Life Is Cray!

Sorry for the long break from blogging. I've been enjoying the ups and downs the life of the military has to offer. More ups than downs I assure you. My son is bananas and had given me plenty to occupy my time as of late. I'll be back super soon to update with a fresh new blog, toodles!

I'm Still Alive!

Sorry for the hiatus. Things have been pretty hectic for this wife. My Marine finally returned from deployment  (happy dance) and I finally returned to our homestead in California after a six month vacation with family. I had a lot of clean up to do as our house was burgled three times while I was away, and let me tell you, it is not easy feat with a toddler running around. I have a few more gray hairs, but my house is back to normal. I finally got a moment to breathe so I wanted to update. Return soon for something more interesting to read ;)

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The Two Loves Of My Life :)

One Hot Mama

Vent time, beware! I was recently told that I was not carrying on the correct way of handling my two year old. Any good parent who has received that kind of feedback will tell you in a heartbeat there is not faster way to get a mama's blood boiling than with an offhand remark like that. It has been weighing on me ever since the comment took place. Especially since the unfortunate individual who gave me the parental review was not such a fantastic parent themselves. I stewed for a while about the comment and that led me to confront the individual again to see why exactly they had that perception of my parenting. You want to know what the reason was? Because I am a woman. Now I'm not some bra burning feminist by any means. I hold on to some of the values the 1940's wives gave us. I stay at home with my son. I take care of the house. When my husband is in the country he is always greeted with a hot homemade meal for dinner. I do the majority of the house cleaning. And I am okay with all of this. Simply because my husband is the bread winner. He works his ass off fighting for the country and the least I can do for him is to maintain the household. Don't get me wrong, he helps me with the cleaning and our son. I don't walk three paces behind him or take his boots off and rub his feet or anything, but for the most part I enjoy my role as a housewife and I do the job with a smile on my face. My husband has been gone for the better part of two years with training and deployments so it has been up to me to take care of our son full time. Because of that my son takes on some of the things I do, but he is by no means feminine. He is a rough and tumble boy who likes to wrestle and only sheds a tear if something is broken or bleeding. He is also a typical two year old toddler. He is a good kid, but as any parent that was present for more than five minutes will tell you, terrible two's are a bitch. I don't care how strict you are with punishment and rules, if you're kid is that young you are bound to have mishaps. I will be the first to tell you that I am not soft on my son. I instill in him very strict discipline. When he is bad he gets timeouts or spanked according to the severety of the situation. When the comment about my parenting was initially made, it was a poke at the lack of discipline my child receives. Let me tell you now, this occured in a public place. Parents face so much scruitny because today's generation doesn't believe in spanking. For that reason I refuse to do that in public. (see my post crime and punishment) I would rather let my child have a tantrum in a public place than have DSS up my ass because I popped my son on his diapered butt. I know you moms out there are giving me some amens right about now. But I digress. The comment was made and then later reinforced that the disciple was not present because I am a woman and I make my child soft and I'm a bad person for doing so. Excuse my while I extricate my extremely feminine 7 1/2 out of this person's ass. The point being, I would love for someone to challenge me on the way I raise my son. He is very smart, as well behaved as he can be, and he knows who his mom is. Unlike said accuser, I am involved with my child's life in every way and nothing anybody can say is going to change how I do things. I know that I should not take to heart someone who is a joke as a parent giving me critiques but it really has been weighing on me. From all of this, I have to commend my mom. I get a small taste of what it was like for her raising my brother and myself by herself and I respect her so much for it. I think some people would be in a better position to do the same. And before you open your ignorant mouth, you should remember that you were not there for your kids so the original effect of your words missed the target since they did not come from a place of experience, but a place of bitterness and hypocrisy.

Until Death Do Us Part...Maybe...Kinda?

Marriage is a huge deal. A lot bigger of a deal than some people realize. Way way back in the day, couples were paired together based on social status and they were wed extremely young. As time progressed people started getting married much later in life, but now it seems that we are regressing. I, for instance, got married when I was 20 and bore a son later that year. It might seem pretty young, but I was completely sure it was what I wanted. Some of the other young couples my age have not been so lucky. A good chunk of them got married just because they got pregnant and didn't just want to be an "unwed mother statistic." That's not a reason to get married. Your children will grow up thinking that is how it is suppose to be. You make a mistake and a ring cures it all. Most of the time divorce happens within a year or two. There are a lot of things to think about when you are considering those impending nuptials. You need to know before you say "I do" if you can really take those vows to heart. So often people get married because they think that them living together or being together for a long time makes them a prime canidate for marriage. This is not always the case. And you are fooling yourself to think that marriage is just a piece of paper. Things will happen in your marriage that will test you, and under normal circumstances, it might be something that stressed you out so bad you broke up, but that's something you can't do when you're married. You have to take a good look at your relationship and ask yourself if that is something you can live with for the rest of your life. If you are with someone that hasn't really been on their own before and who can't really handle confrontation or communication very well you need to reexamine if marriage is the right choice for you. Things like that, that don't seem like that big of a deal when you are dating, are paramount when you get hitched. Communication is one of the biggest parts of being married and if you don't have that, it won't be long before your union splits and you are left hurt and confused while the dust settles around you. Also, money. Good lord money will split up even the strongest of couples. It is a very ugly and difficult subject that comes up often, especially when there are children involved. For instance, when my husband and I first got together we were both broke. We decided that it was a good idea for him to join the Marines, but it took over a year for that to happen. Meanwhile we lived with his family and during this time I got pregnant with our son. My husband wasn't working any kind of steady job. Just a little under the table gig here and there. Our families came together and they are the ones who put together our wedding for us. And for all the things that were going on, we were so excited to get married. We had no idea when we were going to get our next check and no clue how long it would take him to become enlisted, but we were in wedded bliss. A couple months after our son was born, my husband got the green light and he shipped off to boot. After all the training was done, we began to see our first money problems. Neither one of us was really any good with money. We paid our bills but we also spent money we didn't have. When my husband went on his first deployment, my son and I were living in a little house on our own and I screwed up big time with the money. I paid the bills, but I spent far more than was needed. This was really bad especially since I knew we had to move to California when the hubs got back and we had to pay for it ourselves. I got my shit together before he came home and we had the money to move but it was pretty tight. We got into a very bad way for a while over that money incident. It was a pretty big blow to our marriage. We recovered from it, and we got better with money. But the point is, even the happiest couples have these problems. If our marriage had been weaker, then I have no doubt in my mind that we would not be together today. But like the good adults we were, we worked through our problems and communicated. This would be the point in the realtionship where a lot of couples would crumble and split ways. Just reading it, it may seem like it's not a big deal, but it really is. When you get in that position, you'll know what I'm talking about. Before you sign that dotted line you really have to be sure that you know what you are getting in. It may seem hard to let go of that boyfriend that you love so much, but if you don't think you can handle the ups and downs marriage has to offer you need to remember that it is a lot easier and a lot less messy to break up than it is to get divorced. Save your sanity, and make for damn sure that you can spend your life with that person. It will make your life so much easier, and personally I think the divorce rate needs a little help in coming down some.

"Mommy What's A Bagina?"

It's bad enough to think about that moment when you have to give your kid a sex talk, but this isn't quite what this post is about. It's more watching what you say around your kids, and other people's children for that matter. This has always been a doozy to me. You would think with me currently raising a toddler I would know when I should shut up, but alas, I was born without the "filter" feature on my mouth. My son is a little parrot now, and he always repeats the stuff I don't want him to. And that's on me, but I am even worse when it comes to other's kids. I used to have a pretty bad mouth. (I know, the ones that actually KNOW me are thinking, "USED to??" but I promise I am a lot better than I used to be.) I used to be known for dropping the "C" bomb (C-U-Next-Tuesday...just look at the first letter :p ) and I was really bad about it. I remember one incident in particular that was just a complete fiasco. I was playing cards with one of my friends and her then two year old was there with us. I am super competitive when it comes to card games and when I lose I tend to taunt and talk shit. Well we were into a tight game of Skip-Bo and she was steadily kicking me ass and I yelled out the C bomb, not thinking, when all of a sudden in a voice dripping with innocence we hear "mommy you're a cunt." Cue my shocked face followed quickly by me doubling over in hysterics (because it's totally funny when it's not your kid) and my friend freaking out which made it ten times funnier. It wasn't the first time I made her kid utter obscenities. She was in the car with me a different time and while I was road raging I yelled for someone to get the fuck out of the way and she quickly repeated me. Once again, I was overcome with laughter. Well, I got mine back ten-fold. My son started talking, and started repeating and that finally convinced me to TRY to use my filter. Especially after his month-long stint of using the word "shit" with unbridled frevor. I slowly got better with my mouth, but I had my moments. When I am around my brother-in-law, who is ten, I often slip up. He is a pretty mature kid, so I often find myself saying stuff that I really shouldn't. One of those times was really priceless, and happened not too long ago. I was bullshitting with his mom and older brother about some transsexual and I said something along the lines of "yeah he's totally a guy except for his gaping vagina." To which my BIL says "what's a vagina?" My mother in law was floundering and I was laughing and then she tells me he hasn't had "the talk" yet and has no clue what I am talking about. My mouth will be the death of me one day. I have always maintained that, while I do need to clean up my mouth, I don't want to just sheild my son from cuss words because he is going to hear them elsewhere (especially since we live on a military base full of Marines) and I want him to be able to indentify those words and know they are wrong. Now, this is fine for your own kids if you make that decision, however, watch what you say around the children that aren't yours because their parents may not feel the same. And even if you expose your children to those kinds of words, pick and choose the ones you let him hear, because as I have learned much to my own dismay, they will enevitably utter those words or phrases in a public place and embarrass the absolute shit out of you. Just like when my son told a cashier at walmart that he had to take a shit. It will amaze you how those looks of disgust from random strangers can make you feel like the worst parent in the world. So pick your battles, and try to avoid saying something that is going to get your bitchslapped in the walmart parking lot ;)

