My kid is a binky baby and I don’t care


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We are coming around on 17 months in this household and Cora’s two favorite things are her blankets and binkies.  Every time she falls, gets sleepy, needs a cuddle or really any moment, she needs one but prefers both.  Thankfully she isn’t attached to a specific blanket or binky but does love them all.

I wanted my child to be a binky baby.  I seriously hoped that she would not be one to hate them because I wanted the mute button, I won’t lie.  My second reason was because I was a thumb sucker. As in, I was probably 13 before I quit and my Mom tried everything to get me to quit but ultimately, you can’t take that away. A binky you can.  To my happiness Cora took to that binky the day she was born and hasn’t turned back.

I remember around the 9 month pediatrician visit, the doc was discussing getting rid of the bottle and I asked her about her thoughts on the binky.  She told us they don’t get too fussed about getting rid of the addiction till around 2.  She fully believes it helps them and parents get through the teething phase and lord knows the teething phase in our household is anything but fun.  She had a much greater concern over getting rid of the bottle by 12 months which we successfully mastered.

From there, I honestly haven’t given it a ton of thought, my girl and her addiction.  She will play without one during the day and knows they aren’t allowed at the high chair.  She does know where the binky bowl is and is magical at pulling one out of thin air.  Sometimes she likes to chew on two at once. (Teeth!)  At times, when she pops one in her mouth, she has the same look on her face that I do when I take the first sip of wine after a long day.  She certainly requires one for naps, car rides, bedtime and some soothing in between. I’m careful to keep them boiled, replaced when need be, and age/size appropriate.

I have started to have a few comments from people regarding her little attachment.  Perhaps she likes it a bit too much, perhaps we should start getting rid of it now….everyone has an opinion, horror story, advice or made up knowledge on the topic.  Then I realized I am starting to let go of a lot of this “society baby requirement” shit more than ever.  While I thought we were fairly good about letting a lot of it roll off our backs, there are some things I wasn’t as good about.  I’m currently giving zero fucks about her binky situation.  I’m not going to research it, I’m not going to worry about it…nothing.  I’m going to pop one in her mouth tonight if she screams at me, that’s what I’m going to do.

Do I want my kid to be the 3 year old talking around a binky? No.  But the girl isn’t even two yet so can the lady in the grocery store cool her shit just a notch? Just trying to keep her from burning down the house can be exhausting enough!  I figured we will start a 12 step program with her over the summer with a goal of it to be almost gone or gone by the time she turns 2 in October.

Goals I tell you.

What are your binky stories?


Mommy Group of 2


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I haven’t made it a secret that I’m just not in to the whole mommy group thing. Mainly because I can’t find one and my kiddo hates people.  However a friend on FB posted that she was looking to start a mommy group or needed someone to just hang out with because she is a SAHM of three kids.  Our husband’s were deployed together and they come to a lot of our parties.  The hubs and I have gone to dinner with them a few times but aside from that, the men are more friends.  However, I was all for spending some outside of the house time together to entertain our kids!  So we started a mommy group of two:)

Our first meet-up was at a kids gym and the place is genius.  Our kids didn’t play together but that’s okay.  They ran around and wore themselves down. It was nice to get out of the house on a Monday in the dead of winter.

We have since had a couple more meet-ups and I see some problems arising that I feared would. She talks.  A lot.  Which is fine, except it is about their marriage and how bad it is.  Constantly.  In front of the kids.  I mean, I should be getting paid a therapists rate.  I have tried changing the subject but other subjects have become a problem and all of this is stuff I don’t find appropriate to be said in front of kids.  I’m beginning to think she has one topic and that is anything that is filled with drama.  Can we just talk about teething for a minute instead? Because fuck teething.

Through out these meet-ups, Cora and her 2 1/2 year old are slowly playing together a bit more but we do have the problem that her daughter is a bit more drama filled and lacks some manners.  (Her mamma used these words before I did!)  You get that with any age group and it is a good learning time but if mamma isn’t using it for a teaching moment then…it becomes an issue.  Especially when my kid is getting the brunt end of the screaming, hitting, non toy sharing.

Which leads me to yesterday where I felt that neither Cora or I wanted to go hang out with them.  We just went to their house to play and she stayed glued to my lap and my ears were burning on the topics at hand.  We skipped out early and headed for Panera instead.

