Today was so weird, ya’ll. I was traveling for work and just wasn’t in the mood. I’d been driving in the middle of nowhere for hours with no cell phone service and limited radio options. Just when I decided to just go home and give up on today, I saw a sign: Americus 10 miles. The town that I practically grew up in. The town where my grandparents used to live. Just ten little miles? I had to go drive by the old house. Continue reading
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
My whole life, I knew I wanted a little girl. She would have blonde hair and blue eyes just like me. She’d be funny and sarcastic and she would LOVE The Little Mermaid. (Narcissistic much?) I think part of my girl-wanting was due to wishing I had a sister. Obviously, I grew up and realized that children weren’t around specifically to entertain their parents, but still, I wanted a girl. Even as a teenager, I’d see those adorable little dresses at Target and think, “One day.” Continue reading
In case you missed the 291 photos I posted to Facebook of Jack’s 2nd birthday party, I’ll give you a little recap. Jack turned two, and we had a Chugga Chugga TWO TWO party for him. I know. SO LAME. My twenty two year old self is hardcore eye-rolling right now, but she also doesn’t have a beautiful munchkin nugget whose birth must be celebrated by the masses. When deciding which theme to choose, I laid out options for Jack. We were going to have a Ball Party or a Choo Choo Party or a SHOES Party. In Jack’s very long two years, these are the things he holds most dear. So, I put a ball, a shoe, and a choo choo on the floor in front of him and asked which one he wanted as his party theme. I’ve already given away his decision. He picked up the train and to Amazon Prime we went. Continue reading
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
Today is day seven in a row of BABY. During the week, I am a stay-at-home mom, but most weekends, I work. I work for a few reasons. One, we can use the money. Two, I need to get out of this house and away from my angel nugget at least once a week. Jack is my joy. The moment I leave him, I miss him. The second I put him to bed, I want to pick him back up and hold him watch him sleep. When I hear him in the morning, I love walking into his room and seeing his smile as we start our day together. That being said, as most parents know, I NEED A BREAK. Continue reading
Today was crazy. I ran pretty much every errand on my list. Sent cards. Went to bank. Purchased and wrapped wedding gifts. Got ten dollar Target gift card for buying two boxes of diapers. (Woot!) Bought Maya Angelou stamps. (Double woot!) As Jack and I were exiting our car at Target, the sky fell upon us and soaked us completely. It was almost nice, as the air conditioned building helped us survive the record breaking heat that has kept us from going anywhere outdoors this week. The best part of my day may have been when my dog puked up hamburger grease on the carpet. Or maybe it was a few hours later when she did it again, but I didn’t notice-until my baby slipped in it-requiring an immediate tiny human rinse off/carpet cleaning combo. Actually, it might even be about an hour ago, when my husband woke me up in the middle of the night to find his car keys that I lost. It’s hard to believe that only a few days ago, we were living it up in Kansas City. Already, we are back to the real world of annoying my husband and bathing my puke covered toddler. Continue reading
When my parents got divorced, I was only a few months away from getting engaged. Actually, their divorce finalized four days after I got engaged. At 26 years old, I thought I had dodged the bullet that splits families apart. I thought, Well, if they aren’t divorced by now, I guess they’re going to stick it out. Suck it up. Keep their vows miserably until death do them part and all that. Continue reading
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
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 Munchkin Nugget 