Homecoming Harmony

I have to tell you, when my husband went on his first deployment I did nothing but look forward to his homecoming. I invisioned that slow-mo moment of us running into each other's arms while sappy music cued in the background and crescendoed when we fell into each other's warm embraces. Ok, so maybe not. I'm not a sap, my estrogen doesn't pump as hard as some females. But I was pretty friggin excited. I had the ideal situation in my head that we were just going to pick up where we left off. Well, who looks silly with egg on their face? This girl! It was great when he came home (although instead of cheesy music and slow-mo running he was greeted by me and my son and my best friend and her husband toting a case of PBR) but once the initial excitement wore off we were left floundering trying to get our footing in our relationship. We both changed a lot and had to get to know each other again. I'm not going to go all into that. You can read the post The Fire Is Burning...I Think. But suffice it to say, it wasn't all it was cracked up to be. We took a page from Stella's book and got our groove back and everything was hunky dory until the next deployment arrived. What I really got to thinking about was, now that I have an idea of what to expect for the next homecoming, and being fully confident that we really can go back to where we left off, I decided to put more effort into making his homecoming really special. While the friends and PBR was good, I wanted to give him something he was really going to remember. I have put together a stellar homecoming gift to my husband and his cami-clad cohorts, but I can't quite say what it is for confidential reasons. (Don't worry, I will reveal it after it happens with pictures and video.) But before I lucked into this wonderful present, I did a lot of research to get some ideas. Many of them repeated themselves, but there were a couple that stuck out. So if you are a wife, fiance, girlfriend, or family member, here are a few ideas for you to ponder upon:

1.  Boudior Pictures. This is one for the ladies who are really comfortable with themselves and not afraid to show a little skin. A friend of mine had these done for her hubby while he was on deployment. I thought it was an excellent idea. It's a little risque, but if you are confident enough, this is something your hubby will really enjoy. Plus, it's something he can take with him if he's sent away again.

2.  A Testerone-Addled Goody Bag. This is one that is super easy and your guy will love you to pieces for it. These guys have been deprived of the little things in life for seven months (or longer depending on your branch in the military) and they want to indulge. For example, my husband's would consist of the latest Call Of Duty game, a gift card for his xbox live membership, a new cell phone, a case of his favorite beer, a big juicy steak, and a piece of lingere (for me obviously) to give him a peek of the festivities to come. Just gather a few of his favorite things and he will love it.

3.  Space. Yeah, you read that right, space. I know you're thinking, he was just gone for all these months, that's the last thing I want to give him. But believe it or not, sometimes that's what he needs. Not right away, of course, he's just as eager as you are to make up for lost time, but what you have to remember is that it is a little jarring to your man to go from standing at full attention all the time to come to a grinding halt. If this is not his first deployment, then he has probably shared with you what life is like out there and he needs time to adjust to being back in civilization and in family mode, as opposed to being surrounded by his fellow troops 24/7. When my hubs came back the first time he had really bad anxiety in the beginning when he would be around a crowd of people. It a little unnerving to them at first. It will pass (if it doesn't then you need to talk to him about possible PTSD and getting the help he needs) and once it does you can get your flow back and enjoy all the couple time you can stand. So just let him shoot some zombies solo for a bit, and he'll thank you for that.

4.  Homecoming Party. This is a common one, but it is certainly a good one. It is a chance for your man to mingle with his loved ones in one sitting and enjoy everybody's company. I know when we go back home for his post deployment leave it gets pretty stressful having to run around and see all the relatives at their various locations when all he really wants to do is relax. Having the party gets the initials hello's out of the way and gives your guy a day or two to relax before he makes the rounds again. Word to the wise though, if you have the luxury of having your loved ones where you are stationed, I caution you to keep the gathering limited to family instead of co-workers. They have just spent the better part of the year, day in and out, with these guys and they need a break from each other. If you don't want to exclude anybody give it a month or so before you have your gathering.

5.  Save Your "Honey-Do" List. The last thing your guy wants to do upon his return is to take care of the little odds and ends around the house. Wait for him to decompress for a few weeks before you push him into that kind of thing. If you have waited this long to have something done, you can wait just a little bit longer while your hubby kicks up his feet and enjoys himself.

These are just a few ideas for you. There are tons out there, but these are some of the better ones. And if you are at a loss, or you can't afford it, don't sweat it. Your guy has been living in conditions far worse and just being home with his family is more than enough for him. And don't stress yourself out trying to make everything perfect. Just enjoy each other's company and be thankful for the time that you have together.

Pregnancy Protocol

My husband and I have been talking about expanding our family to a foursome and naturally my mind has been baby crazy. It made me think about when I was pregnant with our son and how boundaries go out the window when regarding a pregnant chick. These are no-no's, folks, unless you've been given a green light stay far away from these follies.

1. Touching The Bump. This was, by far and wide, my biggest pet peeve when I was preggers. Random friggin people would come up and touch my bun. What the hell possess people to touch a part of the female anatomy? Just because it sticks out more than it used to doesn't mean it's a landing strip for prying hands. It would be complete stangers that would do it too! I once had a woman touch my stomach at WalMart just out of the blue. Never met her in my life. She says, "OH YOU'RE PREGNANT!" (Uh, duh?) and then lays her paws on my protruding stomach. I flipped. I told her if she intended to leave the store with her hands still attached she would remove them from my body. She was shocked. But didn't say anything, can't get mad at a prego afterall, and just walked away. You wouldn't grab some random person's ass because it was big, so don't do the same to a baby bump.

2. Unsolicited Advice. Dear God please stop telling expectant mothers all these "you should's" because unless she asks for it, she doesn't want to hear it. I don't want to hear the cashier's advice on labor, birth, and raising of the child. I got it handled, mk? If I wanted your input, I would ask.

3. Horror Stories. The last thing a pregnant lady wants to hear is that you were in labor for three days and then had to be rushed for a c-section and they sewed a sponge up inside of you. Pregnancy is stressful enough without having the horrific images of someone else's birth looming before you.

4. Natural Birth VS Epidural. Just because they didn't have the good drugs back then, Grandma, doesn't mean it's wrong for me to get my spinal tap. It is fine and dandy if you elected to give birth without pain meds. I for one do not fancy popping a watermelon out of a pin hole without a little help from Mr. Morphine. Don't judge someone just because they didn't do it like you. People have different pain thresholds. I cry when I clip my toenails. Ok, I don't, but you get it. It doesn't make me horrible for opting for the IV. I would rather enjoy the birthing experience instead of writing in pain. I had a C-Section, but I made it through labor all the way up to 8 CM before that happened and I enjoyed it thanks to those wonderful drugs.

5. Boob Or Bottle. I am not a horrible mother because I didn't breast feed. I was terrified of drugging my kid after having the c-section (I know, it's safe.) but I was naiive. Plus, I just wasn't comfortable at that point in time with nursing. I am considering it when we have another child, but I don't regret using the bottle for my son. He has turned out just fine. So no, I don't care to hear of all the wondeful benefits of the boob over bottle.

6. Keep Your Mucous Plug To Yourself. I will not divulge the dirty nasty of my pregnancy. It's none of your business. Likewise, I would never tell anybody about mine unless they asked first. That goes for constipation, hemmeroids, and pooping at delivery. Just shut up about it.

Heed this advice people. It's hard enough on pregnant women without having to deal with all the looney birds out there trying to live vicariously through your gestation.

