A Letter To My Little M

From the moment you were conceived I knew that you were going to be an itty bitty ball of fury.

First of all I gained more weight with you in the first few months then I did the entire pregnancy with your brother…hell I don’t think I even had to buy maternity clothes until my 9th month with him. ¬†But not you….nooooo you were determined to try and stretch out my hips, although they never did so instead the weight went right to my ass which wasn’t really a bad thing considering I have always needed a little more junk in my trunk.

At 19 weeks I finally was able to get your daddy to come to the doctor with me, it was his birthday, and I could see the look of excitement on his face. (or maybe it was that look of fear that he suddenly realized that you were a girl and he had no clue what to do with little girls. ¬†We settled into the exam room and they unleashed that freezing gel on my belly and began the ultrasound. ¬†Your daddy and I smiled at each other while he held my hand. ¬†The ultrasound tech looked very serious about something on her screen. ¬†We asked her “Is something wrong?’ ¬†She didn’t reply but asked if we had received an amniocentesis. ¬†With our first pregnancy we were told that the odds of having a miscarriage after having said procedure were higher then something being wrong with the baby and basically was adamant about not getting it done….so we didn’t…and B came out perfect as could be. ¬†Therefore once again we had decided to take that same route. ¬†I mean who wants to make decisions whether to abort you because you may have defects or may not live long after the birth when I have already heard your heartbeat and bought your first outfit and given you a NAME!!! ¬†I am sure to each there own but for me this was a no brainer….I already loved you…I wanted you to be a part of this crazy chaotic family who would love you no matter what.

The ultrasound tech left the room and we waited for what seemed like hours.  My stomach wrapped in knots not knowing a thing about what was going on.  Your daddy however was cool as a cucumber, just irritated that the doctor was making us wait so long.  In comes the doctor and he tells us that in the ultrasound they found chlorid plexus cysts on both sides of your brain.   Everything of my being drained out of me that moment.  I could see the doctors lips moving but all I could hear was silence.

When reality finally came back into focus he explained to me that this condition was a marker for trisomy 18…I had read about it in my baby books and it wasn’t good. ¬†The good news was that this was the only marker they had found and that these types of cysts were very common and usually go away by themselves around 30 weeks. ¬†He told us not to worry which was like telling the pope not to pray. ¬†He told us not to go looking everything up on the internet which of course I did as soon as we left the building. ¬†And continued to do so for the next several days.

I found good and bad information…I found support groups…pictures…everything that was so overwhelming to me. ¬†I cried to myself. ¬†Your daddy was the strong one telling me to just stay positive because everything would be ok. ¬†In my heart I believed him but in my mind…I just couldn’t shut it down. ¬†We decided together that we wouldn’t tell any family because why worry them too. ¬†So we waited….and waited…at each ultrasound they would measure the cysts and tell us that they were getting smaller or they had remained the same. ¬†One of them had finally disappeared around week 30 and I felt a wave of relief for the first time in 11 weeks until I remembered that the bigger one (still quite large in size) still remained.

Finally, on my 34 week ultrasound, they informed me that the cyst had completely gone away. ¬†Happy, relief, grateful, overjoyed….there wasn’t a word to describe my feelings in that moment. ¬†And now I only had to wait to meet you. Your coming into the world was no easy task either. ¬†First the doctor who delivered you decided he wanted to go on a vacation when he was supposed to deliver you by c-section. ¬†And you of course stayed bundled in there until he came back and was ready to deliver you. ¬†Then here you were for me to lay my eyes upon.

Your daddy and I were so happy to see you but you had problems breathing due to swallowing some fluid on your way out so off to the NICU you went.  Luckily for me I was still in and out of consciousness from the aftermath of drugs but your poor daddy had to witness every poking and prodding of your tiny little arms as they tried to look for your veins to place the IV into.  I had never seen him so upset.

When I was finally coherent I was able to visit you in the NICU. ¬†There were so many tiny babies in there. ¬†Such a mixture of sadness and joy all stirring through the walls of this place. ¬†Parents so happy to meet their little ones but watching them take every little breath through a machine. ¬†Then there was 9 pound 7 ounce …YOU. ¬† Imagine the looks I got from people when I am in the NICU with an over¬†normal sized baby. ¬†It was hard seeing you laying there with all these tubes running in and out of you and listening to the little wheezing noise you were making. ¬†I managed to make my way around the tubes and wires to hold you in my arms for the first time.

