Saturday, February 28, 2015

Mommy Pub

One day I will write about how and why being a mom of babies/young kids is SO FREAKING HARD. But until then, dear child-less readers and older readers who may have forgotten, just take my word for it.

I have never pondered and truly appreciated the therapeutic mellowing effects of a glass of wine UNTIL I had kids, but now, its like a sweet nectar of the gods - restorative, heart-rate stabilizing, courage buttressing, sweet sweet goodness.

Which kinda makes me want to open up a chain of pubs devoted solely to the beleaguered mom crowd - an after the kids' bedtime come and unwind kinda place.

And I've already thought of the perfect name - The Furrowed Brow.

And the name of a regular cover band playing live music would be - Nipple Confusion (which I totally stole from one of the best unwatched movies of the decade, Young Adult).

Thursday, February 26, 2015


One day I will get back to blogging about my kids and motherhood, but today I have to interrupt our regular programming for a very special my-head-is-exploding-with-wonder-and-horror announcement - a little episode I like to call WTF* Gap?

I was browsing their Spring dress line up and came across this horrific little number:

Uh...WTF Gap? My 80's childhood just called - it wants its dress back.

But, the crack Gap designer didn't stop with that. He/she went on to yet another abomination - you know, for when you feel real fancy - denim "color" block!

This one made me laugh too, though it's the least offensive of the bunch. I call it, pillowcase with a waist.

And the denim piece de resistance:

It's like Snoop Dogg meets ladies' medium security prison. Meets low end budget department store.

Seriously Gap, WTF?! Seriously. Seriously?!

p.s. If you actually like any of these designs and I've just offended your tastes, sorry! (Not sorry).

*of course WTF means Why The Frumpery? This is a family friendly blog.

Wednesday, February 11, 2015

Two Year Olds are (precious, miraculous, angel blessing) Jerks

Noah, having just turned 2 last month, is in the prime of his "jerk" stage, better known as the Terrible Twos.

I've been through this with Judah, but I now realize I had it pretty easy with the first one. Sure Judah was oppositional and prone to meltdowns, but more often than not, counting to 3 worked like magic and Judah would stop screaming after about 90 seconds.

Noah NEVER stops.

Noah, master of death and destruction, aka, your typical strong-willed two-year old.

So when he asks for a random jelly bean right before lunch, I am fraught with indecision.

If I don't give it to him, he will scream and not stop.

If I give him just one, he will ask for another. And another. And another. But after about 4 he is usually appeased and then can go on to eat a decent lunch.

On principle, I should not give him any, but in all practicality, I acquiesce.

This is life with Noah. Full of compromise on my part and oppositional demands on his. I feel like I'm constantly negotiating with a terrorist. And losing.

I've learned one thing - motherhood is NOT good for those who don't have good firm healthy boundaries, aka, me.

I am a weak-willed sheep and my two-year old happily steamrolls right over me.

Almost everything is a battlefield from the minute he wakes to the final closing of his eyes at night.
Let's change your diaper - NOOOOOOOOO!
Let's put on a shirt - NOOOOOOOO!
Let's put on pants - NOOOOOOO!
Let's eat breakfast - NOOOOOOO! CANDY!!!!!!!
Let's put your socks and shoes on - NOOOOOOOO!
Let's get in your carseat - NOOOOOOOOOO!

This is why it's not even 9 am and I'm already worn out every day.

Sometimes I give up on fully dressing Noah. Just pants is a victory.

Noah is also getting into his super jealous phase. He won't let me hug Judah or talk to anyone but Noah. "No talk! No talk! You no talk to Daddy. Only Noah." is something I hear a lot.

Another common phrase is "I do it myself. Nobody help me." Oh independence. I hate you.

And then there's just downright b*tchy behavior. Like last weekend when we were at Cosco and Noah slowly and deliberately picked his nose and wiped his booger on my cheek - all without breaking eye contact with me.

Clearly he was teaching me an object lesson - puny slave woman, you serve at my pleasure. Do not displease me or worse things will I wrought upon your sanity and hygiene.

And to underscore just how far I've sunk, I didn't even flinch.