I have two, beautiful, funny, loving, freaking insane little boys. They are my whole world. My oldest is just like his father: really laid back, easily made to laugh, a daredevil, and tough as nails. My youngest is just like me: super cautious, very snuggly, sensitive, and can be very silly. I can’t put into words how much I LOVE them both with every part of everything that I am.
Living in a house full of boys is….well, it’s crazy. They are nonstop. I literally take them out and exercise them just like I do my dog. They are boys. They need to run. Often, they feel the need to run naked…we try to save that fun for inside the house. Today my youngest decided to pee a beautiful design onto the carpet in our playroom. He was very proud to show off his artwork and absolutely devastated to discover that I was not impressed. Both of my boys are totally obsessed with all things poop, pee, butt, etc and honestly it’s hard not to laugh at all of their antics. Yet underneath all of this boy weirdness there are these sweet little men who love to wrap their tiny arms around me and tell me that they love me, or exclaim “OH Mommy!! I love youw pwitty, pwitty, pwitty, pwitty dwess!” (Even though I’m just wearing a long t-shirt and sweatpants.) They like to brush my hair, snuggle on the couch, draw me pictures, play dress-up…I wouldn’t trade any of it for the world.
My first pregnancy was not easy to conceive and through that experience we learned just how precious and miraculous a baby really is. People were excited for us when they found out we were having a boy the first time around. The second time around was a totally different story. So many people, including family, were disappointed. Flat out bummed to hear our news. “Oh. We were hoping for a girl.” Really? So no congratulations on this healthy miracle we created? Thanks. Before I even gave birth people were asking me when I was going to try for that girl. The blatant disappointment from others was devastating and we learned a lot from it. I’m sure it wasn’t intentional. But I will never forget how it made me feel. Continue reading
We’ve all read how our friend Lauren doesn’t want more children and how frustrating it can be when everyone around is asking/pestering her about it. I feel her pain, but for a totally different reason.
I have heard for years, “So when is baby number 3 coming?” “Are y’all going to have anymore babies?” “Your girls really need a little brother, you all should keep trying!” Usually I just nod or politely deflect the questions. Using a smile or general “we’ll see” to hide the pain. See unlike Lauren, I do WANT more kids. Continue reading
As a lady, I find myself in the position of having my decisions publicly judged on a daily basis. From the old dude who tells me to “Smile!” because “It ain’t that bad!” to all sorts of legislators telling me what I can and cannot do with my own body, every day feels like a goddamn shitshow. But the one that’s really been the hair in my ass lately? People, some of whom I barely know, playing concern troll for my son’s lack of siblings. No, really. This is a thing that happens. I was just as surprised as you are! People really seem to care about the contents of my uterus, and seem to be surprised, offended, or a combination of the two when I tell them that I would prefer that it has no further occupants. Sigh.
Dudes. Duuuuuuuudes. Here is a secret about me that actually is not a secret at all if you talk to me for more than, say, 20 minutes. I don’t really like kids. Let’s back up because GOD KNOWS the shit flies like a swarm of killa bees when you make statements like that. I love my son. He’s mine, I made him. He is hands down the worst roommate I’ve ever had, but jeez, yeah, I love the shit out of that kid. And my friends’ kids? Sure! They’re okay too. Many of them are adorable, and some keep my own child occupied so we can sit on the porch with beer and Parliaments. But generally speaking? If given the choice of being around a bunch of kids and the opposite of that scenario? I will choose the latter. Some people are kid people, just like some people are dog people, others are cat people, and some are CENTAURS. (For the record, I am none of those things.) (Sorry if you thought I was a centaur.) Babies are cute, but I like to give them back to their rightful owner when they get fussy or poop up their backs. Kids are loud and mean and if I wanted loud and mean, I’d hang out with…well, me. I’d hang out with me.