Tag Archives: babies

Quote of the Day: Why I am so damn tired…

“When you are a mother, you are never really alone in your thoughts. A mother always has to think twice, once for herself and once for her child.”

~Sophia Loren

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Random Thought: On Baby Food

Sometimes I think that baby food doesn’t actually seem that bad.  In fact, it kinda looks good!  Of course, that’s usually at the end of a long day when I am thinking about having to make dinner.

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Day Dreamin’: My Steamy Fantasy

Now I know this is getting a little personal, but I have to share this fantasy I have been having a lot lately.  Man, is it steamy (sorry dad!)

Ok, so here it is… I check into a fancy hotel under a fake name.  I go up to the hotel room, which is complete with a big, beautiful, and very sexy bed.  I take off all my clothes and sink into a lavender scented bubble bath.  Suddenly, there is a knock at the door!  I pull on the hotel’s fluffy, white bathrobe and answer the door to find a very cute bellhop… do hotels still have those or does my fantasy take place in 1936?  Anyway, the very cute bellhop comes inside my hotel room and says, “Hello Ms. Aniston.  I have your order.”  Then he brings in a rolling cart with a big slice of chocolate cake and a wonderful bottle of red wine.  I say in a husky voice, “Thanks.  I’ve got your tip right here….”  Then I give him $2 (hey, it was only cake and wine) and he leaves, and I spend the entire night by myself in the big, sexy bed in my fluffy, white bathrobe, watching crappy chick flicks and eating the entire slice of cake and drinking the entire bottle of wine, and no one is crying or snoring or farting or waking me up or asking me why I am wasting my time with any movie starring Cameron Diaz or do I know how many calories are in a slice of chocolate cake or did I just drink an entire bottle of wine by myself or why am I drunk dialing my mom or why do I say my name is Jennifer Aniston when I check into hotels (hoping for an upgrade.)

Hot right??!!!

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Random Thought: The Joke’s on Me, Target

I went in to Target the other day to get some formula.  After nearly two hours and $200 of crap I don’t need later, I emerged as though from a drug induced euphoria back into the harsh light of reality, aka the parking lot.  As I struggled to carry my giant garbage bag with a bright red bullseye on it, I began to think. And by think… I mean over think. Hmmm… interesting choice of name and logo, Target.  I have a bullseye on my back – literally as the bag is so big and heavy that I must carry it slung over my back like a low rent Santa.  Well done Target, you’ve targeted a weak consumer and lured me in with your catchy tv commercials and seemingly good deals on stuff that I don’t even really want but somehow now need.  Well played, my friend.  But you’ve got this shopaholic and sad, cliché of a mommy for the last time!  No more will I be your target, Target.

Awwww… who am I kidding?  See you in a few days.  Same time, same place.

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Something’s Missing

All day I have had this strange feeling.  A heavy weight on my chest that makes it hard to breathe. And no, I didn’t go out and get breast implants. Yet.  It’s that nagging, anxious feeling that I am forgetting something.  Something really important.   I make sure the windows are closed.  I consult my calendar to confirm I am not missing a meeting.  I double-check that the curling iron is off (even though the last time I curled my hair was circa… um… pre-baby.) Nothing seems amiss. So what it is it?  What am I forgetting???

Then I realize.  My daughter.

No, I didn’t leave her at the supermarket, the mall, the adult book store, or anything.  I didn’t accidentally leave her somewhere.  I purposely did.  Today I took her to daycare for the first time.

I don’t have this anxious feeling in the pit of my stomach because I don’t trust the daycare.  They are great.  God knows I did my research.  It’s hard to explain, but somehow I feel naked without her… no, that’s not quite it.  I have been naked in public once (college dare) and this doesn’t feel quite like that.  It’s more like I am a missing a limb.  Many people who have lost a limb report the phantom feeling that it is still there.  When they try to move their “fingers”, they swear that they can FEEL them move, even though they know that they no longer are there.  That is exactly how I feel today. I keep the music low so as not to wake her up. I decline the invitation to meet a friend for coffee because I can’t possibly leave the house without her.  I walk around the empty house, and it feels like it’s haunted.   Lyla is not here but she is EVERYWHERE.  Her smell fills her room.  Her toys lay jumbled on my bedroom floor, waiting for her to return and somehow make more of a mess out of them.  Her bottles stand at attention by the sink.

