We Need To Take Better Care Of Our Fellow Moms

More than anything I wish I could go back to the store and give that mom a hug. She had her hands full and I didn’t, and it would have been so easy for me to help lift her burden. I don’t think she meant to talk so harshly to her kids. A few aisles over she was back to being nice and I think it was a moment where she just reached the end of her rope and no one was there to catch her.

I should have been there to catch her.

I’ve been there. I think we all have. Imagine how much better things would have been if someone had stepped in and said, “Hey, what else is on your list? Let me help.” Or, maybe, “Hey, I’ve been there and I promise your day will get better. What can I do to help?” Yeah, it might have weirded me out, but the offer…someone just reaching out and seeing me would have made such a difference.

Why don’t we see each other anymore?

When did we become so caught up in our own lives that we stopped seeing that moms around us need a hand? I’m not talking about living their lives or anything, I’m just saying a word of encouragement and a hug here or there.

Not a lot. Not really. Not in the big scheme of things.

But I think the fact that we don’t do that is part of the reason it’s so easy to tear each other up online. Think about it…we’ve all been part of some thread or read some post and seen moms just ripping each other to shreds. Over words. Over nothing, really.

And when all that ripping and tearing is done, all those moms have to go back to their lives. What happens if their toddler comes up to them in that moment asking for a cup of water? Or their tween has a pimple meltdown?

We need to take better care of our fellow moms.

I’m not going to make a list, or offer suggestions on how to do this. We all know what we should be doing. I’m just asking that if you’re reading this, look around you. Is there someone on your street, in your building, maybe even at the grocery store who could use an uplifting word of encouragement? Maybe someone in your family even?

Moms are the backbone of society and if we can’t take care of each other, how are we supposed to take care of our families?

The truth is you might read this and decide your life is complicated enough already. You might decide that you don’t have the strength or energy to reach out to someone else. Or maybe you’ll decide that since no one has reached out to you, there’s no reason for you to help anyone else.

But know this: if I see you in the store, and you are struggling, and you look like you might be about to lose it…I’m going to be there. From now on, I will be the one to reach back.

And I’m hoping if I do, maybe others will follow…

You probably have opinions on what I should have been doing instead, but let’s table those for now.

During that time, a combination of factors—from poor diet to lack of sunlight to feeling like I wasn’t useful—all combined to give me a bit of depression. Okay, probably more than a bit. And I’m so lucky I had a partner who recognized the signs. Know what I found out? It’s okay for moms to be on medication…it makes us less crazy.

Moms On Medication: We’re Less Crazy Now

Depression can present in lots of ways, but mine (at least in part) was that I got extra grouchy.

My husband recognized the signs because he’d had occasion to encounter depression before, and he sat me down and told me I needed to see someone.

“If you don’t, it would take a while, but I wouldn’t be able to stay in this environment,” he told me. “As long as you get help, though, I will stick by you and do whatever it takes, whatever you need, for as long as it takes.”

So I saw someone, and I got some good tips, and I started an exercise regimen. I can’t remember if they put me on any medication. That might have come later.

All I know is, exercise helped and we noticed a huge difference in my anxiety levels after I started on a low-dose antidepressant. Turns out I had some nasty social anxiety that had plagued me my whole life, making me terrified to even enter a crowded room, and now I throw popcorn at people who check their phones at the movies.

I’ve tried going off of my antidepressant twice, and each time I got hit with a rockslide of negative emotion. It made me more likely to snap at my kids, get into online arguments, and be all-around irritable. I was also more likely to dread obligations to the point that I couldn’t sleep and even made myself sick.

If you’re not on antidepressants, good for you! I’m glad you don’t need them. If you are, congratulations on seeking help when you needed it. And if you think you might need help, be it therapy or medication or a combination, don’t be afraid to try it! I don’t like taking medicines I don’t need, even harmless pain relievers, but I quickly came to realize that, in combination with a better diet and more exercise, my meds have dramatically improved my life.

My husband said it best in his teasing way: “You’re less crazy now.”

Yeah. I kinda am.

Forget book club, bunco night or supper club, fantasy football leagues are what all the cool moms are playing.

Here are 5 Personality Types you’ll find among moms who play fantasy football.

5 Personality Types of Moms Who Play Fantasy Football

The Quiet Storm. Outwardly she keeps her cool when her favorite QB gets sacked three time and throws four interceptions. He’s just having a bad game she says. But don’t be surprised when she’s up at 6 a.m. Tuesday morning dropping players and adjusting her line-up. She doesn’t care who you are. Under perform and she’ll drop a fav faster than Cam Newton can ditch the dab.

The Auto Picker. One of her kids had a cello recital while the other was playing in a soccer tournament. She’s so busy she barely has five minutes to pee much less do her research and come up with draft day or even game day strategies. She’s content to let the chips fall where they may. Besides, she’s only in it for the beergaritas and lil’ smokies at the Fantasy Super Bowl party. Ironically, she’s number one in the league.

The Cry Baby. Though you met her twenty five years later, the minute you’re in a fantasy football league with this mom you know she was that kid. The one who constantly tattled to the refs in little league. Today she files complaints with the league commissioner over “illegal trades,” when in actuality she’s just pissed she wasn’t quick enough to snatch up the newly released player herself.

The Surprisingly Competitive One. She’s that mom who’s always been very friendly though somewhat reserved. The one who’s always so go-with-the-flow. But when she slams a tequila shot followed by a beer chaser and yells, “Suck it, bitches!” after DeAngelo Williams rushes for thirty points, you wonder if you really know your neighbors after all. But don’t worry. She’ll calm down once the season is over. By then you’ll be able to face her in Bible study again.

The Clueless Addict. Her eleven year old picked her team and sets her weekly line up. Yet clueless as she is, she’s the one who talks the most trash and is addicted to checking her scores.

Be it our kid’s sports or our own, one thing moms have proven is that we’re fierce competitors. And win, lose or tie, fantasy football isn’t just for guys anymore.

And they aren’t shy about repeating what they hear. In the loudest voice possible. In the most inappropriate place.

So how does a bad mom save face when playgroup etiquette has been breached? Here are 7 Keys to surviving when your toddler drops an effy.

