An instant.
That’s all it takes.
You mommies out there know EXACTLY what I’m talking about.
That’s all it took this morning . . .
I woke up tired but became stressed when I discovered baby boy had a fever and Toddler girl royally woke up on the wrong side of her bed. It was a work day for me to head to the office—bad news: daddy would not be able to help get the kids ready or drop them off. More bad news—my hair was drenched in coconut oil that the night before I had brilliantly decided to sleep in for an extra special but now very inconvenient hair treatment. So, I showered while baby boy sipped his bottle in his crib and I continuously rubbed the steam off the shower door to keep a close eye on Toddler girl who was attempting to squeeze the entire contents of a lip-gloss tube and use it as a facial moisturizer.
Well, things can’t be that bad. Right? Right? That’s what I thought as I loaded the kids into the car. I strapped baby boy in first. He was screaming for his bottle. Then I lifted Toddler girl into the car and tell her to sit in her car seat and wait. She actually usually always listens. I’d be right back to strap her in. All I had to do was walk 10 feet from the garage to the hallway side table where I had left his bottle. But, a lot can happen in 30 seconds.
The hand sanitizer. That bottle that I had placed in the front seat JUST yesterday so I would remember to pack it in my bag—was not on the seat when I returned! It was suddenly in the back seat! And Toddler girl was climbing back into her seat, revealing she was up to something.
"What did you just do?" I asked Toddler girl, only for her to tell me she thought she would “wash” her baby brother’s face with it! "YOU DID WHAT!" It was smeared on his cheeks—and feet! He just sat there, the innocent victim, amused by the tingly cool sensation and the attention. The problem?
Just a few months ago I was forwarded an email warning that children can ingest hand sanitizer—all it takes is a few drops--and get poisoned from it. Since then I have been so extremely careful to keep it all out of their reach. (It's an interesting article to read and one to take into consideration.) Until now!
That feeling of dread weighed down in the pit of my stomach and intoxicated my mind, my heart, my body with fear. What if Baby boy got some sanitizer in his mouth? What if he’s poisoned? So I frantically investigated him head to toe—thankfully it didn’t appear so. I further interrogated Toddler girl—things were aligning. He appeared safe. But, the fact that Baby boy was already a bit lethargic with his fever only made me feel more anxiety that perhaps, no it couldn’t, but could it be that he got a drip on his mouth! My mind said he was completely fine. But my emotions ... well, if you didn't read the post about my brief hallucination of how Toddler girl's fall at the playground led to her detached arm, you should, and then imagine how much more I am freaking out in this moment.
Thankfully that was not the case. Baby boy was fine. I am EXTREMELY thankful and relieved. This was another learning experience--I have since banished the hand sanitizer from the car. And, I have resolved to NEVER leave Toddler girl in the car unstrapped---until she is 18! I wonder if they make car seats big enough for teenagers? And, by the way, I did have to leave work early and bring baby boy to the doctor—thankfully it was not a return of his ear infection, but just a virus. Though I’m hoping it’s only teething.
So overall, Thursday, gets the award for my most stressful day of the week. And that's a good thing, because it means tomorrow can only get better. Right? Right! Happy Friday Everyone : ) Hoping it’s a peaceful start to a great weekend for you all.
Do you have hand sanitizer in your car or diaper bag? If not where do you keep it? OR what do you use to fend off the germs.
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Posted by Laura
Showing posts with label mommyhood. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mommyhood. Show all posts
May 21, 2010
May 19, 2010
A Mommy's Work Resume
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
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.
Like my blog? Support me by voting by clicking right, follow me on twitter, and come back!
Posted by Laura
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 11, 2010
When Mommy NEEDS to Burn the Stir Fry
Click here for the post on courage.
Yesterday evening right as I was sautéing some vegetable stir-fry for dinner, Toddler girl comes up to me from across the room and says, “Mamma, I yuv you! I yuv you cause you’re my best friend.”
Isn’t it amazing the way one self-initiated sweet word from your child has the power to freeze time while melting your heart. One sweet word that touches Mommy’s love button that she didn’t even know was there cause its tucked somewhere deep in her heart; and, when she hears those simple words of gratitude she’s feels her heart fill up with so much joy it’s bursting up out of her chest with a fiery passion until she’s melting into the kitchen floor—well at least that’s what I do cause, yes, I am melodramommy here.
Well, in a moment like that, you forget you’re stressed, or that you woke up thinking there was a tarantula crawling across your face. You forget all the exhaustion it took to get to that moment. In that instant, you’re not even thinking about the vegetables that need to be stirred, the chicken that needs to be flipped, the diaper that needs to be changed, the high chair that needs to be wiped, or the hands that need to be washed—again! You’re thinking: Oh how I’ve waited for this moment! How I waited 9 months, plus a year of nursing (per child), plus years of poop explosions, messes, five bouts of the stomach flu, petrifying visits to urgent care, temper tantrums to the 10th degree, Oh how I’ve waited for THIS moment. You think that every time those sweet words kiss your face because every time it’s just as sweet as the first time.
So mommies out there, especially the newer ones, when your going through those crazy days like the ones listed above, just know you have moments like these to look forward to. Believe it or not, as exhausting, overwhelming, relentless and fatiguing that some days caring for children can be, hearing your little one initiate on their own big, “I love you, Mommy” while wrapping their little arms around your waist, makes you forget how much effort it took to get there—at least for a few minutes.
So, when your sweet moment arrives, one that always feels like it’s the sweetest moment of your life, SOAK it all up. Drink it. Marinate in that moment of love. The vegetable stir-fry can wait even if it does turn a little black in the process.
What moments most melt your heart?
Like my blog? Support me by voting to the right of this post. You can vote 1x per day. And, become a follower. Thanks!
Posted by Laura
Yesterday evening right as I was sautéing some vegetable stir-fry for dinner, Toddler girl comes up to me from across the room and says, “Mamma, I yuv you! I yuv you cause you’re my best friend.”
Isn’t it amazing the way one self-initiated sweet word from your child has the power to freeze time while melting your heart. One sweet word that touches Mommy’s love button that she didn’t even know was there cause its tucked somewhere deep in her heart; and, when she hears those simple words of gratitude she’s feels her heart fill up with so much joy it’s bursting up out of her chest with a fiery passion until she’s melting into the kitchen floor—well at least that’s what I do cause, yes, I am melodramommy here.
