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;
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Alright you guys. I can’t even tell you how excited I am to write this post. I have found the needle in the haystack here!!! Lots of my readers write to me about clothes and fashion. As a former stylist and a lifetime fashionista, this should be an easy topic for me. Let me tell you, it has been a struggle. After having my second daughter, I could not get my mom swag back. My husband, actually begged me to buy clothes. He took me to one of the best malls in America and insisted I spend money. Are you freakin’ kidding me? I came out with like one pair of shoes and a makeup pallet. Ironically, that is the day my sweet friend hooked me up with my fashion soul mate.
This is not a surprise outfit in a box. I don’t like surprises. This is not a monthly commitment, I don’t like that either. Allume is an actual person, who acts as your personal stylist. This is not a bunch of junk emails. This is an actual human being, who says “hey, when can we chat?” I filled out a brief survey about my lifestyle, and what I prefer to pay for what I wear. This survey is different than other “styling companies” because it lets you break down your look. For example; ya’ll know I drop money on shoes and bags, but refuse to pay more than $20 for a top. That’s just me, I wear an Old Navy shirt and carry a Louis Vuitton bag. Everyone is different and that’s why I love Allume.
A day later I get a text from a woman named Meghan, saying she will be my stylist. She asked me some simple questions and sent me some photos, asking how I felt about the images. I gave Meghan a quick rundown about my day to day life. I told her I like blazers and ballet flats and animal print is considered a neutral for me. I wear a ton of black, I’m a stay at home mom and a writer. We went over a few more looks and the next day she nailed it. These are the first set of looks she sent me.
Before I became a mother none of these phrases would have come out of my mouth. Well, maybe like one or two but definitely not one a regular basis. Now I say this shit every day, usually multiple times a day. Sometimes when I hear myself I think “what the fuck happened to my life?” I’m sure you moms and dads out there can relate. Here are my weirdest:
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.