You were mine…you were perfect…and no one could have told me otherwise. ¬†You were there three days and I too stayed in the hospital even though my doctor had discharged me long before that. I wanted to be where you were…or as close as I could be.

Three months after you were born you had to have surgery to remove a skin tag on your ear. ¬†The doctors said it was a common thing and of course not to worry. ¬†But of course I had to research it on the internet. ¬† Your daddy was away for work so it was brother B and I to get you to the hospital. ¬†I had thought about just leaving it but then one day while visiting a friend and her children asked what that was on your ear and I knew then that it needed to be removed. ¬†The world is cruel and although I know you are going to be strong I decided you wouldn’t even remember having it and I wouldn’t have to beat someone up for making fun of your “extra” skin.

Now you are a healthy (and usually happy) 3 year old. ¬†You find every way to push the envelope with me and I see more and more of myself in you everyday. You are growing so fast…please slow down…cause I just know that I am not ready for the “teenage” years with you.

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Sick Of Being Sick

It’s that time of year when the “crud” starts making it’s way through my house on a regular basis. ¬† Usually begins with the teenagers (who I am quite certain never wash their hands at school) bring it into the house and expose all of us to it. ¬†First it’s the little ones who get it. ¬†Starts with one and by the next couple of days all 3 have it.

Now usually I am too busy to even notice whether or not I have the sniffles.  Too busy opening numerous boxes of tissue and spraying everything that contains a surface, with germ killer.


I am a germ-o-phobe to begin with but mix it with any common cold “cooties” and I am in overdrive. ¬†And no matter how long I have been a mom the look of snot running down my kids faces grosses me the f@*k out!!! ¬†And I mean more then poop or puke in any form. ¬†And believe me I have seen lots of forms of poop.

Nothing like moving along throughout your day and then BOOM!!!  The sickness comes on like a ton of bricks and you are down for the count.


Usually one calls in sick when feeling this way but as a mother of 3 toddlers and a wife of a hard working husband there is no calling in sick for me.  (Wonder if calling in dead is an option)


Joyful Mother???

Joyful Mother

As a mother I always question myself whether or not I am doing a good enough job?  Could I be doing more? Am I hovering over them too much? Am I raising them to be good people and make good choices?  Truth is being a mom has been the hardest but most rewarding job that I have ever endured.  A very common phrase used by many mothers.

I have a sign that hangs in the hallway to my toddlers bedrooms which reads “be a joyful mother of children”. ¬†I bought it when I was pregnant with my first because I loved the statement. ¬†And everyday I read it and remind myself all the reasons that these little beings, with a mix of me and their father in them, bring such joy to my life.

But what about the days that I don’t feel so joyful. ¬†Do they notice? Are they aware that mommy just isn’t feeling up to par today because it seems to me that sometimes they like to see just how far they can test my patience. ¬†Even at such a young age they know how to strategize with each other to see just what they can and cannot get away with. ¬†On these particular days I try to remember the little things that are of big importance.

Their laughter

I love to hear my children laugh, especially at the simplest of events.  I am the outsider watching them in their little world of wonder.  The communication between them that only they understand.

Their innocence¬†Their minds haven’t been corrupted by the ways of the world yet. ¬†Their only disappointment is that the fruit snacks have ran out and mommy isn’t running to the store to get more.

Their youth Oh to be young and have no major responsibilities.  The plans of the day are to eat, play, and sleep.  Your role of the day is maybe helping mom fold some laundry or picking up the toys.

Their minds The little wheel is constantly turning.  Little sponges, gathering as much information as they can comprehend.

Their health¬†Not only that they are healthy but that they have so much energy. ¬†The kind of energy I would like to bottle up and use when needed because at my age that kind of energy doesn’t come along without a massive dose of caffeine or B vitamins.

Being a “joyful” mother might have different meanings to different mothers. ¬†But for me it’s just finding the moments that remind me why I decided to become a mother in the first place.

Joyful Mother (most of the time),

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Mommy Has Left The Building

I am sure that any mother can relate to the constant use of the word “mommy” “mom” “ma” “mother”and “mama” ¬†in which our children like to use over and over and over again…

I remember when my first baby was born and I could not wait to hear that word. ¬†From the time he started babbling I started tying to get him to say mama…of course he said dada first…but patiently I waited and finally one day that life changing word braised across my ears…”mama”

Now it’s years later… and 3 toddlers and the use of that word have become as common in this household as the air in which we breath. ¬† And quite frankly has lost it’s lusteur. ¬†If there is one thing my kids are consistent at it is the use of that word. ¬†Sometimes to the point that makes me want to run to the very back of my closet and hide…only they would still find me there or call out the word until finally I had no other choice but to answer them.


