Natural Conversationalist

Have you ever met someone and thought to yourself ‘Holy shit does this bitch ever shut up?’ If the answer yes, then you most likely have met me. I’m a natural conversationalist, a gemini. I’m the obnoxious one at the grocery supermarket checkout line who takes forever because instead of hurrying to put my money in my wallet, I’m to busy talking to the person behind me about where they got their shoes, how I have a similar pair and a friend of a friends sister-in-law wore the same pair to a concert. YES, I am that person. I can talk and talk and talk; small talk, heart-to-heart talks, heated arguements; you name it I’ve mastered it.

I was the elementary schoo girl whom during parent-teacher conferences was described as being ‘smart but she talks a lot during lectures.’ I was the girl in junior high who got kicked out of class for talking while pretty much anyone else was talking. (You may call it rude, I call it if I don’t say it now it’ll haunt me forever and I’ll get a migraine. I was the girl in school put in the isolated corner because I talked to whoever was next to me. I was the girl who the priest stopped mass for because he could hear me going on about the latest hot gossip during the homily. I was the weird girl in college that randomly talked to the bypassers rushing to their next class. Now, I’m the girl that talks to strangers at the check-out line; apparently ‘don’t talk to strangers’ doesn’t apply to me. But the most relevant of it all is that my daughter has gotten this gift of gab from me… and let’s just say things get interesting.

Baby Fat

*THIS IS IN NO WAY A BODY SHAMING POST, IT IS FROM MY OWN EXPERIENCES*

 

 

Ever since I was a little girl,I guess you could say I was pretty chubby. At first, it was cute baby fat, but by 9-10 years old I really began gaining no height and strictly just width. By 12 I started hitting puberty, and well you know how that goes. My hips got wider, my flat tire got flatter ( not in the front of my abdomen, it was literally a flat tire under my shirt falling over my jeans. You can imagine the complex from the teenage boys and their stupid comments. This one time I was at a friends house and rumor got out that I ate 7 cupcakes in one sitting (it may or may not have been an actual rumor), the bully boys loved this story and my not so nice nickname became ‘cupcake’.  By high school, I grew like 2’inches so I thinned out by the tiniest bit but that only lasted for sophomore year. Then I got a little cocky, ate a little too much and gained some weight. Then it was time for college. Naturally, you would assume the freshman 15 was in my near future but a miracle happened and the Graces of God blessed me with a new passion for going to the gym. The gym was free and when everyone was going of course I was going. The weird thing was after a while, I really began enjoying it and started going alone and more often. I finally was getting my goal body. And this time I was not going to put the weight back on.

By the age of 19-20 my goal weight was finally made. I was loving it. For my 21st birthday I wore a tiny little white dress size small. 2 weeks later, I take a pregnancy test. Pregnant. 2 months later, I weighed more than the heaviest I’ve ever been. 2. Months. Later. Pregnant women should be gaining like 3-4ish pounds by the 26th week. I had already gaining 20. Let’s just say I was one of those pregnant women, who just totally indulged in the fact that I was pregnant and had an excuse to eat. And eat and eat and eat and eat. I craved a lot of birthday cake. A LOT of birthday cake. Gave birth at 198 pounds. My son was born at 6 pounds. Do you understand and how large I was. Thank God for breastfeeding and my mom’s soup or else I would have never gotten my body back.

By the time my son was about 13 months old I was back to a comfortable weight. 10 pounds heavier than my original weight but it was okay, I wasn’t having a complex. Then, what do you know. Feeling a little sick, take a pregnancy test, pregnant.

This time I did not indulge in my ridiculous pregnancy habits and I was chasing a toddler around, so I didn’t gain toooo much weight. But I did gain more than average.

After my daughter was about 4 months old I began going to the gym, then I started hitting the gym really hard. Not only was I peak body weight but I had muscles and was stronger than I’d ever been in my life. *fun fact: when I would run on the treadmill, ( I HATE RUNNING) I would imagine it was the apocalypse and I had to carry my children on my back but ran as fast as I could, I also used this method whole squatting. It is very effective*. Then I began hitting the gym with my best friend. Only problem there was she had to be in work at 8 am so going to the gym was only possible at 6am. 6 fucking am. All while waking up in the night with my daughter. Whatever, it was worth it and so gratifying by then end. Then I got really addicted and started doing 2 a days and going in the morning and at night. My body muscles were really starting to grow and I was losing weight. Peak goal weight.