Well, in a moment like that, you forget you’re stressed, or that you woke up thinking there was a tarantula crawling across your face. You forget all the exhaustion it took to get to that moment. In that instant, you’re not even thinking about the vegetables that need to be stirred, the chicken that needs to be flipped, the diaper that needs to be changed, the high chair that needs to be wiped, or the hands that need to be washed—again! You’re thinking: Oh how I’ve waited for this moment! How I waited 9 months, plus a year of nursing (per child), plus years of poop explosions, messes, five bouts of the stomach flu, petrifying visits to urgent care, temper tantrums to the 10th degree, Oh how I’ve waited for THIS moment. You think that every time those sweet words kiss your face because every time it’s just as sweet as the first time.
So mommies out there, especially the newer ones, when your going through those crazy days like the ones listed above, just know you have moments like these to look forward to. Believe it or not, as exhausting, overwhelming, relentless and fatiguing that some days caring for children can be, hearing your little one initiate on their own big, “I love you, Mommy” while wrapping their little arms around your waist, makes you forget how much effort it took to get there—at least for a few minutes.
So, when your sweet moment arrives, one that always feels like it’s the sweetest moment of your life, SOAK it all up. Drink it. Marinate in that moment of love. The vegetable stir-fry can wait even if it does turn a little black in the process.
What moments most melt your heart?
Like my blog? Support me by voting to the right of this post. You can vote 1x per day. And, become a follower. Thanks!
Posted by Laura
May 9, 2010
What Mom Taught Me: Courage Redefined
On Mother’s Day I can’t help but think about what a huge influence my mom has had on the person I have become today. It wasn’t just the things she said growing up, but the way she constantly taught me through her example. Through her actions she has taught me that it doesn’t take being the loudest person in the room to have a strong influence; nor is influence limited to one’s career. My mom has taught me influence comes from the way you live your life, the way you love people, and the way you serve others.
Knowing what a huge influence my mom has had on me, gives me new hope for the impact I can make on my children. So, I thought I’d write a poem about what my mom's life example has taught me:
I used to think this was courage:
OR if I could do a great heroic act, rescuing my children from harm, would that make me courageous?
My mom has taught me something else. So what is courage?
“Courage Redefined”
Courage is a powerful choice
Only sometimes expressed through voice.
It doesn’t come outwardly from strength or size.
Courage comes from the depths inside.
Courage is choosing to love
In the face of rejection.
Choosing to serve
Without recognition.
Choosing to be generous
Without expecting gratitude.
Choosing to influence
Even by your attitude.
Choosing to forgive
When you can’t understand.
Choosing to do right
When it’s not a demand.
Refusing to quit
After failure and loss.
Asking for help
When carrying your cross.
Courage is giving of yourself
Without all the guarantees.
And that is what my mom has taught me.
Happy Mother’s Day to all you courageous mommies out there!
Posted by Laura
Knowing what a huge influence my mom has had on me, gives me new hope for the impact I can make on my children. So, I thought I’d write a poem about what my mom's life example has taught me:
I used to think this was courage:
OR if I could do a great heroic act, rescuing my children from harm, would that make me courageous?
My mom has taught me something else. So what is courage?
“Courage Redefined”
Courage is a powerful choice
Only sometimes expressed through voice.
It doesn’t come outwardly from strength or size.
Courage comes from the depths inside.
Courage is choosing to love
In the face of rejection.
Choosing to serve
Without recognition.
Choosing to be generous
Without expecting gratitude.
Choosing to influence
Even by your attitude.
Choosing to forgive
When you can’t understand.
Choosing to do right
When it’s not a demand.
Refusing to quit
After failure and loss.
Asking for help
When carrying your cross.
Courage is giving of yourself
Without all the guarantees.
And that is what my mom has taught me.
Happy Mother’s Day to all you courageous mommies out there!
Posted by Laura
May 4, 2010
URGENT CARE-LESS: When the Doctor Wants to Wash Her Hands of Mommy
It was our last day of vacation when we rushed baby boy back to the Urgent Care doctor because he developed a rash while on antibiotics for his ear infection. I expected it NOT to be a big deal. YES, rashes and antibiotics can mean an allergic reaction to the medicine, which can be serious. The thing is, he developed the rash after being in the sun and it went away within 15 minutes of appearing—long enough for us to have noticed it, called the doc, and driven down the road to the Urgent care for what turned into a roller coaster ride of the unexpected.
By the time the doctor walked into the room, the rash was completely gone. Phew! It must have been the sun after-all. Well, the Urgent care Doctor had other thoughts:
The doctor walks in the room pressing her clipboard to her chest with crossed arms. She glares at me, with those same squinting, beady eyes that whipped me the day before when she arrogantly accused me of causing my son’s ear infection because I had stopped breastfeeding him at 10 months. Without even looking at our baby to see that the rash we called about was now gone, she declares in the most unsympathetic voice, “Your baby has a febrile illness and you need to take him to the ER!”
Febrile illness! What the heck is that! It sounded like some spinal disease that was life threatening. My heart contracted to the point of bursting in my chest.
“What is a febrile illness?” I manage to ask, taking a deep gasp of thick stale office air.
“A febrile illness is a fever!” She explains, rolling her eyes as though I am the most ignorant person on the planet.
“What!” I think. Why are you trying to throw a fancy medical term at me? Just say fever. Okay, I can breathe again. It is only a fever!
“SO, because your child has a febrile illness, you need to take him to the ER NOW” and she spins around ready to leave the room, her hair nearly slapping me in the face.
“Wait. I am confused. I was here yesterday, you diagnosed baby with an ear infection. He had a fever yesterday. We are here today because he had a rash, which went away 15 minutes after appearing. His fever is better today. So, why are you telling me to go to the ER?”
“You need the ER because of the febrile illness! He will need chest x-rays, blood cultures, urine screening. I cannot offer that here in urgent care.”
Then in her annoyance, she asks me, “Why don’t you want to take your sick child to the ER, Mommy!”
