This is where the rubber meets the road. This could be the post that makes some people really mad at me. But I have found that I write blog posts whenever something happens in my life. When something happens that gets me really fired up. This is not parenting or mom related, it’s just something I strongly believe in so I thought I’d put it out there.
Here is the deal. If you aren’t happy, do something about it. Don’t just complain, actually take a productive step towards happiness and make a change. YOU ARE NOT STUCK ANYWHERE! YOU ARE NOT A TREE!
I feel very Carrie Bradshaw using a question as my title. Except that I am in Owensboro, KY, not New York, I don’t smoke, my mom jeans are not the height of fashion right now and I feel like I could vomit at any moment. I am also watching my toddler chase our dog around the living room trying to give him a kiss. So yeah, the only thing Carrie Bradshaw and I have in common is the fact that we like to write. Haha. I was always more of a Samantha anyway.
When I talk about having it all, I don’t mean driving a Bentley and being the CEO of a Fortune 500 Company while raising eight gluten and soy-free children.
Oh Christmas season! How you creep up on me each and every year. I am always the person that waits until the weekend before Christmas to finish all their shopping. The Christmas season turns everything into such a cluster. People going crazy searching for the one toy their kid supposedly cannot live without. Teenagers in crop tops and winter coats begging their parents for something that I think is highly inappropriate. Get that kid a damn EZ Bake Oven and a turtleneck with a snowman on it! Is that not in style anymore?
Disclaimer: I am totally turning into an old person.
I love my kid. He is awesome and adorable and I want to kiss his fat little face. But he can be a total asshole.
Is it okay to feel this way? Is this normal? Does this make me sound like a bad mom? I’m sure to some people it might. But I think a lot of moms feel this way. None of us want to admit it. Parenting is hard. And that’s okay. So let’s not just bottle it all up. Let it out! We are allowed to be mad at our kids! We made them and raised them and love them so deep and so hard.
When I had Henry two and a half years ago, I had zero clue what I was doing. Zilch. When I went to register I almost had a panic attack. I had no idea you had to use special laundry detergent on baby clothes or that they were supposed to sleep in a bag that zips up the front. I didn’t know that some bottles had seven pieces and you could get a baby monitor with WiFi.
Needless to say, I was clueless about parenting. I was scared to hold babies because I didn’t want to drop them. So when everyone told me it would just come naturally I laughed in their faces.
Okay working moms. You feel me already. You get up at five in the morning so you can get everyone ready and out the door and to the sitter and make sure the dog has food and you can actually make it to work on time without looking like a hot mess. You literally pull into your parking space at work like a Nascar driver and jump out of the car. Throwing random items in your purse – phone, water bottle, snack for later, car keys, chapstick, laptop, files, flats for when it’s too much to wear the heels. They all settle at the depths of your large mom purse/computer bag/diaper bag with the random baby sock and $4.62
I know it, this topic has been written about before. Multiple times. I’ve seen it in BuzzFeed, Scary Mommy, The Chive, etc. But I couldn’t help myself. My child has been crying all f**king weekend for no reason at all and I had to get it off my chest. Maybe this post is more for me to vent than to inform you. Call me selfish but I’m writing about it anyway.
Henry lives a very luxe life. He sleeps approximately twelve hours every night and also takes a three hour nap during the day. He isn’t potty trained yet so he doesn’t even have to move to go to the bathroom.
I am an adult now. At least that is how people refer to me. The ripe old age of 32. I have a husband, a kid, a dog, a mortgage, a career, an IRA, a car payment and a shit ton of student loans. How in holy hell did this happen? Who trusted me to be an adult? Can I really be in charge of raising another human? And making sure that he grows up to be a kind, loving person that realizes his importance and how much I love him?
This seriously blows my mind. I swear it was just a few years ago that I was skipping classes at Western Kentucky University to drink beer with my friends on the porch at Baker Boys.
Let’s talk about the car ride with a toddler. Quite possibly the easiest way to lose your mind in approximately five minutes. I thought it would be refreshing to hear some stories about real life. The good, the bad, and the VERY UGLY. I promise not to hold back.This is the story of how a simple DVD player crushed my hopes and dreams.
To start on a positive note, Henry loves his car rides in Logan’s big white truck. Also lucky for me, Logan drops Henry off at the sitter most mornings. He has a nice DVD player equipped with multiple DVD’s to keep him entertained as he drives the six miles to the sitters house or the half mile miles to my in-laws.