Now I know you want me to end this with, I reached my goal weight so ya know the P word. But no worries, I didn’t jinx myself made sure before I wrote this blog. The truth is I’m not at peak weight anymore because I began going to the gym less and eating more. Don’t get me wrong I’m very comfortable just not goals.

if you made it this far into the oh sooo interesting anecdote of my fat girl complex; moral of the story is never hit goal weight, you will get pregnant.

 

P.S: My new goal has become to encourage my daughter, and son to love their bodies regardless of what society or what any body says. We’re all beautiful. Corny, yet true.

 

 

 

Shit Males Say

Disclaimer:* Phrases said in post are not direct quotes of my husband but males in general.*

 

Typically, I blog about being a mom; but today I’m going to blog about being a wife. Not really, just from a wife’s perspective. My husband is awesome, it really is like having a sleep over with your best friend every night. But like every pair of best friends… Conversations get weird and sometimes I’m almost astonished at the things that come out of his mouth. But it’s not just him. It’s like guys all say the same things.  Guys are always saying women use the same phrases and are all the same. ‘I’m fine,’ ‘I don’t feel good,’ ‘I just think it’s funny how…,’ ‘do whatever you want.’ You get it. But no ones ever discussing the shit guys say.

1. ‘You’re crazy.’
2. ‘No’
3. ‘Can you make me a sandwich?’
4. ‘I hate when you drive’
5. ‘let me get some tongue’
6. *talks for hours about whatever fucking sport is in season at the time*
7. ‘Youre crazy’
8. *Doesnt speak because vigilantly staring into the television playing madden*
9. *3am..sleeping peacefully, back starts getting rubbed ‘baby, you awake’, accidentally gets poked in the rear end.
10. ‘You’re crazy.’

 

Like my 5 favorite girls infamously said ‘girl power’ !

Pinterest, it’s a hell of a drug

Although, all 8 of you who read this are probably well aware of what ‘Pinterest’ is; I will still gladly define it in some lay men terms. Basically, Pinterest is the place where your dreams go to die. I’d be under estimating if I even attempted to give a number to the amount of hours I have spent on Pinterest, eagerly pinning away my future, my wedding, my closet, my diet plan, my excercise regime and even sometimes an uplifting friend with it’s humor category. It’s a sick addiction. The kids go to bed; 9pm you open up your Pinterest app…2am you frantically close it in hopes you can squeeze a few hours in before the kids wake up. Now, I say this is a place where dreams go to die because in the end all you are doing is creating virtual boards of your dreams that most likely are never bought, made or done. I have an entire Pinterest board on ‘crepes’, I’ve eaten a crepe once in my life and I don’t even own a crepe machine. I have over 35 pins of crepe recipes on this board in hopes and dreams that I will one day become a crepe connoisseur. However, there are very rare times (most likely after wine) where I have attempted a few diy projects that I had previously pinned. These projects have either failed miserably, MISERABLY or have been actually pretty successful. Once the high of succeeding in a Pinterest project ensued, I had to keep going.

I came across Pinterest a few years ago when I was pregnant with my first child and that’s I think when the addiction really began to takeover. I’d spend countless nights searching and pinning, searching and pinning, the perfect nursery, the perfect outfits and of course the perfect meals. While home alone I decided to recreate one of those infamous Pinterest cake mugs. Because, 9 months pregnant, 10 o’clock at night why the fuck would I not want a cake made in a microwave, IN A MUG. This was my first true taste of Pinterest failure. To put the predictable story short, there was an explosion, the fire alarm went off and a new microwave was purchased the following day. My next true Pinterest failure was that time I thought I was a fashion designer, boycotted all stores for 7 hours and took up making all of my kids clothes. My first attempt was a beanie hat for my son. In the midst of the project I thought I was doing a damn good job; the final product was a lop sided square beanie that had a  circumference of a Pomeranian’s head. Much to my surprise, I decided to try again; this time a pair of leopard print leggings for my daughter. My first mistake was that I never thoroughly read the entirety of the article that I had pinned. Ya know,I skimmed through it, got the gist of it and jumped right in. Apparently I missed that day in elementary school when they taught you to always read the full instructions first because I bought fabric that is used for a couch. Used the rough, tough barely bendable fabric anyways. Not only was one leg the size of a newborn and the other leg equivalent to that of a preschooler but I made the middle stitch crooked which made it look like my toddlers crotch was a leopard printed Harry potters forehead. Yes, I was well aware of all of the leggings defects, yes I still tried them on my daughter to get a selfie of our matching leopard leggings. Selfie never happened… Obvious reasons.