Why don’t I want to take my child to the ER! Surely this woman knows NOTHING about me. She hasn’t read this or this and she surely doesn’t know about my horror story of the night I had to spend in the ER last year when I had an emergency appendectomy—I’ll have to share more on that in a future post. Let’s just say they put me next to diarrhea man, with only a shower curtain separating our “rooms,” and yes, I had my infant with me because I was nursing him and had no stored breast milk, and yes, after the nurse goes in between both of our “rooms” they decide to quarantine him! AFTER coming into my room where I have a newborn infant with me. And NO there was NOT even a full wall of curtain separating us. I heard every groan he made, yes, you could smell everything, and all I could think was please let this virus NOT be airborne! Okay, breathe again. Let me compose myself here to continue …
So I reply to her politely but firmly: “I’m just not understanding what has changed since yesterday. You diagnosed him with an ear infection, which is why he had a fever. He’s on an antibiotic that was working fine. We only brought him in here because of the rash, but the rash went away, so it looks like it’s not a rash from the antibiotic because it left so suddenly. Also, unless it is absolutely necessary I like to avoid the ER because I don’t want to expose my child to more germs.”
“It is MY LEGAL, Professional, medical opinion, that you go to the ER,” she fires!
“But can you help me understand? I like to look at this as a point of learning because I also have a 2YO at home. So, they have fevers occasionally, as all children do. What warrants this situation, this fever, that I should take him to the ER?”
Well, that was the end of her explaining. Every other question that I asked was answered with the following broken record recording:
“It is MY LEGAL, Professional, medical opinion, that you go to the ER.”
“It is MY LEGAL, Professional, medical opinion, that you go to the ER.”
“It is MY LEGAL, Professional, medical opinion, that you go to the ER.”
Then, at the end of our discussion, she changes her mind and says that instead of going to the ER she will call the nearest pediatrician for us to bring baby to that office instead.
Translation: I’m having second guesses on my diagnosis. So go to the ER or at least somewhere else so we can ensure nothing goes wrong and you don’t sue me. No, I don’t know what I’m talking about. But if you continue to ask more questions I will continue to use the term “febrile illness” as though it is tuberculosis or cancer and will continue to make you feel like a lazy mother who just wants to avoid the inconvenience of taking her sick baby to the ER while on her vacation.
So what happens? Everything in me is telling me that for whatever reason she has decided to freak out on me and doesn’t want to be held responsible if she made a mistake somewhere and is telling me to go elsewhere so she can wash her hands of the situation. My motherly instinct says baby is completely fine. The rash went away, just go home: his fever is even gone now, rash is gone, he’s doing well on antibiotics, so go home and enjoy the last day of your beach vacation. BUT, the mind and emotions don’t always come into alignment. In my emotions I’m in complete turmoil. I mean a doctor is telling me to go to the ER, shouldn’t I listen? Surely I don’t know better than a doctor!
So, we end up driving 30 minutes away into the next town to the nearest pediatrician office that the Urgent care doctor set up for us to meet with. What does the pediatrician say?
He says baby boy is FINE! The ear infection is a nasty one, but just keep on with the antibiotics because it is helping. NO, pediatrician says, the rash was NOT a reaction to the antibiotics because if it were it would have lasted longer. It wouldn’t have disappeared within 15 minutes, especially because the antibiotic baby is on is one that stays in one’s system for days. So if he were really having an allergic reaction it would still be going on. Well, what about the urine cultures or chest x-rays? Pediatrician says NOT necessary. Because baby is on antibiotics even if they did a urine or blood culture it would come up negative because he’s on antibiotics, so there wouldn’t be any bacteria.
So as it turns out, the best way to freak out your urgent care doctor is to bring your baby back the day after she prescribed an antibiotic to treat baby’s ear infection and tell her your baby has a rash. But, now, be forewarned, because the doctor will reciprocate the favor, freaking out Mommy by demanding that you take baby to the ER to get treated for blood tests, urine cultures, and chest x-rays. Well, that is if you have the doctor we saw.
What’s your urgent care horror story? What would you have done?
Thanks for your continued voting for me in the top mommy blogs. We’re a few votes shy of being in the top 25 overall and are the #2 humor blog. So, keep the votes coming, 1 per day.
Posted by Laura
By the time the doctor walked into the room, the rash was completely gone. Phew! It must have been the sun after-all. Well, the Urgent care Doctor had other thoughts:
The doctor walks in the room pressing her clipboard to her chest with crossed arms. She glares at me, with those same squinting, beady eyes that whipped me the day before when she arrogantly accused me of causing my son’s ear infection because I had stopped breastfeeding him at 10 months. Without even looking at our baby to see that the rash we called about was now gone, she declares in the most unsympathetic voice, “Your baby has a febrile illness and you need to take him to the ER!”
Febrile illness! What the heck is that! It sounded like some spinal disease that was life threatening. My heart contracted to the point of bursting in my chest.
“What is a febrile illness?” I manage to ask, taking a deep gasp of thick stale office air.
“A febrile illness is a fever!” She explains, rolling her eyes as though I am the most ignorant person on the planet.
“What!” I think. Why are you trying to throw a fancy medical term at me? Just say fever. Okay, I can breathe again. It is only a fever!
“SO, because your child has a febrile illness, you need to take him to the ER NOW” and she spins around ready to leave the room, her hair nearly slapping me in the face.
“Wait. I am confused. I was here yesterday, you diagnosed baby with an ear infection. He had a fever yesterday. We are here today because he had a rash, which went away 15 minutes after appearing. His fever is better today. So, why are you telling me to go to the ER?”
“You need the ER because of the febrile illness! He will need chest x-rays, blood cultures, urine screening. I cannot offer that here in urgent care.”
Then in her annoyance, she asks me, “Why don’t you want to take your sick child to the ER, Mommy!”
Why don’t I want to take my child to the ER! Surely this woman knows NOTHING about me. She hasn’t read this or this and she surely doesn’t know about my horror story of the night I had to spend in the ER last year when I had an emergency appendectomy—I’ll have to share more on that in a future post. Let’s just say they put me next to diarrhea man, with only a shower curtain separating our “rooms,” and yes, I had my infant with me because I was nursing him and had no stored breast milk, and yes, after the nurse goes in between both of our “rooms” they decide to quarantine him! AFTER coming into my room where I have a newborn infant with me. And NO there was NOT even a full wall of curtain separating us. I heard every groan he made, yes, you could smell everything, and all I could think was please let this virus NOT be airborne! Okay, breathe again. Let me compose myself here to continue …
So I reply to her politely but firmly: “I’m just not understanding what has changed since yesterday. You diagnosed him with an ear infection, which is why he had a fever. He’s on an antibiotic that was working fine. We only brought him in here because of the rash, but the rash went away, so it looks like it’s not a rash from the antibiotic because it left so suddenly. Also, unless it is absolutely necessary I like to avoid the ER because I don’t want to expose my child to more germs.”