Adventures In Pottyland

There are a lot of trials and tribulations when children come into your life. One of the biggest milestones in your child's life is potty training. I was always really spoiled with my son, Brody. He has always been an easy kid, and to be honest, it's not nearly as trying as I thought it was going to be. There weren't many sleepless nights, he got tired of using a pacifier after about three months, he had no troubles learning to crawl, sit up, walk, or talk. He smoothly migrated from the world of bottles and formula to regular milk, sippy cups, and real food with zero issues of weaning from the bottle. I really expected for mama Karma to test my sanity when the time came to potty train. I was wrong again. I had heard from everybody that it is best to wait until your child makes the choice to go on the toilet when they were ready. I was scared that that moment would ever come. I mean who wants to trade in the ability to go to the bathroom at any given moment you pleased without having to wait until you located a restroom? But this was not the case. My son started showing the classic signs that he was ready for the big boy potty by letting me know when he had used the bathroom, and then later notifying me beforehand. He would take his diaper off and tell me it was showtime. So I went out and got him his very own throne and got to work. I read that offering incentives (which is just a fancy way of saying bribery) would encourage my child to make the positive choice to go on his toilet. I made him a treat jar, and everytime he made it to his potty on time he was rewarded with a piece of candy. So far it's working. We have certainly had our share of mishaps though. For instance, his great grandpa was watching him for a total of about 15 minutes when my son managed to evade his gramps and tear his diaper off, then proceed to leave a Hansel and Gretel-style trail of pee and poo throughout the house. And during this excursion he managed to taste test some of his own stool. Boy that was a fun clean up. As well as the time he decided to shed his diaper and let the urine flow right on the living room floor, after which he promptly demanded that I clean it up and give him candy. So, while we have those little situations, potty training on the whole has been really easy. All those parenting books aren't lying when they say the best time to give the toilet the ol college try when the kids decide themselves. That made life a lot easier because we didn't have to force him to do something he wasn't comfortable doing. He decided and so it shall be. Forcing them to do it causes the child to associate the porcelin god with negative feelings and that makes the whole process a lot longer and harder than it should be. We are still going at it, and he is doing wonderfully. The best thing to remember is not to expect too much, and not to get frustrated. As long as your kid receives praise and is comfortable it will be a piece of cake. Happy training, folks!

The Fire Is Burning...I Think

As you might have noticed, I'm a Marine Wife, and it's not an easy role to have. You face a lot of difficulties with all the protocol, you never know where they are going to send you, and probably the biggest concession you have to make is your relationship with your husband/fiance'/boyfriend. My husband is currently on his second deployment (in two years) and we have a pretty good dynamic going, but it wasn't always this easy. For all you ladies (or gents) out there that are considering a relationship, or are in a relationship with the military, listen up. First of all, you need to figure out if this is a life that you can handle. I can never stress that enough. Don't sign up for the long haul if you can't even make it out of the gate. These fellows in uniform have a hard enough job overseas without having to be concerned about what is going on at home, or if he'll even have someone to return to. If you feel you can't comprimise your time and energy into making it work, don't even bother to start something. If you can, then you have to do everything in your power to keep the relationship alive when you are seperated by thousands of miles and several continents. The first time my husband deployed it was extremely difficult on us. He had been gone for the better part of a year with training when he shipped out for a seven month jaunt in the sandbox. By this point our relationship was already strained because we had both changed so much and we were completely different people than when the whole process began. He was in full blown Marine mode, and I was 100% focused on being a mom. We were so immeresed in our individual roles that we didn't take the time to try to fit these new pieces of the puzzle together. We both kept a lot of stuff from each other and it just weighed us down. We didn't know how to communicate anymore. I guess we both thought that when he came home we could just go back to the way things were. Boy were we in for a rude awakening. Once he got home and we moved in our new house on base, and after the initial excitement wore off, reality set in. We were left to get to know each other all over again. It was not an easy process. It took a long time for both of us to really open up again. He was struggling with settling back down into civilian mode and dealing with some minor PTSD, and I was having a hard time sharing the reins of parenthood with someone besides myself. It was really dicey there for a while. We finally just broke down and aired everything out. After the talk we slowly started getting things back to a blissful marriage and life was grand. We got in sync and things were great, we communicated and sealed our bond again. Don't get me wrong, it still wasn't totally perfect, we still had our rough spots, but things were a million times better. We finally accepted the fact that it was never going to be the way it was before because we were never going to go back to the lives we had before the military came into our union. But we introduced each other to these new lives, and we did it together and came out of the other end stronger than we ever were. He was only home for six months before he had to deploy again, but this time around isn't nearly as trying as last time. We have learned that it is better to talk it out rather than letting everything pile on until it collapsed. This might sound really easy, but it's not. It is hard trying to understand one another's lives when we can't comprehend what that person is going through. You might think it is more simple to let things lie to deal with later, but in the end it will do more harm than good. You know that you want to feel needed in a relationship and your spouse feels the same way. They might be a world apart, but they are still in your life. We may not get to talk often, but when my husband calls, we talk about everything. We don't sugar coat the touchy subjects because we have seen what kind of harm that behavior provokes. We may not be able to have a physical relationship right now, but we still make it known that we want for one another. It's the little things like that, that may seem miniscule, that make the biggest difference in the relationship. As much as we might change because of all the things that happen, we always remember that we love each other, and there is a reason why we made the commitment to be husband and wife that makes it worth it to fall in love all over again with the new people that we become. They might have changed and grown, but they are still the person you love and that makes all the difference. As long as that is kept in mind, and you never doubt for a second that this is the person you have fought for, you will be just fine.

A Risk Not Worth Taking

It is no secret, things are not always in perfect harmony when family is involved. Family is there for everything: the good, the bad, and the ugly. Everyone likes when things within a family unit are running smoothly without any drama, but it is enevitable that rifts will upset the balance of even the most tight knit clans. It can be small disagreements, or full scale feuds, but the important thing to realize is that, in the end, family is all you have. They will accept you for whatever you may do. They may not always agree with you, but they usually have your best interests at heart. It is so important not to let petty things interfere with the relationship you have with your family. Just from my own experiences, I know that you have to find forgiveness in your heart for your family because you never know what can happen. Regardless of what goes on, you still love them, and making amends is always worth it. And don't wait.Tomorrow is never promised. Freak accidents happen all the time. I know that sometimes, even when you may think you are doing the right thing, it is important to make concessions for your family. Don't let your pride rule your life and fool you into thinking that everybody is just going to come around to your thinking. Sometimes you have to be the one that takes that first step to recovering the balance in the relationship. That may mean passing up on something that you want, but in the end it is worth it if you get to keep your family. They are the ones that have always been there for you to pick up the pieces when things have gone wrong in your life, and even when you think they won't, they will forgive you. If you truly care for your loved ones you will not take them for granted. People come and go in your life all the time, but your family is a constant. Your parents make sacrifices for their children, and even when they don't show it, our actions affect them no matter how old we may get. I'm 23 years old and my mom will still tell me if I'm being a dumbass. But the difference between my 16 year old self, and now, is that I listen to that advice. And I listen hard. I may not always take it, but I don't take it for granted. I know that my mom loves me and only wants what is best for me. I also know that my mom has a lot more life experience than I do, and I would rather pay attention to her life lessons than disregard them because I am not foolish enough to think I know better. I may not always agree with my family and their opinions, but I respect them enough to use their advice when I am making important decisions in my life. And NOTHING is worth sacrficing my relationship with my family for anything that I think I may want at the time, or what I think I need. It is food for thought for those of you that have strain in your family life. Never think for a second that anything you might disagree about is grounds to abandon your relationship with your loved ones. They won't be around forever, so enjoy your lives together while you still can.

What To Expect When Expecting An Event

When one is getting ready to have a big event, such as a wedding, party, or shower, things can often become overwhelming when you are planning a lavish, large scale event. This is when you should consider the employ of an event planner. My friend, Kerri (Of Kerri Mullis Events-shameless promotion here) and I have decided to start a small business creating party favors, event invitations, ect, and during this creation and start-up we've been plagued with potiential clients who aren't aware of proper etiquette when dealing with a planner. Here is a list of DO's and DON'T's for this process.

1. First and foremost, please remember that a planner is not a cheap person to employ. The use of a planner is to give you the experience of a lifetime. They want to make your special day memorable, and provide it to you in a way that makes your life a thousand times easier so that you are able to enjoy the experience of your event without the added stress. These services come at a price, so it is important to know if your event budget will be able to accomodate this process. It is good to have a rough estimate of what you are able to spend before you seek a planner. A good margin to go by is to remember that most planners won't do something as big as a wedding for less than 3000 dollars. Don't get me wrong, there are cheaper planners out there, but they are very hard to find. Also remember that you get what you pay for. And know that these planners handle every detail for you so you are at peace of mind knowing you are in capable hands.

2. Don't waste a planner's time. If you request a consult, know that most planners will charge you for this. This is their way of weeding out the people who are trying to get free advice from the real potential clients who are actually interested in hiring a planner. Don't ask a planner a plethora of questions and advice without expecting to pay the price. Just think of it this way: You wouldn't ask Christian Dior how to make one of his gowns so you could make a knock off. It doesn't work that way. Many planners (like Kerri Mullis Events) will put the cost of the consult toward your cost of services if you choose to hire them.

3. Even if you are not interested, have the courtesey to respond to the planner. Planners are extremely busy people. They usually have multiple events going on at once, and they take the time out of their schedules to respond to your questions. If you ask a planner how much services are and you are not happy with the price, it is rude to just ignore them. You have to realize that they break down each service you need to come up with a personal estimate for you. If these services are out of your budget comfort zone, it is common courtesey to let them know this. You might be surprised by the response. More often than not, a planner will work with you to meet your needs and remain in the confines of your budgets. Planners are not computerized drones that do this work without thought, they are people that are dedicated to giving you the experience of your dreams and will work with you any way possible to make that happen.