Playgroup Etiquette: 7 Keys to Surviving When Your Toddler Drops an Effy

1). Ignore it. Behavior that garners attention (even the negative kind) is often repeated. Sometimes the best reaction is no reaction.

2). Keep your cool.

Think before you act, particularly if your first reaction is to laugh. Unless of course you want a reenactment of that scene from Finding Nemo when all the little birdies chime in.

Or the Def Comedy Jam: toddler edition. So keep a poker face, don’t make a big deal about it and the behavior will likely correct itself–so long as you do a tad bit better job of watching your own mouth.

3. Pray. 

Pray no one heard it and no one repeats it or else you might find yourself in the cross hairs of the judgy mom brigade.

4. Deny til you die!

Learning the native tongue is one of the cutest things about toddler-hood. S’s sound like F’s. M’s can sound like B’s. Sit can very easily sound like S#it. True story. So whatever those moms think they heard? After another round of mimosas they’ll forget all about it.

5). Look that judgy mom in the eye.

Then proceed to punch her right square in the boob. Hard. You don’t want your kid hanging out with her kid anyway.

6). Award bonus points for context.

Using bad language gratuitously is one thing. But if your kid curses in proper context? Get our your wallet and buy the house a round of fro-yo cause, no joke, you’ve got yourself a bright one.

7). Blame Dad.

He’s at work and not there to defend himself anyway.

While we try to be perfect, shining examples for our kids, moms are human. We sometimes think things we shouldn’t, do things we shouldn’t and say things we hope will never, ever be repeated. So buck up and learn to smile through all those innocently embarrassing moments. The days of breaking curfew and sneaking out of the house are still to come.

I Dismiss Our Kid’s Feelings Better

The same night my wife made her bland Kool-Aid, my daughter spilled her glass right on the living room rug. She was goofing around with our dog, trying to throw a blanket over it or something. They both fell against the coffee table and knocked the glass over. Purple everywhere. I constructively asked what the heck was wrong with her and explained to her that she was single-handedly ruining all the nice things we own. She didn’t take my observation in the spirit it was offered and began to cry that nobody loved her. My wife gave her a big hug and told her that we all loved her and that everybody makes mistakes, to keep the dog away from the table, and help clean up the mess. Well, our daughter stopped crying but she also stopped feeling bad about herself. I mean, how are you going to get anywhere in life without the crushing guilt your parents put on you? Good one, wife.

I Ignore Our Finances Better

Let’s take a drive down Honesty Street. I’m not where I want to be at this point in my life. At this point I thought I would be writing professionally and supplementing my income through, maybe, substitute teaching. Nothing lavish, just a modest lifestyle providing for my family through what I love and believe I am kind of good at. However, thanks to a terrible economy and the ineptness of our last two Presidents, I have a lackluster job with no benefits, I have no prospects in publishing a book, and the slightest hiccup in our carefully balanced spending could spiral us into pre-WWII Germany levels of financial despair. With that explained, it’s no wonder that I have zero interest in looking at our bank account or paying bills or any responsibilities that a grown-up should have. I ignore all of that and it’s awesome. All I have to do after a hard day at work is play Call Of Duty for a couple hours, dismiss our kid’s feelings, and pretend I have enough gas in the truck to get to work the next day. America! Am I right? On the other hand, my wife feels like we should keep the lights on and water running, so she spends a couple of hours a week paying bills. She deals with the mortgage. She even puts money aside so the kids can get new school uniforms because the little ingrates can’t stop growing for one measly semester. How hard is it to not go up a shoe size? I don’t go up a shoe size all the time. That’s what I do all day, not go up shoe sizes! It’s not hard. She takes on all these burdens and all I can do is pity her.

I Don’t Make The World A Better Place Better

Disclaimer: I want everyone to have a healthy and fruitful life filled with chubby babies and an outstanding second season of Stranger Things. I wish the world were a happier, better place, but I have very little sympathy for people and their poor life-choices. I don’t believe in mooching and I don’t believe in being a burden on society. I’m pretty sure my wife believes in those same things, but she also believes in being a good person, and that’s where our paths differ. On Saturdays my wife takes our kids and volunteers at an inner city soup kitchen. She preps the meals, my son refills tea and lemonade, and my daughter keeps the napkins flowing. At least, I think so. I’m not there. Now, I could lean on the excuse that I work every Saturday, but you and I know by now that I wouldn’t be helping even if I were off work. I just don’t really care. I know that sounds mean and I’m sorry (not sorry). As a bonus, my wife also sponsors orphans in Mississippi. I didn’t even know Mississippi had orphans but somehow my wife found them and is trying to enrich their lives. However, to my credit, I do listen to NPR.

Sometimes I feel like my wife is pulling herself in every direction at once. I don’t know if it’s worth the trouble. Sure, she’s doing her Christian duties on Earth, but that new season of Luke Cage isn’t going to watch itself. All the stress is going to put her in an early grave, and you just know she’ll have hundreds of people at her wake that I’ll have to feed and clean up after. Meanwhile, I’m being considerate for my family. I’m not impacting the world in any meaningful way; when I die I imagine maybe four or five people might stop by, if it’s on a weekend. My kids can just order a pizza and Swiffer the house. In the meantime, maybe I can ease her load and I think I’ll start with the Kool-Aid. No, I’m no hero. I’m just a wonderful dad making Kool-Aid…and a difference.

10 Ways Your Mom Had It Way Easier Than You

1. Sarcasm Was Ok

I feel like our Parents’ generation was able to speak more freely with their children. I am, by nature, a sarcastic person, and I am careful to not be too sarcastic when speaking to my children because I think it could be confusing. Looking back though, if my mom ever told me to go fly a kite, I knew exactly what she meant and my feelings weren’t hurt.  It meant it was time to quit pestering, and to go play, preferably outside.

2. Kale Smoothies Were Unheard Of

Or at least made fun of, in the biggest way. Food processors were not widely available until the mid to late seventies, and even then they were prohibitively expensive to regular households. Lots of time was spent in the kitchen chopping, slicing and dicing. Smoothies were not a thing.

