6 Things My Best Friend And I Did As Kids That Make Me Wonder If Our Parents Were Ever Paying Attention

Every once in a while, I’ll have a random flashback to my childhood and go, “What the hell were we THINKING?!”  Especially now, when watching Jack play I like to reminisce of what pretend-time was for me.  I even remember my best friend Sarah and I discussing as children when we didn’t have fun pretending anymore.  It was almost as depressing as finding out “you know who” is really your parents.  We just couldn’t do it.  It wasn’t the same.  I wonder if other kids reached an age where they recognized that their imaginations couldn’t entertain them as well as they used to.  Looking back, some of the things we did for fun was either physically dangerous or psychologically messed up.  It makes me wonder if our parents ever had any idea what the hell we were up to.  Here’s what I mean: Continue reading

Cutting Sandwiches

Every day, as I prepare a meal for my one year old, I think of my dad.  Especially when I’m cutting his sandwiches into perfect little squares so his squishy fingers can shove bite-sized pieces into his mouth.  It reminds me of the meals my dad used to make me.  Peanut butter and jelly was my fav.  Four perfect squares, hold the crust.  Cheese toast was second best.  These bits were even smaller.  Tiny individual toasts with melted cheddar.  Another frequent request was “pink pink”, my word for scrambled eggs.  Dad isn’t quite sure where that came from, but we think I called it that because the eggs came in a pink carton.  I didn’t call scrambled eggs anything, but “pink pink” until I was embarrassingly old. When I am cutting Jack’s sandwiches up for him, I think of my dad and all the fun we had growing up.  All the weird and unique things I did with just my dad and no one else.  Here are just a few of the things that I flashback to while cutting sandwiches: Continue reading

My Mom Is The Worst

If your mother is anything like mine, it can freak you out when you find yourself saying or doing something the way she does.  My mother is truly saddened when she sees a young lady (like myself) who chooses not to wear make up or fix her hair.  It drove me nuts growing up.  I was a tshirt and jeans kind of kid.  I don’t think I ever actually fixed my hair until….well….11th grade?  Seriously.  And that was only occasionally.  I refused to wear contacts until then, too.  In hind sight, it is hilarious to me that these things bothered her.  She is the one who taught me to never pay full price for anything.  Abercrombie and Fitch was robbing people if they thought she was going to pay $50 for a tshirt.  SHE WAS RIGHT.  That is insane.  It’s a piece of cotton that has A and F on it.  YOU are PAYING Abercrombie to walk around and advertise for them.  When I was very little, I’m sure she fixed my hair, but once I got old enough to dress myself and whatnot, she never really said, “Okay, Becca.  This is how you fix your hair.”  She didn’t pick out my outfits.  I did.  I had the opportunity to make my own decisions and I chose to do what required the least amount of effort possible.  Which drove her nuts.  Which drove ME nuts.  We were very different people.  I was an early teen who hated school, girls who care about A and F, and most of all, my mother.  She. Was. The. Worst.  She wanted me to study.  She wanted me to do my homework.  She wanted me to SWEEP THE DINING ROOM LIKE I WAS SOME SORT OF HOUSE ELF.  What was wrong with her?  She was upset with me when my teacher called her and said that it looked like I may have forged her signature on my report card.  WHAT WAS I SUPPOSED TO DO, MOM?!  I GOT A C IN HISTORY!  She even made me call and apologize to my evil teacher like it was MY fault that she noticed that my mother’s handwriting looked different.  Then, when I decided I wanted to join a softball team because my best friend was doing it, she wouldn’t let me quit.  IT WAS HOT!  I was an awful softball player and she still made me stick with it until the end of the season.  She came to every game just to make sure I went.  Or to root me on.  I don’t know.  Moms, right?  Ugh!  Now, as an adult, I find myself doing things the way she did and it just totally freaks me out.  Here are some things I have to blame on my mother: Continue reading

Songs You Sang As A Child That Probably Went Over Your Head

When I was a little girl, around 5 or 6, my Daddy and I would sing together at different local events in our very small community. He played the guitar and taught me some pretty grown up songs. I think his song choices were what made us so popular. I was pretty sure we were famous.  I was exposed to a lot of music growing up.  Both of my parents are musical and my father worked(still does) at our local radio station.  I remember singing “Achy Breaky Heart” on the radio.  For weeks after that, random older ladies would ask me to sing it for them personally.  I didn’t really get why they liked it so much, but looking back I imagine a little girl who couldn’t say her “R”s singing a heart wrenching country song with all her being was pretty frickin’ cute.   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

The Random Times When I Feel Like A Grown Up

Growing up, I remember day-dreaming of the day I would reach adulthood.  I would fantasize about driving a car, going to a restaurant without my parents, learning to say my “R”s, and other such exciting things.  My best friend, Sarah(Sawah), and I had a regular “game” we’d pull from our repertoire we called “college girls”.  We would go on imaginary dates with broomsticks (I can’t make this stuff up) and come back to our super chic apartment and talk about how our nights went.  As I grew older and reached new milestones in life, I’d wonder when I would really feel like an adult. Continue reading