Every. Single. MoMent.

 4 Responses »
May 092012
 

So we are all in agreement that motherhood is the hardest and most rewarding job there ever will be, yes?

And are we nodding our heads in agreement that there are times when our little cherub-faced angels turn into crazed feral children on the hunt for that last nerve we are so desperately holding on to? And that it is these times that all we want is for them to run off the sugar buzz so we can make them sit still long enough in front of the T.V. for us to make a quick escape into the bathroom, lock the door, and just breathe for a minute because Me Time now means being able to pee uninterrupted?

Good.

Because then it’s bedtime and they get droopy-eyed and snuggly and there are stories and rituals like asking each other what our favorite part of the day was and then pretending to be shocked that their answer is almost always the part that they got to spend with us and they drift off into innocent dreams and we sigh, content, because every single moment is just worth it?

Motherhood is insane. It’s intense. It’s incredible. And we at 30 Second Mom want to hear from you. The one day out of the year devoted to this crazy ride we are all on is almost here and we want to showcase your favorite Mother’s Day memories in the 30 Second Mom Most Memorable Mother’s Day MoMents Contest!

Here’s how to enter:

- If you haven’t already, register for a free 30Second Mom account by visiting the website at www.30secondmom.com or downloading the iPhone or Android app and registering for an account right from the app.

- Record a 30Second video telling us about your Most Memorable Mother’s Day MoMent. Each video should be no more than 30 seconds long, which trust me, isn’t all that much time. Have fun with it! Check out my video as an example!

- Send your video via email as a .mp4 or .mov file, along with your contact information including name, email address, snail mail address, phone number & Twitter handle (if applicable) to [elisa at 30secondmom.com].

- Once your video has been posted to the 30Second Mom website, you will receive a link to share with your friends and family.

30 Second Mom contributors have put together various prize packs for those selected as winners, so please check out founder Elisa All’s blog post for more information. Good Luck! And I look forward to learning about your favorite MoMents at 30 Second Mom!

Happy Almost Mother’s Day, y’all!

 

We Have a Winner

 No Responses »
May 082012
 

Remember that air purifier giveaway sponsored by aer1? We have a winner, thanks to Random.org. and a certain person who goes by the online name of “Wolcraaft” is about to have a little help getting through allergy season. The email has already been sent, Wolcraaft has already selected his/her air purifier, and aer1 was good enough to make sure Woolcraft was breathing easier in no time.

Thanks to everyone who entered and thank you to aer1 for the chance to host this giveaway.

Have a good one, y’all. I’m on my way to my second doctor’s appointment this week on the other side of town. I’m gonna go out on a limb and say that I’m pretty sure sky-diving would probably make for a more relaxing hobby. And I promise to keep you posted whenever the stars properly align themselves for me to score more Things You May Like for contests that relate to the blog. Until then, Happy Tuesday, y’all.

The Bitch and the Lullaby

 9 Responses »
May 072012
 

“Mama, I can’t sleep.”

“Shhh … just close your eyes and relax, baby.”

“But mama, I tried that already. I caaaaaaaaan’t sleeeeeeep.”

“Maybe if you try longer than three seconds, it just might happen.”

“But Ma…”

“Shhh … Daddy’s already asleep. Want me to sing you a lullaby? Whichever one you want, baby girl.”

She finally stops her fidgeting and snuggles closer to me. “You pick, mama.”

Without hesitation, I launch into the first bedtime lullaby session in recent memory. She’s almost five and while I’m holding on to her wanting to co-sleep for as long as she will let me, she stopped asking me to sing her to sleep a few years ago. I softly sing that she is my sunshine, my only sunshine, as she relaxes even more into my body.

I smile into the dark.

 

 

The day didn’t start this sweet. Buttercup has been home sick from preschool for over a week now with a low-grade fever, congestion, vomiting, and lots of whining brought on by the horrible Tucson allergy season. Nebulizers and medications and trips to the allergist and waiting in the Walgreens parking lot for more prescriptions have been par for the course lately. So has an attitude that makes me fear the day she realizes she has hormones. The kid hates being sick.

This morning she woke up happy. But somewhere between getting out of bed and sitting down to pee, the stars must have fallen out of alignment because the child shot right passed crabby and hit bitchy in ten seconds flat. Her eyes narrowed and she glared up at me from her perch on the toilet with a look that gave me every confidence in the world she’s ready to hold her own on an elementary school playground. Then she announced that she couldn’t pee.

“What do you mean, you can’t pee? Do you mean you don’t have to go yet?”

“No,” she spat out. “I have to and I just can’t.”

Um…okay….

“So try harder?”

“I am, Mama! I. Just. CAN’T.”