I feel for this woman in her marriage, I do.  We all need someone to talk with but I think there is a time and a place.  I would be much more apt to letting her vent if it were over a glass of wine without little ears present.  It seems each meet-up is going downhill a bit more and I’m wondering where and when the line should be drawn?  Or is this just normal in a mommy group of two?  I don’t think I’ll ever get the hang of this mommy world stuff.

I do not always have my shit together


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I was up all night with Cora, again.

We rocked in the rocker for a couple of hours, again.

She would scream hysterically when I laid her down, again.

Teething has reared its ugly head, again.

I’m tired, again.

Recently someone asked me how I always had my shit together.  I laughed.  I don’t.

There are days I’m too exhausted to care.  I come home from work and put on last nights dirty workout clothes. Some nights it is a frozen pizza instead of whatever was planned out earlier in the week.  I run on a large latte from the drive thru in the mornings.  I snap at my husband for not hearing the hysterical screaming through the baby monitor the night before. I want to cry at my desk.  I feel guilt for being happy to drop the baby off at daycare and then miss her during the day.

I do not always have my shit together.

I wish my sister could put her water glass in the dishwasher at night.  I wish my husband would pick his pajamas up off the floor and at least toss them on the bed.  Why am I the only one to put a new Kleenex box out? I have meals to think about, lunches to pack, floors to scrub, dog food to stop and buy, a dog to walk, a workout to shove in at night for my sanity and books that pile up to read.  My Mom calls to tell me that Rebecca is having a boy. I don’t know what to do with the information so I shove it to the side like other things.

I do not always have my shit together.

I work at a job that means nothing to me but I give it 100%. I work to increase my sales, market and tend to our current customers.  I also look for new jobs occasionally in case I am missing the perfect opportunity.  I remind myself that my career is on the back burning and that was part of the deal to only working part-time.  Raising Cora comes first.  I stop looking at jobs and accept what I am doing, again.

I do not always have my shit together.

A few weeks ago my husband tells me he feels as though I do not appreciate how hard he works for this family.  I do tell him this often but in that moment he didn’t feel valued.  I had a hard time validating his feelings, I won’t lie.  He is a good Dad, a good provider, he works his ass off for us BUT then bad mornings happen and bad days happen and mamma over here is doing everything else.  And suddenly I’m having days where my shit is not together because I have a lot on my plate that a lot of other women have.  As women we are still managing a house, a family, a career, meals, oil changes, bills, babysitters and back-up babysitters, and, and, and…..a mounting list of other things.

So on the days where you feel like you don’t have your shit together, that is okay.  Remind yourself you are doing the best that you can and then support another woman.

Tomorrow I will probably have my shit back together and you will too.  Tomorrow I will get out the door on time, bags packed, house picked up, dinner set out to make when I get home, and I will be happy to see my husband walk through the door. The baby will sleep through the night, I will get in a good workout and happily go to bed.  It will feel as if my shit is back together.  It does happen.  Those days do out weigh the bad days.

As for today, I need a nap. Cheers to all the hard working women out there today.



What is a single parent?


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I have a question to ask you.  Perhaps one that may be very personal to some of you.

Who is classified as a single parent?  When does a parent get to say “Yea, but I’m a single parent.”

I know people who I would consider single parents.  For the sake of this post I will say single mothers but I do understand there are equally single fathers out there.  To me they are the one and only for their children.  They are the sole provider of shelter, love, birthday presents, and bedtime stories.  They are the only person who has a say in their child’s medical care, their child’s chauffeur, chef and nurse when they don’t feel well.  The single parent doesn’t get a break because there is no one to tag in.  There is no one to sit next to them at parent-teacher conferences, no one to bounce ideas off of for raising their child, no one they have to answer to for parenting decisions.  The single parent is just that, the single person taking on the role of both parents.

To me the single parent is just that because they have lost a spouse, the other parent has walked away or perhaps just doesn’t even live close enough to share in the parenting.  There are a multitude of reasons.  These people, I applaud.  These are the men and women that I look at and I don’t know how the hell they do it.