“It is MY LEGAL, Professional, medical opinion, that you go to the ER,” she fires!
“But can you help me understand? I like to look at this as a point of learning because I also have a 2YO at home. So, they have fevers occasionally, as all children do. What warrants this situation, this fever, that I should take him to the ER?”
Well, that was the end of her explaining. Every other question that I asked was answered with the following broken record recording:
“It is MY LEGAL, Professional, medical opinion, that you go to the ER.”
“It is MY LEGAL, Professional, medical opinion, that you go to the ER.”
“It is MY LEGAL, Professional, medical opinion, that you go to the ER.”
Then, at the end of our discussion, she changes her mind and says that instead of going to the ER she will call the nearest pediatrician for us to bring baby to that office instead.
Translation: I’m having second guesses on my diagnosis. So go to the ER or at least somewhere else so we can ensure nothing goes wrong and you don’t sue me. No, I don’t know what I’m talking about. But if you continue to ask more questions I will continue to use the term “febrile illness” as though it is tuberculosis or cancer and will continue to make you feel like a lazy mother who just wants to avoid the inconvenience of taking her sick baby to the ER while on her vacation.
So what happens? Everything in me is telling me that for whatever reason she has decided to freak out on me and doesn’t want to be held responsible if she made a mistake somewhere and is telling me to go elsewhere so she can wash her hands of the situation. My motherly instinct says baby is completely fine. The rash went away, just go home: his fever is even gone now, rash is gone, he’s doing well on antibiotics, so go home and enjoy the last day of your beach vacation. BUT, the mind and emotions don’t always come into alignment. In my emotions I’m in complete turmoil. I mean a doctor is telling me to go to the ER, shouldn’t I listen? Surely I don’t know better than a doctor!
So, we end up driving 30 minutes away into the next town to the nearest pediatrician office that the Urgent care doctor set up for us to meet with. What does the pediatrician say?
He says baby boy is FINE! The ear infection is a nasty one, but just keep on with the antibiotics because it is helping. NO, pediatrician says, the rash was NOT a reaction to the antibiotics because if it were it would have lasted longer. It wouldn’t have disappeared within 15 minutes, especially because the antibiotic baby is on is one that stays in one’s system for days. So if he were really having an allergic reaction it would still be going on. Well, what about the urine cultures or chest x-rays? Pediatrician says NOT necessary. Because baby is on antibiotics even if they did a urine or blood culture it would come up negative because he’s on antibiotics, so there wouldn’t be any bacteria.
So as it turns out, the best way to freak out your urgent care doctor is to bring your baby back the day after she prescribed an antibiotic to treat baby’s ear infection and tell her your baby has a rash. But, now, be forewarned, because the doctor will reciprocate the favor, freaking out Mommy by demanding that you take baby to the ER to get treated for blood tests, urine cultures, and chest x-rays. Well, that is if you have the doctor we saw.
What’s your urgent care horror story? What would you have done?
Thanks for your continued voting for me in the top mommy blogs. We’re a few votes shy of being in the top 25 overall and are the #2 humor blog. So, keep the votes coming, 1 per day.
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 29, 2010
Hi, Mr. Policeman: Now Mommy Needs a Diaper Change
I was only on the road two minutes from home when I spotted those fear-inducing flashing blue lights from behind. “Oh, God, please have mercy! Please, please, please, pleeeeeease, help!” I yelp much like a guilty Chihuahua squeaking at its master’s feet, seeking forgiveness for messing on the new white couch. But there came that officer marching right up to my car window with frowning eyes that spoke, you’re in deep, sky-high doodoo.
“Do you know why I pulled you over?” He asks in a tone—you know, that condescending tone that reminds you of getting pulled into the principal’s office in grade school. That daunting question was surely as loaded and ready to fire as the officer’s gun. Answer wrong, and you’re in trouble; answer right, you’re still in trouble. Big trouble to say the least.
“How fast was I going?” I ask, the lump in my throat pulsating out of my neck.
“You were going 60 in a 45. That’s on top of cutting me off, failing to fully stop at the stop sign, and not signaling!”
You hand over your license with trembling slippery fingers. That’s when you can’t control the palpating heartbeat and potentially onset of cardiac arrest. You debate if you should call 911 and quite frankly, you would if the operator could guarantee NOT to send this officer who just snatched your license away. As he walks away to the patrol car to determine your fate, you stutter, “I’m soooorry. I don’t have any other tickets on my record.” Did he even hear you and does it even matter? He didn’t look impressed—well, at least the back of his head didn’t—that’s all you saw.
And then comes the painful two-minute period of waiting and waiting. And waiting some more. Those eternal two minutes where the officer has your license and you’re almost hyperventilating, almost needing a change of clothes because of almost peeing in your pants and sweating so profusely that your shirt is soaked—well, almost.
What will he say? How many points will this one be! Why is he taking so long! Wait, did I remember hearing that if you speed 15 over they will revoke your license? Or is it 20 over? Oh, the court bill! Lawyer fees! The insurance increase! And please, toddler girl, please just be quiet right now as mommy is having a moment here. Yes, Mommy was going to fast.
And then you also think, why wasn’t anyone back-seat driving for me! I mean really, to think of all those times I have so graciously lended my driving skills to help a friend and spare them the same predicaments. Get behind the wheel; you’re on your own. Well almost.
That’s when I prayed even harder if you can call begging a prayer. It was more like, “mercy, mercy, mercy, mercy, mercy. Please give it. I need some mercy.” But if faith the size of a mustard seed can move a mountain, could my microscopic-is-it-even-there faith to be helped even move a piece of gravel. THIS mistake, the mistake of speeding and cutting off an officer, this is not one you get out of. THIS was a mistake I deserved a ticket for, so much more so the fact that there are children in the car. I mean really. I’m usually the driving-Miss-Daisy kind of chauffer: smooth sailing, careful navigation, slower than necessary speeds—well, at least that’s how I describe it. But, I guess everyone has his/her moments. Why did mine have to happen in front of a police officer!
