Turning the grey back into black and white. Pt. 1

At 37 years old, I feel like I can finally get a grip on what "it" is all about and I have to say, that I am one of the lucky ones.

I would like to write a series of entries about this topic, as it is long and sometimes ugly- sometimes beautiful too. But I would like to step into the world that no one ever talks about, that is until they are stuck dead in the middle of "the grey".

There is a moment in your life as a woman (maybe men too but I'm not so sure) that you realize you have no idea who you are. This isn't when you are 18 and moving away from home, or when you are 21 and you are moving back.
It isn't even when you are in your 20's and you are graduating from college (did you finish? not the point). It isn't when you get married or have your first (3) kid.
This moment I am speaking of isn't about age or wealth or time or anything like that. It is this moment when you look at yourself in the mirror and everything you have come to know, love, hate, relearn, accept, change- is completely foreign.

You are in the grey.

IF you are lucky you will find your way back to the black and white days. The days when you are owning what you are doing and enjoying the journey, having good days and bad days but you aren't drowning, you aren't constantly searching out what it is "you do".

I had the grey and there was a point when I really thought I would just be forced to deal with it and maybe I will be back there one day. But I am convinced that knowing what makes me "tick", the thing that I "do".
It's not being married or having kids, those are the things that I love but what I am good at is a different journey. I'm not finished. I am not in vivid color, I sort of think that would be perfect and I don't believe in perfect. I think perfect is boring and I don't need that. But to know what it is that I want and to have a journey set in place- even if it changes a million times throughout my life.
Sobeit.

How their death shows your salt.

I am not writing about the death of a movie star this morning.

I am not writing about the death of a friend or relative. 

I am writing about the death of a human.

Yesterday, like much of the world, I read the sad news of Paul Walker's death.

I was instantly sad with the sight of his picture that was attached. It was a somber photo. He was looking down and had a smirk. I was sad about his death, the untimeliness of it all... 

About 10 days ago I lost a friend. 

My neighbor of 10 years.

He was not only my friend but he was a son, a husband and a Father. 

He was an eye, I always felt, watching over my house and my family when my husband was away. 

He was the man that we smiled and and waved to on a weekly basis. 

He was always smiling.

He worked on his boat and smoked the salmon that he caught, always sharing. Always smiling.

The sudden passing of my friend, 54 years young, has kept me in a constant state of worry. 

I worry about my own mortality. I worry about my husband. 

What would he do without me? Or worse yet, what would we do without him?

I am sad and in a somewhat dark place, as death tends to lend itself to the dark side. I am coping though. Remembering the good, trying not to focus too much on the fact that I will never see him again.  That his children will be without him. His beautiful wife. Her sadness is my sadness. I will be a good friend to her, even though I am paralyzed to help. I can do nothing to make her feel better. I can only be her friend and that will have to be enough- for both of us.

Before going to sleep last night I couldn't believe the jokes and rude comments about Paul Walker's death. There were people who were actually saying his death didn't matter. There were "friends" of mine that were writing about what they believed to be unjust shock waves- "if it had been De Niro".... seriously, I read that.

People are attempting to make jokes about the Fast and Furious movies, how he wasn't a good enough actor to be sad over. 

My stomach turned and I got really really angry.

What if this was my neighbor? What if someone wrote that about my friend?

That is the way it felt, because Paul was someone's neighbor. He was someone's son and friend and he was someone's Father. 

Would these "friends" say this about their neighbor? How they weren't good enough to be remembered? I can't say that they wouldn't. I can say that they are no longer people I associate with because I can take a lot, I can read ridiculous political opinions and still be your "friend". You can talk about Obamacare all you want, or the war or the GMO's. You can ask me to support something I don't believe in, you can talk about your God. I can really see the difference in all of us. I can accept, not support, a lot of things but I cannot accept, support or even be remotely associated with making light of someone's death. 

They are dead. 

They are gone.

Never coming back. 

Not to be in anymore movies, or smoke anymore fish.

RIP

On the eve of which we give thanks, I am snuggling in my bed with Q, while he watches Andy Griffith.  

Yep. I am thankful for all of it. 

Finally posting this.

Had the most amazing conversation with my 12 yo yesterday.

It has been a crazy couple of weeks, with my small business taking off and being home without my husband again. It always takes me a bit to adjust- even if we were only together for 9 days total in 5 months... it is an adjustment period for all of us.

So anyway, it was busy. I hate that word. I hate saying "I'm busy", I try my best not to use it but it fits the bill here.

I have been filling a custom order for 3 weeks now. There were 16 pieces total and I wanted it all to be finished so I could work on my next order, truth be told I had been feeling a little guilty. The TV has been on and I have mindlessly been raising my kids. Not getting out to the park or even our evening walks. Man! it sucks being honest, but this is truth time.

Then yesterday my son asks me (while we are making pattern pieces together, while the littles were napping) "if you didn't have any kids, what would you be doing right now?"

I thought for at least 3 minutes before I told him, I had no idea. I said I would probably be on my way to Detroit (where my husband was traveling to). "I really don't know", I said. "I mean, I hope that I would be doing something amazing but without kids, I can't imagine I would be doing this" (making teenie tiny patterns)

Then he asked what I would be doing if I had a million dollars (with kids) and I said

"This."

We then continued to have a very deep and revealing talk that was better for me than him, I am sure. He was just thinking about all the Beats headphones he would be able to buy and I was thinking about how very deep this child is.

I found out, in that 25 minute conversation, that I am not sure who I would be without kids. I know that I didn't want kids growing up. I didn't want to get married or do any of that shit you were "supposed" to do because I always thought it would turn out like shit.

I found out, more importantly, that I am happier right now that I have been in years.

Filling a void I didn't know I had. Making things that not only make me feel good but make a difference (SPD clothing).

I needed that conversation. I needed to be in that moment with my child, the one who changed everything for me., He changed the corse of my life. My world. And now he is helping me realize that my world is forever changing and after 14 years in this "adult stage" I have really come into my own.

Thanks kid.

Where have all the good men gone?

Last night my husband and I got into an argument. It ended with him sleeping and me up late working.
We aren't perfect and we fight and I enjoy it because we get it out, we are both heard and no one has to be right, wrong or even sorry.

I can't stand when someone says "sorry", probably because it is so overused.
My children even know that when you are in the wrong "I'm sorry" is the bare minimum.
They also know what I think about the bare minimum.

Anyway, I got to thinking about my husband (complete incompetence aside, kidding!) and how ironic it is that we are both devoted parents who completely lack Fathers.

Our stories are different. He grew up with a great father. One who cared for him and one whom he looked up to. A late in life divorce changed him to the core and has left his children all but fatherless.

My story is more of a classic version. She just married the wrong guy. I feel lucky though, she took her role as sole parent in stride. We made it, she did it, but why?

Why are men so susceptible to leave? why are they the ones that just pack up and go? How is that?
I know there is not an ounce of that in my body. I couldn't leave if I wanted to, my heart just isn't capable of leaving. I know my children will grow up and move on and have lives of their own but even then, I will have to be in their lives.

So what happened? In a case a new baby, parents split- how does the man leave? What about the late divorce?  What happened there? How could one spend his life being a father and then POOF! gone?  I understand that when the child is small it is the Mother who most often gets the baby, so the man has to play by her rules or the courts rule. But no matter what, how can you just leave them without a father?

A very dear friend of mine had a baby and was not with the mother and he has gone to the ends of the earth (seriously, he is in AZ) to be with this child. This girl is the luckiest girl in the world and she has no idea. He doesn't have anything in his path but her. I am convinced he knows something that most men don't. That childhood is fleeing and that they are only young once. He knows he will get to find his path again.