3. Meals Were Meals, Take ‘Em Or Leave ‘Em

And you knew leaving ’em wasn’t really an option. After all that mad prep work for meals, who had the time, energy or even money to prepare a whole other menu for picky eaters? And throwing food out was a major no no.  Kids learned to like the food you made.

4. Kids Coloring On The Walls Meant They Were In Deep Shit

I saw somewhere that a kid drew on a wall, with a permanent marker, and the Mom thought it was beautiful so they turned it into a doodley wall mural instead of punishing. I am over the top impressed with this Mama’s self control. My Mom would have been livid, and I must say, I would be pretty pissed too.

5. Food Was Better ‘Cause Moms Had Mad Kitchen Skills

Leftovers can be amazing if you don’t dry them out or turn them into rubber.  Like food processors, microwave ovens were not readily available until the late seventies. If you were having leftovers, even that required some planning. My mom was, and still is, a Boss in the kitchen.

6. Bug Spray

The day my Mom would have had time to make us bug spray from scratch would have coincided nicely with us winning the lottery. Neither one of those things ever happened.

7. Moms Had Coffee With Their Friends, Because They Liked Them

Today is the age of play dates. As moms we try to hang out with and socialize with the moms of kids the same age as our kids. If that is not our thing, we start to get left out or forgotten in social events, and our kids get left out of social circles of their peers. If you were a mom in the seventies though, you phoned your friend and you hooked up for a visit, because you were genuinely interested in and liked this person.

8. Calling People On The Phone Was Totally Acceptable

If you needed to make an appointment, order from Sears, talk to a friend, send flowers and anything else that required communicating with people outside of your house, you did it with a telephone.  And your kids had to be quiet while you talked on the phone. And nobody slammed you for being distracted.

9. Cameras Were For Special Occasions

Special occasions being weddings, birthdays, graduations, family vacations. And you used a 35 mm. You only had a couple  chances to get it right, and you didn’t use them on selfies.

10. Social Media Was Not A Thing

If someone wanted to criticize you, they had to phone you up, or say it to your face. If someone was shoving their awesome life and opinions in your face, you stopped inviting them for coffee. Done and done.

Moms of the 70s may not have had the same gadgets (read life savers) we have now, but they had their Village, and their free-will, and if you as me, they had it WAY easier than we have it today!

She gave me the doe-eyed look that I’ve come to learn means I’m about to impart my vast knowledge of the world upon her. “Mom, where do babies come from?”

I choked on a wheat thin and prepared my best truthish-lie. (It’s not like she’d believe that stork nonsense, and while I don’t mind skirting the truth–I didn’t feel like it was right to flat out make something up.) “Well, when Moms and Dads love each other, and they think they time is right, they just decide to have one.”

She looked out the window, obviously pondering my words. “Okay, so when you decide, God puts a little baby in a mommy’s food and she just swallows it up then in a few days– Bam*– baby?”

Crap. Crap. Crap. Crap. Crap. I’d gone in with this big plan not to send her completely in the wrong direction on a subject this important. I should correct her, not let her think God sprinkles babies on pizza like Parmesan cheese. “Yup. That’s pretty much it.”

“Cool. Let me know when you decide to have another baby, because I don’t want to share any food with you. I’m not ready to be a mom yet.”

“I’ll do that.”

*Oh yeah, she actually said Bam… she’s SO my kid.

8 Moms You’ll Meet At Target

• Selective Hearing Mom – This lady doesn’t seem to notice that her children can be heard from 5 aisles away. She’s usually the mom whose kids are having a light saber battle in the middle of the aisle with pool noodles and who is letting her toddler eat Nilla Wafers out of the box (which hasn’t even been paid for yet) in order to keep her busy. She also doesn’t hear the first 3 times you say “excuse me” because her cart is blocking the entire aisle.

• Mom on Parole – Dark circles under this mom’s wide eyes tell you she hasn’t been shopping alone in way too long and is just relieved to be out of the house for a change. While you might expect to see this “mombie” shopping for adult items, she’s never “off duty” and usually has a cart full of kids items anyway (and often a few bottles of wine).

• Faux-Fit Mom – With her bright athleisure wear trying to draw attention away from the fact that her running shoes are brand new (but several seasons old), this mom just wants to look fit without breaking a sweat. If you see her power-walking through the center aisle, get out of her way. She’s just stopping in for a few things on her way home from the tanning salon and wants to see if yoga pants are on sale. Her next marathon will be on Netflix.

• I’m-Not-Really-Here Mom – She rolled the dice by going to the store without makeup and is still wearing the oversized Army-green t-shirt she slept in the night before so, if you see her, pretend you don’t. She loves her family and the U.S.A., and is just trying to get the item that she desperately needs and get in and out of the store without running into anyone she knows. If only Target sold Invisibility Cloaks…

• Trying-To-Stay-Relevant Mom – Fresh from her mani/pedi, with Starbucks in hand, this mom looks like she hasn’t dealt with kid-puke in years. This mom is usually found looking at the latest paperback novel-turned-movie and still believes in ‘me time’. She may have the mom haircut, but she is grossly out of uniform. Probably a Step-mom.

• Von Trapp Mom – Take notes: the child management skills are strong with this one. With a snap, a whistle or just a look, her little ducklings fall in line behind this Mama Duck. You might be tempted to hate her Jedi-like momskill, but don’t! If you saw it, you would be in awe, too…and probably just a little bit jealous.

•  Mom of a Future Lawyer – This mom lets her child publicly engage her in arguments about what to buy them. He’s cute (but not that cute), he’s four and he knows what he wants out of life, including his cereal of choice. With the word “NO” forming on your own lips, you’re secretly rooting for her, but this mom can’t be helped.  She’ll be okay, though.  Little Johnny may be in Garanimals now, but he’ll be in Armani suits tomorrow and will make sure his mom is in the best Senior Residential Village that money can buy.

• Shouldn’t-You-Be-At-WalMart? Mom – With her cellphone holstered snugly in her cleavage and her flip-flops walking on the extra length of her pajama pants, this lady will make you feel just a little bit better about which Target mom you are.

So which Target mom ARE you? Tell us about it in the comments below! Note: If you all claim to be Von Trappers, we’ll know you’re lying.

