Yes, I Know I Have a LuLaRoe Problem

Yes, I Know I Have a LuLaRoe Problem

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Recently at my neighbor’s house, her ten-year-old son asked a simple enough question, something to the effect of “what’s the deal with LuLaRoe – why is it so popular?”

In the span of just a few weeks last year, I went from only vaguely having heard of LuLaRoe to belonging to ten LLR Facebook groups and owning more pieces than I’d like to admit. So I have a thing or two to say about the brand’s appeal.

But I’m sure this young man was not expecting a twenty-minute monologue from his crazy, perpetually leggings-clad neighbor. So I kept my answer brief. But here’s how I could have responded to explain at least my own obsession with LuLaRoe (and I promise not to rhapsodize about the leggings feeling like a certain dairy product I dare not name).

After baby #2, I couldn’t fit into my old jeans but refused to buy new ones for what I hoped would be the temporary state of my body. I kept wearing my maternity pants, but Read more

It’s So Hard to Say Goodbye… to My Kid’s Nap

It’s So Hard to Say Goodbye… to My Kid’s Nap

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FreeImages.com/Carla Peroni

I can’t believe you’re really leaving for good. Sure, you’ve been showing signs that it was time to go. For the last few months we’ve been in limbo, doing that on-again, off-again thing. I’ve been trying to hold on to you, my son’s nap, but deep down I knew that our relationship couldn’t last forever.

You and I have had a good thing going for these last four years. Since the beginning, you’ve been there for me. Sure, you haven’t always been the most reliable partner. Sometimes you were glorious and lasted 2+ hours, while other times your presence was frustratingly brief. Regardless, you showed up day after day, and always made things a little brighter. I’m afraid I’ve never really taken the time to tell you how much you mean to me, so this message is really overdue.

In those early days, when my son would not let Read more

Birth Plans are BS

Birth Plans are BS

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“Complete your birth plan.”

Throughout my first pregnancy, I continued to avoid this item on my pre-baby to-do list. I had a million other things to worry about and it was the last thing I felt like dealing with it. But I eventually bit the bullet and looked into this birth plan thing.

A quick look at an online template had me instantly overwhelmed. Take, for example, the question about whether (among other options) I’d like labor augmentation:  first attempted by natural methods such as nipple stimulation, performed by membrane stripping, or performed with prostglandin gel.

I didn’t even know what the hell prostglandin gel was, much less Read more

A Mom Blog Confession

A Mom Blog Confession

I was scrolling through my Facebook feed yesterday, and saw an article with a title strikingly similar to my last blog post. I followed the link, and the post was strikingly similar too. The content itself was different, but the basic conclusion of the piece was virtually identical. This {bleep} ripped me, and now she’s going viral, I (very unkindly) thought to myself.

I followed the link to the original post to check the publication date, certain that I would catch the author red-handed. But there it was: Read more

No Mom, You Are Not Enough

No Mom, You Are Not Enough

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This one is for the wipers of runny noses…

For the sculptors of Play-Doh creatures,

the clippers of teeny tiny fingernails.

For the chefs of vegetables that go uneaten, the makers of countless PBJs,

the T-ball cheerers and team snack preppers.

For the answerers of questions mundane and philosophical,

the dramatic readers of dinosaur stories and princess tales.

For the dryers of tears and the kissers Read more

In Defense of Half-a**ed Birthday Parties

In Defense of Half-a**ed Birthday Parties

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My daughter’s first birthday party was 2 weeks ago.

I did not bake 7 cakes, cut them into pieces and stick them back together to form the shape of a unicorn.

I did not spend $100 on custom invitations from Etsy.

I did not spend hours of my life creating fondant eyes & marshmallow beaks to create cupcakes in the likeness of Sesame Street characters.

I did not carve a watermelon into the shape of a sea turtle.

I did not string together 200 balloons and shape them into Cinderella’s carriage.

There was no DIY photo booth.