Because lets face it, when they are grown and move out, we have to be on their terms and well, it's probably not always ideal. I don't plan to follow my son to where ever he ends up. I won't be moving to the house next to his apartment or whatever, but when he is all mine now. I would never leave, no matter what and I know my husband wouldn't either.

The case with my father is a classic. It is so overplayed it is practically in children's books.
But still, how could you?  It is impossible for me to imagine holding my baby and then just writing them off. And I am speaking for everyone who was raised without a father. I am speaking for everyone who had a father and then as an adult was left to wonder why they are suddenly left without one.
And not separated by death- that is different. Although it does feel like a death sometimes. 

"Life isn't fair" and other bullshit we tell our kids.

Well... it's not entirely bullshit, but the fact that I have to tell that to my 12 year old, time and time again is really starting to piss me off. So I did something.

Yesterday Q came home with the tales of the day... it's usually good stuff, sprinkled with lame stuff, whether it be getting hit in the head with a water bottle, falling down the stairs or what have you- he is called a "lesbian" about every other day, this to us has taken a complimentary turn. Which is good. I am now convinced the kid is in love with him, so he needs to tell him something like this. Who else would bother with such a thing? It's okay to be a lesbian and obviously this kid has a problem...

This is not the news.

In class some friends were messing around with stamps and a girl stamped Q in the face, to which he stamped her back, in the face. She got so upset she wanted to change out of the classroom.... this is the mentality of 7th grade girls. It's sad actually. I wouldn't go back to middle school for a million dollars.

No really. I wouldn't.

To make a ridiculously long story short- one that started with laughing and ended with my son having to be late to play practice to go to the office and "apologize" to this girl.

Now I know I am a Mama bear. I know I have the tendency to be protective and yes even at times, over protective but I have always had a good sense of when I am being biased and when my son is being taken advantage of.

Ladies and gentlemen- if you have a boy, they will be treated unfairly. You should tell them now. Go ahead, I will wait..


Ya done?

I have a girl too, so don't get on your soapbox about how girl are repressed and they don't get a fair shot (read post title), I get it. I have that battle too- but today it is about the boy. The boy who will have to apologize for doing something a girl did because she can cry and we will feel sorry for her. I mean, what girl wants a stamp on their forehead? At school? Gasp! Well, why aren't we asking what boy would? Why the double standard Salmon Bay?

Okay, so I was so mad last night. I waiting 5 hours before writing the teacher and Assistant Principle. But when I did I felt good about it. I wanted them to know that I have walked with my son through a lot of injustice and I didn't think it did him a damn bit of good to have him treated so unfairly at school. They are kids! Can we not treat them like kids? Like they are always in the state of learning?
When you are a teacher and you fail to do your job, you fail the kid.

They did not ask the girl to apologize. In fact when Q offered to tell them she was stamping too, he was left with "I don't think so".
Apparently the one side was all they needed. At the end my persistent son said "I just want to know one thing, why did I get in trouble when she was doing it to?" To which they replied "I don't want to talk about it anymore.".

Ya don't? I do.

This morning I was called via speaker phone with my son, the girl and the teacher. He said "everything is fine" and I said it was not. I told him that my son was treated in a manner that the girl was not. He was held solely responsible and I thought that was wrong. And that was about it. He said he wanted everyone to "have a good Friday" and I translated that to "I don't want to get in trouble".

So we all learned. My son learned that when a girl falls down we all rush over to see if she is okay and if she is crying we make sure to take care of her. If a boy falls down, we tell him to get the hell up.

SPD

I have a new adventure coming my way.
Just as I am beginning to think I would never find my niche, I did.


I have been presented with making clothing for a lovely little girl that suffers from SPD. "Sensory Processing Disorder" (to learn more click here). If you have never heard about it, skip to the next paragraph. If you have. WOW.

I will be making clothing that will not only look amazing and fit this girl perfectly (tiny couture?) but they will aid in her desire to feel good. That changes the game for me.

I am really excited to take this on and I am also really curious about where this may lead. Maybe it is a niche that found me and will forever change the direction of my career. Who knows. But today I am feeling good. I am feeling needed and like I am finally putting my talents to good use.


My Etsy shop
website still under construction but coming soon!
yourmom206.com

I've got it!

wildestideayet.blogspot.com



So there it is people.

We have a name for our leap of faith, next year.

Roof chicken.

I have been getting a lot of pity looks lately. Maybe it is because I look like absolute shit or maybe it is because people feel that I need it?

I don't.

People ask how long Eddie has been gone, or I just share the stats for conversation purposes and it is instantly a pity party. And I LOVE parties!

But not this kind of party.

It's startling, I'll admit, when you hear that he will be with us for 9 days out of approx. 270 (who's counting? HA!) but it is what we do. It is who we are right now. It is not easy, it's hard and it sucks but it is, for better or worse, all we know.

Damn, that sounds depressing.

I often think how much in common we have with military families but then I pull those thoughts back because to say what we are doing is remotely like what they are doing is just wrong. Similar in the tiniest way and that is still nothing. I can't imagine but I can imagine they get the pity party too. And I would have to say that they knew what they were getting into as well.

Anyway-

I appreciate concern and help. I am never one to shy away from a friend who likes to lend a hand or an ear. Even those who shower us with love, be it mail, food or alcohol, I will always be thankful and grateful.

I just don't want your pity.

I don't get to wake up next to my husband every day.
This is true.
I don't get to go on a date with him. Ours consist of Facetime and phone calls, sometimes at 2 a.m. so I can get a chance to talk- kids need their FT too.

I do 100% of the parenting 90% of the time and even though sometimes I feel like I am doing everything wrong, pleasing seemingly no one, looking a mess.

Don't feel sorry for me.

Because this is my life. This is what I am choosing to do with it and I wouldn't have it any other way.
Right now.
There are things that are starting to make me wonder if we are doing it right, and so begins our next journey. I need to come up with a cool thing to call "it". The word "journey" is forever attached to the cheesy band (I'm not hating on your bad choice in music) so that is not right. "Adventure" sounds like we are going to the jungle and "next step" sounds like I am going back to rehab.
None of these fit the bill. It'll come to me...

So when you are thinking about your friend who's life is much different than yours but they are happy and healthy- don't give them sad eyes. Sometimes the most insane things for us are quite perfect for another.

www.kickme.com

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Elvis age tiny

From Teen Mom to Kelle Hampton and all the bitches that hate

Sitting down tonight I am thinking too much about other peoples lives. I guess it is fitting because my life is so up in the air right now. Well, not really, there is just so much change coming down the pike, there is a lot going down, so I am spending some much needed "me" time doing what society does best- judging other people!

I'm more observing. I realize everyone is trying to do their best and find their way (to where?) but I can't help but be sad at all the hate.

And mad! I'm mad at all the hate. These faceless people would never walk up to you and speak their mind (because they are totally whack shit crazy) but that's not cool. If you can't say it to my face, or better yet, behind my back (where I am none the wiser) why, why, WHY would you do it at all?

In my quest to find information about growing my blog audience, I ran across all kinds of stuff. I was looking for Mommys, bloggers, designers, you name it, I was reading about it.