People have been opinionated and right(eous) for a very long time, so maybe Mommies have been warring over who is doing it better for just as long. There is however no question that pontificating over mommy know-how and superiority from behind a key board and screen has upped the ante. People get braver and smarter when they can hide their face behind their devices, kinda like beer.

There are two types of people when it comes to the Mommy Wars. There are the Moms that are right and judgemental and will hold their ground and fight to prove their betterness even if it means arguing with complete strangers at the park over ‘sharing’ a shovel or a swing. And then there are the Moms who refuse to engage.  They know the other Moms’ opinions are just that, opinions, and have absolutely no value to them, and mean very little in the big picture. These Non Warring Moms to date have refused to engage in battle. They ignore and shy away from the harsh criticism of other Moms, and don’t offer an opinion on anything parenting to another parent unless specifically asked. Until Now.

That’s Right. All of the Mommies engaging in battle with one another, trying to cut up and bring down other Moms because they do things differently than you, your time has come.

The Gig Is Up. You have battled with eachother over breastfeeding vs. bottle feeding. Cloth vs. disposable. Working vs. Stay at Home. You name it, you have found something to argue about. And until now the Non Warring Mommies have sat quietly by refusing to engage.

It’s All About Confidence.  Those Mommies who refuse to participate in the wars have something others are longing for. Confidence. They are comfortable with themselves, and they get that everybody will do things differently. They know that basically all parents love and do their best to keep their babies safe. They know that when it comes to anything else, we are really all just winging it. And until now, they have kept to themselves.

All Confident, Friendly and Non Judgy Moms I am calling on You! I am not asking you to prove that your way of parenting is right. I am asking you to say, to warring mommies whenever you see or hear them, “please, no more warring. The war is over.”

I Wanna Hold Your Hand While We Cross The Street @midnight @thebeatles #MomSongs

— Joe Firefighter (@DBFR118) May 10, 2016

We Guilt this City #MomSongs @midnight

— View from my Office (@viewfrommyoffic) May 10, 2016

I Hope My Kids Didn’t Start The Fire @midnight #MomSongs

— Angela Cobb (@angelacobb) May 10, 2016

You’re Simply the Breast #MomSongs @midnight

— Jeremy Apsley (@JDApsley) May 10, 2016

Mama’s Got A Brand New Diaper Bag #MomSongs @midnight

— Elizabeth Bogosian (@Brainyack524) May 10, 2016

Hello? Is It Money You’re Looking For? #MomSongs @midnight

— Apparently Jane (@spencedbyus) May 10, 2016

Put It Away Put It Away Put It Away NOW #MomSongs @midnight

— Jennifer H (@SuperJenH) May 10, 2016

Welcome To The Jungle Gym #MomSongs @midnight @gunsnroses

— Ronny Pascale (@ronnypascale) May 10, 2016

Seriously, I would pay to see the Broadway musical that could be made from these songs. In fact, I could probably star in it! Now if you’ll excuse me, I just have to go knock, knock, knockin’ on my kid’s door to make sure they’re still alive in there…

Any mom will tell you (especially those scrunched into an elementary school cafeteria on PTA meeting day) that within the Momfia, there exists three families: the SAHMs, the Working Moms, and then you have the bastard child of the two–the WAHMs. The work at home’s are supposed to be Switzerland. They’re the organized, dependable, neutral third-party who has the best of both worlds. They’re living the dream, earning paychecks while planning class field trips and delegating who’s turn it is to bring snacks to the soccer game. They’ve got. it. all.

Except…guess again.

One thing is true though. We WAHMs are equally passionate about our careers as we are our families. And unless you want a smooth punch to the gi-gi, here are 10 things never to say to one.

1). You’re so lucky! You get to wear your pajamas ALL DAY!

Are you kidding me? You obviously aren’t familiar with Skype and how you can be in a room without actually being in a room. I will concede that I might not be wearing pants below the desk though.

2). You should be so fit since you can go to the gym anytime you want.

Here’s where I rear back and kick a 60 yarder right into your cake hole.

3). You probably never run out of milk.

Never. But I run out of wine ALL the time.

4). It must be nice to be able to set your own hours.

Many of us WAHMs clock in and clock out just like everyone else. Worse than that, our company computers monitor our every key stroke and our calls are logged. Then there are those of us who do actually set our own hours. But that’s where you’ll find us working longer hours, and weekend hours, sacrificing sleep and family time to finish the project and cash the check.

5). You make breast feeding an infant while running a conference call look like a breeze!

What can I say? It is a finally honed art form.

6). You work from home. Do you really intend to take your full maternity leave?

7). You’re so lucky! If you’re tired at work, you can just take a nap. 

Ugh. See #4.

8). Since you’re home anyway, would you mind letting my dog out?

Then can you give him a thirty minute walk, put three antibiotic drops into each ear, massaging gently for 2.5 minutes between each drop? And no worries if he gets nervous and pees on you because you’re only wearing yoga pants anyway. He probably won’t bite. Probably.

Sure.

Would you like me to clean your house and fold your laundry too? Maybe donate a kidney?

9). I bet your house is spotless since you stay home all day.

My house is always clean because I fling open the windows, throw out a little tune and all the woodland creatures come to save the day.

10). Do you have a real job or is it one of those multi-level marketing companies?

See #2, then once you see number 2, see #6.

I’m not going to shoot smoke up your blow hole by telling you that working from home isn’t pretty cool, but it isn’t perfect and it sure ain’t always pretty. But the cliche is true. The grass is always greener…where you water it.

There is not enough coffee in the world to prepare me for this.

Every Friday night I make the poor choice of staying up late watching TV or working. For some reason, even though I have been a parent for nine years, I still delude myself into thinking I might get to sleep in a little later on Saturday mornings. That happens approximately never. My son is still awake at 7am sharp. Since gymnastics is at 9, that leaves little room for time wasting. There are diapers to be changed, breakfast to be made and eaten, and dressing everyone appropriately to be done before we can even get out the door. Coffee is typically made- but there’s little time to drink it, let alone drink it before it gets cold. Out the door we go.

I can’t believe I pay money to go through this every Saturday.

