My family has decided that my daughter is “A Spoiled Brat.”
She’s attached to me. Very attached to me. So attached to me, that she cries when anyone else holds her.
See?
I have quite a few more pictures like that. Gabby, in someone elses arms, crying.
So everyone’s all “She’s spoiled!” “What a brat!” “She’s TOO attached to you!”
One part of me, most likely the mentally ill/emotionally unstable part of me, wants to stand up and shout. “Of course she’s attached to me! I’m home with her all day long! And at least she loves me unconditionally and LOVES TO BE AROUND ME, unlike everyone else in the fucking world!”
Another part of me is frustrated and hurt by it all. I can’t help it if she’s attached to me. What am I supposed to do? Lock her in her room alone all day so she becomes unattached? WHAT?
“You need to leave her more and go out and do things without her”
Yeah, ok.
The girl won’t take a bottle and GOD FREAKING FORBID that my mother or my husband actually deal with her crying for a little while without acting like the world is come to an end. Everyone wants to make their comments, but no one wants to help me when I ask for it.
So I don’t ask. I just stay home with my daughter and I take care of her, and I love her the way a mama is supposed to take care of and love her baby.
What the hell do people want from me? I’m raising this girl the best way I know how. And in case people have forgotten, I’ve raised two wonderfully, almost totally perfect boys. I think I know what I’m doing.
It makes me so mad and yeah, it makes me cry too, because, do people think I WANT it this way? I’d love to be able to plan a night out with friends without having a time limit because Tony can’t deal with Gabby crying for me.
I’d also love to tell people to suck it.
Long and hard, man. Long.and.hard.
Category Archives: Parenthood
Thumb WAY up.
You are looking at the greatest joy in my life right now.
My husband holding our daughter.
The way she smiles at him. The way she grabs his neck and pulls herself close to him. The way she giggles when he looks at her. The way she just loves him and the way he loves her right back times 1000.
There are no words to describe the happiness and fufillment I feel when I watch them together.
We’ll see how true that is when she’s 15 and I tell her “No!” and she’s all “DADDY SAID I COULD… SO SCREW YOU!”
But until that fine day, I will enjoy watching the two of them together, her totally owning him and him loving every minute of it.
Not So Lucky Charms
So, how in the hell is YOUR morning going?
Consider yourself “told”
If I could have one wish at this very moment, I would not wish for a million dollars. I would not wish that my stomach suddenly stop looking like this. I would not wish that I had the ability to turn myself into a fly (on the wall).
I would wish that my daughter could BLOW HER OWN NOSE.
I can think of 4089984 things I’d rather do than have to stick that evil, yet necessary, contraption up her nose one more time.
Things like “get stung by a hundred bees in the eye” or “give birth to 4 babies at once” or “watch The View” or “do my laundry” or “listen to ANOTHER SONG by 50 cent”
It sucks THAT much. It is THAT horrible.
They don’t tell you about these things when you are pregnant.
Well, THEY SHOULD. (Whoever “they” are)
But since “they” don’t? I’ll tell you.
“Having to use the nasal bulb sucks and it makes your baby cry and it makes YOU cry because your baby is crying and kicking and screaming and you feel like the worst mother in the world for subjecting your totally helpless child to such torture, but you have NO CHOICE because if you don’t do it, your child can NOT BREATHE.”
[/nose bulb hatin’ tantrum]
To answer the question…
So, how’s that “I’m going to quit my job and be the BEST stay at home mom I can be!” working out for ya?
THAT’S HOW, beyotches.
What about all that sewing you were talking about? You know, how you were going to sew curtains for the living room and hem up your kids pants and make covers for your kitchen chairs… How’s THAT coming along?
How does it LOOK like it’s coming along? But watch out, once I figure out how to thread that bitch up, it’s ON.
You do the math.
Celebrating by jumping up and down in the middle of the basketball court after your son wins his second playoff game in one day + 42 E cup boobs + a nursing bra that snaps open in the front =
a) Whomp! There it is!
b) Humiliation.
c) Like, WOAH.
d) The most embarassing moment of my life.
e) Tittysmack to the face.
f) For the love of God, cover the children’s eyes!
g) ALL OF THE ABOVE.
Respect…the ‘tracked!
Yesterday Ethan overheard a PRIVATE conversation I was having with Gabby in which I lovingly told her she was being a stinky turd…
…Face. OK! I called her a stinky turd FACE!
Ethan didn’t like that. At all.
“How DARE you call my sister a stinky turd face! THAT’S THE WORST THING YOU COULD EVER SAY TO HER!!”
(I’ll admit I probably went to far by adding “face” at the end, but I’ve never claimed to be a “perfect” mother.)
“If you weren’t my mom, I’d punch you SO HARD RIGHT NOW!”
He walked out of the room and came back with 2 pieces of paper. He informed me he’d written out a contract and I had to sign it if I wanted him to stop being pissed.
Behold “The Contracked”.
After much laughter and many important questions, such as “well, what am I supposed to call her when she’s acting like a turdface?” I signed the “contracked”. I am no longer ALOUD to call Gabby a “tirdface”. Apparently, I’m also not ALOUD to call her “poopface” “crapface” or “freek” (None of which I’ve ever called her, but all of which Ethan felt necessary to include… JUST INCASE.)
Lucky for me, I’m totally ALOUD to call her “brat” “tinkybutt” “tinkerbutt” and “spoiled”. (Although, I’m NOT ALOUD to call her spoiled and brat at the same time.)
Dude. I got served contracked.
Happy Birthday to Blue Butt
Twelve years ago today I became a mother to a perfect baby boy.
Twelve years ago.
Where did the time go?
Green swirlies!!
If you’ve been reading this blog for a while, you KNOW I have some wicked artistic skills.
(example #1)
(example #2)
(example #3)
(example #4)
(example #5)
I think you get the idea.
Apparently, my oldest child has inherited my gift. I just discovered one of his masterpieces whilst going through some papers he brought home from school yesterday. It’s a compelling, socially conscience piece of art that we can ALL learn a little something from.
(Click to enlarge)
The kid that passed out because of “Brian’s bad breath” makes this quite possibly the greatest piece of art I have ever seen.
*actual title
I can only hope it’s just “a phase”
I’ve recieved several concerned emails over the past few days, the emails basically contain the following questions.
“Hi, Y. Where are you? Why haven’t you been updating your blog?”
Well, because…
Basically, my daughter has decided to cease taking naps during the day. She’ll fall asleep when I nurse her, but as soon as I lay her down and walk out of the room? That happens. And what does “that” have to do with me not blogging? Well, the only time I feel ok with sitting at this computer is when she’s sleeping. Because they’re only little once and I refuse to sit in front of this stupid thing while that beautiful little girl is awake and we could be having fun together.
HOWEVER. I look forward to her nap time, so I can check my email (only after I scrub the house clean, of course!), read blogs, pay bills (No! SERIOUSLY! I’m in LOVE with online banking) etc. But she’s just decided she’s SO over naps.
“Close your eyes and go back to sleep!” I say to her.
“Are you talkin to me?” She says.
“I KNOW YOU AINT TALKIN’ TO ME! You’re trippin, woman. I LAUGH at naps!”
Then I cry a little, pick her up, dry my tears and proceed to “our spot” on the living room floor where we giggle and pass gas together.
So, there you have it. “The Reason.”