I’m writing this blog today because over the past couple weeks a few of my friends have fallen victim to some big mouth mistakes. I’m calling them mistakes because I don’t believe people are trying to be offensive when they say some of the dumb shit that they say. So, I thought maybe we could all use a refresher course on how to not be an asshole.
#1. Mind your own uterus. Do not congratulate someone on their pregnancy unless you know for sure they are pregnant. Instances when you know for sure; they have announced their pregnancy or the baby is crowning. Continue reading
For those of you who have not read our past stories, you can read them here.
when you get knocked down- part 1
when you get knocked down – part 2
when you get knocked down part 3
Developmental delays and speech delays are a real problem. Now that we are moving forward on our own journey, I hope to shed some light on this issue. If you are just joining our story, please understand that we know how fortunate we are in comparison to other parents and children on a path much more difficult than our own.
Hearing that your child is average is not something that throws most parents into happy tears.
A year ago, my husband and I left the “most” parents club.
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.
One of my favorite things about my life is never knowing what kind of text or email I’m going to wake up to. Sometimes it’s a mucus plug, sometimes it’s a breastfeeding issue, a picture of a baby rash, etc. I never know what my phone will reveal before my first cup of coffee, and I love it. This morning it was a few texts from one of my pregnant besties. The story of how she had just been completely fondled by the TSA, trying to get on her flight for a work trip.
I totally must have forgotten to brief her on “flying pregnant” protocol. My family and I travel a lot, so I wrote “When Babies Fly”, to humorously review traveling with kids. Today, the prequel, I bring you The Pregnant Terrorist.
I don’t know about you guys, but I am knee deep in summer vacation. By summer vacation, I mean longer days, a messier house, more chores, and YES, bored children. I was totally looking forward to this “relaxed”, unscheduled, easy-breezy time with my sweet babes. Who can relate to these 5 stages of summer?
- Excitement – usually occurs around April / May. The feeling of freedom is so close you can almost taste it. No more rushed mornings, packing lunches and backpacks. No more outfit picking. Screw it, just wear what you had on yesterday. Three months of freedom from class parties and special school days. I’m not brushing your hair, I’m not even brushing my hair! Sweet, sweet summer, please hurry.
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.
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.