4. Don't question a planner's motives. A planner's job is to please you. Understand that they are hired to make your fantasy a reality, not to be your punching bag. Planners are in this profession because they know what they are doing, so it is unacceptable to treat a planner like "the help" and respect them for the time they take to make you happy. They are qualified at their job and expect you to find comfort in knowing they won't let you down. Be good to your planner, and you can bet they will be wonderful to you.

Just remember these few rules, and your planning experience is sure to be delightful. And if you are looking for a planner to handle your special day you would be wise to contact Kerri at Kerri Mullis Events or check out Facebook page!

Tips For Toting Toddlers

I'm currently visiting my mom in Texas, and in just a couple days I will be making a flight out to Charlotte to visit some family. My plane route to get out there is a little crazy. And flying with a two year old just makes everything more complicated. I've traveled with my son many times by plane and I've figured out some wonderful ways to keep him amused while cruising at maximum altitude. Don't get me wrong, no matter what I give him, the plane ride will be a little stressful, what toddler wants to sit still for several hours? Here are a few tips I have learned to keep me, him, and the other passengers as sane as possible:

1. BOOKS BOOKS BOOKS. My son loves to sit and look at books, especially the touch and feel books. These can be found anywhere from Barnes and Noble to your local dollar store.
2. SNACKS AND JUICE. Nothing quiets a kid faster than their favorite snack and drink. My son shuts right up when I give him some gummy snacks and apple juice.
3. TALK IT OUT. My little boy is a very vocal child, and he enjoys having things he sees explained to him. Open the window at take-off and tell them what everything is/does.
4. WHEN ALL ELSE FAILS, MAKE SOME NOISE. You might think this one is a little insensitive to the passengers surrounding you and your little tike, but what you've got to realize is that airplanes are so very noisy. Once those engines get rolling, it is LOUD in there. If you are speaking at a normal level, aside from the person right next to you, nobody can hear what you are saying, as long as you aren't being exceptionally loud. This last one took me a while to feel comfortable with, but you finally get to the point where you just don't care. The other passengers (unless they are douche bags; See blog entry Crime and Punishment) they really don't mind your kid making some noise as long as they aren't being obnoxious about it. On just about every flight I have been on, I have been seated next to some grandparents that are itching for the company of little ones, so they have been happy to make silly faces and tell stories to my toddler to keep him entertained.
The main thing you have to remember when you are traveling with your kids, is to remain confident. Don't let them see you are stressed out that they are acting like they've lost their minds because they will hop on that like a hungry hyena. I once spent half of a flight curled on the bathroom floor of an airplane bathroom crying my eyes out because my son was freaking nuts. And he ate it up. He happily bounced on my lifeless frame giggling merrily because he was in control. As long as you can control your kids, don't let them see you sweat, and give them plenty of things to occupy their time, the flight won't be so bad. And the flight attendants usually give your kids free loot from their over priced menu too. So chin up buttercup, that six hour flight across the country will be cake. Xanex never hurt anybody did it ;)

Thinning The Herd

When you become a parent, everything about your life changes. I mean everything. Everything stops being about you and your children come first. You go to bed earlier than your grandma because you know you have to get up before the sun. You spend more nights at home with your family than you do out with your friends at a bar. Your wardrobe changes, your attitude changes, your perspective changes, and your friends aren't the same anymore. Or rather, you have changed too much in the eyes of your friends. Having children at a really young age is often tricky when it comes to your circle of compadres. You start to notice that they don't call you as much, you slowly stop receiving invitations to go out, and in some cases, they cease to be in your life at all. A friend of mine recently celebrated the life of his new baby boy. He stopped hanging around his friends as much because he had given up the lifestyle of partying all the time to stay at home with his fiance and their three kids. His friends pretty much rejected him and refused to come see his new addition. They were too focused on getting drunk and high and the couldn't understand why he didn't join in on the festivities. In my opinion, he made the right choice. As a father, he chose to be involved in the upbringing of his children, as he should have. The end result was his "friends" shunning him for it. I try to have empathy for the friends who don't have marriages or children because I know that it's hard, as an outsider, to try to understand that world, but what I don't understand is these people having a blatant disregard for parenthood and the responsibilities that come with it. To them, you give up your life when you have kids. To an extent, this is true, but that doesn't mean there is a ban on fun when you have children. Parents, especially young ones, still want to enjoy their youth. They want to have nights out without the kids, but not everynight every weekend. Just because a kid has come into the picture doesn't mean that person has given up their identity. It just means they have a new nametag to wear. When people ostracize their parent-friends, it's out of pure selfishness. There isn't an excuse to ditch the people you are close with just because you can't understand their decision to play an active role in their child's life. How would you have felt if your parents pawned you off to whoever would take you just so they could stay drunk with all their friends? You would feel shitty and unloved and you would resent your parents for it. You would think they didn't care about you enough to be involved in your life, you would feel unimportant and worthless. You think about that next time you shame your friends for picking their children over partying. Kids grow up so fast, and it's a truly remarkable thing to witness, especially when you are the one who created that life. It happens so quick that you don't even have time to process it all, and the next thing you know, your kids are in school and independent and grown up. These are years we can't get back with our kids. These are years that we want to cherish. You can't press rewind, you just have to make the most of it. And if that means weeding out the people in your life that can't deal with that, then it's for the best and they don't deserve to be a part of this experience with you. When I had my son, my husband had to go to training for the Marine Corps when our little boy was just two months old. And every single one of my friends who didn't have kids completely abandoned me because they couldn't fathom why I would rather spend a Friday night snuggled up with my little one instead of going out to the bar. It really hurt at first, but I realized that people are going to come and go in my life, but my son is going to be with me forever. Personally, that sounds a lot better than getting tanked with a bunch of "friends." Being a parent isn't easy and you have to make a lot of sacrifices, but you will never question if it was worth it when your child shows you love and gratitude for being there for them. It's the best feeling in the world and I would rather have that than a bunch of degenerate jerks for friends any day.

Another One Bites The Dust

Breaking news! Whitney Houston died! Wait, what? I thought she died like 10 years ago when she was so high on cocaine she couldn't remember her own name. I get it, she used to be this big shot singer. But that was a very long time ago. In the last decade(+) leading up to her death she was a drug riddled misfit that destroyed her vocal cords from the copious amounts of cocaine she abused. What I am trying to figure out is why she is getting so much publicity for this? SHE WAS AN ADDICT PEOPLE! She abused drugs, screwed up her career, and made a complete ass of herself. I get respecting the dead and all, but why is she being glorified? Nobody has given a shit about this woman in a very long time, and she has been the butt of many a blow joke so why does everybody care now? It's tacky when all the people who used to laugh at her expense are now her biggest mourners. She lived a druggie, and died in the same way. Why should she get so much attention for her demise when it was brought about by her own mistakes? I might have just a bit more compassion if she had made an honest attempt to get her shit together, but she didn't, and I don't think such stupidity should be glamourized. It's pathetic and shows just how ridiciulous and shallow people are. There are troops that die everyday in honor of their country, fighting for these idiots to continue living their lives in drug-induced states, and do you think they get the kind of respect and notorieity like Whitney and Amy Winehouse? That's a big hell no. People need to be more selective of their idols, because frankly, it's just pathetic that this woman, who put Charlie Sheen to shame with her drug use, is getting this kind of public attention, gets shown more gratitude in her death than the troops that were gunned down, or hit by IED's. Congrats, America, you have reduced yourselves to an all-time low. I so hope you are proud of yourselves.

A Prosti-Tot Epidemic

Can someone please tell me what happened to parents today that would prompt them to dress their daughters like midget hookers? I can't for the life of me fathom why grown ass adults would let their prepubescent daughters walk around with exposed ass cheeks and tube tops. What the frick happened to little dresses that covered undeveloped lady parts? Are you trying to pimp your kid out to earn some money for their college tuition, or what? I am absolutely appalled when I go to the mall on a Saturday and there are 10 year old girls walking around looking like a pack of brothel buddies. More and more frequently am I seeing the little girls section at Wal Mart turning into Baby Victoria's Secret. They are just asking for pedophiles to follow them around in their rape vans with FREE CANDY painted on the side. I want to bitch slap these parents who have daughters sashaying around in fishnets and shirts that say stupid stuff like "Sexy" or "/\ My Eyes Are Up Here." It makes me want to give my eyeballs a bleach bath. Please don't act like you're surprised when little Brittany is working the pole in a few years' time. I remember when I was younger, (just saying that sentence makes me feel old) and my mother not allowing me to leave the house if my little puppies were peaking out in the least. The worst part is, clothing designers are catering to this madness. Kudos to you for making prostiution rings in the middle east look like ring-around-the-rosie compared to some of the whore-happy get-ups you are parading you children around in. One of the big jobs of being a parent is protecting your child, and raising them to grow up as respectable adults. If it keeps going at this rate, the future of America is going to consist of nothing but strip clubs and dives even Heidi Fleiss wouldn't frequent. All these parents are doing is making their children easy prey and proper talent for Girls Gone Wild. Personally I think these god awful parents should be arrested for distributing child pornography because some of these outfits leave nothing to the imagination. And I don't want to hear the excuse that those are the only kinds of clothes out there for little girls anymore. I would be dressing my daughter in a burlap sack in a New York minute before I let her walk around in outfits that make Madonna blush. Janet Jackson's Super Bowl nip slip was more conservative than what most of the young female population is wearing today. All I'm saying is opt for t-shirts rather than halter tops before she becomes the next Glitter Tits at Twin Peaks because you are doing nothing but giving your daughter the idea that she is only as good as her ass looks in a Juicy sweat suit. I'm not a feminist by any means, but before your kid is being scouted for Playboy at the tender age of 12, you might want to rethink the sequined booty shorts, and let your kid make themselves known for their mind rather than their body. Teach her to have some respect for herself, if you don't, well don't kid yourself into thinking that anybody else will. I just hope you break through to her already serverly damaged psyche' before a porn producer does and she's stuck doing Debbie Does Dallas material.