Now, I know some who call themselves a single parent and this is where the problem lies.  To me, they aren’t a single parent.  To me they are 1/2 of a co-parenting team even though that other parent may not be in the household.  Perhaps this is because of a separation or divorce, but that other parent DOES parent.  That other parent takes their scheduled time with the kids, pays their financial part, does their fair share of driving the kids to and from things.  This other parent helps with medical decisions, is there for conferences, is a back-up to stay home with a sick kiddo if you can’t.  Hell, you may even still have access to that extra set of Grandparents that can babysit!  To me, a divorce, with appropriate co-parenting does not make you a single parent.  It makes you a single person.

Am I wrong?  Am I wrong when my friends throw down the “single parent” card to want to roll my eyes?  A card that seems to be thrown down while their children are happily with their father for the weekend and the Mom has the childless time to come and meet me for a glass of wine, that she can afford due to alimony and child support.  Hell, she could even go home and take a nap afterwards.  A card that somehow dismisses the role their father plays in their life. Meanwhile, in my head, I think of all the parents that seem to be real single parents that are not afforded any of these luxuries.

I know every situation is different and it isn’t a black and white answer.  I’m going by my own personal experience for the people in my life.  Perhaps I need to be more forgiving of their circumstance.  Perhaps I need to shut-up and thank God I’m not in their shoes at all.  I know when my Husband is working long ass hours in the summer and not seeing his kid for a week straight I say things like “solo parenting” or feeling like a “single parent.”  Do I honestly mean or know what that is like? No.

So help me out here.  What do you consider a single parent?


How to Cope With Our New Reality


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We boarded a plane.

We went to Jamaica.

I drank.  I sat.  I thought.  I read three books.  I didn’t move.

I realized how stressed I was once I finally relaxed.

It was then that I could start processing.  Processing my feelings and how I wanted to proceed with everything.  The Hubby and I had so many conversation about our new, altered future that I honestly don’t think I could have thought about it if it wasn’t for the fact that we were sitting on the beach. I was able to have a clear mind.  No laundry waiting, no sleepless nights due to a teething baby, no work emails, no mail piling up.  Just us.  Us and some rum in my drink.

Some of you may have read the last post and had some of your own feelings regarding the matter.  Maybe you adopted from a teenage girl.  Maybe you were the pregnant teenage girl yourself.  Maybe you have had the pregnant teenage daughter.  In many of those cases, yours or otherwise, things worked out.  Things were okay. The end of the world did not come.  Some of you do understand, to a point.  Some may even think we are over reacting, only because I have been told that once.  Every case is different.  Every story is different.  I can tell you, without a doubt, this will not end with a pretty bow where we can all say that God clearly had a plan.  Trust me.

On our trip we made decisions.  We made a plan.  I let go of a lot and left it there in the water to wash out with the tide.  I had to move forward.

When we came home I called our lawyer.  Someone I haven’t had to talk to in 10 years.  That one phone call was better than any bit of therapy or wine to this situation.  Aside from my ex, he is the only one that knows every sordid detail of our story.  We talked.  We both choked back tears.  He reassured me and my decisions.  We will not move forward on anything legally.

I talked to my ex.  We both agreed on how we would move forward with the advice of our lawyer.

We have raised a child for 14 years and legally have no rights.  We have always known this.  Our system is fucked up.  While there are some steps that could be taken, it does not change the facts.

I sent Rebecca one last text giving her our love and support.  Letting her know we were there but she can contact us if need be.

We have heard from many more family members since we came home, giving us more information.  Words have been said, not by us, but others, that cannot be taken back.  I mentally let it go with the tide though.

My ex and I have giving up more than we can explain for Rebecca.  As does every parent though.  We gave her every opportunity.  We fought for her in everything.  We were open with her about her story, her future, why she needed to work hard in life and how we would always be there for her.  We probably fixed things too much for her. We swooped in and did it all for her because we were trying to make up for her bio mom, how different her childhood was, etc.  We can’t do that anymore.  She made decisions, she is making decisions and she has chosen her future.  She no longer wants to include us in that and I will accept that.  We will always be here.  We will always love her.

The most important thing we have learned is that we can’t enable her from here.  We can not be here to give her money, to be a leaning post, to one day let her borrow our car or sometimes crash at our place or bail her out of jail. This may not make sense to some of you but it does to us.

We will step back and let Bruce (the one who holds guardianship) do what he thinks from here.  Much of this is due to his actions as well so he needs to deal with the consequences.  Again, might not make much sense to you but it is true.

