Breaking up is hard to do

We've all been there. That's moment in a relationship when you know its not going anywhere, and its certainly not moving forward, that's the moment that you know its over. Your challenge is to decide whether to let it die a slow painful death or to end it quickly, and just pull it off like a band aid on a hairy arm and pray for not too much collateral damage. We expect these situations when we are dating but not when we are play dating. But alas, it happens, and more often than not, I suspect.
It starts off innocent enough, you have a friend whom you know, however well, and one, or both of you, has the brilliant idea to form a sorority of friendship held together by the glue that is our children. Then one, or both of you, decides to enlist other friends or acquaintances into said group because, after all, the bigger the better. A seemingly perfect scenario of coffee amongst the pitter patter of little feet, quickly evolves into headaches amongst screaming children, at the very least. There you are with a group of strangers, that you may or may not have anything in common with, vying for one anther's attention.People start to clique off but amongst it all there is an eerie facade of equal friendship. That "OMG, we are all so great.I love you all so much" bullshit that you keep spoon feeding one another because you are afraid if you are human and don't love every single one of them, or at least pretend to do so, you will be known for the truly horrible bitch that you really are. It's frigging high school with babies. Now, there are a lot of benefits to joining these groups for example; you meet women who are , at the very least, in the exact same situation as you are, as far as having children and raising them ( most times that is where the similarities end. It is sorta like lobbying to your family why you are dating a certain gentleman with the only weapon in your arsenal being that he is a human being. Not much of an argument after all). Joining play date groups gives you an opportunity to get advice, share war stories, feel safe, get guidance in where to go and what to do with your lovely, beautiful fruit of your loins. It sounds fantastic doesn't it?It also gives us a place to be judged at every choice we make concerning our children, its like inviting other women into your life and licensing them to insult you, not only with their words but with their thoughts and actions. Afer all, they are Super Moms and you are a mere human so if you don't see it their way and have no remorse about your imperfection, well then , you deserved to be damned to hell. How could every single woman in the world not want this peace, loving ,warm ,frigging, fuzzy feeling? Have we been idiots up until now and where would we be? How would we function without the great invention of play dates?
We'd be happy and a lot less insecure and probably less judgemental and a little more caring and fulfilled. I love my "play date moms", that's what we refer to one another as because God, knows we seldom evolve past that point. If you can maintain superficial friendships, and hang out with women that you have nothing in common with ( other than both having children), and this doesn't bother you...then play dates are the place for you. I have made a couple of truly remarkable friends amongst my "Play date Moms". Real, honest to goodness friends who I would like whether they had children or not. It just helps that they have kids because that way we have one more thing in common( partial sanity) and we are in a similar place in our lives, which is always beneficial to a friendship . The other way around being friends only because you both have kids, is sorta like being friends because you both have brown hair or teeth. It's ridiculous.
My experience has been not unlike that of my experience with my boyfriend at 15, somebody is crazy for somebody and someone else doesn't care. You both start out in a relationship all excited about this journey and then about 15 minutes in , you realize that you are truly up a creek without a paddle; only it feels more like you're in the ocean. One person wants to spend every waking moment together, infiltrating every single facet of your life and the other is running for their life in the opposite direction. It's like there is no in between, there is no common ground so there is only one thing left to do, break up.
The word is so dreaded; all the connotations are negative. There is nothing positive about breaking up.It is admitting failure and you know how us women are, we hate that. So, we try to force them to break up with us, after all, we know we want out so they are not really ending it; we are, they just don't know it. Seldom does that work. We try avoiding them, not returning phone calls, emails, we even simply just don't show up. But it doesn't work. You know why? Because she won't give up either,she doesn't want to admit failure that she couldn't make this relationship work.It is a vicious cycle.The children are being drug all over town, why Mommies smile their Vaseline smiles with absolutely no sincere feelings , at all, behind them. Rooms are filled with the buzzing of absolutely nothing of importance being said, mixed with the latest gossip of those who had the misfortune of not attending and it is all thinly veiled as concern. Pish Posh , I say. Finally, some one's got to be the adult and put an end to this madness. In your most grown up, unbiased, level headedness, you excuse yourself from the group. You simply inform them that though they are wonderful, (they are not for you:) something has come up and it is better to remove yourself from the play date roster. In the end, you are still going out revealed as the " the truly horrible bitch that you are." That which you tried to avoid from the get go.So, you see breaking up is sometimes almost impossible to do, even with the best intentions.Who knew breaking up with a group of ladies was going to be harder than breaking up with an obsessed 15 year old boy?