Now, I know that this is getting awfully “Sunday Movie of the Week”-style melodramatic.   Please forgive me for my self-indulgent sobfest for something that is not actually sad.  I know that my daughter has not died.  She’s just at daycare.  But in a way, it still feels like the death of something.  I guess I am just not sure what.

I feel the need to explain myself… to explain WHY she is in daycare.  It’s that motherhood guilt again.  I feel that I have to justify why a good mother would willingly let her most precious possession out of her sight, even for just a moment.  Especially because I don’t really have to.  I am lucky enough to have a husband who can support me without my having to work, but who is supportive enough to know that I need to work.  I am also lucky enough to have a flexible job that gives me the freedom to work part-time and mostly from home.  I know that in these respects, I am luckier than most.  Many women simply don’t have the choice.  But I do have a choice, and my choice is try to find the delicate, and maybe impossible, balance somewhere in the middle.

At first it was fine. She napped a lot and wasn’t very mobile, so she could happily play by herself while I tapped away at my keyboard next to her.  Then she started crawling.  And standing.  And opening doors, and cabinets, and toilet seats, and the gate to hell if I wasn’t there to stop her.  So working while she was awake was no longer an option; instead I worked while she slept.  But now, she sleeps a lot less.  So I’ve spent the past few months rushing to my computer the second I lay her down, forgetting to take the time to do basic things like eat, sleep and pee, and regretting that the time I should be enjoying my daughter was marred by my stress – wondering when the hell I was going to get my work done. So, after a few months of trying to do it all and feeling like I was failing at EVERYTHING, I decided that enough was enough.  My husband and I agreed to send Lyla to daycare two days a week.  And now I am spending those days wishing that she was home with me, but knowing that soon I will come to appreciate the time I have to myself.

I have so much more to say on this subject, mostly about the guilt I feel.  What’s a mother without her guilt, right?  But I am going to save it for another day, another blog.  Mostly because I have spent so much of the day wandering around the house and sniffing her dirty clothes like a creep, that I am now late to pick her up.  I have spent the whole day missing her, and now I will finally go pick her up and, after an hour or two, most likely be wishing that I had a bit more alone time to get some work done.

Ah motherhood… I spend half the time feeling like I can’t win, and the other half feeling like I already have.

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Random Thought: On Motherhood

Ah Motherhood.  I spend half the time feeling like I can’t win, and the other half feeling like I already did.

To be continued…

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Attn Facebook Parents: Slow Your Roll

So I admit, it’s hard for me to get all high and mighty on this subject because I am probably a perpetrator of the exact annoying activity that I am about to call out, but I am going to get all high and mighty anyway because this is my blog and I can do whatever the hell I want.  Parents, for the sake of your Facebook friends and family, and the people you barely knew in high school but who inexplicably friended you anyway, and the people who you don’t know but friended you because they thought you were cute, but then realized that you were married/crazy/not as attractive as you look in your profile pic, for the sake of all these people… slow your roll on the kiddie pics.  We all know that your kids are adorable, cute, funny and better than everyone else’s, but we don’t need to see 8000 pictures of your child. Per week. Quite frankly, most of us stopped looking after commenting on your Facebook announcement of “It’s a boy!”  (What, no cigars?)

So, to make this easy on everyone (including myself) let’s break down acceptable Facebook posting habits for parents:

1)  Number of photos – Photos should be restricted to holidays, special events, extra cute moments and possibly vacation photos (as long as there are other photos included of said vacation, like the ones of you taking a body shot off a Mexican stripper while in Playa Del Carmen – while baby is napping of course.)  Photos should be limited to no more than 50 baby photos per year, and if you come even close to this limit, you give up the right to get angry when people stop looking.

2)  Graphic “fresh from the womb” baby photos –  Not allowed.  Ever.  Although you are probably doing the world a favor by drastically lowering the world’s population by scaring possible future parents into NOT having their unborn children, it’s still not acceptable to post a photo of your blue, screaming baby covered in blood and other unmentionable goo on your Facebook page.  (As I believe that I am guilty of this heinous crime, I wholeheartedly apologize to all the people I have scarred for life.)