The Bean-o Is Gone When The Ring Is On

Whoever planted the seed in men's heads that women don't fart, burp, sweat, or shit, you should personally thank yourself for contributing to this nation's steep divorce rate. It is almost comical, scratch that, incredibly hilarious, to watch a new relationship unfold. For some reason ladies seem to think men are dumb enough to believe that females are incapable of producing any kind of bodily function besides working the stove. They go through the trouble of eating like a bird, avoiding foods that make you gassy (so when you're getting down, you don't let one squeak out), and thanks to eating nothing but lettuce infused with air, your man is none the wiser when you tell him you don't poop. This goes on and on, and men just fuel that fire, because let's face it, they don't want to know that your colon is in full working order. And gents, this will continue to happen until you bring your little lady home from your honeymoon. That is when the real fun starts. Some little mechanism in a woman's brain clicks, and all of that shyness and secrecy just melts away. One day your husband comes home from work, and instead of a hot meal, he finds a feast from Taco Bell and a case of Bud Lite on that table. No big deal, he thinks. You sit down, eat, drink, and be some merry sons of bitches. About an hour after eating, there you are cuddled on the couch with your smitten husband, when those six bean burritos kick in and you rip a fart so loud it causes an avalanche in the Himalayas. By now your husband is thunder struck, that is until the smell hits him. You just giggle and name it Jounior and don't bat an eyelash while you're watching CSI. Fast forward to the two of you getting ready for bed. By now those beans are in full effect and you scamper off to pinch a loaf before you knock boots with hubby. And don't worry about a thing, you lost that shame when you said "I do!" so you just go right ahead and kick open that door, a girl needs ventilation after all. The icing on the cake is when you realize there is no toilet paper so you tell you husband ever so sweetly to bring you some, not bothering to tell him he's about to walk into a haz mat zone. Can you believe the nerve? When he was done retching he informed you that, no, your little mud angels do not smell like roses, and no, he does not want to see it. Congrats, you have officially ruined any ideals your husband had about you. And laughing about your flatulent symphony during sex did not help your situation. By now your husband has packed his bags and flew the coup so fast you can still smell the burning rubber in your driveway. This, ladies, is why I never sugar coated things when my husband and I were dating (I use that term lightly since, technically, we didn't go on our first date until the day after we got married.). When he started courting me, I was sure to inform him that I will swear like a sailor, eat like a trucker, and when nature calls, I answer with gusto. The physical acts of my bodily functions certainly didn't attract him, but my honesty about it did. He is completely okay that when I exert myself I sweat worse than a hooker in church, and I love him for that. And I have news for you finicky females out there, as long as you're not copping a squat in a public venue, it doesn't bother men one bit. In fact, it makes you seem a little bit more down to earth and they'll respect you for it. So step away from the bean-o, and let it fly.

From Dolce To Diapers

Ok so I never wore Dolce, but you would be amazed at the way your wadrobe changes when you have a kid. I went from wearing cute clothes, always having my hair and nails done, and meticulous make-up to t-shirts, yoga pants, messy buns, and a naked face. Unless you've got Super Nanny at your beck and call, you don't have time for that crap anymore. I'm lucky if I'm not wearing my shirt inside out. I once walked around a mall for two hours before realizing my pants were on backwards. I remember the days when I would flip out if I had a miniscule stain on my white shirt. It went from that, to purposely wearing white so you couldn't see the spit up so bad. If it's been a rough week, my system for checking for clean clothes is giving them a cursory sniff to make sure they don't smell like yesterday's dinner and deodorant. Being a parent means sometimes you just have to be gross. I remember going to lunch with a snobby former friend of mine right after I had my son. We went to a nice restaurant and I had tried my hardest to keep myself from looking like I hadn't just spent the last hour sleeping while standing up while my son took a nap. I even did my make-up, which is to say, I half-assed ran some mascara over my eyelashes and didn't even give it time to dry before I blinked. I was still wearing maternity jeans because my c-section the week before prohibited me from wearing normal pants and my black shirt had the ghost of baby vomit on it (I hadn't learned the white shirt trick yet). My friend was appalled upon first seeing me, but I told her to crank it out of her blow hole, I wasn't changing. We sit down to eat, so naturally my newborn wanted to as well. I got out my nifty little formula case and began preparing the bottle when the waitress knocked the container over, spilling the contents all over the table. It looked like a cocaine buffet in Cuba. I brought enough for two bottles and only about half of one remained in the little tub. So I scraped a little from the table, and was instantly reminded of a scene from some movie where some coked up whore was scouring the bathroom floor for some residue. Meanwhile, my son is screaming, or more accurately BAHHHH'ing like a baby billy goat, and my friend is looking at me like I've lost my mind. Then she asks me in her best impression of Ivanka Trump, "Are you really doing that, can't he just wait to eat until we get back home?" To which I replied, "Listen, Bess, the Chic-Fil-A calander shoot isn't going to be casting for any bovine talent anytime soon, so why don't you skip the meal as I'm sure your waistline won't mind, and take us home?" Well, needless to say, we aren't friends anymore. That happened alot over the course of the last two years. My single, childless friends just didn't understand how I could so easily give up Jack, Johnny, and Jim when they've been so good to me, to trade up for Pooh, Pampers, and Playskool. And they will never understand until they have a little bundle of joy of their own. It's a whole new world being a parent. I go to McDonald's for the play place now, and get two hours of sleep a night with enough bags under my eyes to stock pile a jumbo jet because of my kid and not a night of partying. I think I've worn heels a total of five times since I gave birth, and believe me, I didn't want to. I was concerned for myself at first, especially when I saw some new moms that still looked like they had just waltzed off the pages of a Hooters calendar, and their hair was perfectly coiffed and make up to the nines. But once I realized they either had a nanny, xanex, and/or a trip to the plastic surgeon, I didn't feel so bad about myself. It's gotten better the older my son has got. I have more than 30 seconds to get ready, but not much more. And not to sound cocky, but I can have a cute up-do, a nice outfit, and basic make-up in five minutes or less. Dominos don't have shit on me. I commend other parents, we all share the common enemy: sleeplessness. And I've come to realize I almost pity the ones that try to keep up with their kidless counterparts. All that time that you spend making yourself supermodel ready is time you could have spent with your child. I wouldn't trade this time with my son for a truck full of Coach bags. And nothing is better than having an excuse to wear yoga pants 24/7 ;)

Hi, My Name Is....

Raising a son and being a wife have been the best things to ever happen to me. I have gained monumentous responsibility, a little more wisdom about life, and a couple new titles. But those titles seem to be the only thing I am known for anymore. I know I'm not the only one with this problem. I know if you have kids and/or a husband you are going AMEN SISTER right about now. It's a part of life. I am to be known as Brody's mom and Beau's wife forever. But Amanda (that's me) is still in there too folks. And boy does she have a lot to say. I've always been what most people would refer to as a loud mouth. Not that I'm loud, but I don't let thoughts slosh around too long in the 'ol noggin before they come spilling out head over heels. The honest to god truth is though, I have lost myself a little bit in the madness of getting married (while I was three months pregnant, it wasn't a shotgun wedding so quiet your titters) and having a baby and my husband leaving and staying gone for the military and raising my son by myself. Hello, that's enough to give even the strongest of the estrogen community some gray hairs. I'm finally getting to the point where I have some sort of grasp on my own identity. It may feel like I lose grip and I'm free falling right back into nameless-hood, but the grip is getting stronger day by day. I sometimes think I am silly because even though my husband is gone A LOT, I still have one. He is my biggest cheerleader, if you can call an almost 200 pound brick shithouse a cheerleader, and he has supported me through everything and is so proud for all that I have accomplished at home while he's holding down the fort overseas. I say silly because I have plenty of friends who are single parents, and most of them have more than one kid and they rock it. I know they have their moments when it's just toooo much, but girlfriends got it goin on. I feel like I have it easy compared to a lot of the parents out there, and this realization is what gave me the extra little push to remind myself to take some ME time, and to remember my name without having to look at my driver's license for a prompt. That's why I started this blog. I use to be an avid writer in high school. I was always writing some new play or short story, and this lady always had something to say and I just stopped. This blog has become my second child. I'm building it a little bigger day by day, and each post I publish it's more liberating than a bra burning in the '60's. It is unbelievable to me how much I have realized about myself since I started writing again. It's like having an arm re-attached that I didn't know was missing until I tried to use it again. This has been about putting some things on the back burner for a little bit and letting my life go from a simmer to a full, rolling boil again. It's important to do that when you have bigger titles in your life like "mom" and "wife." If you don't recognize that there is a person in there that has bigger dreams than doing the dishes before it's time to change another diaper you start to forget who you were and what you wanted before you had kids. Things that shouldn't stop just because you are a parent. If you forget them, everything else will take over your life and you will be bitter and you will resent yourself and the people that share life with you. It might be something like this blog here, or a Friday night with just you, some margaritas, and the girls, but everybody needs that not-so-gentle kick in butt sometimes to get you going. This blog is my stepping stone into something bigger, and for that, I'm starting to say my own name a few more times a day than I did before. You know, the days that I can remember what it is anyway.