I spent an afternoon packing up Rebecca’s room.  Giving her clothes to Goodwill.  Crying over her baby doll on her bed, drawings stuffed in drawers, things that she will no longer play with because she has tucked away her childhood for something else. I neatly tucked away her snow globes, picture frames and other momentos for one day down the road.  I put those containers of memories next to her baby totes in storage.  I’m not sure when they will be pulled back down.  When she is 21?  30?  Understands more to come to me…To ask the questions…To have the conversations that won’t happen now.

She hasn’t even been in the room since last May and every time I went by it turned my stomach to knots.  It was like being thrown back to when we were in court and we couldn’t see her.  The scar that I thought was covered has been ripped open.  It floods me when I least expect it.  Memories that have been long buried attack me.  She has been the hardest thing I have done in my life. I feel a million emotions and I’m fearful for her but I’m still very proud of her, if that makes sense.

We will paint her walls, I will delete her Disney recordings on the DVR, I will turn her room into a guest room but I am not deleting her from my life as some may think. Instead I’m being realistic.  I’m moving forward with our reality.  A reality I prayed would never come but is here. We have to make decisions that are best for Cora, for our mental stability and for our future.

None of this has come easily.  Much will happen in the next coming months.  When we have been questioned by our decisions I still feel confident.  Just as I did 11 years ago in court.  Sometimes we have to walk paths in our lives that no one will understand. In those moments you will learn who is truly there for you, what really matters, and you will gain a new faith in your own self.  Then again, if you don’t believe in yourself, why should anyone else?



My World Has Been Broken and Few Understand


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I have struggled to write this post.  Starting, stopping, deleting, and walking away.  I have words I want to say but I just don’t know how to say them or where to start.  With Rebecca I have never known where to start.  She is my own messy story and for those who don’t know how the story goes, well, they ask a lot of questions and I don’t always want the questions or the judgement.  I just don’t have anything left in me for the judgment.

I want to write though because I find myself, once again, going through something in my life at a time when no one else is.  I was very young when I started raising Rebecca.  None of my friends had a baby yet.  I married when my friends didn’t, divorced and remarried when none of them did, went through infertility and was pregnant at a time when they all had grown kids. I was always going through a major milestone when they were at a different point in their lives and I have really struggled with that. It has left me struggling with who to lean on, who to turn to, talk to, and find common ground with.  Perhaps some of that is for a different post though.

I have realized in the past year that as I struggle with a 14 year old, none of my friends have that issue.  Their kids are all in the 5ish-10ish year old range for the most part.  In a way, an easy age.  They forget the sleepless nights of teething, the need for an early bedtime and they don’t quite have the worry of a full blown teenager on their hands.  They think they have time yet. Time to not worry about the sex talk, drugs, rebellion and the other things that will haunt our dreams as our kids start turning into mini adults.  It just so happens my household holds one extreme to the next.  A teething baby and a 14 year old girl.

(If you would like the rundown on Rebecca please go to this page and read through.)

Last Memorial Day weekend Rebecca was with us.  We sat down and we planned out her schedule for the Summer.  When she would be with us and then with my ex.  The other time spent with her biological Mom, who still does not retain guardianship over her.  Yet, the person who does and has held that guardianship has lacked in the parenting department.  That in itself is a long story but not part of this post either.  We dropped her off with not a care in the world.  I literally remember thinking to myself we might be okay.  We might just make it with her. We might have just been doing this right the whole time.  We might just get her to 18 and to her high school graduation. The next weekend we ran into her and my ex at the town carnival.  We all chatted and she cooed at Cora in the front pack.  Big hugs all the way around as we walked to our car and she went to enjoy some rides with the only person she has known as a father.

If I knew right in that moment that that would be the last hug.  That would be the last good moment.  If I knew that life would never be the same for us…..well…I’m sure many people have moments like that ingrained in their head and wished they didn’t.  Instead we walked away thinking everything was okay, normal and we would see her in two weeks.  Only, we didn’t.

The excuses came over the summer.  The flu.  Wanting to hang out with friends.  Just plain not showing up. She missed family vacations, trips and simple summer weekends.  My ex received the same treatment.  Her texting to us slowed.  She started ignoring us.  The person who carries guardianship over her (We shall call him Bruce) told us she was acting out.  He didn’t want to push her. Then again he never pushed her for much because he has been too busy with his life.  He has lacked in a lot of areas with her.  Once again, a post for another time.