I heard about Kelle Hampton a while ago. I read her story and I see her photos on IG but I had no idea how many people hate her. They call themselves "Kelle Haters". It's really scary. The way they judge not only her parenting and decision to share with the world her daughter Nella (who has downs syndrome) but they are judging what she does for a living. They are judging the clothing she puts on her kids, the fact that she posts pictures of them... it's barbaric. They don't like the way she speaks about her daughters using the word "sister" and they hate how she says "rock"... I don't like little kid shirts that say "Princess" OR "Rock n roll" but can you imagine the insanity if I got on other Mom blogs and told them how dumb they are for putting their kids in shirts that say such generic things?? Cray-zay.

The things I read on her blog and in comments were SO mean. They were over the line and I just don't understand it. I don't understand why they would pick this woman, why her? She was a blogger that wrote a book and is living a seemingly beautiful life and they tear her down. The gross part is they are on her site and the trolls find each other and then blow up the comments so anyone who is writing to thank Kelle or share an experience... well, don't bother. I can't imagine she scrolls through all that garbage to find the good. My guess is she has the good right next to her, in the form of her husband, her daughters and her new baby son.

I hope she doesn't read it. I hope she doesn't listen to the crap, it could not be any less important.

But I have to wonder, why? Why do we find it our business to do that to someone. Who gave us the power to decide it is okay to take this person and say things you wouldn't ever want said about you?
I can't imagine she would ever take back the fact that her daughter has DS. I can't say she would trade her for a "healthy" child. I don't know that. It's not something you ask for or plan for but when it is laying in your lap... I can't imagine you would want anyone else.

  I feel the same way about the Teen Moms. I don't know what person in their right mind would wish this life on a teenager, but once they are there- why do we hate them? Why are people out there creating blogs and websites to show the hate for them? They are screwed! Lets face it, (and laugh a teenie tiny bit at the pun) they have a hard enough life (most of them seemingly in very dysfunctional relationships with their BF/GF and their parents. Most of the parents had them as teenagers... it's an apple and a tree people...

But I worry. I know that my child, who is not a teenager yet and hopefully NEVER a teen parent, would be heartbroken to read crap about him online (that is why he doesn't have a FB or a Kik or a Ask page- that is for another post. If your child has an Ask or a Kik, get rid of that shit). He is sensitive and maybe more than a lot of them but if he were reading some of the things that people say about these Teen Moms, he would be suicidal. They take no consideration that these kids are KIDS! And the Mom's they are all dealing with Baby blues and postpartum depression... I can't imagine the equivalent of hate mail by the thousands. After I had Zeke, if someone told me I looked "tired" (aka your look like shit) I would have backhanded them or cried for 3 hours).

Children having children is not new. We have been having sex and getting pregnant for a loooooong time. These kids do not lead glamorous lives (although I have sickly thought about the show that mixes "My Super Sweet 16" with "Teen Mom" like have the first show and then 9 months later...
Anyway, why we gotta be so mean?

Maybe I am getting soft in my old age. Maybe I need to get a real job? Maybe I need to council kids? OR maybe we should put into action my "fixed at birth" plan. Let stop circumcising (which does nothing for the kids health) and start tying testicles? Why not? If you had to be prepared and wanting a child, wouldn't that make it much easier? When you are, whatever age, and you could afford to untie your balls because you and whomever wanted to have a child, then make an appointment. Am I right?
I would say tie the tubes but we go through enough and let's face it the guy has absolutely no physical part in anything except the deed. This would not only keep unwanted pregnancies from happening, you would have to be financially ready (kids are expensive, kids!) BUT it would even the score... a little.

Ahhh... you're welcome. And good morning.

Dancin' with Miley

It seems like when everyone is talking about you, it is always a good thing.
They say that all press is good press and I used to think that sounded about right.

Lately everyone has something to say about Miley. You know the one. She is not unlike Madonna or Cher- she is a one name gal. Call it what you will, she is as famous as famous gets and if you do or don't think she deserves it, I could not possibly care any less.

I know she cares though.

I have no idea how old she is. She could be 14 or 27, although I don't think she is of drinking age because I read a piece about her and her friends in the club drinking all night. They wrote it in a taboo way, she wasn't supposed to be there. She probably shouldn't be there. I shouldn't have been there.

Miley and I are very similar. We tread a lot of the same path, her and I. You might not think so, but it is true.

See all you have to do is take away the money, the press, the celebrity Dad, the fame... the talent and well, we are the same person. We are females, growing up in this world that wants nothing good for other females.

We both walk the streets alone or with our friends. Making good and bad and insanely age appropriate and some not so age appropriate mistakes.

We both fear failure.

We both wanted nothing more than to shed our baby girl "image" and just be WHO we were supposed to be. To be an adult. We just wanted to be us.

But along the way people started telling us what we were doing wrong. They pointed out that we were failing or succeeding too much. Too little? We were labeled. Slut. Bitch. Crazy. Drug addict. Liar.

I didn't have to read about it in the paper. Thank fucking god.
But I had to read it on everyone's face.

Fast forward 100 years and you will see I found my way.
You will see that every bump and bruise I got, that was under any kind of microscope (that of a small town for me, big wide world for her), has faded into a part of who I was meant to be.
Every scar I have on the inside of my once traumatized heart or that left by my faded self loathing razor blade fight... I made it.

I'm here now because I fought to get here. I am here because I am supposed to be and no matter if you think your little girl shouldn't be watching the once (read that? "Once") Disney princess... was it on Disney? Anyway, if you don't want your little girl to watch. Turn it off.
If you don't want your daughter dressing like "that". Stop buying that shit.
If you want your kids to see an artist that is doing what she wants and making a (new) name for herself.
Turn it on.

If you want your kids to see a one time young actor morph into the next phase of her life (not unlike they will do when they hit the next phase). Turn it on.

I said it before. It is not new. She is doing things different for herself, but we all saw Britney kiss Madonna. We saw Madonna hump that bed. That was great, wasn't it? But that too saw such harsh critisism. It was met with all the fuddy-duddy bullshit that this is being met with. Cher said that she has seen more girls do it better... come on Cher! I fucking LOVE you, but why? I guess it could have been taken out of context, so I will NOT bag on Cher but I like to hope that there can be older artists out there cheering her on. Hoping for the best and maybe even helping her along the way... she's got her Mama though, so I am thinking that is all she needs.



Stop hating girls for being sexy. Let them be. If you don't want to wear a teddy bear onesie, don't. I won't be wearing one. But I would fly naked on a wrecking ball any day.

Had to tell her.

I had to tell my daughters doctor about her scare. It was rough reliving it. In person, especially. 

I wrote the blog entry about it and have just been dealing with my anxiety, quietly and waiting for myself to get over it. 

Today, as I retold the horrifying story, I realized (even though I said I would never get over it) that I really will NEVER get over it. 

Never. 

Damn.

Switch hitter.

My husband is going to love that I made a sports reference.
Even though we all know I am not going to write about sports, I think of this term a lot.
To be a switch hitter is, correct me if I'm wrong, to be able to hit from both sides.
I feel like this point in my life I am batting from the other side. At the very least, learning that this is something that I am going to have to grow accustom to, and be good at doing.

I have taken to the last 14 years of my life in such a natural way, one would (and I might have) easily forget that I might have a single purpose. Single as in, my own, not as in solo.

I might have a "thing" a "calling" or a passion for something that that has nothing to do with what I am actually doing. Or have been doing... and continue to do.
Oh I will continue to do this, but I am going to see about switching sides (see what I did there), so that I too can flex this muscle I have most likely always had.

But how?

That seems to be the million dollar question.

I guess I need to have the approach of someone starting college.
Someone with an idea but no faint concept of how it is all going to go down.
I have the clothing designs spewing out of my fingers and the trailer blowing up my head. I have my children so excited about the prospect of waking up to their Dad every morning, homeschooling and traveling for a year... I am either going to need a wall sized organizer or a psychologist really soon or I will explode.
It's all very exciting though. I am up way too late at night and I know it is because I dig a good mystery. There is so much to be excited about and I love that about this stage of my life.