Naturally, after the legging fiasco I was a little more precise with my search engine wording and clarified ‘easy diy legging tutorial.’ Who would have thought, but I actually got a legit pin, that I used, that worked. I wish I could remember who it was that wrote the article to shout them out, but whoever you are .. You the real MVP.

Finally, I MADE WEARABLE CLOTHES. I did it. And then I did it again. And then I moved onto other things like scarves, skirts and dresses. I was addicted. I couldn’t stop. I was pinning through out the whole day, instead of just at night. If my phone died I would pin on someone else’s phone. My phone was gorilla glued to my hands. All I could think about all day was pinning and then doing that pin. I regretted all those pins I never saved and all those pins I never did.

Then the unthinkable happened. My dad took away my data. (Yeah, fuck off I’m still on my dads phone plan, half you fellow millennials chances are, most likely are too.) It was like the Pinterest intervention I knew I needed. Now I could only pin on wifi. 85% of the time the wifi would give out or an asshole establishment wouldn’t give out their wifi passwords. I couldn’t pin as often and without the motivation of brand new pins I wasn’t even physically accomplishing any pins. Finally, I was able to slowly stop. And now I’m down to pinning only about twice a day.

The moral of the story is too much of something is always a bad thing.

 

Shit I say to my mom

My children may get their knack of witty comments from me, from all the bizarre things I say to my mother; here is an example of one. 

*Giving kids a bath*

My mom walks in and asks what I am doing: “look mom I made speakers out of the toilet paper roll so we can listen to my new playlist while they bathe!!!!”

She was not amused.. Not amused at all.

It’s grandmas world and we’re just living in it

I know I cannot be the only one who has a mother that spoils the shit out of their kids.. Right? Or a mom that your children are so infatuated with that sometimes it’s like mommys not even in the room? Not just me.. RIGHT?! My mother has been an enormous part of my children’s lives since the day they were born. There was even a moment in time when they would call us both mom. I love my mothers teachings on motherhood and I love how well she mothers… She is a natural mother but like all situations there are also many many disagreements. Sometimes more disagreements occur with my mother over my kids than with my own husband. But mother does know best …

If my kids are like any other kids, which I assume they are, then the rest of you know how often they ask for the most absurd things; whipped cream for breakfast, not going to bed at bedtime, playing in a sink full of water for 38 minutes, wearing two different shoes, throwing a fit about leaving the house when we reaaalllllyyyyy need to be somewhere important. These are all the situations I, the erratic, on schedule, wanting to do everything right mother typically says no too. So when mom says no… Kids ask grandma. What does grandma say? YES, SURE, WHY NOT, LET THEM DO WHAT THEY WANT. So who looks like lucifer’s spawn? MOMMY.

It really is not just the being allowed to do whatever the kids want battle that I seem to lose against the kids and grandma, it is also the “im telling grandma on you” battle. Son climbs on table then jumps off… I reprimand him, his instant response to get his crocodile tears on and tell grandma “MOMMYS BEING MEAN.” My daughter Mike Tyson’s my son and bites his ear… She is reprimanded, first instinct is to run to grandma, put on her crocodile tears and point at mommy.

When mommy says no, always ask grandma…. And if that fails… You’re shit out of luck.

Is it just my kid?

Here is a compilation of the lucrative things my kids say and do:

1. Wake up at 5:54 in the morning, every.single.day
2. Insist on eating packets of jelly.
3. Draw on walls (not just mine… Many many many places)
4. Throw important things off of the deck and then cry for an hour about how they have to go get it.
5. Feed the goldfish whipped cream.
6. Asking what a tampon is.
7. Stalk boys at the park.
8. Is overly friendly, in turn forces unwanted conversations with myself and parents of children.
9. Call wine ‘mommy juice.’
10. Pee off the deck.
11. Pee in the parking lot.
12. Pee on a tree.
13. Pee in front of a bounce house at a birthday party during the frozen balloon show.
14. Squeeze creamers in their mouth.
15. Insists on wearing spider man snow boots, at all times.
16. Once in a while calls grandma, mom, in public, while it is my mother, my son and my husband at a check out line.
17. Pulls shirt down revealing entire bosom.
18. Sees picture of Caitlyn Jenner.. Screams that looks like grandma!!!
19. Goes through people’s purses and spreads what’s theirs all over.
20. Bites.. Ferociously.
21. Asks grandma when I say no, naturally getting their way.
22. Telling on mommy to grandma.
23. Randomly telling me they love me
24. Holding my hand.. Just to hold my hand.
25. Has never made me feel more love or happiness in my life.