Uncle Sam Is My Pimp

Since the name of my blog has to do with me being a Marine wife, I figured I would actually do a post that involves being married to the military. The life of a Marine wife is absolutely nothing like I expected it to be. I went into this thinking that it was going to be a lot easier than what it turned out to be. My husband has been in for two years as of January 25th and it feels like it's been so much longer than that. The little picture I had in my head was pretty much a joke. I figured my husband would go to boot camp for three months and it would be a breeze. I thought I was going to die while he was gone. Then he graduated and he had ten days before he had to report to the next leg of training, which lasted a month. He didn't get any leave after his combat training and went directly into MOS school. That time period was a little bit easier to deal with. He had weekends off so we saw each other a couple times a month and we could actually talk on the phone as opposed to writing letters like we had been for four months. He graduated from MOS in August of 2010 and we found out we were being stationed in California, which was at the complete opposite side of the country we wanted to be on. I wasn't as bummed out about going because I was used to moving and I have become accustomed to living far from my realitves. We were under the impression that the military was going to pay for that move, but we were incorrect. So my son and I stayed behind in North Carolina while my husband checked into Camp Pendleton, California. He called me the day he checked in and gave me the news that every wife dreads hearing: he was going to Afghanistan for his first deployment. I was terrified, I didn't know what to expect. I knew virtually nothing about the war except that there seemed to be a new casuality every day. I elected to stay in NC for the duration of the deployment. I was so miserable. I was depressed, and it just seemed like I would never see my husband again. It was really hard on our marriage. We had just hit our first anniversary while he was in combat training. Most of our marriage has been spent apart because of him being in the Corps. Not to mention our son was only two months old when he shipped for boot camp. When he came home from deployment in May of 2011 he was a year and a half old. Once he got back, we finally packed our stuff and moved into our home at Camp Pendleton. Little did I know that he had already received orders to deploy again. I only had him for six months before he left. Between about seven months of training, and a seven month deployment, plus another seven month tour six months later, it just took it's toll on us. Our son is now two and my husband has missed the vast majority of his life because of it. He wasn't there for him learning to sit up on his own, or to crawl, his first steps, or his first real word. Not for him coming off the bottle, or for his first birthday. I can't stress to people just how hard it is to have this life. I know exactly two people in California besides my own family. I come home as often as I can. I hate to see girls who agree to get into relationships with military men. That's all they know. I was lucky to have been married to my husband beforehand so I could compare what was normal and what was a side effect of the Corps. It's so easy to let all the stress and drama consume you in this life. I absolutely can't stand women who leave servicemen while they are deployed, or because they face the prospect of deploying and chalk it up to being too hard. I may have been naive about alot of things when it came to the military in the beginning, but I wasn't ignorant enough to think it was going to be a cake walk. Ladies, first let me say, if you are trying to pursue a relationship with a man in uniform because you think it's glamourous and you want the benefits and money, you are not only a horrible person, but you are in for a rude awakening because you can get with a manager at McDonalds that makes better money than our troops here. Second, if you are going into a relationship with a guy who rocks those dog tags, you better get it in your head right now that he might as well have PROPERTY OF US GOVERNMENT tattooed on his forehead because the military comes first. Corps, Country, Family in that order and don't forget it. With that being said, it's not all bad. It had given us a pretty good life, and has allowed my husband to take care of his family. It comes with a price though, and that must never be forgotten. If you have any doubt in your head, no matter how small, that you couldn't deal with the constant lonliness, the gut wrenching fear of seeing that uniformed car pulling up to tell you some heart breaking news, or the strength and patience it takes to get through the deployments, reconnecting, and disconnecting, and the post traumatic stress, then you need to find someone else. Don't get me wrong, it took me a while to toughen my skin, but I never thought for a second that my husband wasn't worth it. You have to be prepared for anything. And you always need to remember that you are as much in the military as your man. You may not put on that uniform, but you give him the strength to. You carry that title proud. And when you feel like you have nobody in this world, you just remember that they're are millions of people in this life with you and they are as much a part of your family now as your mom, dad, brother, and sister. I have never been more proud of my husband than I am now, and even with the fear and worry, I wouldn't change a thing because we are so much stronger for it. This ain't Army Wives, everything doesn't always work out the way you want it, but such is life. I am a damn proud wife to a United States Marine, and to me, camis, boots, and high and tights are a way better super hero uniform to me than a stinkin cape and tights any day ;)

Charlie Hunnam And The Amazingly Wonderful Epidural

A few of my friends have had babies recently and it got me thinking back to when I gave birth to my little pride and joy. It was an interesting few days that we spent in the hospital and I'd like to share with you the hilarity and pure awesomeness of bringing my son into this world. Go back with me, if you will, to two years and some change ago:

My due date was suppose to be November 16th, 2009, which is my husband's birthday. Wonderful present for him huh? Good luck topping that gift! My mom had come to town to be there for the birth. And we had the rest of the family anxiously awaiting his arrival too. I was HUGE. I mean huge. Like I hadn't seen my feet in months, and I was pretty sure I forgot what they looked like.

See what I mean?? This was at exactly 40 weeks, on my due date. So anyway, my husband, mother, and myself all go to my 40 week appointment and are PRAYING that it was going to be good news and it was going to be baby time. They did that awful cervix check and guess what? Nothing. I was nowhere near ready to go. I thought I was going to cry. Actually, I'm pretty sure I did. I was just soooo tired of being pregnant. But never fear, super mom was there. She strong-armed the doctor into setting me up to be induced ASAP. I don't know if it was a moment of weakness, or if he was just terrified of my mom going postal on his ass, but he agreed and promptly came back in the room to ask if the following day worked for us. "Perfect," My mom purred. I love her. We went home and packed my bag and then went out for a birthday dinner for my husband. The next afternoon at 5PM we arrived at the hospital and they began the induction process by thinning my cervix, which took all night. They gave me a sleeping pill and I snored the night away. The next morning, November 18th, I was woken up bright and early to begin the next stage which was an IV of pitocen. I'm pretty sure that stuff was made by the devil, by the way. By about 10AM I was dialated enough for them to break my water. Single-handedly the nastiest feeling in the world. After that, the real fun began. Those contractions rocked my world. The were going off the charts and were not coming back down. And those breathing excercises you hear about? HA! I hated my husband and his little swimmers and everybody was the devil! I wasn't properly educated about the epidural, so I was under the impression it was a one-shot deal. I did not want that mess to wear off before the big reveal so they gave me a little demerol in my IV. I waited and then came the biggest contraction yet and I wanted to punch everybody in the kisser. FINALLY the nurse informed me that the epidural was an IV drip and all they had to do was refill the bag once it ran out. I looked at her and screamed, "Well what are you waiting for, bitch, hook me up NOW!!!!!" I've never seen a medical professional move so fast in my life. I was in so much pain I didn't even feel them stick that ungodly instrument into my spine. But my GOD was it heaven on earth once that bad boy was flowing. I was convinced I was the pretty princess on that planet Mars, ya'll, it was fantastic.

 

My husband popped in a DVD of my favorite show, Sons Of Anarchy, and it was like McDonald's son, I was LOVIN it! I was drooling over the lead, Charlie Hunnam, and in front of my inlaws, friends, and husband, I announced to them all that I would "fuck the shit out of that man if he looked my way." Yeah, I was that far gone, people. I had some complications a little while after that. My contractions (that I was sooo not feeling anymore) were coming harder than ever and they were constricting the umbilical cord. They put me on oxygen and lowered the pitocen and it helped for a bit. But not long after that, I developed a fever and things went nuts after that. Because my water had already broken there was no barrier to protect the baby so he was susseptible to the infection as well so they decided I was to have an emergency CSection. I was higher than Mt Kilanmanjaro but I knew that I was freaking the hell out. I was screaming at the nurse that she was not taking me anyway until my mom came back inside from a smoke break so she would know what was going on. They rushed my husband out of the room to get scrubbed up so he could be in the OR with me. And then they injected my IV with morphine. I thought I was on cloud 9 before, let me tell you buddy, I was looking down from the top of the universe now. They got me in the room and erected a tent over my belly faster than an Eagle Scout on crack and got to work cutting me open. Meanwhile I can't move my friggin head and a wave of nausea hits me like a bullet train. I tell the nurse I'm going to be sick and she skips away to add some anti-nasuea meds to my IV, meanwhile she's missed the show and I've already thrown up and I'm choking on it because I can turn my head to the side. She finally produces this tiiiiiny little bedpan and turns my head, and my god, it was like the exorcist. (I had green jello about 30 minutes before that, you do the math.) After that, I was back in la la land frolicking through the magical forest. In what seemed like no time, he was out. I heard his little whine and my heart melted. Even through the morphine-induced trip to magic mountain, his little cry broke through and I was in love. I was bawling, and my husband was running back and forth between me and the nurses that were cleaning my little bundle of joy off, just snapping pictures and showing me as quick as he could. I was getting so impatient, I just wanted to see him, but that stupid tent (I was laughing about this, saying it was my son's first camping trip.) was preventing me from seeing him. FINALLY the nurse brings him over to me and lays him down on my dead arm and wheeled me into my recovery room. Oh it was fantastic. I was so excited. The family filed in soon after and came to greet our little King. It's been happily ever after ever since :)

I can't remember what life was like before I became a mom. I couldn't be happier! Thanks for listening about the best day of my life :) And be totally jealous because he's a lady killer, ya'll.

