I think romantic comedies are based entirely on people’s fantasies of how love and marriage are supposed to look. Boy and girl meet, fall in love, have some drama, resolve said drama, and live happily ever after. While I enjoy a good fairy tale, the repetitiveness of this exact story is incredibly dangerous to modern marriage. It doesn’t show Cindy and Charming then learn to live together, figure out how much time they want to dedicate to each other, maneuver life with certain expectations, and recognize unique undertones of each others’ words. Cinderella might have babies one day. She’s going to instantly form an entirely uncharted and incredibly important relationship with a new little person and she might have some confusion as to her new dual role as princess wife and mother. Or what if Cindy doesn’t want kids? And Charming does? Did they discuss this before they decided to get married? Probably not. They’ve barely even met. Cinderella doesn’t even have anyone to confide in but a mouse and a jolly old witch. The sequel might be a rough one. Continue reading
Picture yourself in a small white house, in a pink room with white wicker furniture, lying on a bedspread covered in a signature 1990’s rose pattern. You are 7 years old. Your best friend can’t come over this weekend, you are sick of the same old toys, you’ve been staring at your ceiling fan for 20 minutes, and you are bored out of your little mind. You walk into your parents’ room and desperately proclaimed, “I. Am. So. BORED!”
Then, she looks at you. The classic Mom look, her gigantic glasses reflecting back at you with a confident smirk. She knows exactly what to say. “If you’re bored, I’m sure I can find something for you to do.” Continue reading
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
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
Y’all remember Y2K? If you don’t, congratulations, you are incredibly and luckily young. I was in 7th grade when I was first warned. My science teacher, an older gentleman, made it very clear that we were to be prepared. The computers. ALL THE COMPUTERS. Like….Errrrrwhere….were going to shut down. For some reason, this meant the world was pretty much going to stop working. Because the computers…um…I don’t know….didn’t know what year it was or something. Like I said, I was in 7th grade. Continue reading
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
A few weeks ago, she called me. “Is your dad okay?!” she asked in her WHAT THE HELL voice. I was confused. “Yes. I think so. I haven’t talked to him today, but I think he’s okay. I don’t understand.” Explaining further, Mom had been asked by several people how Dad is “dealing” with her upcoming nuptials. A few others had asked if she was inviting her ex-husband to the wedding. “That’s funny, Mom! I’ve been asked, too.”
I had. People I really don’t even know that well had asked me in sympathetic voices, “How’s your Dad doing with your mom getting remarried?” First of all, if he were miserable, I definitely wouldn’t tell you that, but the thing is-he isn’t. Secondly, the conversation was never started with “Congratulations! I’m glad your mom is happy.” I always awkwardly explain that Dad is quite happy. He’s happy with his life, and he’s happy for my mom. If you’re reading this and thinking “Oh, God. I was the one she’s talking about.” you are one of many, and I’m not mad at you. I just thought maybe you’d like to read the way your words sound from our perspective in case you find yourself in a similar situation in the future. Continue reading