Game on.

Dreamin'.

Last night I had a dream but unlike most mornings, today I remembered it.

I was backstage somewhere, it was confusing (and I will not bore you with the details of a dream)
and then I walked out onto this runway.
I was with Quattro, Elvis and Zeke and I was holding a baby (this is not the crazy part but I will come back to it).
I was at my fashion show, at Bryant Park.

There's something about the dreams that I remember.
When I was newly pregnant the second time, I dreamed she was a girl.
We were walking, holding hands with Quattro and she had long, crazy blonde hair.
I dreamed that. And it happened.

So this is me telling me that I may be headed in the direction of something amazing.

Oh, and the baby thing. That is weird and very cool at the same time.

12 things about myself

I'll play along.

1. It is really hard to talk about myself. My real self. The one that I apparently only let some people know. I'm friendly but complex. My life doesn't always make sense to the average bear.

2. I can't stand when people talk about themselves all of the time. If we leave the restaurant or hang up the phone and you didn't ask about me, my family or my life- you are out of the deal. See above.

3. I am a really, really good Mother. I believe that to my core. I have never felt so natural in all my life, in 37 years of living in this world, doing anything but this. I was meant to do this.

4. I feel like I gave up a big part of who I might have been, to have a child. I had hopes and dreams that had nothing to do with a baby. I am so glad I did this.

5. I now have a fear of water. Even seeing pictures of people swimming, or swimming on TV. It didn't happen right away, a couple weeks after the accident. It's palpable. I hate it and have to see someone about it.

6. A few years ago I was desperate for a real friend. Someone that I could count on and be there for. Someone like I never had, well since having kids. I wrote about it. I put it out in the universe and I got her.

7. At 7 years of being married, we almost got divorced. Like, really really. Best thing I never did.

8. When I married my husband, I thought it wouldn't last. I believed everyone who told us we were crazy, I was completely content with crazy and thought it sounded fun.

9. I'm 99% sure I am done having babies.

10. I went to rehab when I was 16.

11. I had "Daddy issues" when I was growing up. It wasn't until my husband showed me what a Dad really was, that I realized he was the only Dad I needed in my life. The kind of Father he is to our kids is beyond what anyone could have been for me (if they had ever actually tried).

12. Next year we are going to do something completely crazy, life changing and toe curling-ly fun. And all I can think is that I hope it doesn't mean I will die at age 76. #midlifecrisis

hot, sticky, sucks

Today is hot.
It's damn hot.
It's muggy and hot and sunny and hot.
I fear I have added myself to the list of people who complain about the weather and that is okay.
It is not the first (or last) unsavory list I have been on.

Right now I am laying on my bed, trying to figure out why the sound of my daughters laugh, is the purest, most amazing sound I have ever heard.
I have three kids and I swear, I love them all (and their laughs) but her... it takes me somewhere.
And I am still hot.

We went to the Commons today and played in the water, had lunch and I blazed the homeless drunks with my mind bullets. I wish I had a good idea of what to do with them... I guess we will all live in non-harmony until my kids are too big for the park, or they all die of alcohol poisoning.
It is sad and I know I sound cold, but I'm so tired of it. All of it.

The trash, the cussing, the smoke, the filthy shopping carts full of E. Coli. The piss smell, the way they all take up the benches with backs on them. The one's I would like to use for nursing.
Much of the grass is full of bodies. On a hot day like today, I am quite sure one of them had perished.
No one would know, it looks the same as yesterday.

I hate that yet another blog entry is devoted to this, or at least the beginning of it.
With the sound of my kids in the other room, giggling and laughing themselves silly. It is a shame I am not writing about them and Elvis' 4th birthday party we had last week.
I am sad that I am not sharing the fact that she had a great time and cried like I haven't seen her cry in a long time- when the pinata rules were laid out. She had no idea there would be a line of kids waiting to hit the thing. I guess while making the cake (I cheated, recipe below) and decorations- making delicious tea sandwiches that go better with a beer and gathering all of our friends to celebrate with us. Four glorious years with the one and only Elvis Glo Danger Daly... I forgot to mention the pinata is something everyone gets to hit. Everyone, ideally, gets a smack at it and this didn't sit well with the lady.
She cried hard. She was in no way prepared or wanting to let anyone at that thing. I think the bottom line for her was that she wanted to bust the shit open and she knew, as well as everyone else, there were about 6 boys 9 and up waiting for that thing...
anyway, it made for a great picture and of course a good story, she will most likely hear for the rest of her life. I will try to be one less person reminding her of that, right after this post.

3 days was better than no days

but I am still left with this stupid feeling of "you are doing it wrong!".
Since about May I have been compiling thoughts of a different life.
Not that I have a bad life, shit, I don't even have a less than stellar life. My life rules.
Truly.
But I am finding that the days and weeks, that turn into months and many months, are just not okay anymore. I am finding that I miss my life, pre-kids.
Don't get crazy. I am not saying I wish I didn't have kids. I would be nothing without them, but I am missing the travel. The journey.
I fucking miss my husband.
When we picked him up on Monday night, I knew it was going to be brief. I knew he would sleep no more than 4 nights in our bed. I knew I would wake up to him bringing me coffee only a few times.
I am good at this, usually. I am good at setting myself up for the time we get to be with him. There's usually nothing or everything going on in the days he's home. This time it was a little bit of both.
We celebrated our daughters 4th birthday party a bit early, so he could be a part of it. The plan was perfect but it left us all more sad than we were- and that is the problem.
It is getting old. It is getting to be too much.
It is getting to the girl, the boy and the baby.
This past May I was spending an afternoon on the phone with my husband. The kids were asleep and I was talking wildly about how lame it is that he is missing everything. How him missing 2 out of 3 kids first steps has finally taken it's toll on us and how we needed to do something.
I am not sure how it came up but I know it was me who blurted out "we should get an RV or something!".
To know my husband at all, is to know that he is always, always, always supportive. Even if he thinks it is the worst idea ever, he will support you.
But this time I think he really liked the idea, although I know he thought I was kidding.
I'm not.
I wasn't.
And I'm still not.
Everyday I have these conversations with myself about how life would be.
When I wake up in the morning and get the baby (first up), I picture how it would be in an RV... like would he have a bed or would he be sleeping next to me? Then what? Like would I take him for a walk? Make coffee while the others slept?
What would it look like? Would there be wood paneling everywhere? I don't know the last time I was inside an RV. Can we afford an RV? What does one cost? Can people actually live in them?

Okay, so let me back up a little.
My idea is to pack up our entire home and put nearly everything we own in storage. I would like to sell our car and buy an RV, pack our asses up and just go.
I want to wake up in the morning in a new place. I want to see my friends in NY, instead of seeing pictures my husband takes of them while he's there.
I want to park it in front of my Mom's house in AZ and spend some time down there, when the weather is nice and I have no time frame.
I want to spend time with my Grandmother.
I want to be with my husband. I want my kids to be with their father.
I need us all to be together, having the same goal again.

I am not sure what happened to the goal. I am not sure what happened to our Daly mantra, our reason for doing "this".

What is this?
Better yet, what are we doing?
Gah... I have no fucking clue. And I am not okay with that.

Elvis asked me this morning, "why can't I go with Daddy?"...
I had no good reason and that pretty much solidifies the thing. We have to do something different, otherwise we are no different than the families who work themselves to the bone and miss everything.
It's not worth it.