It’s stretch time. The gymnastics coach in me says ‘this is an important part of every class and the kids can hurt themselves if they don’t stretch properly’. The mom in me is internally begging the gymnastics coach to hurry the eff up because my kid is two and won’t sit still for this. My arms are being pulled from their sockets trying to get him to stay put, and I can’t hear what the coach is even saying over the child screaming directly into my ear. We’re about five minutes into a 55 minute class. This will be the first of a million tantrums we’ll have before this class is over. Speaking of…

Are my underwear showing through my yoga pants when I bend over to pick him up from his latest tantrum?

I am not afraid to admit that I could do a better job at shaving my legs. With everything else I am doing during my day; shaving just seems like too much work. Not only am I am mom, but I’m also a work at home mom. My first thought in the morning after “Coffee” is “Where are my yoga pants?”. The nature of the beast, is that yoga pants tend to be see through when they’re stretched. AKA when you bend over. Between helping with a forward roll, and the fit throwing, I’m bending over a lot. I either have to make sure my back is always to a wall, or maybe invest in some thicker leggings. On to other clothing woes…

I hope my sports bra is going to hold up to this challenge.

Trampolines. That is all.

Ohhh man I feel bad for those parents

There is two parts to this. It seems as though at least once every class, there is some poor guy who gets hit in the daddy button. Whether he gets in the way of a cartwheel mat, or he splits the beam; there’s always one. Then there’s the kid that was a model student last week, but seems to be having some sort of meltdown today. I can’t tell you how many sympathetic smiles I have given and received at Mommy and Me. You never know what you’re going to get. Such is life with toddlers.

Is it parachute time yet?

Parachute time is not only the part where I get to sit down and have a break, it’s the only part of the class where there is no waiting for a turn, which means no wrangling children to prevent them from running into the path of a tumbling gymnasts or other children.  Which brings me to…

OHHHHNONONONONONONO

Kids don’t look where they’re running. Or they do and they just don’t care. Many hurt heads. Many miniature heart attacks on behalf of the parents.

That concession stand smells sooooo goooood.

Somehow in the rush of the morning, you forgot to grab food for yourself. What else is new? About half way through class, I’m always feeling like popcorn for breakfast doesn’t sound too bad.

How can I bribe him into leaving here without throwing a fit?

I feel you, little guy. I really do. You’ve just gone through three obstacle courses and structured play when you’d really rather just run around, the teacher just took away the parachute, and now mom and dad are making you leave? The injustice! Tell me, what can I do to prevent you from screaming the whole way home? Apparently juice doesn’t work.

I can’t wait to take him back next week.

The image of him running down the trampoline, laughing his head off is going to play in slow motion in my memory for the rest of my life. So even though I’m exhausted and dreaming of coffee, I’d do pretty much anything to see him so happy. It’s really worth the 60 dollars a month, and the physical exhaustion that comes after. Besides; he’s still young enough to nap when we get home.

For now…

Want to find out why Jamie’s not a fan of Kindermusik? CLICK HERE! 

Why Online Mommy Trolls Are The Meanest Of ALL The Trolls

So here is my experience with these vilest of creatures… I work from home, writing things from the heart meant to reach out to readers in a meaningful way. And yes, some of my posts are pointed, and on those posts I totally understand the negative comments.

But then the personal attacks start. Mommies coming at me commenting about things that they really shouldn’t comment about. And maybe it’s that THEY felt attacked that makes them attack back, who knows, but these woman take things too far.

Take, for instance, when mommy trolls (I shall start calling them Moles from here forward) started attacking a sweet post my friend wrote about her daughter. They called her daughter fat. Hopeless. Said she had no future.

The kid is 10.

Moles should never, EVER be allowed to say things like that about a ten-year-old! C’mon!

It’s like they carry a diaper bag in one hand, and a bazooka in the other.

For me the tipping point…the whole reason I’m writing this…are all the attacks about how I don’t have kids.

Now, to be fair, I’ve been very clear up until this point about my fertility issues and the fact that it breaks my heart that I’ve never been able to carry a baby. That doesn’t mean I don’t have kids in my life. In fact, I am surrounded by kids to the point that my family calls me Mary Poppins. I’ve got nieces and nephews out the wazoo and I’ve had a hand in helping raise (in my home, thankyousomuch) three non-related kids.

But I can’t carry.

Which shouldn’t matter, but to the MOLES it makes All The Difference In The World.

The other day I was told it was best I couldn’t have children, because I’d probably just kill them.

I’ve been told I should kill myself so I don’t accidentally conceive.

I’ve been told that until I’m able to give birth on my own, I should shut the front door (less nice language was used).

The most painful, though, was the one who wrote that the baby I lost probably died in-utero to escape being born to me because I’m just horrible.

All of this is awful. Very unfair. Very uncalled for. But more than that…what message is it giving to other women? How many other women read these comments and internalize the attacks? How many are in similar situations to my own and start to feel as if the attacks are not only directed toward me, but toward every woman like me.

It’s vile.

So you know how we’re told not to feed the trolls? I say eff that. I want to feed them Se7en style. Like, just strap them to a chair and shovel spaghetti down their mean Mole throats and wait for them to pop.

Because, seriously, at this point I don’t know what else would stop them.

And while I won’t quit writing, I really do wish I could whack-a-Mole…whack her right upside her judgy-judgy mean mommy troll head.

Have you ever been trolled? Ever been cyber-bullied? Do you have any suggestions on how to deal with the mean moms on Facebook and other social media? Leave your thoughts and opinions in the comments below!

I will admit that I’m not what you would call a conventional mom. I cringe when I use that term because I feel like no mom really feels like a “conventional mom”,  but for lack of a better word, we’re going to use it.

I am a younger mom, and generally just a smaller person, so I tend too look even younger than I actually am. I wear leggings and over sized T-shirts. I love skinny jeans, cardigans, and boots. I have long messy hair that is most likey thrown into what I like to call the “F-it bun” (you all know what i’m talking about). I carry a backpack instead of a diaper bag. I wear winged eyeliner. I know how to use Twitter and Periscope. I know who Fetty Wap is (unfortunately). I talk about Harry Potter with your kids. Most people, when you look at me, would not immediately think “mom”.