So then I see the officer in my mirror walking back to the car. By this point, I’m wishing I really was hyperventilating or crying—I mean let there be some kind of physical manifestation to stir up his compassion. Instead I have a big ole zit on my chin to greet him in the window, frizzy hair (as I explained earlier it was either make-up or hair today not both), and a scratchy stuttering voice that tells him of my lack of tickets as he’s walking away. Where are some good tears when you really need them! They will of course only appear after he hands me a big ticket!
Well, that’s when the UNTHINKABLE happens. He walks up to the window, hands me my license and says, have a nice day. WHAT? WHAT! Really! He decided to give me a warning. That’s when Melodramommy realizes she needs a shovel to scrape her jaw off the car floor so she can drive away and be thankful. That’s when Mommy can’t help rolling down the windows and yelling, “Thank you Jeeeeeeesus!” but this time only driving 44 miles an hour. That’s when Mommy herself needs a diaper change!
Don't forget to vote, top right of this post.
Posted by Laura
“Do you know why I pulled you over?” He asks in a tone—you know, that condescending tone that reminds you of getting pulled into the principal’s office in grade school. That daunting question was surely as loaded and ready to fire as the officer’s gun. Answer wrong, and you’re in trouble; answer right, you’re still in trouble. Big trouble to say the least.
“How fast was I going?” I ask, the lump in my throat pulsating out of my neck.
“You were going 60 in a 45. That’s on top of cutting me off, failing to fully stop at the stop sign, and not signaling!”
You hand over your license with trembling slippery fingers. That’s when you can’t control the palpating heartbeat and potentially onset of cardiac arrest. You debate if you should call 911 and quite frankly, you would if the operator could guarantee NOT to send this officer who just snatched your license away. As he walks away to the patrol car to determine your fate, you stutter, “I’m soooorry. I don’t have any other tickets on my record.” Did he even hear you and does it even matter? He didn’t look impressed—well, at least the back of his head didn’t—that’s all you saw.
And then comes the painful two-minute period of waiting and waiting. And waiting some more. Those eternal two minutes where the officer has your license and you’re almost hyperventilating, almost needing a change of clothes because of almost peeing in your pants and sweating so profusely that your shirt is soaked—well, almost.
What will he say? How many points will this one be! Why is he taking so long! Wait, did I remember hearing that if you speed 15 over they will revoke your license? Or is it 20 over? Oh, the court bill! Lawyer fees! The insurance increase! And please, toddler girl, please just be quiet right now as mommy is having a moment here. Yes, Mommy was going to fast.
And then you also think, why wasn’t anyone back-seat driving for me! I mean really, to think of all those times I have so graciously lended my driving skills to help a friend and spare them the same predicaments. Get behind the wheel; you’re on your own. Well almost.
That’s when I prayed even harder if you can call begging a prayer. It was more like, “mercy, mercy, mercy, mercy, mercy. Please give it. I need some mercy.” But if faith the size of a mustard seed can move a mountain, could my microscopic-is-it-even-there faith to be helped even move a piece of gravel. THIS mistake, the mistake of speeding and cutting off an officer, this is not one you get out of. THIS was a mistake I deserved a ticket for, so much more so the fact that there are children in the car. I mean really. I’m usually the driving-Miss-Daisy kind of chauffer: smooth sailing, careful navigation, slower than necessary speeds—well, at least that’s how I describe it. But, I guess everyone has his/her moments. Why did mine have to happen in front of a police officer!
So then I see the officer in my mirror walking back to the car. By this point, I’m wishing I really was hyperventilating or crying—I mean let there be some kind of physical manifestation to stir up his compassion. Instead I have a big ole zit on my chin to greet him in the window, frizzy hair (as I explained earlier it was either make-up or hair today not both), and a scratchy stuttering voice that tells him of my lack of tickets as he’s walking away. Where are some good tears when you really need them! They will of course only appear after he hands me a big ticket!
Well, that’s when the UNTHINKABLE happens. He walks up to the window, hands me my license and says, have a nice day. WHAT? WHAT! Really! He decided to give me a warning. That’s when Melodramommy realizes she needs a shovel to scrape her jaw off the car floor so she can drive away and be thankful. That’s when Mommy can’t help rolling down the windows and yelling, “Thank you Jeeeeeeesus!” but this time only driving 44 miles an hour. That’s when Mommy herself needs a diaper change!
Don't forget to vote, top right of this post.
Posted by Laura
April 27, 2010
Top 10 Signs Mommy Needs To Do Laundry
The challenge of folding laundry takes on new meaning when there are little people at your feet who believe “helping” means climbing in the laundry baskets and “folding” means squishing a shirt into a tiny ball as they declare with a grin of accomplishment, “Here, Mommy.” The greatest challenge, however, is that doing laundry is the never-ending task: spend an entire day sorting, washing, drying, folding and putting away clothes ONLY to find with the passing of every hour there are more loads to conquer! And please make sure that disposable diaper doesn’t EVER wander in a load. Thus, are there any reasons why Mommies out there might not find themselves in any number of the following predicaments?
Here are the top 10 signs that Mommy needs to do laundry:
1.) Desperate times mean desperate measures: The only choice of underwear (albeit something that resembles a deflated hot air balloon OR a rubber band) leaves you walking around all day with a wedgie!
2.) Comfort is sacrificed at the door of convenience: Even though your months out from weaning baby, you debate wearing a flapping nursing bra just ignore the now-deflated Madonna-esque protruding cones that enter the room before you do.
4.) Beauty comes second to practicality: You encourage hubby to pull a late-Michael Jackson to the office, wearing the stark white socks with his black pants, because that’s the only choice.
5.) Sharing is no longer optional: You are tempted to put pink socks on baby boy, because that’s what’s available. Besides, pssssst, don’t tell daddy, baby boy has already sported the pink princess pull up a few weeks ago when you ran out of diapers.
6.) Recycling takes on new meaning: No jeans left. Okay, time to pull out those maternity jeans with the yard-long, thick elastic bellyband that makes you appear as though you were ingested by a two-legged octopus.
7.) The Great Osmosis: There are more clothes outside of the dresser drawers and closets than inside.
8.) The Great Invasion: Dirty laundry piles consume almost every room of the house.
9.) The Great Famine: There are not enough laundry baskets or rooms to contain the laundry.
10.) Scarcity Redefined: Finally, the only choice, if you don’t want to wear something with Mr. Poopie, Mr. Booger, or Puke thanks to the munchkins, the only choice is wear nothing at all. Yes, this is the ultimate sign laundry can wait no longer.
