PheMOMena

Round these parts summertime is for doing kid things like going to every playground we see and the ultimate test of mama's sanity- swim class. Now, generally, extracurricular classes are dad's domain. He takes little Lady K to class and he stays with her. It serves as daddy/daughter time and mama also gets to stay home and finish a HOT cup of coffee and get herself together. It is wonderful. It worked through the Spring (dance class) and we had set the Summer up to follow suit. But summer is swim class... and swim class is not for the faint of heart. Two weeks ago, hubs visited a Goldfish swim school in a central Ohio suburb and signed up Little Lady K for class. He attended the first class with her and it was traumatizing for the toddler. Last week, after class, she asked me to come to class with her and dada.I checked on my portable coffee mug supply and once I saw that I had five mugs to choose from, I told her that I would come and watch her class. Y'all, why did I ...

You know, when you are pregnant people think  it is hilarious to send you pictures and videos of massive diaper blowouts. Babies just covered in poop, onesies that will never recover-- no matter how many times they are washed. You also get lovely pictures of toddlers covered in peanut butter or shaving cream, while writing on white walls with a black permanent marker. When I was pregnant I was convinced that my friends and family were trying to torture me with proof of misdeeds by little people.  I think that maybe those pictures and videos helped strengthen my nerves when it came to poop. Luckily, hubs and I never really had to deal with lots of poop or puke. I can count on one hand how many times in her 23 months that Baby K puked all over. Each time it was because she was inhaling her favorite food-- green beans. The explosive puke was traumatic, at the time, but so infrequent that I wasn't even going to write about it.  What I do NOT understand is why no one...

After Baby K was born I struggled with how I was going to introduce myself to her. I mean, I spent months talking to her while she punted my internal organs around, but once she was born, how would I let her know who I am? How could I make sure that she knew that I look a little different on the outside, but it was my heart that she was hearing beat for all those months? Most importantly, how could I ensure that her first word would be...mama? (It is a thing I have... don't judge me). As soon as we knew she was paying attention (and able to follow our fingers), we started pointing to our noses and saying our names. Round a bouts of "mama, dada, Kenzie" were heard over and over again. She seemed to love it. Laughs were had. After a month or so, she joined in. She would point to my nose and it was my job to say "mama" so I did. About 8,000 times. I didn't care. Have you ever heard a six month old giggle? Heaven. Plus, when we got past the cooing stage, Ba...

Ok, so I had this cute little post that was scheduled to go up today, but I postponed it. I postponed it until later this week because this attached video made me cry. Listen, I know that this blog is rather new, so y'all readers may not know, I am not a cryer. I mean, that is just not my emotional response. But this video? This video made me tear up. Also, I have vowed that THIS blog will not be overtly political. I have tons of political opinions, but I tend to keep them over here (please feel free to explore, if you like). So, I am leaving this video here, presented without my sassy political commentary. I think it is important and Jimmy's story is important... and the health of all children is important. Take a look!

I am awake in the wee hours of the morning, staring at my daughter who finally decided that sleep was something that she would grant the large peasants that fulfill her every need. Once she GOES to sleep, she generally sleeps for 7 hours or so, but GETTING her to concede the day is where the problems lies. We are working on it. So much has been going on this last month. Some very happy family times and some very disappointing times. A crazy election season, what folks are saying is the beginning of the end for the US and world relations. Loss of rights, loss of life, a pipeline, violence and political gain. It is like Dynasty is happening, in real life. (Y'all remember Dynasty, don't you?) This is NOT a political post... because I have a whole other blog for that... but I will say that in the last month and a half, hubs and I have shared our fears of raising a biracial daughter in this world. Some people won't get it, because they won't ever have to raise a biracia...

When I was pregnant (which seems like a bajillion years ago) hubs and I decided that our baby was going to be a breastfed baby, if possible. There were a couple of reasons for this but the two important ones (to us) was 1. it is good for Baby K and 2. it is a hell of a lot cheaper than formula feeding. I mean have you SEEN the price of formula?!!? It is obscene... but I digress. Totally a personal decision for soon to be mamas. I was a formula fed baby. My sister was a breastfed baby. Whatever floats your boat at the time is exactly what every mama should do. We talked about it and decided that I should at least try breastfeeding. If it was possible and Baby K grew well, our thought process was I should stick with it as long as possible. Seven weeks in on this breastfeeding thing and I have come to the conclusion that nobody respects the buffet. Me. I am the buffet, Breastfeeding is no joke, friends. Holy crap. You are always on call. Newborns pretty much eat, sleep and poop. I knew ...

It is early. As in, the sun is barely up. I know that most people are up and moving around this time, but we don't generally see early morning in this house. Hubs works second shift (usually home around 2 or 2:30 am) and we have a little human that likes to play when she should be sleeping. It is early and I am awake. Awake, drinking coffee and taking it all in. This blog will tell you the funniest or weirdest events that happen on our journey of parenthood-- and there will be plenty of stories because hubs and I are old, first time parents with smart mouths and no real experience, but today... today I will fill you in on what I see in these wee hours. The house is (mostly) silent. The (three) dogs have been outside for their morning bathroom break, so they are sleeping again. The loudest one is the chihuahua- she snores like an old man. It still amazes me that such big sounds come from a six pound dog. The cat is roaming the house like a black panther-- looking for prey to pou...

When you are preparing to come home with a baby one of the first things the doctors and nurses will tell you is sometimes babies have night and day cycles mixed up. That means that, more than likely, your baby will be awake at night and sleep soundly during the day. Totally true. Baby K is just now attempting to figure out a sleeping pattern of a normal person. She will sleep in her bassinet during the day, no problem. Somehow, as soon as the sun goes down, she has an aversion to the bassinet-- can't sleep there, won't sleep there. Nope. During daylight hours I have to wake her up so she can eat and play, but let the moon shine brightly in the sky-- this little night owl wants to socialize. Like she is at the club, y'all. Cooing, grunting, eye contact, smiling; I mean, you would think I was buying her an all inclusive trip to Disney World the way she is chatting me up at 3 in the morning. We are working on it. On Sunday hubs and I were made privy to something else that ...

Last week, while my daughter was tapping out Morse code on my internal organs, my husband and I were discussing how to know when you are too old to become a FTP (first time parent).  I mean, in the beginning, I truly believed that we were (probably) too old to become parents. About a year into our marriage we had a very frank conversation about whether or not children were going to be a part of our lives. I decided... I mean, WE decided that we would try for a limited time and if it didn't happen for us in our timeframe then we would not have kids. It was all very cerebral. Very rational, which is kind of our thing. We sleep in on the weekends, we barely go out and party with our friends, a night on the town generally includes finishing laundry, buying take-out from our favorite Chinese restaurant and getting a movie from Redbox. We are not wild and crazy animals over here. Essentially, we are the epitome of old.  But I couldn't have some lame ass answer when having th...