The adventures of a girl aspiring to be many somethings, including (but not limited to) a pretty good wife, a passable mom, a decent human being, and a humor blogger whose posts you actually want to read.
More than once, I have found myself shaking my head as I ask myself, Is this what I signed up for? And then I realize that, as a parent, whether I knew it or not at the time, this is exactly what I signed up for.
As the days of sipping lattes while getting a pedicure with your girlfriend while your baby sleeps peacefully next to you in his carseat are long gone, you are likely to find yourself desperate for adult conversation in a more manageable setting. It seems like a no-brainer. Enter the playdate.
I have to imagine that one of the greatest struggles of maternity leave has got to be finding the will and strength to leave the house. Actually, I don't have to imagine, because I know this to be true. When I was on mat leave the first time around, the seduction of Netflix, combined with both my fear of Mommy and Me groups, hatred of cold weather and just general laziness found my new baby and I spending the better part many winter weeks hanging out around the house.
This is neither a letter of celebration, nor regret. This is simply an acknowledgement of your presence; a simple note to say that, yeah, I see you, in all of your loose-skinned glory. I accept that you're here. I know that I spent 9 months cultivating you, eating cheeseburgers when I should have had a salad, taking naps when I should have done a workout. But I was hungry. And I was tired. It's not that I hate you; I just haven't learned how to love you yet.
I've been on maternity leave #2 for the past two months. Of the last eight weeks, approximately six were spent with different family and friends coming to help out with our new baby, or coming to stay to help us celebrate the holidays. Once the excitement of Christmas was over, my husband returned to work [...]
Tomorrow I reach the 33rd week of being pregnant with my second child. Knowing that, in under two months, I'll be starting the newborn parent journey all over again carries a mixed bag of emotions that are likely at least partially responsible for recently bursting into tears while walking down the street on a beautiful [...]
There is a window of time in all of our lives when receiving a wedding invitation in the mail is a cause for excitement and joy. Someone who you know cares enough about you enough to invite you to bear witness to one of the most important days of their lives, and if you're lucky, you'll also be surrounded by many of your friends and/or family while eating, drinking, dancing, and partaking in similar activities of celebration and general merriment at the event. While all of this generally remains true regardless of your age or the stage of life you may find yourself in, attending a wedding when you have a child, particularly one of toddler age, makes things considerably more...interesting. Click the picture for the rest of the post!
As the days leading up to our anatomical screen get closer and closer, I've started to ask myself, "What if it's another boy?" And I think I've come up with a pretty good answer.
You know that story, If You Give a Mouse a Cookie? Isn't motherhood like that sometimes, only with less cookies and more chores?
Although I still have a few pieces of maternity wear hanging around in a ball in my closet from my first pregnancy, I recently decided to hit the mall to treat myself. And what a treat it was.
THE ASPIRING SOMETHING 