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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The Best Time Of Our Lives

I look back at high school and laugh at myself. Things that were such a big deal then are hard to even fully remember now.  Break ups were the worst.  School was hard.  Getting up at 7:30am was such a nightmare.  Juggling an after school/weekend job with school and band practice seemed overwhelming.  I remember a particular break up where I laid on the bathroom floor crying while my dad consoled me. (Thanks Dad)  It was the worst day of my entire life.  Failing a test?  OMG!  My life was over.  When I think of what I considered a serious situation back then, I roll my eyes. Continue reading

I Had A Baby So I Wrote This On My Iphone

My relationship with coffee has changed so much in the past few weeks. I’ve seen all these cliche mom posts about wine and coffee, but once you pop out a second kid something inside of you wants coffee 24/7. It’s just like the SNL spirit animal skit. We instinctively chop off our hair, drink a LOT of coffee and develop a taste for wine. I mean-I haven’t yet wanted wine *vodka cran girl*, but it appears to be my closest goal.

I have two kids, a minivan, and strong opinions on vaccinations. I am a 19 year old child in a 31 year old mother’s body. And it’s weird as hell. Continue reading

My Baby Is Not A Papaya And I Am Not Glowing

Every single pregnancy website I read presents me with sugar coated facts and photos of perfectly shaped women with basketballs beneath their shirts.  Today, at week 32, I was warned that I may be having some heartburn due to my perfect little jicama (WHATEVER THE HELL THAT IS) pushing up on my stomach, and that taking Tums and propping my head up six inches “may” help.  The truth is, for some reason, God decided it would be a brilliant idea to shove a 3 and 1/2 pound human body in a space that was originally the size of a plum.  Instead of it growing outward or skimming the surface of its host’s organs, it literally moves aside the entire digestive tract until said host’s stomach is literally in her throat.  This is insane.  INSANE.  And propping my head up six inches is not going to help my heartburn.  Nothing can help a person whose stomach is in their throat. Continue reading

We Are Having A Girl!

Immediately before I started writing this post, I was on Pinterest to look up nursery ideas for our new baby GIRL.  I wanted ideas for her nursery.  As I saved my first pin, I noticed that “Baby Girl Devens” was already a board on my profile.  I had forgotten that years ago I had been searching for ideas for the possibility of a girl.  Funny enough, while I did want a girl-you can read that blog here-I REALLY wanted a boy for my husband.  His want for a boy outweighed my girl and I wanted him to be happy.  Plus, I’d have another chance.

This go round, I just couldn’t hide it.  I REALLY wanted a girl.  I know some people don’t care if it’s a boy or a girl, and maybe this makes me a bad person, but I wanted a girl and there isn’t a thing I could do to change that.  I have spent the past few months telling myself that another boy would be fine.  I love my son more than I could possibly describe.  Brothers would be so special.  Two boys dressed as knights and slaying dragons and building Legos is a world I could imagine with love.   Continue reading

Letters To Jack: Letter Two

Oh Jack,

This week has just been the worst.  One day (if you decide to have children), you will drop your kid off at daycare or school for the first time and you will discover what real solid pain feels like.

Today was your fourth day.  The first two days I let you go just for a few hours to get used to it.  Yesterday, I left you for ten hours. TEN.  For ten hours I left you with total strangers.  A little boy pushed you down and scratched your beautiful face and stole your toy.  Your teacher handed me a piece of paper explaining your injuries.  She said you did nothing.  You just cried.  I purposely did not ask which little tot caused harm to my perfect child because I knew that you might one day become friends with him, and that one day you might want him to come over and play, and you might even grow up to be best friends-and I would hate his little toddler guts for the rest of my life. Continue reading

Thirty Years of Lessons

Guess what, guys?!  I’m THIIIIRRRTTTTYYYY!  Holy cow.  That’s insane.  It’s not old, but I’ve been in my twenties for so long….about ten years now.  It’s weird, you know?  I’m not old enough to know if birthdays will really affect me the way they do some people, but I really don’t think they will.  Working with the elderly, I’ve learned that getting old really isn’t about the number, it’s about your quality of life.  I’ve seen a very old fifty year old and a very young eighty year old.  All that being said, this week, I bought a bag of lemons to drink lemon water every day.  On my birthday wish list are: Running shoes, Fitbit, and skin care products, so obviously somewhere in my mind I’m fighting the aging process.  I just hope I’m a young older person for as long as possible.  While thirty isn’t old, it has certainly been long enough to learn a few life lessons.  Through the years, I’ve grown a bit wiser.  I’ve learned a lot, and have a lot left to learn, but here are thirty things I’ve learned in each year of my three decades: Continue reading