear through the day to see why is it that at only 8 P.M. after having just put the kids to bed, I am lying there lifeless on the couch. I mean, I used to train for marathons (only one but the plural sounded better), work out all the time, and have energy after a long day’s work teaching to conquer the world—one student at a time even if only in my dreams. Now, I’m struggling to simply conquer the massive piles of laundry. Either I am getting old OR could it be that I am walking more miles per day than I did in my college years or professional life as a teacher?
Let’s take a step into a mommy’s world where the daily-to-do-list meets a pedometer and mommy meets self-validation. Let’s review all that a Mommy of toddlers or little ones does, exhale with great awe and amazement, and pat ourselves on the back even if just mentally cause the strength isn’t there at the moment. After all, don’t athletes pause and look at their trophies or olympians wear their gold metals? I may not have a monument, but I surely have a monumental pile of diapers that I individually unfolded, wiped, and wrapped one-handed! I may not have made it to the gym, but my barbells weigh 30 and 24 pounds each and require lifting every hour on the hour--and they kiss me when I do! After all, doesn’t everyone need a pat on the back and recognition for a job that may not always get the visibility or appreciation it deserves … but is certainly one of the most important of all—being entrusted with the task of raising the next generation!
Come back tomorrow to find out the pedometer reading and miles tracked. I will also include my checklist of tasks!
Also consider this your invitation to join with me. Go out and get a pedometer and lets encourage eachother together. I've been tracking my results. And let me say, they will astound you! We mommies are doing more than we think!
Don't forget to enter our Thirty-One Purse Giveaway which ends tomorrow!!
Thanks for voting. We are almost ranked in the top 25 over all in the top mommy blogs and are the #2 humor blog.
Posted by Laura
Come over to my house around 8:00 P.M. and you’ll see a not-so-pretty sight: a woman with frazzled hair (sorry, it was either make-up OR hair today not both), a greasy forehead (hey, I’m Italian and hoping it will later pay off with fewer wrinkles but in the mean time, pass me the proactive bottle) and a shirt with special markings decorated by tiny fingers as her lifeless body melts into a couch with her arm and legs spilling over the edges—but she doesn’t have the strength to clean herself up. In fact, it takes all the energy in the world for her to simply lift her nail-chipped finger and press down on that TV remote to change the channel. Why is she so tired? After all it’s only 8.P.M.
So I bought myself a good ole pedometer to wear through the day to see why is it that at only 8 P.M. after having just put the kids to bed, I am lying there lifeless on the couch. I mean, I used to train for marathons (only one but the plural sounded better), work out all the time, and have energy after a long day’s work teaching to conquer the world—one student at a time even if only in my dreams. Now, I’m struggling to simply conquer the massive piles of laundry. Either I am getting old OR could it be that I am walking more miles per day than I did in my college years or professional life as a teacher?
Let’s take a step into a mommy’s world where the daily-to-do-list meets a pedometer and mommy meets self-validation. Let’s review all that a Mommy of toddlers or little ones does, exhale with great awe and amazement, and pat ourselves on the back even if just mentally cause the strength isn’t there at the moment. After all, don’t athletes pause and look at their trophies or olympians wear their gold metals? I may not have a monument, but I surely have a monumental pile of diapers that I individually unfolded, wiped, and wrapped one-handed! I may not have made it to the gym, but my barbells weigh 30 and 24 pounds each and require lifting every hour on the hour--and they kiss me when I do! After all, doesn’t everyone need a pat on the back and recognition for a job that may not always get the visibility or appreciation it deserves … but is certainly one of the most important of all—being entrusted with the task of raising the next generation!
Come back tomorrow to find out the pedometer reading and miles tracked. I will also include my checklist of tasks!
Also consider this your invitation to join with me. Go out and get a pedometer and lets encourage eachother together. I've been tracking my results. And let me say, they will astound you! We mommies are doing more than we think!
Don't forget to enter our Thirty-One Purse Giveaway which ends tomorrow!!
Thanks for voting. We are almost ranked in the top 25 over all in the top mommy blogs and are the #2 humor blog.
Posted by Laura
April 8, 2010
When Mommy Becomes a Human Tissue
We’re going on 9 straight days of leaking noses in my house. Yesterday, thanks to the AC breaking, I grabbed a T-shirt and shorts to stay cool; they happened to both be black. At the end of the day, I looked at myself in the mirror and was surprised to see silvery iridescent slime streaks across my black shirt that glowed in the florescent bathroom lighting—like slug trails illuminating on the sidewalk under moonlight. Yes, my children had left their marks on Mommy. Those hugs and squeezes were really the strategic wiping of drips on Mommy’s shirt; why use a tissue when you can hug Mommy and wipe your nose at the same time!
Well, not today! I thought. Because today I was going to work with Daddy. The kids were dropped at Grandma’s house while Mommy actually got to fix her hair, do her make-up, and wear a nice black dress, and remember what she used to look like before chasing around Mr. Poopie with the wipe all day long. Well, in returning home from work this afternoon, 2YO runs up to me to give me a big hug.