But, like any mom knows, being a mom is the most important thing in my life. I hand-make my kids Christmas stockings. I work from home so my kids don’t have to go to daycare. They go to ballet and gymnastics, just like other kids do. I make homemade granola bars. I painstakingly match their tiny little socks and sort out their legos just like any other mom does. I DIYed our “elf on the shelf” because good god, who wants to spend 30 dollars on that creepy little dude? I love my kids, just like other moms do.

So what is it about me that makes other moms so weird about me?  It’s in line at school. It’s at piano lessons. I get that I probably get mistaken for the babysitter, or people are judging me, some people are extroverted, or I’m just intimidating.

But, what REALLY irks me, is that I’ve tried making conversation with these women at the bus stop more than once. They’re polite and they answer, but there is always an underlying feeling of unease, like they’re wondering why I’m talking to them and they’re just waiting for me to usher my kid onto the bus and go home. It’s a little bothersome that I know your children’s birthdays and you don’t even want to know my name. Meh. It’s more effort to make conversation with these women who obviously have no interest in including me in their conversation than I’m willing to put in.

To be fair, the last thing I want to do is talk about mom probs at 7am. I have nothing in common with these women, and in a life without children, we probably would not be friends. BUT- these are the mothers of the kids that hang out in my yard with my daughter after school. It’s almost as if I feel the need to let them know that, I too, am a normal mother, so that they won’t feel weird about their children playing with my children. So far it’s been fine, but there are other issues that are more worrisome than just not being courted by the mom cliques.

If you think your kids don’t notice that three moms are all grouped together and you are standing by yourself- you’re wrong. They definitely notice when these women are together and obviously gossiping about you. Yes, this happens on occasion. Yes, I always look to see if myself or my kids are wearing something weird. My kids are all well groomed and wearing clean clothes that fit. Did I forget to wear a bra? Is my hair crazy? Nope. They’re just rude.

“Mom, how come the other moms don’t talk to you?”

OUCH.

You would think that, as moms, we would try to include each other in polite conversation, after all, we all have something in common. Especially being stay-at-home moms and not getting very much adult interaction, but no. So when these questions are asked by my 8 year old, instead of getting mad and yelling “BECAUSE THEY’RE JUST TOO COOL FOR YOUR OLD MOM” or “I DON’T WANT TO TALK TO THOSE BORING OLD BITTIES ANYWAYS!” , I try to spin it into a lesson, because, honestly, what else am I supposed to do? Let her see me get worked up over these bratty ladies?

“It’s okay if they don’t want to talk to me- they’re just talking to each other. They’re not doing anything wrong”

“But you try and talk to them, but they never try and talk to you.”

“Do you think that what they’re doing is very nice?”

“No.”

“What do you think is the right thing to do?”

“Try and talk to you so you don’t feel left out”

“What if they just don’t like me?”

“They should still be nice.”

“It’s okay if they don’t want to talk to me, but you’re right, the nice thing to do would be to try and make friends. We can’t make other people be nice, but we can try to be good examples.”

I halfway hope they can hear me from where they’re standing.

I’ve long since given up trying to strike up conversation with these women. I’ve accepted that there is something about me that just doesn’t sit right with them, and that’s ok. So far their kids still play with mine, and they all play together nicely, so that’s all that really matters. I do have other mom friends who are amazing people, so I know I’m not shunned by the entire mom population. We are just a little more like minded.

So, they can have their bus stop clique.

I’ll be sitting here with my skinny jeans on, writing about them on a blog.

Wanna wear winged liner to your bus stop, too? Check out this tutorial!

10 Tips That Make Moving Suck Less

1). Make it a family decision.

To prepare for the possibility of our upcoming move, Hubs and I sat the kids down and talked. As a family we measured the pros and cons of Daddy-o accepting a new job across the country–no more 100,000 degree summers (shout out to my Texas peeps!), snow skiing just a short drive away, great schools with more extracurricular opportunities. When the job finally came through, the kids were excited, like they’d been part of a huge decision and like they, too, were in control. The same went for our first house hunt. We all made our own wish lists, compared and leveled expectations. Now, instead of dreading their second move in two years, they’re excited.

2). Take it one room at a time.

We’d been in our first home for fourteen years. It was where my Hubs and I became adults–brought home our babies, taught them to swim, ride bikes and throw a football. It was also where I first discovered you can cram a whole lot of shazam into a hobbit hole. Packing quickly became overwhelming. Paralyzingly so. But after a few deep breaths, a bottle of wine and Eddie Vedder on the sound system, I realized that when you focus on the forest, you lose sight of the trees. Break the job down into smaller, more doable goals, one room at a time.

3). Still feeling overwhelmed? Have a packing party.

Your friends want to spend time with you before you go, they also want dibs on your no-longer-needed furniture. Lets face it, with a big move coming up, that time budget is stretched tighter than your wallet. Your friends are nosy beyotches, too. Finding those old college love letters Hubs used to write you will have them giggling for years. Just remember to pack and seal the “adults-only” drawer before they arrive!

4). Leave the hauling to the professionals. 

I know it’s an expensive option and costs way more than pizza and beer, but nothing ends a friendship faster than broken heirloom china. In my neck of the country, off-duty fireman turned professional movers are in abundance. They’re strong, trustworthy and in great shape to haul that treadmill you had good intentions of using down second story stairs. And they’re more reasonably priced than a divorce, because that’s where you’re headed if you insist on moving yourselves.

So take that security deposit refund or the mortgage payment you got to skip and spring for some help of the hunky variety. I know from experience, they’re worth every penny.

5). Take good care of your moving men.

Feed them well and keep them hydrated. Skip the pizza (that’s what everyone does) and go for pasta with whole grain bread. Try yogurt, fresh fruit and crackers for a snack. If a good tip isn’t in the budget, a cooler of cold beer at the end of the day will hit the spot.

6). Just under hot-totty firemen, wardrobe boxes are the ninth wonder of the world.

