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.
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.
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.
In my opinion, one of the biggest struggles during pregnancy is what to wear. I personally HATED maternity clothes. Just because I’m knocked up doesn’t mean I want to wear ugly floral prints. I want to wear the same things I normally would. So, here’s the deal. Skip the mall. Those stores are expensive and they totally take advantage of how small every store’s maternity section is. I didn’t learn any of this stuff until I was almost through my second pregnancy, but here’s the deal.
Accessories- Now is the time to up your accessory game. The right accessories can totally transform your look. Play up your accessories, and keep your wardrobe basic. Also, your accessories will serve you long after your maternity jeans are in the trash.
Leggings- Good leggings will serve you well my friend. Cheap leggings will bust at the seam and look worn quickly. A couple pair of black quality leggings will carry you through.
Could someone please tell me what is going on this year? My children are sick way more than they are healthy. It’s like the cold, cough, flu thing is never going to leave my house. I literally Lysol until almost rendered unconscious. What’s the point? Why don’t we just re-name “pre-school”, breeding ground for every mild disease known to man-kind?
EVERY damn day it’s a new e-mail from the school nurse. Sometimes they come in multiple times a day. So basically, even when my kids are not sick, I’m paranoid by the next looming virus. Paranoia no more my friends. My nightmare has become reality.
ARTWORK – Yes, I love it. Of course, I see exactly what it is. It’s wonderful, I’ll keep it forever. You are an amazing artist!
Truth is, with the exception of the uterus painting below, I’m usually very confused by my kid’s artwork. Yes, I love it, but like 50 paintings or color pages a week is too many too keep. I’m throwing most of it away once you go to sleep baby.
I’ve been working on de-cluttering and organizing my life for the past few months. All the while singing the praise of my magical book. If you have had contact with me in the past 6 weeks or so, you’re probably sick to death of hearing about it. I don’t even care, I’m going to keep talking about it. The book has changed my life. Get the book!
I defiantly want to talk to you guys about my journey and how this book has changed my life. First, I want to show you results. This whole concept seemed so unrealistic to me, I actually became physically ill when asked to remove every last thing from my closet. The KonMari method starts with clothing. Probably because it is the least sentimental for most. Not me! My closet is my soul. Dressing myself, dressing others, it’s a part of who I am. The clothes that I keep just because they were gifts from buyers or designers. I earned them for doing my job well, just like a paycheck on a hanger baby. The picture is simple, it’s me on the floor of my walk in. An empty bottle of chardonnay in one hand, a vintage Vera Wang in the other. OK, it obvious I have real issues, but let’s move on to the before pictures.
My closet on any given day.
I belong to one of those neighborhood websites, as I’m sure a lot of you do. Well since I’ve been reading, The life-changing magic of tidying up, by Marie Kondo (you have to read this) my house has been in a state of constant purge. We are also undergoing a decent size home renovation that is fueling the purge as well. So, I’ve been selling lots of stuff on my neighborhood website. It’s cool because I make a couple bucks, and have meet some of my awesome neighbors. It’s actually been a very pleasant experience, until yesterday.
I’m not new to internet trolls. Rude people with rude comments about just about everything. I expect them on my blog comments, thus approval process. I see them on Facebook and such. I never expected a troll on a sales post, but here she was.