“Mommy! Mommy!” She comes running, clearly with something sweet to tell me. What would she say? Would it be the “I missed you” or “I love you, Mommy.” No, today it was going to be something extra special—I could tell by that look in her eyes. I call her to sit on my lap when she whips out that little pointer finger a few inches from my face and with both a sense of delight and great pride declares, “I have boogie on my fin-ga, Mommeeee!”
And there it was, this decrepit yellow shrivel, perched out and gripping on for dear life. I could almost hear it hissing: “Go ahead, tell her to put me in a tissue. You'll regret it!”
Now what could this ug-laaay little booger do to me? So in spite of the threats I say, “NO, we don’t pick our noses, let’s get a tissue.” Well, before the words are even out of my mouth, Toddler-girl is shoving that finger in her mouth! “Oh, nooooooooo!” I cry, with disgust. I don't know how, but that boogie enticed my poor child to taste it! “NO, We don’t eat boogies---“ and before I can finish my sentence, 2YO does what in her mind is the next best practical idea, pull it out of her mouth and immediately wipe it on Mommy’s knee! So, there I am with this elongated booger stretched out several inches across my bare knee in the shape of a V as though it were claiming “victory” over me. That was when I looked down and realized . . . I have become a human tissue! Yet another thing to add to the list of having earned my badge in motherhood.
Thanks for voting for me in the Top mommy blogs. You can vote 1x a day by clicking to the right of this post.
Posted by Laura
Well, not today! I thought. Because today I was going to work with Daddy. The kids were dropped at Grandma’s house while Mommy actually got to fix her hair, do her make-up, and wear a nice black dress, and remember what she used to look like before chasing around Mr. Poopie with the wipe all day long. Well, in returning home from work this afternoon, 2YO runs up to me to give me a big hug.
“Mommy! Mommy!” She comes running, clearly with something sweet to tell me. What would she say? Would it be the “I missed you” or “I love you, Mommy.” No, today it was going to be something extra special—I could tell by that look in her eyes. I call her to sit on my lap when she whips out that little pointer finger a few inches from my face and with both a sense of delight and great pride declares, “I have boogie on my fin-ga, Mommeeee!”
And there it was, this decrepit yellow shrivel, perched out and gripping on for dear life. I could almost hear it hissing: “Go ahead, tell her to put me in a tissue. You'll regret it!”
Now what could this ug-laaay little booger do to me? So in spite of the threats I say, “NO, we don’t pick our noses, let’s get a tissue.” Well, before the words are even out of my mouth, Toddler-girl is shoving that finger in her mouth! “Oh, nooooooooo!” I cry, with disgust. I don't know how, but that boogie enticed my poor child to taste it! “NO, We don’t eat boogies---“ and before I can finish my sentence, 2YO does what in her mind is the next best practical idea, pull it out of her mouth and immediately wipe it on Mommy’s knee! So, there I am with this elongated booger stretched out several inches across my bare knee in the shape of a V as though it were claiming “victory” over me. That was when I looked down and realized . . . I have become a human tissue! Yet another thing to add to the list of having earned my badge in motherhood.
Thanks for voting for me in the Top mommy blogs. You can vote 1x a day by clicking to the right of this post.
Posted by Laura
March 3, 2010
You've Earned Your Badge in Mommyhood When ...
I'm sure many mothers can identify with the following statements. Of course, all of these were personally inspired by my very own toddlers.
You have earned your badge in mommyhood when …
1.) You find yourself eating the regurgitated crumbs your toddler spit out and slopped into your hand, while out on a walk, because you didn’t have time to eat breakfast and what else were you supposed to do with it. The though of that being semidisgusting, if ever occurring, is of course only a brief afterthought.
2.) At the end of the day you realize you’re styling a bouffant, almost as awesome as your 80s bangs. But that’s what happens when you’re running around for 13 hours, wiping bottoms and noses, sometimes both at the same time, saying do this, don’t do that, put this back on, wipe this off, come back here, and look at mommy when she’s talking to you.”
3.) Privacy is a luxury of the past because to a toddler it may even seem a wonderful thought to give mommy a hug while she herself is on the potty.
4.) You qualify to enter the 2009 "My Baby Can Scream Louder than Yours So Help Me Jesus" Contest.
5.) While holding new baby, some ignorant but well meaning, old man points to your post baby bump and asks you, “When are you due?” And you somehow fake a smile and politely respond that your not, but walk away secretly debating if you should clobber him with your diaper bag.
6.) You are officially fluent in toddlerese: example: “I no Yike it. Too Bicey! PON peeease. Mommy nice!” really translates to: “Dearest Mother, my young, delicate palate is having difficulty savoring this robust spice on this delectable chicken, but would you be so kind as to instead, please pass the gray poupon! And by the way, I aspire to grow up to look just like you because you’re the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen.”
7.) You wake up one day and realize you have been monitoring the frequency, consistency, and color of another human being’s poops!
8.) You have accepted the fact that some days the fact that the house has not yet burned down is an accomplishment of itself.
9.) You’ve had at least one phone conversation that goes something like: “Sorry Mr. Police Officer, 911 Operator, Neighbor, person on speed dial # 4, etc. It was my toddler that somehow called you. I deeply apologize. Yes, everything is okay.”
10.) In spite of mommyhood being the hardest job you've ever endured, you wouldn't have it any other way.
Posted by Laura
Posted by Laura
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