PARENTING

Today is the last day of January. HALLELUJAH!

I personally could not be more excited because this has seemed like an abnormally long month.

But you know what’s next – February. Ugh.

I honestly have an intense disdain for the month of February. I do not like to use the word hate because it is a very strong word and I have two small children, so I will just say that I strongly dislike February.

Disclaimer: My children are not allowed to use the word hate but if they drop a “shit” here or there do not be shocked. I call this blog Hashtag MomFail for a certain reason.

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MOM FAIL

Everything in life has felt a little heavy lately. I was down and out with pneumonia last week and found myself watching the news a lot. There is a lot of bad stuff going on in the world. A school shooting that was a little too close to home. I considered writing about my thoughts on some of the bad stuff. But decided to stick with something lighter for today. Because I think we could all use a little pick me up.

So here goes.

I woke up one day last week and walked downstairs. I turned on the living room lamp and something looked a little off.

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PARENTING

I wrote the title for this post when I was about nine months pregnant with my second baby boy – who is now six months old. I was so tired that all I got to was the title. I think I then fell into a deep sleep with my computer next to me.

I was looking through my drafts and realized how many moms would relate to this one.

How many times do we sigh after our three year old has had an epic tantrum because you gave him the blue cup instead of the red cup and say to ourselves, “OMG, I really need a break before I go crazy.”

But as parents, we don’t really get breaks.

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MOM FAIL

If you visit my home unexpectedly, be prepared to be shocked and possibly disgusted.

I have a three and a half year-old little boy, a six month-old, and a 75-pound black lab.

Disclaimer: I also have a husband named Logan but he does not usually cause people to be shocked and disgusted so I’m leaving him out of this one.

When you ring the doorbell, you will most likely be greeted by me. I will be wearing a pair of leggings and an over sized sweatshirt that has spit up on it. My hair will be in a top knot and I will not have a stitch of makeup on.

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Postpartum Depression

I do not keep it a secret that I suffered from Postpartum Depression after the birth of my first son Henry, who is now three years old. I fell into a deep black hole of anger and worthlessness a week or so after I gave birth. And it took me far too long to accept help. People wanted to help, but I didn’t think I needed it. I spent too many hours laying in a dark room crying before I convinced myself this wasn’t just the “baby blues” I was told to expect.

This went against every ounce of what I thought traditional motherhood looked like.

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Life

Today is the day. The first day of the Holiday Hangover.

You know, the week between Christmas and New Year’s Day. The week where you sit in the aftermath of mountains of toys, wondering how the hell you gained ten pounds in four days and if there is anymore fudge left in that tin in the kitchen.

There is always such a build up. This year, it seemed like the Christmas trees were up the day after Halloween.

DID YOU FORGET ABOUT THANKSGIVING, CORPORATE AMERICA?

Let’s look at the three phases that lead to the Holiday Hangover.

  • The “I Love Christmas Music” Phase: This starts soon after Thanksgiving.
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MOM FAIL

Gross, right? Who the hell wants poop for Christmas?

Me! This lady right here! All I seriously want for Christmas is poo. In the potty that is.

I have been pretty open on my blog about the fact that my three year old is still not fully potty trained. It is my largest #momfail and it brings a lot of anxiety to my life.

Disclaimer: Anyone mom shaming me right now can go F-off. Sorry I had to get that out.

When people have asked me what I want for Christmas, I have a list of things.

  • Cash
  • Gift cards for manicures and pedicures
  • New blinds for the house
  • Someone to finish painting the trim on my second floor
  • Long flowing mermaid hair with no cowlicks
  • Peace on earth
  • Not having to worry about my children being bullied on social media one day
  • Equality for everyone
  • Sleep
  • No more Paw Patrol
  • The ability to understand Roku and Sling TV and all that nonsense so I can finally cancel my DirecTV
  • A rug for the kitchen
  • An espresso machine
  • Tooth-whitening
  • Patience
  • A supermodel body molded by beer and tacos
  • The ability to drink and not get hungover
  • A week where I can lay on the couch and watch Netflix in my high-waisted leggings.
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MOM FAIL

When Christmas time rolls around, I really find it hard to write about Christmas. Because it is everywhere. And it has been for MONTHS.

So I like to change things up a bit. I can’t take anymore Christmas carols. No more letters to Santa. I’m struggling to find new places for the damn elf on the shelf I gave into. Can Christmas come and I enjoy it fully and I have a wonderful time with my family then it be over?

Please?

This time last year I wrote about my true love and passion for mom jeans. It was a trend that I had just discovered.

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PARENTING

My husband and I are very lucky. We have a lot of family that live just a hop, skip and jump away. You know what that means.

FREE BABYSITTING!

I can only name a handful of times that we have ever had to hire a babysitter for a night out. Between my mom and Logan’s parents, we are usually set.

I have nothing against finding a sitter, I would just prefer to have a family member watch my three-year-old and four-month-old for free and possibly overnight so I can sleep in the next morning.

Plus, I have heard that grandparents that babysit their grand kids live longer.

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Life

Feminist.

As a 33-year-old woman living in Kentucky, that has always seemed like a very dirty word to me. Any time it is brought up in a conversation, it is always in a negative context. It was a word that made me shudder and think “gross.”

To me it came across as an overly aggressive, angry, uptight, man-hating woman.

Now, don’t stop reading. Hear me out.

I have never looked up the definition of feminism. I haven’t studied it. I haven’t had a conversation based solely on feminism. It just wasn’t a topic that I thought about a lot.

To be honest, I didn’t want to learn about feminism because to me it was unappealing and foul.

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