He's missing us and we are missing him. But what is keeping us apart? Why are we staying here in Seattle, while he is seeing the world? So we can all enjoy the Pacific Northwest with him 3 months out of the year? Eh. I think there has to be a better way.
Unconventional? Yeah. But so is what we are doing.
I am the only single Mom who is married that I know. It's weird.
Who knows, maybe we will become vagabonds forever. Maybe we do it for a year and get our fill.
I just know no one is happy being apart, so we have to do something about it.

Stay tuned.

Microwave mac & cheese.

We are tired of eating at restaurants. So tired, in fact, that we opted to eat mac & cheese in a bowl that you can microwave.

I know this is no new concept, so I don't want to talk about it like it is freeze dried sushi or something, but it was weird as shit.
And not good.

But we did it. The baby liked it best, I'm assuming because the texture resembled jarred baby food- which, incidentally, he doesn't like.
It was nice not to sit down at a restaurant. It was nice to not pay $50 for food that could feed 5 families in a 3rd world country. I hate the amount of food restaurants give. It is disgusting. I usually make the three kids share one meal and I order and we all share and still we throw away about 3 pounds of food.
No wonder America is so fat. If they are eating out like we have been the last 5 weeks and cleaning their plates (remember that philosophy?), they are eating no less that 50,000,000 calories a day.

We made it to Fortuna, CA last night. I was happy we found something so fast. It was getting dark and even though I could have driven 4 more hours and the kids were asleep- this trip has suddenly turned me into a super cautious gal.

Winding through the mountains yesterday, I was reminded of traveling to Oregon with my Grandparents. I was probably 9 or 10. I spent a lot of summers with them. They were always doing something adventuous sounding. They were traveling or moving or selling or buying. My Grandpa was the sort of man that would own 3 homes and travel to them throughout the year, buying weird stuff (cars, etc) and then fix them and sell them, even sometimes giving them away.

One summer they were going to their place in Oregon. On the trip I told him that if it was getting dark and we weren't there yet, we should spend the night somewhere. I am not sure why I was suddenly giving out orders but I remember having this feeling. So much so that I think I said it many times, not just suggesting it.
I remember we were driving up a mountain and it was dark. I felt the car (which was pulling a trailer with a car on it;) jerked to one side and I heard my Grandmother scream.
I think I was laying down in the back. It was a suburban.
When I felt the car jerk to the side, I knew what was happening. I knew exactly what was happening, almost like I had done it before.
After I heard her scream, I heard my Grandpa say "I'm sorry!". Loud and direct.

I don't know what happened exactly. I know the next day we were at the scene picking up the trailer that had rolled down a hill. My Grandma and I were picking blueberries from a wild bush. My Grandpa was stoic and graceful.
That night I remember being on a pay phone and talking to my Mom. I am sure all I wanted to do was be with her. To be home.
But I stayed. We got to their house and I had one of my most memorable summers.
We picked rhubarb and made pies with "what's her name", my Grandfathers sister who's name I could never remember. She was beautiful and kind. We all made pies.
There was a crab apple tree behind their house. It was huge and full. I climbed it every day.

The reason I was remembering this whole story last night is because the me that wants to be home was saying "I could drive 4 more hours", which I could.
Easy.
I love to drive. I love to drive at night, during the day. In rain, snow- I enjoy it.
But the memory of this accident stopped me in my tracks. Especially after my son said, "we should definitely stop before dark".

She went under

You hear on the news(and maybe even know someone who knows someone) about kids drowning more than we would like. But to hear something tragic is just that, hearing. To live something tragic is something I have never experienced quite like I did today.

After breakfast and packing up the car, we decided (after my insisting) to go for a swim. It was an hour before check out and we never swim in Seattle, so I figured the hotel had a pool, we should take advantage (like we always do).

I want to take a second to explain that I am a woman of signs. I live my life by them. Well sort of.
I look for them and pick up on them and I like that about myself. I have a sixth sense, I always have.

So when we decided to go swimming we had to go get another key, so we could go into the room and put our suits on. On returning to the pool, Quattro realized he had forgot the key on the table, so we had to go BACK to the front desk (she was not amused). Right then I should have put everyone in the car and left. Man... why didn't I just leave?

We all splashed around and swam for about 15 minutes. After which Zeke was getting bored. I was sitting on the side of the pool with my feet in and Elvis was standing on the second step like 8 inches away from me. Quattro was talking to me and I got up and grabbed Z (who had headed for the grass) and when I turned around I was telling Q he needs to practice his freestyle and I looked at Elvis.

And I froze.

I saw her eyes wide open. Her hair was like a lions mane around her head and her mouth looked like a fish.
She was gulping and swallowing water. No sound. No movement and just like that, she went under.

I screamed.

"GRAB HER!!"

Q picked her up by her armpits and I grabbed her arm and laid her limp body on the deck.
I didn't panic. I just remember Quattro's face was so blank. He had no idea what was happening. I could not believe what was happening. I could not fucking believe it.

She had the most intensely peaceful look on her face and it scared the shit out of me.
As I leaned in to do CPR and she started to cough so I leaned her up and she threw up pool water and was breathing.

The moments after were a blur. I took her into the room and she was pale but alert. I grabbed the keys and we went to the hospital.

They watched me in there. I could tell they were trying to gauge how good of a mother I was.
I don't think they were judging me. They see worse all the time but I felt their eyes wash over me and their ears hung on every word. I was stone faced. I didn't even cry. I was like a robot.
When we left I just wanted to go home. I wanted to be home. I thought about scrapping the rest of the trip and just driving straight home.

I didn't.

We are all rallying around each other.
Quattro was shaken up in a way I will not know. He saw the life of his baby sister fall out of her. He knows how close we came.
I know that I will be a different parent from now on. I will not be as relaxed as I am. It may suck. I may hate it but I can't take any chances.

I almost lost someone I know I can't live without.
I love her more today than I ever have loved anyone.
I can't stop looking at her. I can't stop telling her I'm sorry.
I cried so much on the drive. All three kids in the backseat watching movies.
I cried about the accident. I cried about the loss of my "mom-dar" and mostly I cried because I will never get that picture of her face out of my head.
Ever.
I will forgive myself, eventually. No time soon.
I will move on and be a better person, mother and friend but I will forever miss the days that I had before knowing this kind of heartache.

Solvang? Don't mind if I do.