Thanks for your continued support by voting for me at the top right of this post in the Top Mommy Blogs. We are #2 in Humor and a few votes shy of being in the top 25 overall : ) Keep ‘em coming.
Posted by Laura
Here are the top 10 signs that Mommy needs to do laundry:
1.) Desperate times mean desperate measures: The only choice of underwear (albeit something that resembles a deflated hot air balloon OR a rubber band) leaves you walking around all day with a wedgie!
2.) Comfort is sacrificed at the door of convenience: Even though your months out from weaning baby, you debate wearing a flapping nursing bra just ignore the now-deflated Madonna-esque protruding cones that enter the room before you do.
4.) Beauty comes second to practicality: You encourage hubby to pull a late-Michael Jackson to the office, wearing the stark white socks with his black pants, because that’s the only choice.
5.) Sharing is no longer optional: You are tempted to put pink socks on baby boy, because that’s what’s available. Besides, pssssst, don’t tell daddy, baby boy has already sported the pink princess pull up a few weeks ago when you ran out of diapers.
6.) Recycling takes on new meaning: No jeans left. Okay, time to pull out those maternity jeans with the yard-long, thick elastic bellyband that makes you appear as though you were ingested by a two-legged octopus.
7.) The Great Osmosis: There are more clothes outside of the dresser drawers and closets than inside.
8.) The Great Invasion: Dirty laundry piles consume almost every room of the house.
9.) The Great Famine: There are not enough laundry baskets or rooms to contain the laundry.
10.) Scarcity Redefined: Finally, the only choice, if you don’t want to wear something with Mr. Poopie, Mr. Booger, or Puke thanks to the munchkins, the only choice is wear nothing at all. Yes, this is the ultimate sign laundry can wait no longer.
Thanks for your continued support by voting for me at the top right of this post in the Top Mommy Blogs. We are #2 in Humor and a few votes shy of being in the top 25 overall : ) Keep ‘em coming.
Posted by Laura
April 25, 2010
The Face Only A Toddler Could Love
So there I am enjoying a moment snuggling next to Toddler girl when she turns to me and says, “I weally like your pencil, Mommy!”
“Pencil?” I think to myself, “Pencil?!?!?!?!?!?” There are no pencils or pens in sight.
“What pencil?” I politely ask.
“Your pencil,” she says matter-of-factly.
“Pencil?—I’m not sure I understand, sweetheart.”
And that is when she kindly points to yet another emerging zit on my chin!
“Oh, you mean, pimple!” I say, internally rolling my eyes. How many times now are people in my life going to point out a zit on my face! I mean come on now! As if it didn’t already greet me and mock me in the mirror throwing me an unwanted monthly surprise party!
“Ooooooh! PIMBOL … I weally like your pimbol, Mommy.”
“Thank you. But, you know, they’re not really nice to have.”
“I can touch it, Mommy?” she asks with the greatest enthusiasm as though this thing on my face is a pink balloon up for grabs at a fair.
“NO! You may not touch it.”
“But Mommy … I want to feel it. Is it SOFT? Or HARD?” She zealously asks. Man, this zit must be the most fascinating thing on the planet. Soft or Hard! Where did this child come from!
“I don’t know.” I reply, just hoping to end this conversation already about what must be a protruding mountain on my face!
“When I get older, umm, I wanna pimbol just like you Mommy!” She says with utter glee!
“Oh, thank you so much sweetheart, but really it’s not nice to have a pimple because they are actually a booboo.”
And then as I’m pondering how sweet it is that my little 2YO wants to be just like me even in the ignorance of her not realizing what she’s talking about she replies: “Awwwwwwwe, Mommy. I kiss your booboo!” And before I can shield myself and herself, she pounces her sweet lips right on my face.
Lesson learned: Do NOT tell your 2YO that ANYTHING is a booboo unless you don’t mind a very compassionate kiss from a little person who believes kisses have the power to heal. Yet, isn’t it amazing that the most unwanted things (even those zits on your face) can lead to the sweetest encounters with children. Surely, ONLY MOTHERHOOD, has this magical ability to transform the most egregious situations into humorous, heartfelt exchanges of love—even when you have the face only a 2YO could love.
Have you had any similar experiences?
Thanks for your continued voting for me in the top mommy blogs! We're number 2 in humor. Please vote 1x per day clicking the picture next to 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
April 21, 2010
Mommyhood: The Job Description
Mommyhood is one of those jobs that has its moments–-some are the most can’t-catch-your-breath hilarious moments that make you laugh so hard you cry.
Some moments are so sweet you want to savor it forever.
Other moments are so frustrating you want to crawl onto the couch and just take a nap or take a bubble bath and be alone.
Yet, in spite of all the eye-tearing, germ-fearing, sweat-dripping, heart-skipping, bottom-wiping, finger-swiping, crumb-picking, toy-tripping, hand-holding, laundry-folding, character-molding, head-turning, stomach churning, patience-testing, non-empty-nesting, mistake-making, self-centered-breaking, life-giving moments—All of it together is what makes the job description so rewarding. It’s looking into your children’s eyes, feeling their soft skin against your cheeks and inhaling their sweet breath that makes you forget how hard it can be as you remember how much you love what you do.
The awesome, fearful, wonderful, terrible aspect of motherhood is that it's made up of moments and moments are fleeting, like water dripping off your hands--one moment it's here, the next it's gone.
Yet, moments like these have the power to wash away all the frustration. Moments like these lift the heart. Moments like these remind me of how precious motherhood is and how it took those moments of frustration to get here. Moments like these make one realize being a mom really is more of delight than a duty, a calling than a just career, and a ministry than just a mission. That's the journey of motherhood.
How do you define Mommyhood? What moments make you smile, laugh, or cry?
Thanks for your voting in the top mommy blogs. Keep it coming 1x per day. We're #2.
Don't forget about the purse giveaway which ends this friday!
Posted by Laura
Some moments are so sweet you want to savor it forever.
Other moments are so frustrating you want to crawl onto the couch and just take a nap or take a bubble bath and be alone.