Potty Training

Two years ago, I first embarked on this lovely little fact of life, we lovingly refer to as Potty training. It was my first time and I followed the advice of all the parenting books. I constantly , from the age of 18 months, stalked my daughter for any indication that she was ready to start the dreaded Potty training regime. So, as soon as I noticed that she 1) absolutely hated her diaper being wet 2) told me that her diaper was wet 3)did not want to wear diapers anymore; I got right on the potty training. So, at first I tried the whole "take her diaper off and let her run around commando", all that did was let her pee all over my carpet. I thought it was embarrassing the first time I caught myself sniffing her butt in public to see if she pooped, holy guacamole, that was nothing compared to the fact that her urinating on my floor didn't even phase me. I simply thought to myself, "Yeah, that's going to have to be shampooed tomorrow!" When did I devolve into this butt sniffing, urinating not caring, vomit and spit up wearing person? Anyways, back to the task at hand.."potty training". Yeah, the peeing on the carpet was working for either of us. She was wet and irritated, I was annoyed and somewhat grossed out and I felt really bad for her. Next, I tried the "put on some panties and take her to the potty every 15 minutes" approach.All attempts and approaches were coupled with lots and lots of praise, her Dad and I would jump for joy and sing the "Go,Bella! Go, Bella!" song. She loved it and squealed with delight and pride, asking for more, each and every time we did it This seemed to work and after only a couple of mishaps and near misses, she totally got the hang of it. We were so proud. So, of course, the Diaper fairy had to pay a visit. I stole this gem from Jo Frost of "the Nanny"..but hers was a pacifier Fairy, luckily, we had no need for that Fairy. In effect what happened next was my husband and I had our dear, sweet almost 2 year old put all her "daytime" diapers in a Fed Ex box and mailed them off to the "Diaper Fairy". Well, that was our story and we are sticking to it. It just so happens that the Diaper Fairy is one of my other alter egos. And the next day, the Diaper Fairy sent our girl a Fed Ex box full of goodies for her accomplishment. All was good in our household. Baby # 2 was coming in a couple months and baby #1 was on her way to making life, for Mommy, a little easier.What a little rock star she was to me.
Fast forward 2 months, Baby #2 is here.Life is fantastic.Baby #1 decides that "No, not feeling this potty training stuff.That baby's not stealing my thunder." She completely regressed. I knew it was too easy.So, fast forward almost an entire year and finally, it stuck! It was a long haul but totally worth it!It's always worth it not to have to change diapers or shampoo pee out of the carpet, thank God that we never had the privilege of having to shampoo a "poo" out of the carpet, or she still may have been wearing diapers to this day.
Now here we are, two years later and guess what? Baby #2, that awesome, rock star Gabs, is ready to be trained. But the most amazing thing has happened.Having learned from my previous fiasco and the "Year of the potty", I have decided that I will just wait until she is ready... really ready . Well, she follows her sister everywhere, to the ends of the earth and that includes to the potty. So, one day she just comes to us, rips off her diaper, "Mamma, potty!" and she takes my hand into her little hand and pulls me to the potty. She sits on the potty and promptly pees. A huge smile, ear to ear, and she is beaming with pride.We are shocked and amazed.I was seriously expecting to fall over and pass out from shock. But in true Truthful Mommy fashion, I scream for my husband, who rushes into the bathroom ( probably thinking that one of the girls has fallen in the tub or maimed herself in some horrible accident) only to find me smiling from ear to ear. I point to my little genius on the potty and we immediately break into that old familiar chorus of "Woohoo!Go Gabi!Go, Gabi!" and we clap and tell her how proud of her we are and her sister tells her what a big girl she is .We are ecstatic, the thought of no longer having to buy or use diapers, thrills us all, beyond fathomable belief but it has to be a fluke. Then the next day, she does it again, and then so on and so forth. Now, 2 weeks into her doing this on her own and her big sister constantly reminding us, the Diaper Fairy is finally making an appearance at our house again.She'll be 2 tomorrow and she's potty trained, all by herself.Oh my God, SHE IS POTTY TRAINED!!! Seriously, there is a silver lining to every cloud. Life is good.Diapers be gone, come again no more!!!

