It’s the first of April and I firmly believe that we all need something that is #relatable to kick off our morning. 

Even if our morning started about 4 hours ago and with children screaming and the stark realization that there its no cream the house aside from what you produce yourself … coffee will either be awful or sweetened “naturally”.

And if you are too much of a grump to laugh at the idea of using your own breastmilk to make a coffee than we cannot be friends. 

If you have done that very thing at least once before than, girl, we are besties! 

It’s time to stop taking ourselves too seriously for a moment and laugh at the real life struggles of just about every SINGLE mom out there. 

Dad’s too. Because I know, aside from them wondering if it is ok to drink breastmilk in coffee, they get it.

So let’s scroll and laugh, make sure to share … and silently contemplate whether it is socially acceptable to prank a child who has no idea what April Fools Day is.

Or, on second thought, to pass on that because you don’t want to explain for the next week how the pranks are limited to one day as you clean all their “creativity” from around the house.

Laundry is probably the sole nemesis of motherhood, am I right?

I mean that, and dishes. 

Two of the most hated and dreaded EVERY.FRICKEN.DAY tasks that must be done because no one has created affordable biodegradable clothing and cook wear. 

^^ someone should get on that. Like, I would wear the same outfit for a week if I knew that I wouldn’t have to wash it … that, and if I could guarantee that my daughter wouldn’t have me smelling of curdled milk within seconds of me committing to an outfit. 

Seriously, it’s the scent of motherhood and been mine for oh, 6 years.

And, if smelling like my own milk sin’t bad enough. The clothing options now a days … let’s just say they are a combination of my maternity jeans, tank tops, and yoga pants where the only criteria for wearing them is that they aren’t see through and the camel toe is either not there or can be hidden by a long “tunic” style top. 

And, woman, even that is something that I let slide occasionally. I mean, I already have my husband, so who am I trying to impress. 

Really. 

In all honesty though, it’s more a matter of not being willing to invest in new clothing when I continue to reassure myself that I am in a transition body size so there would be no point in spending money on the larger version of me. The temporary resident.

Ok, so for you sake and for the health and safety of all the well meaning people, the next mom who tells me that their darling baby is sleeping through the night at two weeks and she is so REFRESHED. 

I don’t think I have slept through the night for the last 6.5 years. 

I mean from the point in a pregnancy when you are waking up every hour to use the bathroom when I was expecting my first, and now until the foreseeable future.

Let me tell you, I may not operate amazingly but all that stuff about needing a solid 8 hours of sleep a night.

I call bogus!

For real though. 

Even when we are sleep deprived, even when we have had more than the recommended amount of coffee and we begin to wonder whether the twitch in our left eye is from too much caffeine, too little sleep or that last nerve that the kids have got on … there are universal things we never thought we would do. 

I mean, for real. Have you ever wondered what it is like to be a kid, sitting and playing when all of a sudden you are hoisted off the ground and someone smells your butt. 

I am not going to lie, I’ve even done this to my friends kids.

And if you can’t sniff your friend’s, child’s butt … then what butt can you sniff. 

I am ever so grateful that kids don’t remember the weird things that parents do. Like when we get all up in their face with kisses and baby talk. Our heads being a full three times larger than theirs. I mean, if I was a baby with my full mom mind, that would be terrifying. 

But it’s reality and it is some of the strange that we do when we become moms. 

I mean, I am certain that before becoming a mother I never sniffed another human’s butt, and now … it’s a daily thing. I think I sniff more butt than my dogs.

As funny and weird as it is though, there is nothing that I would trade for the experience of motherhood. 

Even if showing has become a luxury, I can confidently say that I would never go back to the days before being a parent. 

I mean, unless it was to go and slap my former self who used to complain of being exhausted. I mean, what on earth did she know? 

Non-parents have no idea what it means to be tired, even dads have a very limited perspective of sleep deprivation. I mean, how often have you been woken in the middle of the night for one of those darling feedings only to glance over and glare at your husband and his useless nipples. 

 

I mean, why do they even have them there? 

I’d be lying if I told you I hadn’t asked my husband if he could just use his nipples when my baby is going through one of those “I just want to suck on a boob to sooth myself” kind of moods. 

Wouldn’t his nipples suffice? 

He has yet to entertain that thought, despite the many times that I show him hilarious videos on Facebook of dads who had their child attempt a latch. 

I say attempt because MAN, dude nipples are so perfect and tiny LoL. I mean, I don’t fully remember what my pre-baby body looked like, let alone my nipples … but … after having kids …

Landing pads. Fricken’ landing pads. 

Like, overnight my nipples changed and it is no wonder my children have no problems nursing. You could find those things in any light. 

Oh the joys of motherhood.

So here’s the moral of the story, laugh today. Laugh tomorrow. And start enjoying the weird and wonderful way we are all “suffering” in this season. 

It’s a short one. And it is worth it.

Dang That Scale … it’s just a number

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I figured that cutting ties was the easiest solution to a problem that seemed inconvenient. That it was better if a family was severed, clean cut, than it was to try and navigate a broken world of co-parenting and skipped visits.

I’ll take my coffee reheated … three times

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I Almost Killed my Husband this Morning

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Spilled Milk

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The Lived In Home

The lived in home is about more than pinperfection. It’s about more than the magazine spread and the coordinated cushions. The lived in home is disappearing.

If I told you that people used to enjoy living in their homes, decorating their homes and just appreciating the simple fact that they HAD a home. That people didn’t agonize over whether their home looked like it was ready for it’s IG photo shoot, never worried if there was enough light or colour to warrant a possible viral post.

There was a time when women were blissfully unaware that they were not meeting the Joanne Gains standard of housekeeping that every other mother seemed to be mastering.

Home was truly where the heart was, not where the idols and keeping up with the Jones’ went on.

What happened to the lived in home?