Yet, in spite of all the eye-tearing, germ-fearing, sweat-dripping, heart-skipping, bottom-wiping, finger-swiping, crumb-picking, toy-tripping, hand-holding, laundry-folding, character-molding, head-turning, stomach churning, patience-testing, non-empty-nesting, mistake-making, self-centered-breaking, life-giving moments—All of it together is what makes the job description so rewarding. It’s looking into your children’s eyes, feeling their soft skin against your cheeks and inhaling their sweet breath that makes you forget how hard it can be as you remember how much you love what you do.
The awesome, fearful, wonderful, terrible aspect of motherhood is that it's made up of moments and moments are fleeting, like water dripping off your hands--one moment it's here, the next it's gone.
Yet, moments like these have the power to wash away all the frustration. Moments like these lift the heart. Moments like these remind me of how precious motherhood is and how it took those moments of frustration to get here. Moments like these make one realize being a mom really is more of delight than a duty, a calling than a just career, and a ministry than just a mission. That's the journey of motherhood.
How do you define Mommyhood? What moments make you smile, laugh, or cry?
Thanks for your voting in the top mommy blogs. Keep it coming 1x per day. We're #2.
Don't forget about the purse giveaway which ends this friday!
Posted by Laura
April 13, 2010
Why a Mother Might be Late
So the annual 5 minutes for mom Ultimate Blog Party 2010 is going on, and I'm showing up fashionably late or shall I say mommy-of-two-toddlers-late: like this morning when just as I finished applying the lipgloss, grabbed my car keys and go to load up Toddler-girl only to find her naked! Gone was Mommy's selected polka-dot dress and matching tights; all was gone except the princess panties and plastic tiara. Now baby boy,
And that's what this blog is about. This isn't the candy-coated, life is bliss, I-have-it-all-together blog. This is the no-one-warned-me-life-was-going-to-get-this-crazy-spacing-my-kids-this-close-together-and-now-I-feel-like-I-have-twins-God-help-me-blog. The goal? Validating new moms that they are not alone in feeling challenged; honoring experienced moms in what they've already overcome; informing working daddies on what goes on all day long when Mommy is left alone; reminding grandparents of sacred memories IF you can call anything involving Mr. Poopie sacred that is. And yes, there will be more to come: giveaways (have one coming tomorrow), recipes, parenting tips, inspirational stories, mommy interviews, creative ideas, a lot of culture, and other fantastic surprises. Join me on this journey of experiencing motherhood as hard but ever so hilarious; unending but extremely entertaining; messy but oh so meaningful; And yes, knowing all that I do now, I wouldn't have it any other way.
If you're looking to be inspired read this or this
If your just here for a laugh see this or this or this
Thanks for stopping by. I hope you'll keep reading and if you really want to make my day, become a follower, facebook fan, and follow me on twitter. Please don't go without telling me something about you--like what usually makes you late? Or who do you blame when you're late? I'd offer to bribe you with a gummy treat as a reward, but I had to flush them today to join Mr. Poopie.
Oh, as for prizes, which you can see if you check out the ultimate blog party, I'll take the 3. US40- One winner will receive a 3 day 2 night stay from Holiday Inn Main Gate East in Kissimmee, FL (less than 2 miles from Disney World) a value of $250.Provided by: Holiday Inn Main Gate OR the $100 dollar gift card to restaurants.com because Mommy and Daddy could use a good date nite. Now that's for investing in the marriage, which ultimately is investing in baby.
Posted by Laura
April 7, 2010
A Cat, a Toddler, and the Dingle Berry!
Today something happened that instantly took me back to the seventh grade where my not-so-friendly Himalayan cat, “Popcorn,” had a very dirty issue: Non-detachable poopies. On a weekly basis they would become entangled and trapped in his very long, white fuzzy hair. Oh, how they loved to hitch a ride on his bottom, snuggle up on the couch with him, and leave a trail across the blue tile basement floor as he’d try ever so faithfully to detach it AND FAIL! Oh, how my father would freak out, can you blame him, in coming home from a long day at work and seeing the famous familiar signature smeared across the floor. “Laura, would you go clean the da%& dingle berry!” Dingle berry! That was the most hilarious word I had ever heard and also the word I grew to dread hearing. I, the cat lover, was the chosen one to be handed the brush, a wipe, and a glove, to work that thing out and put it in its proper place, in between wrestling this violated cat that was determined to fight me to the finish.
Today, I wrestle my 1YO with each diaper change; I have dear Popcorn to thank for preparing me not only for the fight, but preparing me for the dingle berry that came back to haunt me this afternoon. Let me rewind in my mind a moment: it was before my 1YO learned how to climb out of his crib. It was after my “date” with Toddler-girl where we ate blueberry muffins outside in the sun. And, it was after the air conditioning repair guy left and told me it would cost $1,500 to repair the broken AC that chose to malfunction on the hottest day of spring! Yes, it was during nap time that the dingle berry struck.
Toddler-girl crept out of her bed and came to the door. There I sat on the couch just about to put my feet up when those two big eyes squinted and that sweet voice declared: “I need to do poopoo on the potty!” So I escort her to the bathroom, little man followed, because they’re not on the same nap schedule today. In the moment I’m looking at him, she’s already off the pot attempting to wash her hands, when to my horror I spot a fudge trail on the potty seat and a dangler hanging off her bottom!(Gasp)The dingle berry had returned!
“Wait! Wait!” I yell, anxiously reaching for a wipe when little girl realizes how hysterically funny it would be to run away from Mommy, clueless that the notorious Mr. Poopie was following close behind all while little man approaches the potty seat to inspect the skid marks.
Well, with baby boy tucked under one arm and a wipe extended in the other (my most common stance these days) I captured it. Detached it. Disposed of it. Again! Isn't it funny how history has a way of repeating itself? But this time, I defeated the dingle berry one handed. Oh, how motherhood quickly stretches you, expands your capabilities, and widens your horizons.
Thanks for voting for me in the Top mommy blogs. You can vote 1x a day by clicking to the right of this post.
Today, I wrestle my 1YO with each diaper change; I have dear Popcorn to thank for preparing me not only for the fight, but preparing me for the dingle berry that came back to haunt me this afternoon. Let me rewind in my mind a moment: it was before my 1YO learned how to climb out of his crib. It was after my “date” with Toddler-girl where we ate blueberry muffins outside in the sun. And, it was after the air conditioning repair guy left and told me it would cost $1,500 to repair the broken AC that chose to malfunction on the hottest day of spring! Yes, it was during nap time that the dingle berry struck.