Being honest with yourself

Every morning, I wake up and I see my daughters, usually one or both have ended up in our bed at some point throughout the night, and I am in awe of them. I truly am overwhelmed with a feeling of pride and blessedness that I have the honor of calling these perfect human beings mine. The sheer fact that I had anything to do with assisting them to enter into this world, it makes my life worth living. And every night before I go to bed, I pray to God to watch over my daughters and to let them live long, happy, and healthy lives. Above all else, this is all I ask. It is all that really matters to me. I think this is how all mothers feel. But some time in between the morning awe and the bedtime kisses and prayers, we get sidetracked by life. I've caught myself yelling at my girls to " please be quiet," or even the occassional full on "Please shut up," at which I immediatley feel horrible and like I should be awarded the worst mom ever trophy. I know that I want and have every intention and capability of being a great Mommy to my girls but sometimes I feel that it is about as effective as having every intention and capability of working out. Where is that fine line that we cross where we go from thinking our kids' behaviour is endearing to it is unacceptable? Its not them who is changing the rules, it is us and these sliding scale rules to fit our own moods, that is the real problem. That is the true culprit to our frustration. I am making a concerted effort to look at my children , even in the most trying times, no matter the behaviour and stay in control. Who makes the rules? We do. So my new rules are these 1) Love my children above all else, no matter what they do 2) Never let them see you sweat.Stay in control. 3)Let the small things go. They are only small( the children ,not the "things'lol) for a short time.4)Turn the frowns upside down. Life is too short to be unhappy.5) It's more important to have a healthy and happy realtionship with your children than to have lots of money, a clean house, a quiet house, or a social life.By trying to have all of the above, you ( or at least I do) will find yourself frustrated and unfulfilled. So, my new mantra is "Enjoy my children and forget the rest", it is the only way that I can accept the chaos that fills my everyday. It is not a bad chaos, it is merely a deviation from my plan and sometimes thats enough to throw the most organized of us all into a complete parental tailspin. But what a wonderful, exciting tailspin it is and I am blessed to be able to share this journey with my two free-spirited, adorable daughters.

Waking up Mommy

The other morning I woke up; the sun was shining, the birds were singing, and , by all accounts, it was going to be a beautiful day. I lay there for a moment enjoying the silence.Quiet, the whole house was still. All that I heard was the faint sound of the wind chimes, like the bells from some distant church. Absolutely everything was perfect. Then, from out of nowhere, I get a miniature sized karate chop to the face.It startled me at first, as it does every morning.Then I roll over to see the cherub like visage of my 1 year old, still sleeping. Her light brown hair lay in a ratted jumble, spread out amongst the pillows and she is completely oblivious to the pain in which she has just inflicted. I smile, how could I not at such a face. So, I lay there, still as a mouse, trying to preserve every last moment of the silence. Oh, how I adore my children when they are asleep. They resemble perfect little angels with their perfect milky skin all aglow, their hair tousled in chaotic perfection, as they lie there in complete peacefulness. I am envious and , at the same time, I feel so much love for them that my heart feels as if I can not contain it. I can not leave the bed of my sweet co sleeper, for fear that the moment that my feet hit the ground, the spell will be broken and she will awake. So, I lie there, for what seems like an eternity, waiting for her to awaken on her own. The silence, really is wonderful. I close my eyes and decide to make the best of it. I resign myself to peacefulness and at the very moment that I settle into sleep, the door bursts open and my 4 year old screams "Good morning , Mama!" Waking her sister, breaking the spell, ending the silence, my sunshine has arrived.



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Bringing Home Baby

I will never forget the moment the nurse came into my room and said,"OK, as soon as we can get you a wheel chair, you guys can go home." She shared a warm, heartfelt smile with the three of us, this new family of ours. My heart sank, my stomach turned, and my eyes immediately welled up with tears. I was frightened and overwhelmed, excited and ecstatic but I felt like I was going to vomit. I looked at my, obviously, just as freaked out husband and I whispered, " Are they really going to let us go home with her?" I knew the answer. I had been planning on this moment since the moment I knew I was pregnant. But amongst all the anticipation, I had forgotten that, in the end, this tiny, newborn baby was going Home with us.I thought to myself, "My God, what will we do with her? She is so tiny" In my head, I just knew, she was so perfect..I didn't want to be the one responsible for messing her up. They make you take a test and get a license to drive a car but no test, no license, no qualifications for taking care of a baby.It really is insane. At that moment, as we were staring at this tiny little piece of perfection strapped into the giant , all engulfing car seat, scared witless , the nurse came in with the wheelchair. I sit down in the wheel chair and I realize that this is truly the first day of the rest of my life.Absolutely everything that I have known up to this point is completely irrelevant in my life and I don't care. As they place my beautiful , little miracle into my lap, our eyes lock and her gaze holds me. I am in love, deeper then anything I have ever known. In that millisecond, I have become an extra in my own life and she is the star...and I wouldn't have it any other way.