The Running Of The Bullies

As we all know bullying is bad, m'kay. But I'm not referring the kind of bullying that has the media going stir crazy these days, I'm talking about bullying amongst the younger generation. I took my kid to McDonalds today so he could wear his little self out on the playground. At first he had the place to himself (we're not crazy enough to take him during the lunch rush), then this family came in and this little boy of about 5 or 6 started playing with Brody, my son. Now bear in mind, my son is very social, and he is used to playing with kids older than he is. His youngest cousin is getting ready to turn 5 so it's not like he isn't accustomed to playing with other children that size. No sooner had they climbed the stairs to the jungle gym do I hear this kid start to yell at my son. Now my kid doesn't just scream for the hell of it. He's not soft, as a matter of fact, he's quite the little tough guy. So I knew this kid was doing something he really shouldn't have been. I honestly would have been okay with the situation if his parents would have stopped him, but they didn't. They just sat there and let it happen. My son and the little boy went deeper into the little tunnel and got to a viewing area where I could finally see them and I about lost it. That kid was dragging my son by his foot through the tunnel laughing like some deranged lunatic. And the more my son screamed STOP the harder the kid laughed. I saw red. Folks, this is not good. I was furious. My mom saw this and she finally coaxed my son into coming down, while steadily yelling at the pint sized prick to leave my son alone. We made Brody sit with us for a while, and when the kid went back to his table, we allowed Brody to play on the little tiny slide that is made for the kids who can't even walk yet. And what does the little terror of a child do? He gets in my son's face AGAIN. He is in plain view this time tormenting my son, and his parents didn't move an inch. I could see my son getting really worked up and it got to the point where he was squaring off with this kid getting ready to deliver him a healthy knuckle sandwich, and these neglectful parents had still not done anything. We grabbed my son and took our leave. I was so angry that that child's parents let that go on, without lifting a finger, or making a protest to stop it from happening. How can someone do that? I understand not wanting to give your kid a spanking in public, but I got news for you: you look like a worse parent for sitting there doing nothing. Those are the kind of children that grow up to be the sort of bullies you hear about on the news. When these stories air, the parents of the bully try to get the sympathy vote saying they don't know where they went wrong, they don't see how their child could push someone so hard. Well hello! It starts early! You letting your children push other kids around on the playground is where it all starts! You have to educate kids at a young age about the difference between right and wrong. If not, they are going to turn out to be sorry pieces of crap that get their jollies messing with people who are smaller or different from them. The parents of these kids need to put on their grown-up panties and educate their children. If you can't do that, you are not worthy of even being a parent, and the blame for the future hate crimes your kid commits will be on your sorry shoulders.

That's Not Chocolate

If you are a parent or have young siblings say it with me: Children. Are. Disguisting. I'm not referring to the constant stream of drool they seem to produce, or even the dreaded diaper bombs. No, I'm talking about the seriously nasty stuff. My kid is one of the worst offenders. He has been guilty of dropping food onto a dog hair covered floor and picking it up and eating it. If he finds random french fries that have been sitting in his car seat for god knows how long, he will eat them. And today took the cake. We went to the movies today and I bought him buncha crunch. We came home and I was reading a book and didn't pay attention to what was going on when my son comes up to me and says really sweetly, "Here you go mommy." And he held out his hand and dropped something round and brown in my palm. Upon first glance it appeared to be a buncha crunch and I figured he had picked it up off the floor, but after further inspection, I realized he had just handed me a fun-sized version of Mr. Hanky. For those of you that don't watch South Park, it was shit. That's right, my child dug into his freshly made load and procured a turd just for mommy. I guess it was his creative way of telling me he needed a fresh diaper. I am just amazed that children have the capacity to be so dang gross. Like off the charts gross. I know that toddlers don't really grasp that what they're doing is nasty exactly, but sometimes I think in the back of my head they know exactly what they are doing and they find new ways to up the ante on the vomit inducer scale. I'm pretty sure I saw that tell-tale meschevious glint in his eye when he handed me his scavenged turd. Not that he would tell me. He's too busy acquainting his finger with his nose.

Babies Aren't Martinis...You Can't Shake Them

If you are reading this, and you're a parent, first let me say: you have my full sympathy. Second: Isn't parenting just grand? There are so many things I love about being a mom. I enjoy having a constant companion. (Most of the time. Except when you want to have whoopee with your man and your kids uncanny radar prevents that.) I love knowing that no matter what may happen in my marriage, I will always have one man in my life that will always love me. There is no better (or scarier) feeling in the world than being responsible for someone besides yourself. It's a very humbling experience being a parent. With that being said, it's not an easy road. At all. As I said, you are responsible for another human being. That means raising them and giving them the best guidance you can to make them ready to enter society functioning independently. That's a friggin terrifying feeling. Along this road to adult hood that you are taking your child on, you hit so many bumps. Or pot holes. Or you fall into man holes that were not properly labeled. My son is two and it seems like once he hit that age he lost his fucking mind. People are not kidding when they call it "terrible twos" because that shit is NO JOKE. It doesn't matter if you are like me, a first time mom, or like the Duggars and have 19 of those mothers running around, nothing can prepare you for the psychotic episode known as the second year. My son has proven that to me time and time again recently. It began innocently enough. Just the occasional tantrum in Wal-Mart. A little mayhem here and there. I was once cocky enough to believe that that was as bad as it was going to get. Rest assured my kid gave me a healthy dose of bone crushing reality and I will live in fear for the next year. At least. The main thing to remember when your child is having a full blown melt down that would put Courtney Love to shame is this: Walk. Away. Sound simple enough? It's not. You are angry that your kid just put batteries in the toaster, made artwork of your rental agreement, and smeared what appears to be shit on their bedroom wall, and this was all before 9AM. You are stuck. You have no idea where to go to from here. You finally have that ephiany that you understand why those horrible parents shake their children and you give them an ounce of sympathy. You don't do that of course. But you're so angry you can spit molten lava and spank your kid until they have a tattoo impression of your hand on their ass. And they've spent so much time in timeout that they're beginning to request conjugal visits. Like I said, the best thing you can do is to walk away. Leave them where they are standing, you know, once you've peeled them off the bookshelf they were trying to fly from, and just walk into the other room. Take some deep breaths. Let that blood pressure come down a few hundred notches, and go back in the snake pit to face your little cobra. I struggled doing this for a long time. I used to get so angry at my son and I just didn't know what to do. I would get so worked up that by the end of the day I would be curled in the fetal position on the living room floor mumbling to the voices in my head with an IV drip of sangria going on. Don't let it get to this point. You might feel guilty for leaving them there, but at least you won't be feeling guilty from a prison cell for shaking your kid harder than granny with parkinsons on boggle night. The fact of the matter is, the more you show how angry you are in front of your kids, the more power they feel over you. Being a toddler is all about pushing boundaries and seeing how far you will let them go before you tear them a new ass hole that could give the grand canyon a run for its money. As long as you keep a firm, but loving approach to discipline, you'll survive. They grow out of the stage eventually. You might come out of it with a few more gray hairs than what you started with, but at least you'll know that your kid is going to respect you for it. And you'll avoid being someone's prison bitch. Just keep that in mind. Well, if you'll excuse me, I've got to go wash food coloring out of the dog's hair. Wish me luck.