L&L4L

we’re talking titties

Let’s talk male or females favorite topic BOOBS. But really I am going to refer to them as breasts. Society LOVES turning a body part into a sexualized object, but guess what world titties were meant to be sucked on by babies who need the liquid gold to literally survive. Did they have formula 100’s of years ago?NO. The responsible mother breastfed that child until she popped out another one. And basically that’s what happened to me. 

Breast feeding was one of my biggest challenges a young mother. I was determined to do it and I refused to give up. My son did not make it was by being hungry EVERY SINGLE hour and a half but I also partially blame myself for maybe my milk was not as good as it should have been. I’ve been through everything and more while breastfeeding my son, between the feeling of crocodiles gnawing on my nips, bloody nipples, low milk supply so I had to try every single supplement, tea and secret Brazilian concoction there was, breast lumps that had to be removed and then right back to feeding my son. One of my proudest moments was successfully reaching my goal of breastfeeding my son until he was a year old.

But then the year came and he was becoming a toddler.. Still being breastfed. No I didn’t mind at all, I was expecting my second child and I did not want to take away something so sacred from my son when his world was about to be rocked by the addition of his little sister. So I continued to breastfeed him until the day my daughter was born. Society hated me.

After my daughter came home from the hospital we tried the tantum nursing but by then my son was over it, he was like “she can have the milk but I will keep the boobs.”

My son loves boobs. There is no other way to put it. I don’t know if it is because he was breast fed for so long or if he is just his fathers so, regardless he is ridiculously obsessed with tits.

Some kids have security blankets when they are put in difficult, scary situations.. my son grabs my boobs. While shopping at our local party city, we were checking out with a kid probably no older than 17. I sat my son on the counter when he then stuck his hand deep inside my shirt and forcefully pulled my breast out, needless to say the check out counter guy was not displeased. Another time me, my son, daughter and father went to a new resort that opened near our home that has huge animal statues. What does my son do? Runs to the gorilla (which I am pretty sure was a male) and begins feeling the gorillas boobs up while screaming “mommy the gorilla has boobs!!!!!” Finally, while checking out at target, I must have apparently been wearing a suggestively low cut shirt, that my son screams “mommy your BOOBS are out!!”

Just a boy? Or breastfed toddler?

Red wine, stay close to me.

The other day somebody asked what I do, well I’ve never had the opportunity of having a good response, unless I was lying of course, so I quickly blurted out “I blog, well I started writing a blog, 3days ago.” In all honesty, I really don’t know why I said that, and I really did want to bang my head against a cinder block afterwards.. But maybe it was the excitement that I got views (shout out to all 50 of you) or maybe because I really enjoy writing witty Facebook posts and this is just an elaborate way of getting creative with them.. I don’t know. 

I’ve really been into this whole blogging idea lately. I watched sex and the city the other night really because it was just on and I couldn’t find anything else to watch and for the first time in my life Carrie Bradshaw interested me. I enjoyed her writing. I’ve even begun wearing my hair down curly like hers, with my aviators, glass of cabernet and list of questionable morals. I am not trying to channel my inner Carrie Bradshaw, trust me, my life is much more fulfilling than hers, but her freelance writing is intriguing and no I am not comparing my 10 blogs to my 50 followers as successful freelance writing but hey you never know maybe one day I’ll have my hair down curly, aviators on, day driving my red cab at brunch while wearing my brand new jimmy choos.

moms of all ages

I realized that in all my blog posts I seem to be promoting young millennial moms and although I am one and feel so strongly about it, I don’t mean to offend or shun any mother that had a child at a later age. In all actuality, a good mother is a good mother regardless of age. I am just proud to be apart of a group of women who are promoting a positive future and a better society by raising not only people but raising GOOD people, people who can contribute to society.  Home me is where your mom is. ❤