My Dear Olive,
I was 26 and not married when I found out I was going to be your mom. I must have taken 100 pregnancy tests before I believed you were true. Your daddy was excited right away, and I thought he must be crazy. What a huge responsibility had been gifted to us and I was worried. I’m just being honest here, I was scared shit-less!
The first time I saw your little heart beat on the ultrasound screen is the last time I ever felt alone. As you grew in my belly, I talked to you all the time. People would remark on how often I held my belly. It was some weird instinct so you would know I was there. All of the hormones and emotions were overwhelming. The most overwhelming feeling was love.
I have a confession to make. I’ve been a little obsessed with my diet and weight loss lately. No matter what I seem to do, this last 10lbs of baby weight won’t come off. OK, so I should probably stop calling it baby weight, since my baby will be 3 this winter. Whatever it is, it’s driving me nuts and pissing me off. Just to add insult to injury, there is no good logic here. I’m an active person. I don’t eat like shit (mostly). I drink like 3 gallons of water a day. What the hell you guys? I know I’m not alone in this boat, and that helps, but really what gives? I got to thinking about it, and I think I have figured it out. Follow me here ladies;
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So, a quick back story to a whole lot of history. I met my friend Leea at work, a department store. We had mutual friends, but didn’t become close until my computer illiteracy took over. I needed help making a sale sign. We started talking that day 10 years ago, and haven’t shut up since.
Leea was diagnosed with breast cancer just after I gave birth to my second daughter. Being only a few years older than myself, this was shocking, to say the least. I feel like the news didn’t even sink in before Leea, the eternal optimist, was assuring everyone, that this was going to be OK. I mean, she hit cancer, and chemo, and the whole deal, head on. We have had some very candid conversations, and she never lost faith. Even on the worst of days she stayed positive.
In honor of Father’s Day, I wanted to publish a piece that is very personal to me.
I often liken my life to the Cinderella fairy tale. If Cinderella’s mother had not died, but was an alcoholic junkie, who revoked her rights as mother. If Cinderella’s father had not been a king, but rather an iron working biker. OK, OK, it’s not very much like Cinderella at all. It is my fairy tale though.
So, let me take you there. . .
In the 1980’s the “single Dad” didn’t exist. Especially, not the single dad like mine. My dad was a rebel. He had long hair, rode a motorcycle, went to work, and did his thing. He wore a grim reaper ring, and took care of his giant German Shepard’s. I’m sure if someone had told him back then, he would soon be solely responsible for a baby girl, he would have told them where to go, and how to get there. He was
“that kind of guy”. My father met my mother a few years before I was born, and made it very clear he had no interest in having children. Well, as you can see, we all don’t come from the best intentions.
So, it’s Mother’s Day once again. My husband is pretending to “struggle” with what to get me. I say pretending because, I know he has a small Nordstrom bag in his car. It contains a new bottle of Chanel perfume. Props for noticing my bottle is running low. Chances are, I’ll buy myself something in a couple months and say it’s my “Mother’s Day gift”. If you want to know what your wife really wants for Mother’s Day, listen to me now men.
Get up before wifey. Bring her a cup of coffee and tell her to come down when she is ready. Yes, I enjoy being bombarded by my husband and my sweet girls, with their sweet cards. But, I can’t fully enjoy the sweet cards and gifts without a sip of caffeine. It’s hard to feel sentimental when your children are fighting and moaning “I’m hungry”. So, feed the kids, feed the dog, feed the cat, feed whatever the F lives in your house. Let your wife enjoy her coffee in peace.
A couple months ago I wrote about the moms I just can’t be friends with. You can read that here.
Mom’s I just can’t with.
Now, I want to tell you about the moms I can’t live without. If you have seen any of these mom’s in action, consider friend-ing them. If you are one of these moms, much love to you.
Pack It All Mom- whenever you do anything with “pack it all mom”, you basically have no worries. You forgot wipes? Snacks? She’s got it, and she brought extra for your kids. She made cookies for play date and yes, they are organic and yes, she checked everyone’s allergies. Girl has got the kitchen sink organized neatly in the back of her SUV. My pack it all friend isn’t even a mom. However, she’s totally clutch in all situations. You can spot a pack it all mom, by the travel sized bottle of anti-bacterial hanging from her purse.
Hot Mess Mom- no matter how late you are, you can count on “Hot Mess Mom” to be later. She’s frazzled, and always has a hilarious story to tell. No matter what you have done to your children, Hot Mess Mom can top it. You can tell her anything and she will just laugh. No mom shame from this lady. She didn’t even take her store-bought cookies and put them in Tupperware. “Hot Mess Mom” doesn’t care, and we love her for that.
I know I’m not everyone’s cup of tea. I’m fine with that because I drink coffee anyway. I laugh too loud. I don’t understand boundaries, and I can be rather vulgar. With all that said, I believe everyone serves their purpose in this life.