Hell on Wheels in Taffeta and a Pink Helmet

As I have mentioned, I am the mommy of two super girls. Bella has recently turned four and her baby sister, Gabs, is about to be two. Saying my hands are full is an understatement, to say the very least but I feel that I handle it well, on most days. But despite my best attempts, I can not be everywhere at all times. It is simply an impossibility.This is an issue because, although Bella is a graceful, princess,ballerina, girly girl, Gabs is a tiny hell on wheels full on daredevil. This is not to say she is a tom boy, not that there is anything wrong with that, she is a daredevil clad in puffy skirts and pig tails, which is much worse because when she does all of her crazy reckless tricks, all you see is bloomers and bruised knees.The thing about Gabs is, and I'm not sure if its her daredevil antics or her unusually large toddler, dome of a head ( although it is absolutely beautiful) but something has absolutely altered her center of gravity. Couple her off quilter gravity with her bad luck and sheer clumsiness and she is truly an emergency room visit waiting to happen. Let me just mention a few of the stunts that have landed us in a mad dash to the pediatricians office, in her almost two years; falling off the changing table, tripping over her own feet and busting her head on the bottom of the bed frame ( yes, the bottom..under the mattress), she has fallen into the corner of a coffee table ( the only one in the house without one of those wonderful child protection corner poofs) busting her head wide open.She has fallen into the wall, fallen off the ottoman onto the wood floor and busted her face, fallen face first into the corner of her sisters dresser because she was climbing over the edge of the bed trying to switch the channel on her sisters TV, and many many other spills and falls while scaling the walls of our house. She is like Spider man without the spidey suction power. Now that I list some of her accidents out loud, poor baby really did inherit Mommy's clumsiness.She is my joy in life and my smile but she scares the hell out of me, on a daily basis. Today, this one was especially classic and true to Gabs form, she was standing at the window watching the birdies. Screaming "Mommy, buurdie", when all of the sudden a blood curdling scream. I know what you're thinking,"Oh,God. She fell through the window". Thank God, no. So ,I get up to go over to her and she turns around..still screaming. And I swear to you, the metal hair clip that was in her hair ( you know the little metal ones that look like an alligator's mouth) was attached to the corner of her lip. How it got there or why she didn't take it off, I have no idea and unfortunately, I cannot ask an almost two year old and get a logical or coherent answer, especially not in that state. What I would give to know the answer to that particular mystery of my life. The moral of the story is...NOW, I know why some little kids walk around with helmets on. Next time you see me, I'll probably be at Target scoping out a pink princess helmet for everyday wear:)

Rain ,Rain , Go Away..

Why is it that on the days when your children wake up with the greatest amounts of energy and the worst attitudes, the days that they really need to be outside in the fresh air and burn off some of all of that, those are the days it rains? Those are the days that it pours with no chance of clearing up. Don't get me wrong, my girls are absolute joys most of the time; except when they are hungry, tired, out of their element, slept on the wrong side of the bed, spot the obscure ant in the foyer, and so on and so forth.Those days are another story. But on days when they have lots of energy and ,because of rain, have no means of burning it off, they are truly something special. My day goes something like this, we wake up, they are busting at the seams to do something, anything. I suggest games, painting, drawing, reading, etc, and they tire of each and every activity within minutes.They want to go outside. It is pouring. It is miserable. Yet, still they whine to go outside. My will is breaking, my ears are bleeding, and my head is about to explode.Then it hits me..put the slickers and the rain boots on and go for it.Take 'em outside they won't melt!(The temp. is around 70 degrees, so its not like it is freezing)They'll have a blast jumping in puddles, you'll be relieved of any possibility of your head exploding and you have turned a potential scarring episode into a wonderful memory.Afterall, happiness is not measured by how many times you can win the argument but by how many times you you can avoid an argument and enjoy your children for who they are and not who you think they should be. Hug them and kiss them as often as possible because soon they will be teenagers and want nothing to do with you!