3)  Baby’s photo as your profile picture – Only acceptable if YOU are IN the photo as well.  Otherwise it’s just confusing.  Plus, it’s harder for people to stock you on Facebook if they can’t tell whose profile it is.  Just stop it.

4)  Status updates –  These should be limited to very cute or very funny things your child said, did or projected from his or her body, and should be capped at no more than 1/wk.

5)  Diaper shots –   Nope.

6)  Funny photos of your baby doing inappropriate things –  As funny as it is to see your baby with a beer in her mouth, cigarette in his hand, or wearing a witty onesie that reads, “Future pole dancer” (true story), this activity should be limited to one time.  Ever.  Otherwise you are a bad parent.  And even if you are not… everyone thinks you are.

Alright, alright so I’ll get off my soap box. For now. If you are a perpetrator of these crimes, don’t feel bad, most parents are.  But let’s make a pact to stop the madness.  Now.

What Facebook posting crimes would you like to see come to an end?

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Random Thought: If Adults Acted Like Babies

If adults acted like babies we would cry whenever we are hungry, tired, or constipated; throw a tantrum every time we don’t get our way; be easily distracted by bright and shiny objects; babble incoherently, sure that everyone understands what we are saying; insert dangerous objects into our mouths with no thought to the damage they might cause… oh my god, I AM A BABY!!!!

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Check me out…I got an Award. Go Me!

Here are the rules for this award:

1. Thank the person who nominated you.

Thank you to Real-Life Housewife for thinking enough of my little blog to nominate me!  Check out her blog for another honest take on motherhood and such. It’s wonderful!! It always surprises me that anyone cares what I have to say, and your comments and messages of support mean the world to me.  I get a lot of satisfaction in writing this blog and you all encourage me when I have those days that I want to pull my hair out… which, let’s face it, is pretty much every day at some point.

2. There are no limits for how many fellow bloggers you can nominate.
I would like to nominate the following bloggers, whose blogs inspire me in many different ways.

The Jenny Blog:  Beautiful person. Great writer. Just an honest and funny look at whatever is going on in her life or in her head at the moment.

Love-fed: Great recipes for healthy, delicious food and for life.

Holding Kairos:  She’s the perfect combo of sweet and salty…just how I like my snacks and my blogs.  This is a blog that I really relate to.

Moths to a Flame:  A very funny blog about her misadventures in dating.  Ahhh the single life…

I hope you too will give out this award. It’s such a great way to link people to new blogs!

3. Share some things about you but alphabetically just a word or two about you starting with each alphabet. (Or alternatively, just write the first word you think of)

A: is for Apples.  I have been reading waaaaaaay too many children’s books!

B:  Brain = quite foggy most days.

C:  Courtney.  Does that make me Conceited?

D: Dammit.  I think it Does!!

E:  Elephants.  I love elephants. My dream vacation is to go on a safari in South Africa and see elephants in their natural enviroment.

F: Friends.  Soooo important to have good friends to lean on sometimes.

G:  Gravity.  Doesn’t work to your body’s advantage, especially after you have a baby. = (

H: Husband.  I hate to brag but mine is the best.  Back off ladies!

I: I am…

J: Just…

K: Kidding.  I feel like I have to use this phrase a lot when people don’t get my jokes. (which is more often than I would like to admit)

L:  Lyla. The love of my life.

M: Me!  Again with the vanity (people who write blogs must be fairly vain if they think anyone cares what they have to say, right?  I’m just kidding. Sorta…

N:  Never say never.  I find myself doing things I never thought I would do. Daily.

O: Open.  I try to be open and honest.

P:  Poopie.  A word that I find myself saying since I’ve become a mom, and I am embarrassed in front of myself.

Q: A good letter to have in Words with Friends, which I am addicted to. (But only if you have a U)

R: Read.  Love to do it, but rarely get to indulge these days.

S:  Sleep.  Need more.

T: Time Machine.  I want one.  Not to go back in time but to create MORE of it!

U: See Q.

V:  Victorious.  How I feel when I finish a writing assignment or blog post.

W: Wine!

X: Xtra annoying.  Cutesy spelling of words is one of my pet peeves

Y:  Yawn.  A language I speak fluently.

Z:  Zassy.  How I would describe myself… if only Sassy started with a Z.  And I was the kind of person who used words like sassy.

As always, thanks for reading!

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