Saturday, January 20, 2018

Fuck you, Dear Winter.

When January rolls around, not only are you suffering from a holiday hangover, parents of young children are dealing with much, much worse.

A pandemic, really.

Her name is... Dear Winter.

Dear Winter creeps into your children's rooms each night and wraps her scratchy, cold arms around our little ones and breaths darkness into their little bodies.

Dear Winter hates adults, too, however seemingly most focused on those under 5.  You know, the ones that also have another young sibling that hasn't yet been exposed to all the nasty, blood sucking germs that she exhales.

Which works out perfect, because then Dear Winter get's what I like to call a "two-for-one."

She sneaks into the younger one's room and pounces like a vulture after it's prey.  Breathing sickness that only winter can possess, into your child's face.

The next morning, the only trace she leaves behind is one pissed off baby, screaming bloody murder while caked in vomit with a smell that burns your nose hairs.

We parents spend our morning scooping up vomit, sticking a thermometer into our hysterical babies asshole all while trying to find time to take a shit ourselves and quarantine the older child because you can't, you just can't, deal with another epidemic taking down your house.

You can leave now, Dear Winter.

Actually, on second thought, why don't you stay?  I could use the help trucking my 22lb child, that has turned into a fever consumed limp noodle, into the doctor's office for the 5th time this week. 

Could you carry the diaper bag loaded with 3 extra sets of clothes, because those watery shits that join us with each fucking fever are so easy to contain.

With each fart, we moms brace ourselves.  The hair standing up on the back of our neck because we know what the next 20 minutes will hold.

Twenty minutes started with stripping down a pissed off baby, covered in watery shit.  Wiping a bright red ass that's on fire from yet another round of antibiotics our Doctors so love to prescribe, all while trying to contain a small child that suddenly has the strength of Stone Cold Fucking Steve Austin.

Yes, I could use the help, you bitch.

Also, could you swing by on your way out and pick up the older child from school?  Daycare just called and it seems you've taken down my three year old, now too.

I have a meeting with my boss in 20 minutes, and a presentation later this afternoon.

Because, you know, these calls from Daycare always happen on days filled with meetings, important conference calls and the happy hour you've been desperately looking forward to for 3 fucking weeks.

The older one, yeah, she apparently woke up from her nap with a fever. A fever YOU brought into my home, you whore.

So yeah, please stay.  You've already taken down half my house anyway.

And tonight, tonight I could really use the help.  Especially at midnight, 2:30 am and 4:00, when my children wake up screaming from the ferocious fever you so kindly gifted them. The baby will need the thermometer lodged into her ass again, because you know, she loves that so much. Then, she'll need another dose of Motrin for her 103 degree fever.

And if we're really lucky, we'll end up taking an unexpected trip to the Emergency Room because we did what every mother should never do.

We googled.  

We googled every symptom that comes to mind.

Because we're delirious.

We haven't slept in three fucking weeks because of you, Dear Winter.

So yeah, I'll need help waking up my other child from a dead sleep so I can load her up and drop her off at Grandma & Grandpa's in the middle of the night, because I'm now 100% convinced the baby has typhoid fever or some other rare disease that only Google knows about.

But tomorrow, I need you to leave.

I need you to get the F out of my home, for good. 

I need sun.

And warmth.

Warmth not only for me, but for my children that upon surviving typhoid fever, they bounce back with a vengeance. 

A vengeance of energy I've never seen before. 

Suddenly they're capable of running faster and screaming louder than I've ever witnessed before.

So yeah, we need warmth.  We need the OUTDOORS.

And most of all, I need wine.

Friday, December 1, 2017

A note to my Sadie June on her FIRST Birthday.

It seems like just yesterday your Dad and I were strolling the aisles of CVS, trying to kill time and calm nerves before heading to the hospital for my induction to have YOU.  It was November 30th, your due date.

We planned an evening at the Plaza full of wonderful food and a "stroll" thru the lights.  I'm not sure why I thought I was capable of "strolling" at this point in my pregnancy with you.  Hell, I had contemplated getting one of those motorized chairs the last few weeks of my pregnancy.

Since my pre planned stroll was most definitely not happening, CVS sounded like a good pit stop instead.  Dad stocked up on Oreos.  Me, well I picked myself up some chapstick.