When I was planning for my summer trip, I imagined I would find all kinds of time to blog. To write. To do anything "vacationy" but I didn't and so here I am, week 4.5 into my 5 week summer trip and I am just getting started.
We left San Diego this afternoon. Loaded up everything, stopped for some delcious Hodad's burgers and then we were off. To where? We didn't quite know for sure. Our goal was San Luis Obispo but the beauty of this part of the trip is that it doesn't matter where we end up at night. It doesn't matter how we spend the days. Long, with lots of stops. Or fast and to the point.
We stopped in San Onofre and I thought we would get to surf but there weren't any waves. It was nice to stop there though. I have long since wanted to make a trip of it, a fellow blogger, IG Momma has the most beautiful pictures from that beach. So to go there was pretty special.
After that we didn't stop until Ventura. We got some snacks and some other crap at Target and then got back on the 101. We called a hotel in San Luis Obispo and booked a room. Had about 2.5 hours to go, figured it would be perfect timing.
Hey! We are taking the 101! THAT is what this trip is about.
Today I was showing Quattro the majesty that is Highway 101 (after taking the 5 up to LA) and really it all hits at about Malibu. That is where he got it.
So we were driving and everything was amazing. Kids were great, no one was screaming... it was pretty cool.
Around 5:30-6 we slowed down to go through this town and we were blown away by how cute it was. It was very European, cute shoppes and cafes... I pulled off the little street and called the hotel and asked to cancel. After her gave me the "next time we can't do this..." I called the cute little hotel that was next to the spot I was in and it had a room and a pool and BOOM! We were "home" as Elvis calls it when we stay at a hotel.
We unloaded and went walking immediately. Something about pulling into town that makes everyone (including me) go "I'm hungry!".
We spotted a cool bakery and decided to go in and grab something for dessert. We were pointed in the direction of a Chinese place and an Italian place... but it just seemed wrong. So walking around we saw this cute German cafe called Heidelberg something or other and decided we would eat there.
One of our favorite places in Europe is Heidelberg, so it seemed like a sign.
Man, I miss my husband.
The food was okay but the server was amazing. He was super cute and really nice. Elvis played air keyboard for most of the meal and Zeke ate his weight in wanna-be German food.
After dinner we heard all of this noise, like an audience or a show or something so we went to check it out. Turns out it was an outdoor theater that just started Spamalot! Of course it isn't a show for babies but I asked Quattro if he wanted to go and he said yes!
He grabbed his waffle, frosting thing and he was off!
Kids and I went back to the hotel and went swimming, took showers and went back to get Quattro.
He had a great time and immediately said "it makes me want to roam around places by myself more!!" and I'm like "I am the one who found the place!" and he was like "oh ya..."
Calm down kid. You are 12.

Pearl Jam money.

Money can't buy you... stop me if you have heard this one.

But what if you are happy?
You have all heard the saying, "money can't buy you happiness" but I am wondering, what about if you are already happy? What could it afford you to have?
If it's not happiness you are after, say because you are already quite happy, what can't money buy you?
I always find myself reading about this ridiculous quote from rich people. It drives me crazy.
If you are rich you shouldn't tell me what money can't buy.
I guess if I had to trade my happiness for money, I would not. I mean, of course I wouldn't but why can't I have both? I deserve it, god damn it.
I am good citizen. I pay taxes. I fork over money for charities and I am doing the whole world a favor by raising really great kids. I am raising kids to help the world, I am not raising them to fill up the world.
I am unhappy tonight because if I had Pearl Jam money, I would be loading my kids on a plane in a week so we could spend the summer with their Dad.
But I am not.
I don't have Pearl Jam money.
The system failed us. And by system I mean the fucking booking agent.
I am going to run his name into the ground after this tour is over.
I am mad because he failed to do his job, which means he doesn't get paid. WAIT. No, that is NOT IT. WE. WE are the ones that are getting screwed. He still gets paid and we are out a trip we have planned since last October. A trip we have taken many times before. A trip he botched and didn't care to even recognize or reply to. A trip my 3 year old is sad about not going on. She will spend another 6 weeks asking "will Daddy come home after my dark nap?". Because of this assclown I have to choose between a summer in Europe and paying my bills.
If I had PJ money, I would do both.
Shit.
But I am grateful to be happy and healthy and have a really great family.
We had a very good day with the man of the house back. He smells good. He looks better and it's all good.

Off on a holiday.

So there's an interesting thing going on in my world right now.
As I prepare for what could be 7 weeks of European holiday, I'm forced to accept that Eddie might be going w/out us.
His booking agent has decided to stop communicating w/ us and has yet to BOOK tickets. 17 days til departure...
My plan B is good but another stretch of single mom is not exactly what the doctor ordered.
Someone's getting fired. 

New stuff going up all the time!!

etsy.com/shop/yourmom206

Sell out.

So it's been a teeny bit of time since my shop on Etsy has gone up and I feel as though I have hit a huge milestone.
I'd like to preface this whole thing by saying, someone like me (getting married so young and having a baby straight out of the gate) didn't really think there were a lot of milestones left. I was not a career woman, by choice, I was not going to get divorced and I am the type of person who lives and achieves- not achieves to live.

Anyway, hitting the entrepreneur page of my life was a long time coming, even though I never really believed in it. I believed in myself, just not "it". Like, I didn't believe I would give the time needed to get things going for myself, my "career". I find I smirk when I say that... it's troubling kind of.
I feel like my thinking was you would get old, divorced and hate your job. Like that was it. You would have a 401k (what?) and an pension and you would work your ass off for someone or something and go to work every day, 5 days, 50 hours a week and then you would miss everything for 30+ years, retire and then look around and go... "shit.".

I am not blaming or faulting anyone. I grew up with people that had good work ethic. My sister had a job since she was like 15. She wanted to work immediately. Before she was out of high school. She knew she would be independent and I am guessing financial freedom was top of the list for anyone...
but me. I just wanted freedom.

A lot of people work 9-5 and have a lovely life, so calm your shit down.

I am not saying I have shitty work ethic. Well... okay, I probably do. If I don't "get it" like as in, "to get something out of this (shit that we are doing)" I am just not interested. So I think that means I have a terrible work ethic, this would probably be how people from my youth classify me.
People from my youth meaning people who aren't around me now on a somewhat regular basis. Everyone now knows my work as raising kids and to that they would all tell you I am the hardest working bitch in the business.

SO... anyway-
I grew up with a messed up skew on things. I thought you worked for someone and got old and then regretted how things went down. That is America, right?

WRONG.

After meeting my husband I was brought into this world of people doing (for a fucking living!) what they actually (get this) WANTED to do. Seriously? Wait. What?

Yeah, they grew up, graduated (maybe) high school, some went to University and do, for money, what makes them happy.
It's like a goddamn revelation.

So it took me a very long time how to figure out what I wanted to do, that would not only make me happy but make me money.
I have done a lot of writing over the years. I have written and had a song (or two) produced. It makes me money and that is a very good thing. But I am not completely fulfilled. I feel like a Disney star- I am a writer but I want MORE! I want to act, direct, rap, be a burnout- have a clothing line...
Ah ha!
A clothing line.
That's it.
Well, kinda.

etsy.com/shop/yourmom206

Slow it down.

Last year, at about this time, I was climbing into bed. Well, I was attempting to do so. I was spending my last pregnant night at home, at around 6 a.m. I was going to be leaving my house and walking to the hospital to have Zeke.
Eddie and I decided to walk because we have such a great neighborhood and thought it would be a good story to tell him when he was older. Although I knew time would go fast, I have never been witness to time flying quite like this.
My little boy is turning 1, in like 9 minutes. Well technically tomorrow morning, but still. He is 1.
I laid him in bed tonight and just looked at him. He starred at me for a minute and I was just about to tear up and he shook his head "no". It was weird and made me not want to cry anymore because... well, because it was sort of creepy.
Anyway, laying him down I was just thinking about how that is probably the last time I will lay an 11 month old down. Well, one that is mine anyway. I remember laying him in his crib for the first time. I remember sitting on the edge of the bed that afternoon and just watching him sleep. I remember being overwhelmed with the amount of love and responsibility I had because unlike the other times, I finally realized how great it all was. I know now that I am doing this- this is what I am doing. I am a Mom.
Oh god, I'm a MOM! 3 times over but still, I am a Mother, it is in my blood, runs through my veins, sweats out of my pores and weighs heavy on my heart.
Zeke you are absolutely amazing. You light up a room and fill the air with loud squeals and laughter. You are smart and although it is a little strange the amount of things you seem to know already, I appreciate everything about you. The looks you give me that remind me of my late Grandfather, give me chills and fill me with so much happiness. It is no accident that we named you after him, Ole, you are going to grow up and have the essence of him like no one else could... I like to think he left us a week to the day of you being born, just to make sure you didn't get lost.
He's like that.
Happy birthday Zeke Ole Wild. You are going to have a shotload of fun in this life.