2 year old Selective Hearing Syndrome and other nuggets of wisdom

I have began to wonder why none, not one,of the parenting books mentions that around the age of 2 children develop selective hearing.Hearing only the things that they want to hear and specifically those things that you don't want them to hear such as the occasional stump your toe curse word or the fact that your friend needs to lose a couple pounds. Of course they choose to hold on to these nuggets until the most inappropriate times for instance, said friend's nervous breakdown over her looks, or they blurt out some unexpected four lettered gem in the middle of mass.Why is this information not labeled with a warning in the parenting books. Is it just another one of those secrets we keep because it is too much fun to watch the provisionals experience the embarrassment and humiliation that we ourselves did, not so long ago?Beware this is quite frequently co morbid with Constant Repeat disorder. In a nutshell, not unlike my child, your child ignores you and repeats anything they say constantly as to make sure that you have not acquired their selective hearing syndrome.My daughter's favorite repeat phrase is " M..o..m...m.y...EAT!" It is usually repeated in sets of no less then 7 times. Furthermore, even more concerning then the 2 year old selective hearing syndrome, there is the very common but temporary ( I am hoping) 4 year old complete deafness disease. This is a little more frustrating because the onset is normally around the age of 3 to 3 and 1/2 years of age and continues on to about the age of 6, only to reappear at around age 11.So, that is something to look forward to in the coming years. My daughter's particular strain of the disease leaves her completely deaf to any and all requests from her father and I, of any kind, especially those requests that pertain to the well being of her little sister, aforementioned victim of selective hearing syndrome. Sometimes it can be quite scary when you are asking, repeatedly, for the child to stop beating on their sibling, sitting on their sibling,annoying their sibling, doing something dangerous, to eat, be quiet or clean or pick up anything and the child simply does not hear your voice in any form. They become completely oblivious to the parent who is making said requests. Sometimes, we are overcome with the desire to shake said child but don't give in. At the very moment you move towards the child, like a bunny, they scamper and scurry to another room. Leaving you even more frustrated because with 4 year old complete deafness disease, once in another room deafness is absolute and there is no hope for said child to hear anything you will ever say fro the remainder of the day..possibly ever again!

What really happens the second time around

Fast forward to two years later, we have a beautiful, now demanding toddler (whom I am completely in love with) who wants all of my time, every waking moment. Who decided long ago that co-sleeping was the thing for her, and is still in our bed, with no end in sight? Not that I mind, it’s comforting to see your child’s cherubesque face in the middle of the night when you awaken to pee for the 7th time because you’re 9 months pregnant. But it makes it hard to bask in the glory of the pregnancy of baby number 2, when baby number 1, is still a baby. Still I only gained 18, ok 20, lbs. But for some reason I seemed a lot bigger. Last time, I didn’t even show until I was 8 months pregnant. Seriously, I was thicker in the waist but at my baby shower (2 months before my daughter was born) people were teasing me that I didn’t look pregnant. And I really didn’t, well, only in my ass So here I am, bigger than before, chasing a toddler who has the energy of a boxer puppy on crack cocaine, and I am absolutely drained. I had all day sickness from hell, for 4 months. I had to wear sea sick bands! I looked pretty ridiculous. No one was quite as impressed the second time around. Don’t get me wrong, we were all ecstatic. We planned for baby #2, and got pregnant right away, it was just different because the time that I used to bask in my procreating glory last time, was now being used to shuttle a 2 year old to classes, play dates, and constantly try and explain/prepare her for her new baby sister. I was obsessed with making baby # 1 not feel left out or abandoned by the pending arrival of baby #2. It was exhausting.

Mother's Day ;Part Deux!

This morning got off to a rocky start,as you can see from my previous post. But it evolved into a magical evening anyway.Wayne eventually woke up from his sound slumber and realized that it was, in fact, Mother's Day! He told me to take some time for myself and he would handle the girls. So, I made myself a drink and made my getaway. I headed downstairs to the movie room to finally watch "Twilight", alone. I don't think I've had the luxury of doing anything "alone" in at least 4 years. It started off nice, actually, quite fantastic.I could smell the delicious dinner that my husband was cooking, as it wafted downstairs through the vents.Turkey and cranberry ravioli and fresh panzanella salad, had become my favorite meal of all time. As I sat in the movie room, in the pitch black, sipping my cocktail, watching the adorably romantic teenage Dracula, my mind began to wander. Wander back to a time when I actually got to sit in complete and utter silence and peace and enjoy a movie in its entirety without someone screaming, or crying, shouting "M..o..m...m..y..Eat!" or asking me continuously for a play by play of what is happening in the movie. My children have an uncanny knack for wanting to converse at the times that necessitate quiet the most; church, movies, weddings, funerals, etc. But as background for the quiet, that I did so enjoy for about 45 minutes, I hear my girls running around and giggling upstairs and it hit me. I'd rather be upstairs with them, then downstairs without them; peace and quiet or not. I came back to reality, left the peace and quiet and came back upstairs, and was greeted by a barrage of hugs and kisses; followed by homemade cards created with love, and a sumptuous dinner made with just as much love. I'd say my Mother's day was more awesome then I could have hoped for.