Some nights she would text my ex or I.  Never a phone call though.  Long conversations would start and we would just soak up what we could.  Figure out what was going on in that head of hers. We knew she had slipped through our fingers and we were back to the beginning.  We were back in a place of no control. For the first time since we went through court, when she was three years old, her room sat empty, collecting dust.  A bag still packed in her closet for a trip that came and went that she never showed up for.  Those emotions from 11 years ago were starting to boil up.

We eventually received a few updates from Bruce here and there.  I knew he was hiding the truth from us.  School had started  She is now an eighth grade and they had to pull her out of her private Catholic school.  She has been acting out, refusing to go to school, and is sneaking out of her bio mom’s house in the middle of the night.  She is moved to an alternative school.  She is going through therapists like toilet paper.  She refuses to talk to anyone.  Her bio Mom has never been any help (obviously why she doesn’t have guardianship) and is letting her run rampant.  Bruce won’t move her back in his house because that would ruin his own life.

She missed family pictures.  She missed the festival.  She missed Cora turning one.  She missed putting up the Christmas tree.  She missed Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Years.  Things she has always been there for.

The New Year started and I was driving home from the city with Cora sleeping soundly in the back seat.  My cell phone rang. I just knew, looking at the caller ID, that I didn’t want to answer it.  That life was going to change.  We all know that feeling.

It was Bruce.  The News- As an eighth grader and at 14 years old, Rebecca is pregnant.  I pulled over before I drove off the road, tears welling in my eyes.  How could this happen?  How could he let this happen?  It is his fault. But I scream none of it and I listen to him lie to me, give me pieces of information.  I can tell that because we have been at this for years and I’m not stupid.  He says she will give the baby up for adoption and move her to a school that has a high pregnancy rate so she won’t be the only pregnant girl.  She has been dabbling in drugs.  They want to hold her back in school again but they won’t.  Oh and the father.  The father is someone he has been telling her for a year, A YEAR, to stay away from.  I know his tactics though.  He told her in some passing conversation and never brought it up again.  The father is her cousin.  OH, but not a cousin by blood but by marriage.  So apparently that makes it okay.

I hang up and drive through tears.  The hysteria starting to boil up.  Years of everything flashing through my brain.  This is one of those top five things we really never wanted to hear.  We talked with her about sex.  She just watched both me and my ex’s wife have a baby.  We did not make it out to be glamorous.  She knew.  Fuck, she knew.

I call my ex.  A phone call I never wanted to make. I can’t breathe.  I can’t answer.  I can’t tell him.  He runs through the list of the top five things we worry about and it comes out of his own mouth.  He chokes back tears because he is at work.  He tries to compose himself.  The rug has been pulled out from under us.  We are the only two in the world who understand this feeling right now.  The hell we currently feel.  The gut punch.

And in the days that followed, we realize Rebecca damn well did know.  We find out this was her third “pregnancy scare” even though she was taking birth control.  I don’t know what that means exactly.  Who I have thought about, multiple times, since hearing this, is everyone I follow in the blog world and real world that can’t conceive.  They have tried, they have battled, they have loss, they mourn and they try again.  Yet a 14 year old girl with no care in the world of consequences, on birth control, can get knocked up.  By her cousin. That isn’t technically a blood relative.

I drank a lot.

I cried a lot.

I yelled a lot.

For multiple reasons I did all of those things a lot.

Days later we find out she isn’t going to give the baby up for adoption.  I think that was just something they told us to cushion the blow.  In fact, she will keep it and the family is making it out to be great because that is how fucking white trash they are.  In their trailer, living off the government, with no future. In the same cycle as her mother and grandmother.  She is now a statistic. A statistic we worked so hard to make sure she wouldn’t become.  She will have a reveal party on her 15th birthday.  Isn’t that fucking precious.

I text her our support because that is what we do.  Should do. She won’t talk to us.

We hear things that make my stomach turn.

Like how the father’s family will fight for custody because they don’t want the baby in the same house as Rebecca’s bio mom.  The same people who didn’t back me years ago.  The same people who haven’t spoken to me in years.  Our court case will be pulled into it.  Our names written on papers, probably subpoenaed. It makes me vomit.