Etsy

I'm still not sure if I'm cut out for an online shop. I am my own worst enemy, perhaps I feel the need to keep my stuff on the DL (meaning give it away) so I don't explode into this huge business and have no time to raise kids, get all caught up, start taking drugs to stay awake to fill all the orders... I'm kidding! I've been watching way too much Breaking Bad. Again! I'm re-watchingthe entire thing so I will be ready when the new season comes out.
Anyway, so I've opened shop. I'm selling some stuff and we will see how it goes.
If you are reading this please feel free to share my link etsy.com/shop/yourmom206
If you have a store and would like to inquire about ordering some of my stock message me here and I will send you my email. Truth be told, that is my goal. To have my stuff in a store, eventually, maybe one day that store will be my very own.
Come check me out. Post my link, spread it around like a bad case of HPV. That is so gross... Time for bed.

The "f" word.

Okay, okay. I have had it. Seriously, I have had it with my baby body. My baby is staring down less than the last 30 days before he is celebrating one glorious year on earth and I am staring down, not a pound lost the last 6 months.
What can I say, I'm vain? Not really, I just know I don't want to be one of those people that wakes up in their mid 40's and thinks "why didn't I lose this weight 10 years ago?" or get into shape, rather.
For a lot of people it is about being skinny. That is not me. I am not and have never been super skinny and I am not in the slightest wanting to be skinny. But I do want to be in shape. More desperately by the minute (summer is right around the corner!!).
About 3 weeks ago I started looking into the science of weight loss, weight gain- I don't sleep well and so I usually troll around and diagnose that ache I have or the weird freckle I found... but I really wanted to figure out why I haven't lost any weight.
Back story? Alright, if you insist.
At my sons old Elementary school I agreed (with baby Zeke) to do this empathy workshop with a class of 3rd graders. I was super excited and really glad I did it, It's called "Root Of Empathy". Anyway, in the class you have to weigh yourself, then hold the baby- the kids subtract your weight and figure out the babys weight... see where I am going with this?
So in September I was like "hey, not so bad, I just had a baby", even though I was heavier than I thought I would be (I don't regularly weigh myself) I wasn't too unhappy. I mean at that point I wasn't even thinking about losing weight. I was just thinking about not misplacing a kid and waking up 5 times a night...
Then in January I knew it was going to be ugly. I felt bigger. I did. I felt the breastfeeding diet (cereal at 3 a.m.) was not doing me so well. I felt sluggish. When I got weighed I was exactly the same. So I told myself, that I wanted to lose some weight before the final weigh in, which would be in June (ended up being in May, a bit earlier than I hoped;)
So I hopped on the scale and you would not believe I had gained 7 pounds. 7.
My favorite number used to BE 7 and now it is just the fucking number of lbs I gained while I was trying to lose weight.
But let me clarify.
I did nothing to lose weight between January and May. Nada.
I talked about it. I thought about it. I wanted it to be but I just didn't do it and getting that slap in the face. The 7lb weight gain... well, I'm sure as shit listening now.
I went home and became immediately serious about implementing the weight loss program... So what was I going to do?
I had figured out, one sleepless night, that I was consuming about 3 times the amount of calories that I would need for LOSING weight. So not only was I eating more than I should, even for breastfeeding, I was eating enough to gain weight. And I did. See how that worked out?
Shit.
To lose weight, doing my daily workout of... well, living, I need to consume no less than 1100 calories and no more than 1300 to LOSE weight. If I factor in some extra workouts (I walk to the park, play, walk dogs and run after a toddler and a baby but I don't go to the gym every day and I don't walk 2 miles like I would want to, still waiting on that double stroller).
Basically I am counting calories like a motherfucker. And I know that sounds lame and weird and like a lot of work but I WANTED to lose weight. I didn't want to WISH I had lost it.
I wake up and I know how many calories I can have that day (I am doing 6 days on 1 day cheat). After two or three days of counting calories (I used "my fitness pal" app, it's amazing) I can now just do it in my head. I know what 2-3 cups of my coffee makes up (I add hazelnut creamer, not low-fat or sugar free. I want to lose weight but I am super anti sugar free/fat free chemical stuff). I know I can have eggs and avocado (with Sriracha!) I like to have a couple of snacks so I do bananas (110 calories each) and I eat an ass load of tuna (50 calories a CAN). Lettuce is free most veggies have only 40-50 calories a cup. I know how much oil I need to dress my salads, I use a lot of spices and vinegars. The best thing is, is that I am able to eat anything. You could even have fast food (but don't)  you just have to count the calories.
For any of you out there that want to lose weight and have wanted to- now is the time.
It is NOT easy. You can NOT starve yourself or fast or drink shakes. There is no miracle cookie diet.
You have to get off your fat ass and figure out what you can put into it. Exercise is key, whatever it is. Even if it is purposely walking up and down your stairs or walking your dog extra fast. Do something, but exercise alone doesn't work and neither does dieting alone. It's a tag team. Get up in it.
I figured out the "serving size" of everything (did you know a bag of BBQ lays is not ONE serving? Oh, you did? I didn't. I eat the whole bag. Now I just don't buy them but if I did I would know that a serving is not that much (1 oz) and there are about 160 calories in that, so to me it is not worth it. That is like 2 hardboiled eggs, my fav snack).
I don't plan on counting my calories forever. I do know that my friend Matt makes the best ribs ever, so I will always, always, always make my cheat day when he and his wonderful family invite me over for dinner. But I'm serious y'all. I am not happy where I am at. I am not happy that when I wear the baby carrier, my belly gets squeezed out the bottom. That is not me! Damnit. It is NOT. I am fit and healthy and I have a nice fucking body... well, I did. Now it is in the need of a little help and I am doing it.
I think you should too.
For sample menus, see below but know that it is not as hard as it seems.
I know what I can have, that is the best part. Knowing what and how much is so important, so you can still have anything. If someone else has something delicious I have a bite and more than ever before, it is enough. I have had ice cream once in the last 3 weeks now and I used to eat ice cream every night since I was 6 months pregnant. I started because of heart burn and ended because of ego burn.
Figure out how much you weigh, what you want to weigh and then find out the number of calories you would have to eat to get there. My fitness pal even calculates that for you. It says "if you eat X amount of calories you will weigh this much on this day". I dig that. It is so helpful for me.
Okay, we should talk about drinking because I can't get rid of that.
There are about 150 calories in wine and beer, so I get two a day. Sometimes I want more so then I do some jumping jacks and extra dance moves when I am making dinner.


This is an example of my day:
Breakfast:
1 hardboiled egg (90)
3T of creamer (90)
3 cups of coffee (10)
1 slice of whole wheat toast (100)
Coconut oil and cinnamon (60)
Lunch:
Spinach (7)
sliced turkey ((60)
pickles (0)
avocado (120)
carrots (30)
spanish cheddar (120)
Dinner:
Tofu (90)
spinach (7)
asparagus (20)
red potatoes (120)
Snack:
2 bananas (100)
babybel (50)
2 glasses of milk (100)


Thats a lot of food and still well under 1300
I drink more water than usual too. I like to drink a glass before I eat and throughout the day.
When you get to know your calories and what is in what, it is easy to switch eggs for breakfast with oatmeal of even regular cereal. I also started buying fat free milk because it has less calories and so I can have plenty.
Another tip (if you like them) is that I boil up a dozen eggs every Sunday or Monday, so they are always ready,. I never run out of bananas because if I need to eat like RIGHT NOW, it is better to have that stuff on hand. Otherwise grabbing something high in calories is bound to happen. I will enjoy plenty of BBQ lays in my future but for now, not so much.