Mother's Day Morning

So, this morning, I was the first one to wake up. I decided if I wasn't going to be able to sleep in, then I'd get up and make the most of the morning, alone. I get up and brush my teeth, and decided to do a mud mask.Then about 1 minute into my "Me" morning, my youngest wakes up, "Mommy..eat!!" "Ok, honey one sec. Mommmy's almost done ( putting on said mud mask)". She's not having it.In her most persistent sing songy voice.."M..o..m...m..y....EAT!" "OK, Ok. I am coming". This is followed by my oldest waking up ( did I mention it's 7:00 am,early for them). "Mom. Happy mother's day!" ,"Awww, thanks sweetie!" "What's on your face?(with complete and utter disgust)".As her baby sister, continuously screams..."M...O...M..M..Y, EAT!" She's getting pissed! All the while, my husband is still sleeping soundly. Oh, I must have got my days crossed...I thought this was Mother's day...not "Father's day"! I hope this day gets better from here:)

Irate Mama

OK,so I live by Notre Dame University. Most of you are aware of the current controversy of President Obama delivering the commencement speech. The reason that I am irate is that there is a group that is protesting Obama's presence on campus in a means that not only boils my blood, it assaults all of my senses! We are driving onto campus to visit the bookstore and as we turn, I see protesters.They are holding banners. On the banners are pictures of not what I would consider aborted fetuses but something more like cut up and burned newborn babies. These pictures are next to a picture of an actual newborn baby, for effect. So, that being what I consider to be a violation of MY freedom is compounded by the fact that my 2 and 4 year old are in the car! Luckily, they did not see it. But what if they had. That could scar a kid for life! Not to mention the discussion that I would have to have with my children explaining not only the photos but that some people have no scruples or tact. So, this all happens and I am livid!! I want to kill somebody because I am incomprehensively offended. We are driving home, through downtown South Bend and much to my dismay, there is not 1 but 2 (yes, 2!!!)moving truck sized trucks traveling at snail speed.As we are quickly approaching, I happen to notice, through my fog of lividness, that there is a huge picture of President Obama on the back with the wording "I am a Christian" on it and then I remember that it has been rumored that there are 2 phantom moving trucks driving around town protesting President Obama. As we get closer, I realize that those same photos that were on poster board and assaulted my senses were now fast approaching on the passenger side. My 4 year old is looking on and the photos of the dismembered newborns ,at least the size of a compact vehicle, were headed straight for her. So, I scream at the top of my lungs, "Close your eyes!!" and ,for once, they listened. Thank God! Because as I turned to face the brutality and sheer monstrosity of what was the side of that truck, I was met with vulgarity and filled with disgust. Disgust for these people who would risk exposing children to these photos, to win an argument. I think it should be against the law to force me to look at these graphic photos. Of course, they are not the Pro Choice group, so I guess they have no regard for my choice in any matter! Words cannot even begin to convey how very offended I am by these photos and these people. They are infringing on MY right to freedom! They are so concerned about the intimate details and business of others ,yet, they have no issue doing something equally as disgusting as what they are fighting against. They are exploiting these photos. OK,to be clear I am Catholic and I do not particularly believe in or lobby for abortion but I do respect basic human rights.And I think that the right to CHOICE is the biggest one and I also think that the privacy of our own bodies is ours, but most importantly, I think that showing these pictures is vulgar, disgusting and irresponsible because there are a lot of children in South Bend, being scarred for life because they people are ignorant, inconsiderate a**holes!