Why waste time taking clothes off hangers to stuff in a square box? Pack up clothes, hanger and all, in a nifty little wardrobe container. Or if you’re low on cash and you want to save $12 per box, lay out your hanging garments between two sheets, tie them off at both ends and carry them body-bag style. The bonus practice will come in handy when you’re ready to off your spouse.

7). Purging now means less to unpack later.

Unlike your IUD, if you haven’t used/needed it in the last year, you probably never will. Toss that junk.

8). Stuff gets lost in moves. 

Don’t think that’s a good thing? What about the 14,000 stuffed animals your thirteen year old doesn’t think she can live without. Save a few special ones and “mislabel” the rest. A needy child desperate for a lovey to hug will thank you.

9). Stuff also gets broken

Remember that heirloom China you got when your grandmother passed? It’s as ugly as oven-ripe turds. Granny won’t haunt you. She probably didn’t like it either, or you for that matter. Who wills their ugly-ass dishes to someone they like? Now’s your chance. Use it wisely.

10). It’s okay to feed your kids fast food every. single. night. when you’re moving.

Potential buyers don’t want to smell last night’s chicken curry or burnt asparagus in your kitchen and you don’t have time to cook anyway.  Their arteries and yours will survive. When it’s all over, eat better, but for now suck it up and forgive yourself. You’re contributing to your local economy.

Being raised in the 40’s and 50’s and within a highly conservative environment, the feminist movement of the 60’s and 70’s might as well not have existed in her world. And horror of all horrors, it wasn’t until I went away to college that I even heard the name Judy Blume. Needless to say, there’s a lot about being a girl my mother should’ve told me.

1. Hair turns gray…ALL hair.

The morning of my twenty-fifth birthday began like any other. I woke up, turned on my shower and while I waited for it to heat, I used the potty. Imagine my quarter-life surprise at finding my first gray pubic hair. Sure, I guess theoretically it makes sense. But really? Prematurely gray in the nethers of all places? It was a jarring surprise. One I wish my mother had warned me about.

2. Facial hair isn’t just a guy thing.

I don’t mean to be boastful, but I’ve got a pretty great head of hair. It’s long, thick, and grows super fast. The downside is that I shed like a Golden Retriever. You could knit a sweater with the locks I lose in a day. And it gets in the most unfortunate of places–in my food, sticking to my clothes, down the crack of my derriere. I’m always picking off stray hairs from my person. But never ever ever in any stretch could I have imagined that one day, one of those errant hairs, long enough to thread a needle and darn a sock, that was tickling my neck was actually attached. TO THE SIDE OF MY CHIN. Thanks for having my back, Mom. Should I expect to grow hair there, too? Oh, and a heads up would have been nice before finding my first nipple hair, too, btw.

3. Hormones suck! 

I’m not talking about the crying jags and the adolescent mood swings. I’m talking about those days when the world feels like 60 grit against the rusty metal of your soul. When the sound of children’s laughter hurts like foil on a filling. Those days when you don’t feel like getting out of bed and every channel on television plays a constant loop of Sally-Freaking-Struthers! Thanks, Mom, for the predisposition for early menopause.

4. Crockpots rock!

Growing up, my mother didn’t own a crockpot. Yes, you read that right. It wasn’t that she was the slow cooker nazi or necessarily enjoyed doing things the hard way. It was like air conditioning, we just didn’t have one. By the time I was married and had kids of my own before I began paying attention to the buzz. What is this magical witches kettle that you turn on in the morning, add a dash of this and a sprig of that, ending in a hot brew worthy of gods? Oh crockpot, where have you been all my life? Thanks for nothin’, Mom.

5. Pregnancy/child birth changes everything.

No one ever told me stretch marks would be the least of my childbirth worries. Your feet get wider, sometimes one longer than the other and your once-firm breasts could fill a pair of tube socks. Don’t even get me started on the dough that was once my stomach. And the constant guilt is worse than a Catholic at confession. Eventually, second-guessing whether you’re doing the best thing for your child becomes as normal as finding month old chicken nuggets at the bottom of your purse. Not saying motherhood isn’t worth every sleepless night, gray hair or scar, but you coulda warned me, Mom.

6. Having sex for the first time after giving birth can feel like shoving razors up your vag. 

Jayzus, Mary and a purple dinosaur! You couldn’t have given me a hint about this one? Not even an anonymous email sent from a dummy address? I give up!

7. A few preventative fillers today saves a massive overhaul tomorrow. 

There’s nothing worse than a bad face lift and major work can also lead to major errors.

Look like this

not this

Was this one of those things, Mom, that you thought I needed to live through to appreciate?

8. Talking to your daughter about her vagina is just weird.

Okay, I understand. I get it, but that still doesn’t excuse you from your parental duties, especially as a woman yourself.

9. Talking to your son about his penis is even weirder.

Mom, I’ll totally let you off the hook on this one.

10. That moment when you realize you’ve turned out exactly like your mother…awkward.

And also a little comforting. Let’s face it, our mothers won’t be around forever. Even if mine dropped the ball in some critical areas, she went above and beyond in others, and I’m glad that those are the things she gave me. At this point I’m pretty sure I say at least 20 things a day that my mom said to me when I was younger, and it’s weird. But, it’s also like some sort of legacy of mommyhood that she passed dow to me and that I hope will be passed down to my daughter.

So really, thanks mom. Thanks a lot.

Moms Who Breastfeed: Please Stop.

1. Drinking your own breastmilk – I know you say it tastes good, and you can quote a bazillion statistics why drinking cow milk is worse…but I’ve never had a conversation with that cow. I don’t have to think about her bodily fluids sloshing over my tongue and wonder if her baby is giving me a dirty look because it doesn’t like me, or if it knows I’m drinking it’s food supply…

2. Eating breastmilk popsicles – Again, pretty much same as above. And before you say it’s natural, organic, healthy…so is sperm. But I can’t – I CAN’T imagine people eating spermsicles, either.

3. Breastmilk coffee – Moms. Why are you ruining literally my favorite thing in the world? Do you know that now every single time I come to your houses, I bring my own? I shouldn’t have to say this, but please stop trying to get me to taste you.

4. Human cheese – It’s a thing. I looked it up. And whilst I don’t think anyone I know has attempted making it yet, I’m keeping a wary eye on the buffet table at family get-togethers all the same.

