Lemon Head


I started dinner. Nothing fancy or well planned like most of our dinners. Preheated the grill and was prepping BBQ chicken, with brown rice because my daughter has had a craving for rice all week, and peas. Pretty boring, but still yummy and gets the job done.

As I was asking my husband to prepare the chicken for me I noticed my sons hair looked wet. So I felt it. Well, it was wet once upon a time, but was now sticky. I asked what was all over his head. My daughter replied with one word. Lemonade.

Lemonade? You bathed your brother in Lemonade?

She proceeded to giggle and answer with a yes.

A little bit of my soul died in that moment.

Why would you do that? Ugh.

At least it wasn’t peanut butter body lotion.

So, I gave my husband two choices: finish making dinner or give the kids a bath while I finished dinner.

We [playfully] argued back and forth for a while about who was going to do what and when. My daughter chimed in to resolve the dispute for us.

Daddy, you make dinner and Mommy will give us a bath, ok?

Daddy, obviously defeated by the adorableness of our 3 year old with attitude, moped and began slicing chicken.

Worked for me!

I grabbed the kids and went upstairs to draw a bath. As I was getting my son undressed I noticed he had a poopy stinky butt. Ugh. Back downstairs I went to clean poop. As I finished cleaning his butt, he rolled over, stood up, and peed all over the living room floor. Awesome, kid. Thanks.

Really? Really?!

The hubby said he’d clean it up so I went back upstairs and left the pee on the floor. I plopped my little Lemon Head in the tub along with the Sticky Bandit.

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I couldn’t help but look at their sweet smiling faces, smile back, and think to myself about all the craziness I wish upon them from their future children.

As I was leaving the bathroom with two snuggley towel bunnies in hand, my husband was approaching me from the top of the stairs, now wearing shoes, with a look on his face that shouted ‘I’m 5 years old and a stranger stole my candy’ with a side of ‘oh shit.’ He said we had a problem. We ran out of propane mid grilling. Oh.

Well, he ran off to get more propane so we could finish cooking our dinner. We ate. Blah blah blah. Nothing fancy here. Or here.

Nope. Not here either.

Not really anything else interesting happened.

So I guess that’s the end.

Now that I’ve typed it all up. It’s really not that interesting. Just an interesting chain of events that made up our night. Oh well. I hope you at least smiled at the picture.

Oh, my son decided to pulled down a plate of uneaten food onto my freshly clean dining room floor after dinner, too. Cleaned that floor 3 times today. 3 times. That was fun.

I love my kids. Random pee and lemonade and all.


Damn Aliens!


You know that feeling you get when you wake up in the morning, the birds are chirping, the sun is shining, and you’re so refreshed from that full night sleep you got? Ohhh, it feels so, so, so good. For maybe 10 seconds. Until you gradually come to the realization of: I slept all night long?! I’m refreshed?! OH MY GOD! THE BABY!

All you moms, and probably a bunch of dads, know this feeling all too well. It’s usually embedded into your brain for weeks afterwards. The panic that boosts your anxiety so much that you make it to your baby’s room without ever stepping foot on the floor. Not to mention the 4,899 horrible scenarios that manage to jam into your mind of what could be wrong, all within the 0.3 seconds it takes you to fly into your baby’s room. My baby is still sleeping! Something MUST be terribly wrong.

Why is it so quiet?

He probably stopped breathing.

He’s probably blue.

Oh god. He’s dead.

Is he even in his bed?

Was my house robbed?

Did they kidnap my baby?

Did I really not hear him cry?

He jumped out of bed and fell down the stairs.

Oh god, please don’t be at the bottom of the stairs.

The cat finally ate him?

There really are monsters in the closet!

He joined a secret society of ninja’s and was recruited in the middle of the night…

No note? Jeez. Love you too.

Maybe he’s just downstairs with my husband safe and sound eating cheerios?

Nope too practical.


He was totally abducted.

Damn Aliens!


Those were some of the actual thoughts that went through my mind when I woke up at 7:15 Tuesday morning, alone, and realized he was not in bed with me. You see, I co-sleep with my son for the second half of the night and apparently he slept through the night, in his crib, for the first time Monday night.


Either I get up multiple times throughout the night for feedings or I ruin my refreshed full nights sleep with absurd ideas of why he’s not awake followed by a heart attack. So, obviously it doesn’t matter if they sleep through the night or not, we’re always going to be sleep deprived anyway.