There were no coordinating tablescapes, centerpieces and favors.

Lest you think I’m a total scrooge, I *did* print out pictures of my daughter from over the last year and string them across the mantle, and hang up some decorations I had left over from Read more

Raising My Children in Trump’s America

Raising My Children in Trump’s America

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I typically have two or three blog post ideas kicking around in my head at any given time. So I’ve had a couple in mind for the last week, but after the election results I just couldn’t bring myself to write a light-hearted piece about the trials of parenting.  Trump’s win is weighing too heavily on my mind.  Thoughts about it have literally been keeping me up at night and making me sick to my stomach.  I NEVER intended to bring politics into my blog, but as someone who is committed to being open, honest and raw about my feelings and my personal experience, I felt compelled to write this.

When I think about the four years of Trump’s presidency, over which my son will grow from a 3 year-old to a 7 year-old, and my baby will come close to turning 4, I feel overcome with anxiety.  I understand that there will be presidents throughout their lifetime that I don’t agree with ideologically, but the example that Trump has set seems to go against Read more

Sometimes I Can’t Cherish the Moment

Sometimes I Can’t Cherish the Moment

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My kids are cute (I’m talking legitimate Gerber-baby level cuteness).   They are smart and curious and they crack me up.  But they are the *actual worst* at sleeping.  My 3 year-old didn’t consistently sleep through the night until he was 1 ½ years old.  For months, the only way to get him to nap was by taking him for walks – I can’t even tell you how many miles were clocked on his stroller in attempts to get this child to sleep.  My 7-month-old is the queen of the 20-minute nap.  That in itself is an improvement; for months she would only nap on my body.  Working from home meant standing with my laptop on the kitchen counter while my daughter slept in the baby carrier on my chest.  Allegedly, after 6 months there is no nutritional need for babies to eat during the night, but my little one definitely did not get that memo.  It’s basically an all-night buffet around here.

Getting my sleep in 1-3 hour increments for months now has completely melted my brain.  I was trying to pay for my haircut last weekend, Read more

Why I’m Not Apologizing for the Crumbs on My Floor

Why I’m Not Apologizing for the Crumbs on My Floor

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Ever since my daughter was born, my status as a sort of stay-at-home/sort of working mom (part-time from home) has been leaning way more toward SAHM territory. It’s a struggle to work even half the number of hours I did when we only had one kid. My rational mind knows that taking care of two kids under four is plenty of work in and of itself, but part of me feels vaguely guilty that my financial contributions to the family are so minimal at this point. If I’m not doing a whole lot of working, it feels like I need to step it up in the homemaker department.  Trust me, I never aspired to be the cliché 50’s housewife vacuuming the house in pearls, ready with my husband’s robe, slippers and a stiff drink the moment he walks in the door. But somehow I do find myself feeling inadequate Read more

A Letter to my Unborn Daughter

A Letter to my Unborn Daughter

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The moment the ultrasound tech announced that you were a girl, I burst into tears. She confirmed what my maternal instincts were already telling me.   I had already been mentally designing the nursery, and trying to figure out how many of your brother’s baby clothes we could get away with dressing you in (I mean, who cares if we put you in blue PJ’s?)   I am overflowing with joy.  At the same time, there are worries that creep in when I look into the future. When my thoughts turn to your teenage years, I can’t help but remember my own struggles at that age and worry about how you will navigate your way through.

I hope that you will manage, against the odds, to see how beautiful you are. Of course I don’t want you to base your self-worth on your physical appearance.  But neither do I want you to walk through life feeling perpetually self-conscious about how you look.  This will be an uphill battle; you will be confronted non-stop with airbrushed images of women that will create impossible standards to compare yourself against.  I hope you will be able to see that these women are illusions, and that real women have freckles, scars, and blemishes, thighs that touch and body parts that jiggle.  Our skin will always seem pasty next to the artificially bronzed women Read more