5. Squirting me – This one really is aimed squarely at my SIL’s. Your breastmilk is not a weapon. That look of horror on my face is real. Let’s just make a pact right now: you stop threatening to squirt me with boob-juice, I won’t pee on you. Fair enough?

So, ultimately these are all problems with me and I get that. And you certainly don’t have to stop doing any of that, but just know that the barfing noises I’m making under my breath as you tell me about your breastcapades are not me dismissing your right to feed, but rather me being grossed out by human fluids in general.

Seriously, if you want to run around a field buck-naked, squirting milk at each other while singing “We Are The Champions” at the top of your lungs, go for it. But don’t be offended when I don’t trust the queso you bring to family dinners…

Also, I know you probably think I’m crazy and that none of this is a thing. But it is. IT. IS. Here’s just one site about alternate uses for breast milk of about a million…

10 things that’ll flip my switch and have me jumping off the couch, wine violently sloshing at the lip of my glass…

1). If you can’t find what you’re looking for then you probably didn’t look. Since when did the term “Mom” become synonymous with “finder of lost things.” Did the former strength of my kegels migrate north, banding together to become x-ray vision? Are my stretch marks built in antennaes? No. I know where your shiz is because of the fifty thousand times a week I pick up after you. If you did the same you’d be able to find your missing shoe/remote control/car keys/library book. Don’t make me spill my wine finding it for you. Especially when what you’re looking for is exactly where it belongs.

2). Fighting over who’s turn it is to feed the dogs. Are you kidding me? After all the tears, the bargaining, and promising “mom, you’ll never, ever, ever have to lift a finger if we get a dog,” you’re going to let the poor animals starve out of sheer stubbornness? Not on my watch you won’t. You’d better pray I don’t spill my wine.

3). This is not horseshoes. You only get points if your clothes actually land in the hamper. Don’t make me waste wine while I’m picking up laundry that’s beside the basket.

4). There is nothing wrong with cereal for dinner. It is not child abuse. Or torture. If you actually ate what I cooked I might not be so bitter about cooking. Don’t make me break out the wooden spoon. I might spill my wine.

5). Unless your name is Snooki and we live on Jersey Shore, don’t even try leaving the house with that much make-up on. I will chase you down the street. I don’t care how much wine I spill.

6). It’s 10:30 on a Saturday night. There’s only one reason you to want to go to Janie’s house this late–you’re up to trouble. No, you cannot walk and no I will not drive you. Automobile cup holders aren’t made for wine glasses.

7). Do not lie to me. Like any good attorney, a mom will never ask a question she doesn’t already know the answer to. No amount of Axe body spray can disguise the stench of recess on a 98 degree Texas day. Especially not on a ten year old boy.  Nice try. Now let me cleanse my nasal cavity inhaling fermented grapes.

8). Boogers belong in a tissue, not on your bedroom wall. Here’s a Lysol wipe. Allow me to sip my wine while I supervise you cleaning.

9). When I call/text and you don’t answer, I assume your body’s been left for dead on the side of the road. When I find out you didn’t answer because your battery is dead…somebody better grab me a sippy before I lose my shiz.

10). When you’re grounded, I’m grounded. In that case, forget the glass. I’m drinking straight from the bottle.

Want more? Check these out!

WHEN BEING A BABY MAMA BLOWS

10 TRUTHS MOMS OF GIRLS KNOW TOO WELL…

Honestly, I’m not sure if I should even go on talking to y’all, because you’ve already decided to hate what I have to say and you’re planning ways to tell me I’m evil. So for you – move on. Seriously. Just go read another article or something. Here’s a picture of a rollerblading penis just for stopping by…

Dear Everyone Else:

Here’s the thing: male circumcision is still a thing…and apparently it’s a hotly debated thing. Years ago we thought that it was something that little boys needed and so pretty much every boy in the US was circumcised. After we figured out it wasn’t (as) needed, we (as a society trying to protect our precious boys) kept doing it because we didn’t want boys to stand out as different with their peers. Bullying, yo. That time is over, though. Truth is, it isn’t necessarily necessary in the US (in parts of Africa it can cut down on female-to-male AIDS transmission by 60% so yeah, super duper needed there)…lots of boys aren’t…and we live in a new world where it’s okay for kids to be different.

That being said, if you’re reading this there’s a chance you didn’t even know there was a debate going on. Here are the five people freaking out about male circumcision and why we (they) need to c-a-l-m down.

1. The “I Want My Foreskin Back” guy – To you…it’s gone, man. Let it go. No amount of sending angry messages to moms who circumcised their boys is going to bring your flap of skin back. If something happened to your peep during the procedure, I feel for you. I do. But again, yelling at moms isn’t going to fix what happened to you. Go see a therapist. Find a significant other. Get off the internet. You’re only going to get angrier, so just…move on.

2. The “My Husband Was Intact And My Kids Are Too” mom – Good for you that everyone in your family matches when they stand up to pee, but that doesn’t mean everyone in the world is exactly the same as you. Stop bullying other moms and trying to make them feel badly about something that’s already been done.

3. The “Circumcision Is Male Rape” folks – No. Just, no.

4. The “It’s A Religious Thing And I’m Not” peeps – Again, no. Just, no.

5. Everyone I’m Forgetting – Truth is, in ten years, twenty years, whatever, this isn’t even going to be a thing anymore. It only feels big right now because of the internet and the fact that everything is amplified online. No amount of doxing moms who had their kids cut is going to change things. If it’s gone – it’s gone. As society shifts, less and less people will choose to circumcise and this will all be over. So, for now at least, move on. Go outside. Get some sunshine. Eat a brownie (I’ll let you interpret that as you may), but stop trolling for everyone who has ever had a little boy circumcised…because attacking them isn’t going to change a thing. In fact, it’ll back them into a corner and make them feel they have to justify their decision. So, stop.

Want more? Check these out!

DON’T MAKE ME SPILL MY WINE: 10 THINGS KIDS DO THAT FLIP YOUR SWITCH

5 THINGS NOT TO SAY TO SOMEONE WHO HAD A MISCARRIAGE