Don’t forget that you’re human.


I’m sure others can relate and I know I’m not alone, but that doesn’t change the feeling I keep hidden deep inside of me that I am truly alone. How many of you feel overwhelmed more often than not? Do you feel inadequate? Not up to par? Not fulfilling your families needs? Feel like you’re not doing enough? Feel ugly? Feel like you’re not the most desired wife? Feel as if you’re not living up to your household title? I’m pretty sure the majority of you would have raised your hand to at the very least one of these. This is my problem. Not feeling good enough. Most of this is not true. But a big part of it is very true.

I am not the best me that I can be.

I have been feeling very down on myself for a long while now and I kept it inside for way too long. For those of you that know me personally, know that is a very bad habit I have possessed nearly forever. I have been hiding behind a smile. Much like those catchy, upbeat songs everyone enjoys so much until you remove the catchy beat. Sometimes, if you actually listen to the words you find the song you thought was so perfect is actually full of sadness.

I finally exploded two weeks ago.

“You were going to take a shower tonight,” my husband inserted as a reminder into the midst of a tense discussion.

I looked at the clock to read quarter passed 11 at night. That was the end. I completely let loose and started bawling. Such a simple statement was the final pluck on a damaged string. I tore. The force stung as it sprung back and hit me in the gut. False lyrics hidden behind a wondrous melody came to life. As the tune was drowned out, truth behind the happy beat revealed itself as a preface to the rest of my week.

Even before I exploded I was trying to do little things to feel better and feel more accomplished. I was spending less time using the computer in my free time. Now, it’s not like I spend my day staring at my computer. I’m a stay at home mom and there’s just simply no way I could do that. But instead of wasting my free time with meaningless browsing or game playing, I would use that time for extra outside play with the kids instead. Or doing the dishes or cleaning out a cupboard.  But, Since this discussion I have decided to slowly try and make myself feel better about myself and enjoy life.

But why did such a simple reminder about showering get me going? Lets rewind.

It was 2am Thursday morning and I was finally in bed. Way too late. And yet I still hadn’t gone to sleep. The kids kept taking turns waking up. If one was asleep the other was awake. I was just finally dozing when I heard my cat in the underneath storage pockets of the bassinet (yes, it’s still chillin’ in my room). I just had a feeling; so I got up to check. Sure enough my cat was peeing in it. My cats just don’t do this. Ever. I was immediately mad at her. But only for a split second until I realized she was peeing blood. I didn’t know what to do at that moment so I just went to bed while I could. The next morning I called the vet and got her seen. Details here. Some more details. And more boring details. She has Bladder stones. Depending on the type of bladder stone she has, she may need expensive surgery. She was kept over night and I went home.

My husband and I were discussing this issue for hours on and off. But mostly on. Our view points on ‘boring details’ differed and I was furious. Then. He struck me with “You were going to take a shower tonight.”

The stress of the vet appointment and forgetting to shower during the stress on top of everything else I was keeping locked up inside had me spewing everything that had been bothering me.

I just didn’t feel good enough. In any aspect. Not a good enough Mother. Also, a selfish mother. Not a good enough wife. Not a good enough house keeper. My best, and only, friend of 18 years hadn’t talked to me in months and I didn’t know why. I felt ugly. Trying to get signed up for college classes. We’ve recently started a small veggie garden that I need to maintain. Trying to plan my baby’s first birthday party. Not having friends or family close by to help with anything. I don’t get to drop my kids off for a few hours or over night with Grandma and Grandpa or their Aunties or Uncle so I can enjoy some time alone or a date night with my husband. Ever. My sister is always busy working and isn’t around enough to take them for ice cream. My youngest sister is not old enough to drive yet. And my other sister, is a whole other topic. My in-laws are even further away. I feel like I am letting my kids down by not having the capability of seeing family the way a family should. Other than my husband I have no help with anything. I can’t even remember the last time my husband and I did something just the two of us.

The reason I had to take that shower was because I had to get up early with the kids and didn’t want to worry about showering with two awake kids.I had to get all three of us changed, fed, showered, and out the door all on my own for an 8am non-routine dentist appointment for my baby. It took everything I had while the dentist was talking to me not to burst into tears from what she was saying to me. It was my fault and there was no way around it. That added to everything that was discussed the night before made me think that I might curl up into a ball and hibernate until next spring.


Breath. A lot of these things are easily fixed. I can feel good about myself if I let myself. And so can you. You just have to do it.