And the stand off began. I had things to do today and lots of shit to attend to before I ran out of time. BFF Heather was going to be coming over later to tag along on another one of my doctor appointments this afternoon while her fiance was set to play dollhouse and watch princess movies with Buttercup. I wanted to make sure I had a bra on before they showed up in four hours.

“Do you hurt in your belly?” I ask.

“No,” she grunts back.

“Does your vagina hurt?” I ask.

“No, my bagina does not hurt.” She says back, her teeth clenched. “I just can’t go.”

Satisfied she doesn’t need a trip to the pediatrician and this is just the world’s most original tantrum, I leave the bathroom and make my way to my shower.

“Fine,” I call back as I walk away. “Sit there as long as you want to. I’m not scheduling my day around when you decide to stop being a drama queen.”

I’m answered with furious tears and sobbing. Turns out she hadn’t expected me to leave. And yet she’s still sitting there after I return, dressed, teeth brushed, flossed, hair done, and make-up applied. Kid knows how to dig in her heels, that’s for damned sure. So I called her bluff.

“I guess we need to go to a hospital.”

“NO!”

“Well, if you can’t pee, that’s not a good thing for you body. And that means I need to take you in so the doctors can fix you.” I pause for effect. “I’ll go get my purse and the car keys so we can leave right away.”

Her eyes are wide. She’s blinking. A lot. The wheels in that head of hers are turning furiously. And just as suddenly as she flipped the switch to bitch, she flips it back to sweet angel as she finally let the iron hold on her bladder go. “Wow, guess what, Mama! I’m cured!”

I gloat inside of my head and rejoice with her as we finally get started with our day.

 

 

 

“Mama, I love you,” she whispers. Her head is on my chest now. Her voice thick with the sleep that’s about to consume her.

I ask her to please never take my sunshine away, and hug her closer.

 

 

Real Women Don’t Get AirBrushed (or: Motherhood Uncensored)

 4 Responses »
May 042012
 

So Jessica Simpson had a baby and now the media is riding her new mama muffin top to join the rest of the celeb moms who grace the covers of magazines with headlines like “How I Got My Body Back in Just Six Seconds!“. We see these women standing in teeny weeny bikinis next to their workout regime and their macrobiotic, personal chef prepared meals that You Too Can Duplicate if you want truly want to stop being the fat ass that you are and live up to the impossible ideal you are currently gazing upon. And that’s when we do one of two things: buy into the bullshit or roll our eyes and wonder at the marvels of computer-generated perfection, nannies, and in-home gyms.

Oh, and don’t forget the hefty paycheck that comes with posing for those ridiculously annoying Bikini Body After Baby magazine cover shoots. Or Jessica’s whooper of a Weight Watchers deal.

Motivation, anyone?

My motivation right after having Buttercup was more along the lines of sleeping for 60 consecutive minutes, remembering to shower, and not peeing myself every time I sneezed, laughed, or farted. I wore yoga pants all day, and sometimes all night because I hadn’t bothered changing into pajamas, simply because they fit my muffin top and were easily thrown into the wash when I got puked on.

So when Stefanie Wilder-Taylor asked women to send in Real Women post-partum baby pics, I jumped on board. Granted, it took me three hours spread over two days to find three photos that actually contained me in them with my child before she turned one, but find one I did.

Pregnancy gave me a six-pound miracle and a 45-pound assteau/muffin top combo. Did I hate my body back then? Of course I did. But I was too busy falling in love with my baby to bother giving a shit about fitting into a bikini.

I’d love it if you took a few minutes to read Stefanie’s Babble post here and take a look what real women look like after having a baby. Then, just maybe, a few more of us will stop buying into that bullshit and start loving who we are.

Tears for Diana Stone

 2 Responses »
May 032012
 

I don’t know her. And until a friend texted me asking if I followed @lifeasaSAHM, I didn’t know about her, either.

That changed very quickly when social media exploded with tweets sharing her story about the hospital she was in due to her water breaking at 18.5 weeks pregnant with twins and how the hospital staff was doing everything in its power to intimidate Diana Stone into inducing labor and assuredly losing her baby boys. Instead, she and her husband chose to stay the course and fight for the babies lives, and with the help of a flood of calls from perfect strangers supporting Diana and her pregnancy, she was given the chance.

It’s a heart-wrenching story.

I went to bed last night and my last thought before falling asleep was about those baby boys who’s mother is fighting to give them a chance at life. I woke up this morning and, as is habit, picked up my iPhone and instantly opened my Twitter app. The first tweet I saw broke my heart and brought tears to my eyes. Her baby boys, Julian Toby and Preston William were born this morning. Their parents held them as they went to be with Jesus.

I don’t know Diana. She may never come across this post nor know the pain in my heart, the longing to change what is, or the sincere hope I have that she and her family will find peace. But it’s all there. I am a mother. I am a woman. I am a human being. And I am now crying. For her.

I don’t know Diana. But I know about her. And my heart is broken.

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