I send out an email to close friends and family because I don’t know what else to say and I can’t repeat the words over and over to explain to each of them.  Also, I’m suppose to meet one of them for dinner and can’t pull myself together for that.

Thousands of words are said.  Heard.

A friend calls to tell me she is sorry to hear the news but isn’t it great that she, herself, has found out she too is “accidentally pregnant” and due a few weeks before Rebecca.  Well, 33 versus 14 and pregnant.  She wants sympathy because she isn’t married or living with the man.  I hang up.  I don’t care.

A week after hearing the news my Husband and I boarded a plane for Jamaica.  If there was ever a time for a trip, it was in that moment because 2017 has not been kind to us so far.



Just because I have a kid doesn’t mean I like kids


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When I was pregnant I wrote about how people assumed you should love their kid because you are pregnant.  Wrong.  It was such a weird phenomenon. Turns out, it just keeps on getting better….I mean worse.

I may be in the minority but just because I have a kid doesn’t mean I like kids.  Or I should be more specific and say I don’t like all kids.  I mean, I did coach gymnastics for years and worked in daycare for years but then kids kinda burned me out and so did their parents so that is why I’m in the insurance world now.  Now my clients wear me out and act like children.

I digress.  I’m not a person who likes to stick my kid on others.  Also, my kids hates all people so that means I can’t really stick her on anyone to begin with.  Having a kid people assume you will automatically be a second set of eyes for their kid.  Especially in public.  Hey, I’m going to just go over here and grab my towel, have a conversation with my friend by the pool but I’m sure you will let me know if my child is ready to fall into the water.  I actually have my own kid to watch and this is mommy and me swim lessons, not social hour.

Just because I have a kid in my cart at the store doesn’t mean I will excuse your child when they won’t get out of my way.  Is it cute when little Susie is skipping down the aisle at Target, singing a song, in her own world, not paying attention?  Yes, because you are a good parent who apologizes and guides Susie to her own side of the aisle so we can pass.  Is it cute when little Susie purposely won’t get the fuck out of my way and wants to play a game of chicken on purpose?  Nope.  Please, dear mother, don’t give me that look that says “kids will be kids.”  No, instead tell your kid to show some respect and move their butt.  I have a cranky kid ready for a nap, low on puffs and I’m trying to haul ass through Target.

Before we had kids my friends were not in the habit of bringing their children to my home.  They would normally ask if it was a kid friendly event that I was having before they brought them.  That was cool and for our larger parties I have always announced that kids were not welcome or were welcomed.  I’m rude that way but it seriously depended on the tone of the party.  Since having a baby around people assume it is always okay to bring their children.  They also assume it is a free for all for their kids to go in and destroy play with all of my child’s toys.  Nothing has changed since our baby arrived.  I still don’t like some of their children and still don’t want them in my house.  They carry germs, disease, eat all my food, (and then bitch about my food) and tear the crap out of my house.  Also, my kid lives here so she is naturally going to be around for wine night.  I have no choice in that.  I have a choice in your child being here.  The answer is no.

This is repetitive from my initial pregnant post but there is always the over share person.  The person who you sit next to at the doctor’s office, work or the random acquaintance that you run into at the grocery store.  They see your kid and think it is fine to start pulling out pictures of their own kids/grandkids/niece/nephew/twice removed dog and start telling story after story about them.  Let me just say, I’m not a total hater, I don’t mind swapping war stories with another mother but you know who I’m talking about.  The people who don’t know when to stop, what is appropriate and THEN, with that story, they somehow sneak in a way of how you are probably parenting wrong.

Having a kid at your hip, like being pregnant, opens up a world of crap that people assume about you.  They bust in on your bubble and assume an open book.  Hey, we might all be in the same boat called parenting but it doesn’t mean I want to be that close to your kid.  Hell, I don’t even like my own kid some days.

What I have learned about being a Mom thus far


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I’ve been raising one kid who is now 14.  Her situation, from day one, is unlike any other.  Our situation can’t be compared to raising Cora or compared to someone else in her classroom.  It is our own and different, I’ve accepted that.  I can tell you, starting all over from the beginning with this little one, I still don’t know shit. But I feel like I can look back and tell you a few things I’ve learned.