I have been feeling a bit better the past week. It’s not going to fix itself over night or on it’s own. I’m outside more often. With or without the kids, but usually with because it’s more fun, obviously! I leave the house more often in search of things to to that do not involve the walls of my home. I’ve gotten a few new items of summer clothes so I can stop wearing the same junk from before my husband and I got married. Now I don’t feel like trash when I go out anywhere.  I have also gotten myself involved with physical activities and exorcise at a local gym. It’s helping me feel better already. I’m (slowly) working on being a less selfish mother when it comes to my not so little baby anymore. I’m going to be getting back on the ball with class enrollment soon and I plan on volunteering at some point in the near future.

I can do this. Can you?





I’m a stay-at-home-mom full of free time! Said no stay-at-home-mom ever.

Working people do two things that really bug me.

1. They ask me: “What do you do all day?” And it’s not the question itself that bugs me, but that I can hear the demeaning tone entangled between the words and I can see the egotistic glare of self-justification as they try to lower my self-esteem because I don’t pay someone else to watch my kids while I go to work. I can’t blame them for not knowing the answer, though. I mean really; what DO we do all day? The answer? Everything. Every. Thing.

And 2. “You’re just a mom.” That  is probably the worst thing you could ever say to a stay-at-home-mom. JUST a mom? Excuse me? Whoa. Take a step back and think about what you’ve said. Yes, I am just a mom. That makes me a cook, maid and waitress, I’m a nurse and a boo-boo kisser, a diaper changer and a butt wiper, a therapist and a story teller, a teacher and a role model, a laundry doer and the toy picker upper, the teeth brusher and hair dresser, a bather and an outfit organizer, a walking milk machine and a human tissue, a taxi driver and an ATM, cheerleader and sports couch, a referee and a translator, an alarm clock and a monster slayer. I wash the dishes and the toilets, the clothes and the sheets. I buy the groceries in our fridge and the clothes on my kids backs. I do breakfast, lunch, dinner, and snacks everyday. I get up in the middle of the night when the kids are scared, hungry, or if they decide to start the new day at 2.a.m. I don’t get holidays or sick days. I don’t get breaks or days off. I work day and night; 24/7 for the rest of my life with no paycheck. It may seem silly to you, but I’m everything to my kids.

I’m tired and sore. Sometimes crabby and irritated. My head is full of a million and one different thoughts and I can not process them at the same time even though I have to. My house is a complete wreck no matter how much I clean it. The days I select as my “days off” consist of not bending over to pick anything up; except for that leaking juice cup.

While I’m responsible for all of these things they don’t always get done promptly. The dishes devour the counters the majority of the time. The dirty laundry pile covers the basement stairs as we just toss them down. The clean laundry piles up and overflows onto the floor before I get to folding and putting it away. The toys end up in every corner of the house. Fruit snack wrappers and crumbs are found stuck to bare feet as you walk along my hardwood floors. I don’t even know how old some of the snacks are in the way back of the pantry because I can’t see that far in because it’s crammed with junk and more junk and crap. The cats start pooping on the bathroom floor if I forget to clean it every two days. My husband sat on the couch yesterday and felt something hard. He pulled out a long lost sippy cup with moldy milk in it. Yum. I can’t even remember the last time I vacuumed my bedroom. But, it’s so messy in there I couldn’t vacuum it even if I went up right now. My house is a pigsty. And it’s not because I never clean it. I do slack sometimes, however. We all do. Working or stay at home. There’s just not enough time or energy to do everything, every day. And for those of you who manage to keep up on house cleaning, please teach me your ways.

While I understand not every family can financially support themselves without two incomes, I feel like society views us stay at home moms in the wrong light. With out being a stay at home mom (or dad, can’t forget stay at home dads, too!) you really can’t accurately visualize what it’s like. We probably work harder than [most] standard 9-5 job-goers.

So, to those who have said either of these things to me or any other stay-at-home-mom, I’m sorry if I offended you with my 24/7 non-paying job. While you’re paying a stranger to enjoy precious moments with your kids, I’m not missing any of it. I get to see every milestone, smile, frown, giggle fit, tantrum, first words and first steps. I get to see it all and know I had the impact. It was me that did all of this. My sweet children are who they are because of me and I got to watch it all unfold and evolve into something miraculous. It’s not easy, but every moment is worth it because being called Mom is my greatest blessing.

Take a moment to watch this video that explains what I’m trying to say perfectly.