The Diaper Rodeo And Other Toddler Adventures

I am often asked, "What is the hardest part of parenting?" You would expect me to answer with something like, the long sleepless nights, or perhaps hemorraging money. No. The hardest part of being a parent is getting my child to calmly change his diaper and put on his clothes and shoes...and keep them on. My kid is a nudist, I'm sure I'm not the only one who has this problem. I dread going out in public with him. I sweat with frustration just thinking about it. This is a typical day of trying to get my son public-ready:
I try to covertly grab a diaper. (If he sees me doing this, he takes off, and I'll be damned if I can catch him.) Once the diaper is secure, I take him to the living room where his clothes are waiting. At this point I can't avoid it and he sees these things and knows it's time to become a pint sized bucking bronco. Was that a malicious glint I saw in his eye just now? For sure. I lay him down on the floor and ready the new diaper. This is when the kicking starts. I'm dodging feet and trying to keep his ass planted on the floor so he's not walking around with a crooked diaper. Sweat is pouring down my face and the end doesn't seem to be anywhere in sight. Finally the new diaper is secure and I throw my hands in the air victoriously looking around to see if anybody saw this accomplishment, greedily asking "What's my time?" This is short lived because now it's time to get his clothes on. It never fails I put both legs in one hole and have to start all over. Meanwhile he is just kicking and thrashing and laughing as manically as ever. I'm glad he's having fun. Pants are on. Socks are a breeze. Shirt over the head. Now for the shoes. Putting shoes on a toddler is like putting shoes on a comatose patient. They offer no help and of course, the damn things don't won't to go on without the back of the shoe folding inside when you are finally lucky enough to get the shoe on his foot. But eventually it happens. And then it's time for me to chage my clothes because I have sweat through mine worse than a menopausal woman in Mexico in the middle of July with no air conditioning. I'm changed in two seconds flat only to come back out and find my kid wearing nothing but a diaper and his shoes. Where is the rodeo clown when I need one?

Television And McDonalds Ruined America's Youth But Saved My Sanity

Today everybody is obsessed with educational games and learning tools for kids and pushing unprocessed, all natural organic food on them. America is dumb and obese, let's change the world blah blah blah. Let me tell you something, I don't have a picky child, but he is just like any other kid, he loves chicken. I don't always have time to cook and I will be damned if I'm going to pay 10 dollars for a bag of organic chicken nuggets at the grocery store. I got news for you buddy, there is no such thing as a nugget on a chicken so I'll go on about my merry way feeding my son the occasional McNugget when he is screaming for some damn chicken. You got a problem with that? Suck it. And as far as TV goes, I will shoot myself if I hear any more Little Einsteins. I am perfectly content letting my child watch The Simpsons, Rugrats, and Ahhh! Real Monsters like I used to watch as a child. It hasn't inhibited his ability to learn one little bit. He's two years old and can count to 20 and say his ABC's like a friggin champ. He knows colors and shapes and all that jazz. I am so sick of the media and all these community college certified researchers telling me how to raise my kid. As long as you aren't educating your child with the Charles Manson educational plan, you're golden. Now if you'll excuse me The Simpsons are on and these nuggets aren't going to eat themselves.

Children Of The Corn...In 3D

Thanks to today's horror movies, alot of seemingly normal things children do, are super duper creepy now. My son does creepy stuff on the daily basis and in my head I can't help but think, jesus is my kid a medium or something. These are just a few examples of some of the creeptacular things my son does on a daily basis:

1. The Whisper- This one has to spook me out the most. I've always found it disturbing when children whisper. They have such sing-song-y voices and that paired with the low octave of the whisper makes it uber weird. I always think of the children singing in Freddy Kruger movies "One, two, Freddy's coming for you...."

2. Random Talking- I can't stand when Brody mumbles to himself. He will have conversations, and include pauses as if some unseen person is talking back. I hope to god that's not the case.

3. The Stare- This makes me shudder. He gets this completely blank look on his face and stares off into dead air. Not moving. Not blinking. Not reacting. Just staring. And staring. And he will keep doing it until I make some kind of commotion to get his attention. He's two, he doesn't have a lot of need to stand still. Makes me wonder what he's looking at.

I may very well be overracting, but I spend alot of time alone with just me and him and I have grown to be utterly freaked out when he does this kind of stuff. Thanks, Paranormal Activity, you have done wonders for my psyche.

Crime And Punishment

So I am a mother to a two year old, and I fully sympathize with other mothers who have children who have their moments of insanity in public places, so naturally I expect other parents to give me the same sympathy, and if not, empathy. There is only so much you can do to contain a young child when they have seemingly lost their mind. It just pisses me the hell off when that is not the case and people get snotty and judgemental about it. For example: Obviously, I am a military wife. I live clear across the country from my family, so when we visit, we fly. I know everybody, (myself included, before children), has had that moment when you cringe at the thought of a kid on a plane. I was terrified the first time I flew with Brody, my son. He was only three months old on that trip. It was nothing like I expected. He slept the entire flight and every person I passed getting off the plane told me that he was just so good. I was pumped. Then we flew again when Brody was older. It wasn't as easy, but still, not as bad as I expected. Now he's two, and I have the mentality that basically if you have a problem with the way my kid is acting on this plane, blow it out of your ass. He's two, he doesn't want to sit still, and neither would you at that age. Well I just took another cross-country plane ride with Brody. This was the first time he was flying in his own seat instead of my lap. I was very excited because he would be in his car-seat all strapped in and I would be able to read a book instead of leaving the plane with sore arms from trying to contain him for six hours. This particular flight flew from California to Dallas, then from Dallas to Orlando. The trip to Dallas was horrifying. I have never seen my kid show his ass so bad. I was embarassed, tired, but grateful because the man's seat he chose to kick the entire time was so sympathic with me and didn't complain one little bit. The trip from Dallas to Orlando was a different story entirely. I sat in the middle behind a Soldier, and Brody sat behind the world's douchiest dirt bag. The guy gets on the plane and Brody kicked his seat ONE time (by accident, it wasn't even a full on kick, just stretching his legs) and this dumbass starts huffing and puffing like he's some guido version of the Big Bad Wolf. He turns around and glares at me and I apologetically say, "I apologize in advance, I'll do what I can to keep him from kicking your seat." The jerk off turns back around and starts mumbling to himself and I caught "fuck this" before he finally shut up. The soldier next to him looks at him with disguist and tells him, "Man the fuck up dude, he's a baby." I don't hear another peep out of the self-tanning bandit. Meanwhile, in the few minutes this has all taken place, Brody has fallen fast asleep and stays that way the entire flight. I was sad, really, I had hoped he would kick the shit out of that man's seat, because I sure as hell wouldn't have done anything to stop it. So we land, and we're waiting to get off the plane and the guy stands up and goes, "Well at least it wasn't as bad as I thought." I wanted to murder him, but instead I said, "It's just a damn shame he couldn't have beat the shit out of your seat the whole flight like I was hoping for." He didn't respond, but proceeded to hurry off the plane as fast as his juiced up orange legs would take him. I thanked the soldier and he thanked me for doing a good job with my son. I wish more people were like him. Back to my original point, what is it that people really want us to do with our children when they act like that in public? Beat the hell out of them? Ignore it? Use psychic super mom powers to get them to shut up, because mine have not come in the mail yet. We are in a predicament as parents because we are under constant scruitny about how we discipline our children. Heaven forbid you smack your kid on the ass, no matter how light, because sure enough the first time you do that in public someone yells child abuse. So I beg of you judgemental ass holes, before you decide to give me the stink eye for my screaming child, how about you give me a healthy alternative for ending the madness. If not, then take that shit somewhere else because I don't have time for it, I have a screaming kid here, dontcha see? ;)

If You Eat On The Toilet, You're Feeding The Devil

The title of this post is something my grandmother used to say to me when I was a kid. Silly, right? She just passed away on New Year's Day and since then I've been hearing things she used to tell me in my head. I didn't have a wonderful realtionship with her because I never saw her. She was onery and mean, but she was my grandma. She suffered from an array of different illnesses, most of which would have killed a normal person within a year, but held on strong for many years. I saw her for the first time in about six years when my son and myself took a trip to Florida for Christmas to spend with my family. She struggled with dementia and altzheimers for a long time and it finally reached a breaking point and she couldn't remember anybody around her. She got to meet my son for the first time and I was so grateful for that. My other grandmother passed away before she got that opportunity. Her seeing my son was the happiest anybody had seen her in a really long time. She didn't really know who he was but she just loved her grandbabies. We got the call right after the ball dropped on New Year's Eve, which was my birthday. I sat around the whole day just waiting on the news to come that she had passed. My Aunt had phoned earlier that morning with news that the doctor said she wouldn't make it through the night. My grandma waited until it wasn't my birthay anymore before she passed and I was so grateful for that. Since then I've been thinking about when I was little and some of the things she said to me back then and I can't help but laugh. I wasn't more than four or five when I was eating a sandwich at her house and had to go to the bathroom. I didn't want to stop eating my food so I just continued eating it on the toilet and my grandmother comes running in there to grab my sandwich screaming IF YOU EAT ON THE TOILET YOU'RE FEEDING THE DEVIL! YOU DON'T WANT TO FEED THAT SON OF A BITCH! Point taken and since then I haven't consumed anything sitting on a toilet. I also remember her getting into epic battles with my grandpa because he would let me eat plain ice. She was so worried about my teeth falling out, not even to remember the fact that those teeth were going to fall out anyway. She would just cringe when she heard me chewing on ice. She would call me fat all the time, and by god on her deathbed she had a moment of clairity and she sure enough called me fat, and sadly, that was comforting because I knew she knew who I was. I feel bad that I didn't have much of a relationship with her, partly because of our family moving so much, and partly because of the jagged relationship she had with my own mother. But I am glad that she isn't in pain anymore. My mother's boyfriend told my mom in between her tears that today is the first day in a decade that my grandmother is not in pain. He's right and her passing was for the better to put an end to her long time suffering. I almost took my glass of water in the bathroom with my this morning just to see if I could hear her voice telling me not to feed the devil.