Messy Mama

I am a messy person. I’ve been messy since I was born. I’m not kidding. I popped out and grabbed twelve swaddling blankets and threw them about the room. Then, I politely asked the nurse for another one because I had lost the others. Coming home from school, I would violently kick of my shoes. They landed where they landed. The only time I cleaned my room was when my mom would say I couldn’t (insert fun activity here) until I cleaned my room. I had chores. I did chores. I had to help clean the house. I don’t think I can blame this on my parents. I’m scatterbrained inside and out. The best part about this issue is that clutter makes me crazy. It actually makes me feel icky. I am so much sharper and happily in an organized space, but it is in my very being to be messy. Continue reading

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Mother Of Two

Isn’t it weird how we’re always in some specific phase of life that we don’t exactly acknowledge until it’s passed?  That sentence felt complicated.  What I mean, though, is kind of complicated.  Okay, so right now, I have two kids, right?  Yes.  Yes, I do.  I am aware of that, but because I am going through this right now, it’s hard to appreciate it.  There are the little moments when Jack is sweetly talking to Juliet that I can stop and step outside of myself and see that I am so lucky.  These are moments I’m sure I’ll have to remind myself of when they both get a little older and start liking each other a little less. Continue reading

My Husband Is Weird

This morning, as I was clearing the counter off, I asked Rick while picking up random items, “Is this trash?”  (It’s super weird the things that AREN’T trash, so I’ve learned to ask.)  Anyway, today, he says, “I always write trash on items that are trash.  If it isn’t marked, it isn’t trash.”  Obviously, I don’t have to tell you that this idea would be absolutely ridiculous.  Choosing to write “trash” on something takes more time than throwing the trash in…the trash-but Rick is a man of his word.  I watched him from the living room as he finished the last of the milk, opened the drawer, pulled out a permanent marker, and wrote “TRASH” on the milk jug, setting it back on the counter.  All while complaining that it’s not easy that he has to write “trash” on all of his trash.  I guess the point of this little story is to let you know that my husband is weird.  Like…really weird.  He’s so weird that I am in awe of the creativity required to carry out this weirdness in a hilarious manner.  IMG_3195 Continue reading

When Toddlers Attack

As I am writing this, my little angel dumplin’ is chillin’ in his crib, singing happy songs about how much he loves his mother because of my undying affection for him.  He is holding his Momo blankie and thinking of all the fun times he had with me today. Like when he threw that soup can at my head.  Or when he picked up a baseball bat and hit me as hard as he could.  Or, here is the best part, when he grabbed a glass bowl that I was eating from and hit me directly in the nose and I seriously thought it was broken.  His favorite part of the day, I’m sure, is laughing at me as I tried to get him to stay in “the time out corner”.  This escape from baby prison game is THE BEST!  You know how psychopaths on TV like to smile as they’re about to torture their victims?  Well, I think my baby might be a psychopath.  This brings me to a quick flashback story.  It’s the reason I’m here-in this amazing situation.  It’s the reason for my punishment. Continue reading

Why It’s Totally Cool To Have A Meltdown When Your Child’s Forehead Is Hot (See what I did there?)

Every time Jack has even a low grade temperature, I go into panic mode.  As a nurse, I know that fevers are actually a good thing.  They are your body’s way of getting rid of foreigners that are trying to take over.  By increasing the body’s temperature, organisms that don’t belong are (in a nutshell) heated to death.  The nurse part of me says, “Becca?  What’s your frickin problem?  He’s fine.  Take a chill pill and go to bed.”, but the mother part of me says “No. Way.  We CANNOT rest until the tiny human is back to normal.  It is your JOB.  It is YOUR fault if his temperature increases to 104 in his sleep.”  The mother part always wins.  Any other kid and I would give them some Tylenol and check on them in the morning, but Jack?  Jack is MY kid, and the only way to get any sleep is to sleep in his room and listen to him breathing. Continue reading

The Only Official “Stay-At-Home-Mom” Post I Will Ever Write-I Promise (Or, 12 Things You Need To Know Before Becoming A SAHM)

When I decided to start this blog, I was determined NOT to make it another “Mom Blog”.  The internet is littered with them and I don’t want to be in the middle of the pile.  When I was pregnant, I read every mom blog there was and really enjoyed them, but I think there are already enough. One of my best friends has recently decided to make the transition from working mom to work-from-home mother and while she is excited about it, she is also a bit apprehensive. I give you exhibit A: Continue reading