Toddler-girl crept out of her bed and came to the door. There I sat on the couch just about to put my feet up when those two big eyes squinted and that sweet voice declared: “I need to do poopoo on the potty!” So I escort her to the bathroom, little man followed, because they’re not on the same nap schedule today. In the moment I’m looking at him, she’s already off the pot attempting to wash her hands, when to my horror I spot a fudge trail on the potty seat and a dangler hanging off her bottom!(Gasp)The dingle berry had returned!
“Wait! Wait!” I yell, anxiously reaching for a wipe when little girl realizes how hysterically funny it would be to run away from Mommy, clueless that the notorious Mr. Poopie was following close behind all while little man approaches the potty seat to inspect the skid marks.
Well, with baby boy tucked under one arm and a wipe extended in the other (my most common stance these days) I captured it. Detached it. Disposed of it. Again! Isn't it funny how history has a way of repeating itself? But this time, I defeated the dingle berry one handed. Oh, how motherhood quickly stretches you, expands your capabilities, and widens your horizons.
Thanks for voting for me in the Top mommy blogs. You can vote 1x a day by clicking to the right of this post.
March 18, 2010
Top Mommy Casualties Exposed
What the doctors don’t tell you about babies: So on that glorious long-awaited day, when you’re finally handed your glowing, slippery, bright-squinting-eyed little bundle in those very first moments, the doctors and nurses surely don’t warn you about how dangerous a baby can be. No, this post is not about stretch marks and sagging skin, the darkened eye circles from constant sleep deprivation, those hormonal surges that cause pubescent breakouts, nor the sudden hair shedding from 9 months of catch up; we’ll save that for a later discussion—perhaps.
Today is about all those motherly battle wounds—physical wounds—that nobody warned me about. That IF I had known about, I may have taken certain precautions …
1.) A baby’s head is in itself a weapon and a force NOT to be reckoned with:
IF I had known that my little 2YO had a head that was harder and swifter than a bowling ball, would I have nestled my face ever-so-closely into the back of her baby soft curls not knowing that at ANY moment, she would jerk up, lift that noggin, and come smacking down like a wrecking ball right into the bridge of my nose? I might have given a little more room for error. At the time I thought she broke my nose, and now on those random days when I occasionally scrutinize my face in the mirror, I do question if the ever-so-slight bump at the bridge of my nose was the result of the impact. That same not-so-innocent baby head also gave grandma a fat lip and daddy a bruised chin on several occasions.
2.) Babies like to pretend they are aspiring Billy Blanks fans:
IF I had known that my little-baby-boy has an inherent ability to perform martial arts, I may NOT have gone to kiss his cheek in the dark and instead gotten kicked right in my eye socket. Yes, I saw stars, and believe me, it wasn’t from looking out the window up at the sky.
3.) The movie should have been called, Baby-Scissor-Hands:
No matter how many times I trim those nails, file, and offer a mani and pedi at the same time, within a day, I am feeling the ramifications of little scratches on my chest and arms. Let’s face it; a baby’s nails are oh-so-cute, but very sharp.
4.) If only the theme song of Jaws would play when baby is teething:
Perhaps this is why I got the book, Teeth are NOT for Biting, for my 1YO. Need I say more?
Perhaps this is why I got the book, Teeth are NOT for Biting, for my 1YO. Need I say more?
5.) Lungs that mean business:
IF I knew that my daughter could reach pitches that I never knew existed, that could actually make my eardrum tingle, vibrate, and almost pop, I might have been more intentional when picking her up to simply position her mouth AWAY from my ear.
IF I knew that my daughter could reach pitches that I never knew existed, that could actually make my eardrum tingle, vibrate, and almost pop, I might have been more intentional when picking her up to simply position her mouth AWAY from my ear.
So these are some of my battle wounds. And you know what, I’d do it all over again. Ain’t nothing gonna stop this momma from squeezing her little ones and soaking it all up; however, knowing what I do now, I just simply take certain precautions: I approach the baby head with great caution; I try to leave a night light on so I can see the foot coming when attempting to cuddle with baby; and when I stick my fingers in baby's mouth to remove foreign objects I emotionally prepare myself that I will most likely have teeth marks to show for it. I confess that when getting super close to baby, I occasionally consider gearing up with a helmet, earplugs, goggles, gloves, and full body armor. And don’t. Thus, this mommy has herself a lot of bruises, bumps, and scratches to show for it. These are my battle wounds and you know what, I’m proud of them.
What do you wish your doctor had told you about your baby? And what are your battle wounds?
What do you wish your doctor had told you about your baby? And what are your battle wounds?
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
December 20, 2009
Mommyspiration
Today, I’m transitioning into life with two toddlers. But the day will come when, tomorrow, I’ll be sending them off to college, squeezing a soaked, wrinkled handkerchief that I swore I’d never need. On that day, I want to look back and know that I did my very best to savor all those precious fleeting moments and know with confidence that I was resilient. I want to know I lovingly taught my children values, character, integrity, respect, and love—every day--even the days when I questioned if my efforts were having any influence at all. I don't want to look back, wondering where the time went, and regretfully wish I would have given more hugs, indulged more of my daughter's invitations to join her tea parties, or play in her "princess castle," or squeeze my little son's chubby thighs, let him fall asleep in my arms and watch him breathe. To do so takes persistence, patience, perspective, and prioritizing.
Maybe, like me, you’re a new mom searching to find meaning and much needed humor in the everyday mundane, sometimes underappreciated, often unpredictable, and definitely outrageous whirlwind of events that can occur on an hourly basis. Join me on this proactive, parental journey of intentionally taking the time to pause, reflect, share, breathe, laugh, cry, and do it all over again tomorrow. Let’s move forward in motherhood, keeping that day, tomorrow, in mind from the very beginning. Tomorrow is my mommyspiration. What’s yours?
Posted by Laura
Maybe, like me, you’re a new mom searching to find meaning and much needed humor in the everyday mundane, sometimes underappreciated, often unpredictable, and definitely outrageous whirlwind of events that can occur on an hourly basis. Join me on this proactive, parental journey of intentionally taking the time to pause, reflect, share, breathe, laugh, cry, and do it all over again tomorrow. Let’s move forward in motherhood, keeping that day, tomorrow, in mind from the very beginning. Tomorrow is my mommyspiration. What’s yours?
Posted by Laura
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