Rantings of a Crazy woman; 1st Pregnancy

So, that brings us to the gloriousness of pregnancy. Well, for me, pregnancy was pretty glorious. I only gained 18 lbs. with my pregnancies (of course I started out on the chunky side), mild all day sickness with my first, I had an ass for the 1st time in my life (not so bad), boobs got a little bigger, no hemorrhoids, no excess gas, still loved sex, still slept on my belly, no stretch marks (well, one but it disappeared after birth).No craziness. I just basked in the glory of my pregnancy. It was amazing and I devoured all the attention, ate whatever I wanted (that was allowed), was completely engulfed in the whole experience. Read every book (with and to my husband), sharing facts like they were going out of style. Rented a Doppler, sang to my fetus, played music to it, talked to it, swayed it to sleep. Everything about it was amazing. Took every class, drove a little slower, and kept a journal of my pregnancy. No one told me that I should pamper myself, because it was the last time I’d be able to do anything alone, for the rest of my life. Oh, to go to the toilet without a chaperone trying to eat the toothpaste. Those were the days. But, I wouldn’t trade one moment of toothpaste eating tag to pee alone again, if it meant that I didn’t have my daughters. Alone time is over rated anyways, yeah, just like date nights and spontaneous sex, said the jealous, tired Mommy. That was my first pregnancy!

Resume our regularly scheduled programming: What was Eve thinking?

Now, if I’ve scared you to death that was not my intention. For those of you who have been through this already, you’re laughing because it’s true (and believe me you, misery enjoys company) and if you’ve not been through it yet; you’re either laughing hysterically thinking, this lady and her metaphors are hilarious, or you are heeding my warning and doubling up on the birth control. Either way, I speak the truth. So, let’s get started. Nothing in life is free; yes, our mothers told us this. And when speaking of being a woman, well, all I can say is damn that Eve. Let’s see we get our periods, which means we can get pregnant (theoretically). So there is that. Of course, if we’re young or single the chances are greater because it’s not enough that we are blessed with bleeding every month, we must be on constant alert and taught a lesson. So, if you don’t want to get pregnant and you are young or single, be extra cautious because you are in the highest risk category of those first blessed with pregnancy. Don’t know why, but you are. Now, if you are a married woman, in your mid 20’s or 30’s, with the closest thing to sufficient income trying to get pregnant, now it’s a little more difficult. How badly do you really want it? Because, sometimes it’s easy with a little careful charting and planning (isn’t that sexy?) but other times you have to work for it… hormones, invetro, etc. Why, you ask yourself? Let’s ask Eve, that bitch. And then the older you get, the easier it would be for you to take care of a child, the more you might want it, the harder it becomes. There is, however, a group in there (who I hope you all fall into) that has a wonderful, loving marriage and after celebrating their fifth year anniversary decide that it is time to bring a child into the family. They go on a nice, sexy vacation somewhere; have a little drink, do a little dance, get down tonight and wham, bam! 10 months later a baby changes everything, but you planned for it (well, the best you can plan for such things in life). That’s the fairy tale, it’s the dream we all had right after we planned our weddings, when we were twelve. SO, here we are 18 years and a master’s degree later. Now, we all know that in our hearts this pregnancy/motherhood gig is what puts us over the top. We rule. We forever are on a pedestal for giving our husbands their beloved children (they cannot do that by themselves).They can do a lot of shit, but without us there would be no propagation of the species and there is no substitution for what we can do! It turbo launches us into sainthood. But it’s a slippery slope because; the same is not guaranteed for those poor unfortunate (I only say unfortunate because you never know how the guy’s going to react in that situation) girls who get pregnant on accident. Then you run the risk of some jackass taking away your glory and treating you like you owe him, for sticking him with a baby. Be careful!

Playdates; A brief deviation from my sequence

Four years have passed since the birth of my first child, that means it has been just about 3 years and 3 months ( give or take) since we entered the world of play dates. I know, we were late to the scene. What can I say. Anyways,I digress. So,at that time we had recently relocated to a new part of the country. I, being bound and determined to give my child the best childhood ever ( because that is my quest , you know),signed us up for a couple of the "it" classes that are imperative for children at that age, if they are to become anyone later in life. We go to our classes and I cast my net. I try and gauge from our brief encounters and the public interactions of Mommies with their children, who just might be worthy of our friendship, or at the very least, which other Mommies were on "my" level. I know, it sounds horrible when you say it out loud. Keep in mind, this scenario is very much like freshman year in college. You are scared, alone, new to the area and willing to befriend and accept just about anyone into your "clique". You've got to start a clique so you can be a part of something. So, to recap, we have a need to belong to the best clique (for our children's benefit, of course) but we are so desperate we end up being play date friends with anyone who'll have us. That is until we get our bearings and regain our senses. In most cases, the original play date relationship dynamic devolves and eventually ends in a slow, painful death. You see, the original net we cast to catch some play date friends usually has a lot of throw backs.Just like freshman year, we find ourselves floundering to unmake the original friendships because we find that we have absolutely nothing in common, except for our one common denominator, said children. Unfortunately, this is not usually enough to sustain a real friendship but it can foster a false sense of belonging. It seems to be ingrained into our minds that we need to subject ourselves to rejection in order to feel accepted. I don't know why we do this as people, little lone as Mommies because then we are dragging these poor children into this pit and doing it all under the guise that "this is whats best for my baby". In our hearts, we mean only good and can never, at its inception, perceive or fathom what twilight zone like situations we may soon find ourselves in! Much more to share about play dates, but we will save that for another day!