That super soft, Baby Lips stuff Maybelline makes. Man, I loved that chapstick until your big sister pulled it out of the tube and smashed it a few days after you were born.

You have been the calm in our crazy this past year. 

You are so, so easy going unless someone tries to pry a toy of your liking from your fierce death grip you seem to have.  Unfortunately, your sister has attempted to do just that quite a few times over the past year.  But you, Sadie June, hold your own.  And I totally dig that about you. 

At the same time, you let her tackle you and tickle you endlessly.  The sound of you girls giggling is literally the best sound I've ever heard.

 I find myself fiercely protecting you due to your sweet demeanor, but then I witness one of your mini temper tantrums and realize you'll have no problem protecting yourself. 

I laugh at the fear I felt when learning you were a girl.  I thought it not possible to love another girl, but dang, I was so wrong. I love you endlessly.  You were everything I didn't know I needed. 

Image may contain: 1 person, sitting

You have brought so much joy to our lives, with those dimples and those two wittle teeth now poking thru your bottom gums. There is literally nothing cuter than your sweet little grin.

I thought your big sister would not adjust well to sharing her world with you, but quite the contrary.  Much to our surprise, she loves you more than she loves us! 

She calls you her chicken nugget. In fact, last week she sang happy birthday to you....instead of using your actual name, she plugged in the words, "happy birthday my chicken nugget," and I thought my heart was going to explode.

You are crazy about your dad, hell both of you girls are.... 

But Sadie June, really love your mommy and you're not afraid to show it.  You scream bloody murder when I take one step out of your eyesight. 

But listen here, I'll take every last ounce of the love you have for me, because someday you'll run out the front door hollering bye to me as you hop in the car with a boy.

Your first love, perhaps. 

And my heart will ache out of fear knowing that no one will possibly take care of you the way I have.  It will feel as if my own heart has just skipped out the front door.  Someday, when you're a mom, you'll realize that your children walking around is like your very own heart walking around outside your chest, out in the great big world.

You girls carry my heart with you every moment of everyday.

When you hurt, I'll hurt deeper.  When you cry, I'll cry harder.  When you're happy, my joy will be even more bountiful. 

So like I said, for now, I'll soak up every last ounce of the love you have for me. I'll take the crocodile tears you shed when I walk out of the room.  Because someday, I won't be able to swoop you up in my arms and kiss your sweet, chunky cheeks coated in wet tears.

In an instant, all is right in your world again. But little did you know, the moment you were born, my precious Sadie June, you made everything right in my world

Happy FIRST Birthday to our precious chicken nugget.


Sunday, November 19, 2017


Well look at me.  Blogging twice in one week?!

I figured after the last post, I'd lighten it up a bit. 

When we bought our home a few years ago, one of the top things on my wishlist was a playroom near our living space.  I'm OCD about a few things, and toys laying around my living room is one of them. 

Yes, I've heard all the quotes about "letting them be little," and "embracing the fingerprints on the walls," as well as my favorite, "putting the laundry down, leaving the toys strewn all about and just play with your kids."

Toy chest made by Grandpa!

Well, listen here.  I'm a better mom when the chaos is contained. And my kids have clean panties.  So thanks for the advice, but I'll never be able to "embrace" stepping on play-doh or sharp blocks as I walk across my kitchen, or not doing laundry for more than a week. 

When it was just Lara, the thrown together playroom in the pictures below worked fine.  We had a massive TV cabinet where I stuffed away most of the junk and a toy chest.  As time went on, the TV cabinet became a catch all for toys we needed to get rid of, not for actually storing a television. 

So off it went, and off we went to Ikea. 

Playroom Before

For less than $300, we now have a playroom that mom and kids can enjoy because every toy is organized because every toy has a spot.  

I'll link some of my favorite items in the event you're looking to organize your play space this winter! 

  IKEA Dog Tail Hook

 IKEA Toy Trunk Storage
 IKEA Kids Toy Storage Trunk 

 IKEA Metal Wire Photo Hanger

 IKEA White Ledge Shelf 

Pandora Disney Music all day, every day on this nifty little Bluetooth speaker. 

The best gifts are homemade gifts!  Made for Lara by a dear friend for her first birthday


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