Sometimes my mama gut is dead on but 75% of the time it isn’t.  I don’t think mine works right.  I swear maybe the baby has an ear infection and I drag her to the doctors for them to tell me she is fine.  I’ve heard the Mom stories were their mama gut just saved their child’s life…meanwhile mine is over there licking the window and I have zero clue why.

I can’t buy baby crap online.  I’m certainly a walk in the store and stare at the packaging type of person.  I mean, I can manage buying diapers on Amazon and her pajamas, that I know we love, but that is about it.  Plus, then I start reading reviews and clicking on more options and then I’m more confused than ever.

Speaking of being confused, I have learned researching can make you crawl in a hole.  I was good about not Googling much when I was pregnant and just going with the flow.  I’ve tried to do that since she has been born but there are just some things you have to go to the internet for.  When should they start eating jar food/solid food, when do most drop to one nap a day, how to get rid of night bottles, how to get your child to fucking sleep through the night already, etc.  And you know what, it doesn’t matter what the internet says.  None of it.  Don’t even go to Barnes & Noble for the book.  Your kid will do that shit when they are ready.  Sure, the internet can give you ideas that you can try but your kid will sleep when they damn well please and eat real food when they want to, not when you are jumping around like a damn monkey making airplane noises.

Be prepared for anything.  There is a reason Mom’s have endless shit in their purses.  It is because they have been there.  Inevitably you will walk into a nice restaurant, on time for your reservation, with your 6 month old in an adorable dress, who will then choose that moment to have a monster, blow out, shit, in the car seat.  At least it isn’t in your arms.  You calmly resign to the bathroom and start where you can, with loads of wipes, while your family is being seated and your Husband orders you large alcoholic drinks. But it is okay because you packed the bag with a back-up cute dress, plastic bag for the poop dress, loads of wipes and an extra swaddle blanket to lay in the now disgusting car seat.  You walk to your seat with swagger because you just managed that shit (literally) and just pray that there isn’t a second blow-out…because you aren’t prepared for that.

I have learned people are going to judge you and you have to not care.  When your baby is climbing out of the shopping cart at Target, while you are checking out, and that bitch lady behind you is wondering why you can’t watch your child better, you ignore it. Because she doesn’t get that seatbelt doesn’t mean crap on that shopping cart and you have stopped short of actually purchasing duct tape to get her ass to stay put while you try to dig through clearance.

I have learned that when you ask others for parenting advice or their way of doing something with their child, listen.  Ask questions if need be. Then take that info and use it if you need to or don’t.  Realize that every family has different needs, lifestyles and goals.  What worked for their family may not work for yours.  Just because they love that car seat, you may not.

I have also come to realize I’m incredibly uncomfortable with my pediatrician saying Cora is developmentally ahead.  She has said this from the time she was born and I looked around at the other babies, lying there, shitting themselves, wondering how the hell my kid is different.  I see it now but don’t fully get it when every kid develops differently.  What difference does it make?  If she is so ahead of the game why did it take her 14 months to figure out that most people like to sleep through the night?  I mentioned to her pediatrician that Cora has gone after the dogs butthole to well, plug it with her own damn finger.  How smart can she be?  Smart enough to plug it on the first try, was her answer to me.  Gross. I’ll put that on her preschool application then.

Sippy cups.  I have never struggled buying something for my child more than a sippy cup.  Should be simple.  I heard horror stories of bottles but we didn’t have that problem.  Liked the first one we gave her.  But there I stand in front of sippy cups of varying degrees.  There are about 1800 stages for each type of cups and then there are sub types and age types and then I’m left looking for a life vest.  We have a cupboard full of ones she has tried and discarded.  Only one type she will use for milk, one sippy for water and one kind with a straw.  The rest are collecting dust and my lost patience.  And if we have another kid, that kid will surely want the exact opposite.

I give up on finding a mommy group.  I don’t want to be in one.  I have friends. Some with kids, some with none.  Making new friends as adults is tough enough.  It is made tougher when you are worried about your kid licking their kid or vice versa. Then you have to ask if their kid has had their rabies shot and then you fall in a rabbit hole of political talk.  Hell, I don’t even like some of my friends’ kids so lets just cut our losses and move on.

What are some of the best things you have learned as a parent?