Labor, What's the story morning glory?

They say they call it labor, because it’s a lot of hard work ( which is beyond my comprehension, still how it can take 10-30 hours for a baby to move from your uterus out into the world; after all, it’s not a transatlantic flight). Well, if we’re calling it what it is; let’s call it a near death experience! That’s the truth. Thank God we women are so easily distracted by our new shiny object (said newborn), cause if it weren’t for that we’d sure be holding a lot of grudges Not that I’m bitter about birth, but damn they could have pulled out all of my teeth, all of my hair, and my fingernails and I wouldn’t have noticed because the pain of bringing my dear, sweet glorious angels into this world, was all encompassing.

Remembering the bliss of birth

All anyone ever tells you about birth is “It’s such a blessing” (which it is) and you forget about the pain of childbirth as soon as you hold your beautiful newborn baby in your arms (which I hate to be the bearer of bad news, is a complete (Did I mention complete and absolute, bold faced lie). Unless an anvil fell on your head, immediately after giving birth, while holding your newborn and by some miracle missed your child, knocked you unconscious leaving you with amnesia…you will never forget the pain of childbirth. It is an indescribable, unforgettable, and unbearable pain…who could forget that, so why don’t we warn our sisters, friends, and other beloved women in our lives? I’ll tell you why, it wouldn’t change a thing. The pain would still be ‘that’ pain, and all it would do is make our girlfriends stress out and hurt even worse, besides if you dare to be different and actually go against the code and tell someone the truth, well, they won’t believe you anyways. I told my best friend that while waiting for the anesthesiologist, I told my husband if he didn’t find the damn doctor with the needle then I was going to jump out the large picture window that was in my hospital room. He knew I was serious. She thought I was kidding, speaking metaphorically to demonstrate the point, but I was serious. Dead serious! Not until she was in the throes of her own delightful birth did she recollect my words and realize damn, she was telling the truth!!! The scary, horrible, painful truth. Now, I had asked my sister in law (who had 4 children at the time, with no epidural) about the pain of childbirth and I never got a straight answer.Just the typical, you’ll forget about the pain once you hold your baby in your arms and look down into those beautiful eyes. After, I went through the lovely ordeal of childbirth; I called her and asked her “why didn’t you warn me?” Her answer to me was this, “it wouldn’t have changed anything and it would have freaked you out. Once you’re pregnant, it’s too late to change your mind because of a little pain (Little?) Besides, you never would have believed me!!!”And you know, we were on the phone (states apart) but I swear I heard laughter in her voice. You know that, I just pulled a joke on somebody laugh. I’m telling you, this club, it really does enjoy watching its provisional’s squirm. I was punked! But she was/is right; I would have thought she was crazy, a wimp, a liar, perhaps all of the above but I never would have believed and certainly could not have comprehended what child birth felt like.

The Truth about Motherhood

There’s a club, more exclusive than the Junior League, the country club, or any other social/philanthropic women’s club, it’s called the Mommy Brigade also known as the bliss/insanity that is Motherhood. Ok, yes, there are many, many women in this club, from all countries and walks of life but do you know of any other club where the initiation rite is producing a human being? Seriously, that’s a little steep. And it’s a forever club, once you join, you’re a lifer and believe me it’s more stringent than any other club I belong to, you are continuously scrutinized; what you wear, what they wear, how you speak, what classes you take, and the lists goes on forever. Other women never tell you the truth about motherhood. Or should I say, other Mommies never tell you the truth about motherhood. Not any of it is revealed, not pregnancy, not birth, or motherhood. This is the truth that your Mothers, sisters, and girlfriends never told you! This is the beginning, so if you are ready for the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, as it happens to me, stay tuned!