I'll would like to keep posting about this. If anyone has anything to add, please do. I am in no way a doctor or dietician but I do know that it is working. I am feeling good, and after the first week I guess I feel less and less like I am on a diet. There are times when I just want to get in a dark room with a pizza but I want this more. Now. I do.

Mothers Day serenade.

http://m.youtube.com/#/watch?feature=em-upload_owner&v=XVXvXMEPRLA&desktop_uri=%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DXVXvXMEPRLA%26feature%3Dem-upload_owner

Mother's Day. My new three day weekend.

There's a lot being said about Mother's Day lately, I'm no rocket scientists but I'm guessing it because it is tomorrow. I think it is cool to read things in the paper or see them online, about great things that people are doing for their Mothers. Schools that are making a deal out of it, famous people (yes, famous people have Mom's too.. well, except for Lindsey) are giving their Mom's cars, restaurants are having cute brunches . It's awesome. I love it. It's like Valentines Day and your birthday, except it's just you, your littles and all the love you can handle.
We don't do presents really. I mean sometimes they do, but for the most part it's just about getting breakfast in bed (which is my FAVORITE thing in the world) having the kids be nice to each other, sneaking out at some point with a girlfriend and that is about it. We don't do flowers (except maybe at the Farmers Market, which we do after my lazy, lazy brunch) or chocolate. We don't buy diamonds or fancy bags. No lavish necklaces or rings. If we had the money to spend 15K on a ring, I would give the money to my local food bank and give my very best beauty pageant wave as they all carried me down the street on a thrown. I mean, can you imagine? That's probably a different blog entry all together but really, to know me is to know that I am not flashy and I need for not.
Where was I? I'm getting all worked up over the thought of the things I could do with Kardashian money and it wouldn't be taking Kanye (hows your head buddy?) to lunch. Anyway...
What I am saying is, is that our day is simple and oh so special. It is a day I don't have to plan and I don't have to make anything happen but I still get to be a part of it. A big part. I get to be myself and enjoy my work, which is raising all these damn kids!
This bring me to my point and my disclaimer is that I have no backing information on this person, so obviously there's more to the story but I read a Facebook post the other day and I was so floored, I had to respond. You know, to someone I am not friends with nor do I "like" their page. A friend of mine commented on the post that read "... do you think being a Mom is the hardest job in the world, ever? (Spoiler alert, I don't"."
Needless to say it struck a cord with me and not because I was having a rough day, it was just like reading something that goes against every bone in your body. I think this person doesn't believe in Mother's Day altogether,  I had to reply- so here's what I said.

"I find this post odd. "Over glorifying motherhood'? Is there such a thing? Some surgeons
are awful at what they do, have you never seen Mickey Rourke? Ditch digging? Have you ever done this? I'd use the term "suck" not "hard". (someone had said they thought Motherhood was easy and that surgeons and ditch diggers had the hardest jobs....)
Some Mothers are terrible but if you do it well, how is anyone to say it's not the hardest job? Isn't that just a figure of speech? The word "job" means: 'paid position of regular employment". If you guys are getting paid, I'm definitely doing it wrong. I work at parenting my 12,3 and 10 month old full time, round the clock and it's no joke. But I find my work an investment for my/our future. I plan to take my success in this position all the way to the proverbial bank when the last one is out of the nest.
Whether they dig ditches, become surgeons OR be stay at home parents (or any combination) that's what I am choosing to do with my life. Well, a big part of it anyway.
It's work. Hard, constant work. I could never feel "over glorified". Can you imagine? Too much praise? No. Praise on. I need it.
The blanket statement of "chardonnay, useless husbands and sticky icky kids"... You said it, maybe that is how you really feel?
In my downtime, I find my friends and I talking about the crazy world headlines, how to potty train our toddlers and keeping our pre-teens out of trouble. Things like that.
I feel odd chiming into a faceless FB thread but I hear/see posts and conversations about this and I just don't get it. If parenthood is easy for you, I think that's great. I think you are perpetually high, but I still think it's great. "


So that's that. I had a lot to say and I am not sure why really. I don't care if others don't want to take a day and bask in their greatness. That's fine, there will be more mimosas and massage chairs open because of it but I can't help but think it is doing more harm than good. But my parenting philosophy is different than those that agree with this kind of thinking. There are comments about "martyr syndrome" and using exhaustion as a status symbol. They speak of not using sippy cups with our kids and not praising kids for what is perceived to be mediocre behavior. I'd like to think that I am pretty awesome human and a fine parent but I know as a child I was pretty awful. I wet the bed far into my school age life and I picked my nose and sucked my thumb. What does that say about me now? How was that any indication of what kind of person I would be? Was I humiliated? Ya and you know, that part molded me and not in a stellar way. I find it hard to push the "grow up" attitude on my kids. I don't want them to grow up. I know they will/are but I would just assume Quattro stay 8 (best age!) and Elvis stay 3. I would like that baby to stay a baby but I bet he is going to be really fun to talk to...
How does anyone know what your kid is capable of? What is perceived as mediocre in one kid could be like amazing in another kid. My son played basketball and I was so proud of him in the final game. He finally got the guts to shoot the damn thing (after spending the entire season passing it to someone else) that it was as if he graduated high school as valedictorian. I was so proud. I took him to dinner. Yes, I did. I took him to dinner to celebrate his guts because it took him 3 months to get them. He missed the shot but he will never remember that part. He will only remember how proud HE was of himself.

There's a group of women (and lets face it, a shitload of men) that think that since Motherhood is a choice that you should not be struggling or looking up to people that we may think do things better. That you shouldn't celebrate a day with a glass of wine, while being exhausted because that means you are trendy. I find more and more that people who are talking about Mothers hating Mothers ARE actually the Mothers that hate Mothers. 

Confused?

I find myself looking up to women and their kids all the time. I see families on IG, FB and day to day and I think "damn, they have go it figured out" but I am not serious. When I am tired because I have had a long day, it's not because I can't handle it, it's simply because I am exhausted. End of my daily rope, can't take another minute, want to guzzle something so I feel happy again.
Is that so bad?

Maybe. And you know, c'est la vie, to each her own, just a pinch, a little goes a long way... blah blah blahhhhh.

I will say that I think Motherhood is the hardest job I have ever had. Sure I stopped working for the man when I was 23, but I am working my ass off every day, every week, every month and every year. Some days I am on fire and people look at me and think I have it all, but something tells me they know I don't. I am simply doing my best and that, is worth it's weight in gold and a mothercussing breakfast in bed. 

My guy.

Batter up.

Today I volunteered to take our son to baseball practice, not because I needed to run errands, or talk to the coach. There were no parents I was dying to chat w/ either. I just wanted to get away from everyone.
There are certain times when we as humans just need to be alone and today was that day.
I'm not even shy about admitting the fact that I sat on the bleachers for about 15 minutes then retreated to the car. I sensed a stack of mindless chitchat coming my way, so I skulked off to the car, where I'll sit perfectly quiet for the next 50 minutes. And I couldn't be happier about it.
I just wanted to share that little beauty. Some of us Mothers feel guilty or worse we are made to feel guilty and I want to remind us that guilt is a useless emotion. Take a little time for yourself. Grab your purse and the grocery list and then just go get a coffee, come home a couple hours later w/ no groceries, order a pizza and tomorrow you will be a better gal for it.