I have tried, on many occasions, to tune then out with no avail…ignoring them has yet to work either because they just become little monuments of loudness and the sound literally pierces my eardrums. (And I used to be the lead singer of a punk rock band in which my eardrums withstood nightly beats of loud music) But nothing compares to the screeching sound of a child screaming out “MOMMY” when they think mommy isn’t paying attention. ¬†As I sit here in this very moment writing this blog and trying to concentrate I have been interrupted so many times that I have lost all hope of finishing a thought let alone this blog entry.

To only add to the madness my 3 year old prefers to call me just “mom” which wouldn’t be a problem other then the fact she sounds like a 13 year old referring to her mother instead of the sweet innocence of a 3 year old saying it. ¬†Did I just put sweet innocence and 3 year old in the same sentence?

Now you might be one of those mothers or fathers or however you refer to yourself to a child, that thinks the sounds of little ones voices are like magic tones of colors bouncing off rainbows and well good for you…I am a mother who rarely hears the sounds of silence in my crazy house of 7 people. ¬†Sometimes, when on trips to the local grocery store by myself I don’t even turn on the radio because these days those short trips in the car are about the only sounds of silence this mommy gets to enjoy.

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And then the fun began...

Exploding Diapers

I am on my third child to be potty trained and may I also add to that the fact that I have been changing diapers for 5 years straight…yes you read that right 5 years and 3 toddlers later I am finally seeing the light at the end of the large trail of diapers. ¬†I have seen explosive, poop up the back and down the leg diapers. ¬†I have seen diapers so soaked that they have then soiled through to the bottom half of clothing in a matter of literally a one hour car ride. ¬†I have dealt with diaper rashes, 3 boxes of 3 different sized diapers, many trips to Costco and the late night emergency runs to the local drug store because one of the 3 over sized boxes had some how mysteriously ran out without anyone noticing. ¬†I have changed diapers in the mini van (which could someone please tell me why they have not come up with a pop up changing table in mini vans?) in 115 degree weather bent over and sweating like I have just run a 5K. ¬†I have even changed a diaper while my child had to lay on the ground because there was nothing for me to lay her on due to the fact that we were at an amusement park at closing time.


This is me in so said amusement park during operating family bathroom hours. ¬†Yes my husband and I might have been a bit crazy to take 3 babies in diapers to an amusement park but what the hell? ¬†Our teenage sons had fun. ¬†And luckily for them they were racing around trying to get every possible last ride in while my husband and I were sitting at our last buffet styled extravaganza hoping to just put an end to a very crazy day that we had already had….but wait….our adventures weren’t quite over because my (one year old at the time) had just decided to crap while sitting in a high chair “luckily” at a table outside. ¬†And when I say crap I don’t mean JUST a shitty diaper…we are talking the kind of shit that makes any person within a 100 foot radius run for the hills…IT WAS EVERYWHERE!!! ¬†Had she of possibly made a noise while she was taking said crap I might have been able to catch it before it was too late but nope it wasn’t until the over powering smell finally made contact to my nose that I knew what was happening and by then it was just too late. ¬†As I looked at my husband in utter disbelief I kept hoping that maybe it was just a really bad case of gas…but then…I reached over…pulled the shirt up and the diaper back…only I didn’t even get to the diaper part because the shit had literally traveled EVERYWHERE!!! It was even layered upon the high chair. ¬†The first thought that came to mind was “WHERE IS THE NEAREST HOSE”!!! ¬†Now let’s rewind to the fact that she had already soiled through every piece of clothing that we had packed in her diaper bag that morning therefore there was nothing left but diapers. ¬†And then came the fact that we had to use every wipey left in the bag. ¬†Now we were down to scavenging for every last napkin left on any table within our reach…then it was frantically looking for ANYTHING that could possibly clean this catastrophic shit up!!! ¬†We couldn’t lay her on the table because I was so afraid of the table not being sanitized before the next day of families ate there therefore the ground on that little tiny piece of changing cloth that they put in diaper bags (why is that?) was our only option. ¬†After trying to sanitize the high chair with hand sanitizer and napkins we gathered up our belongings and raced out of their as fast as we could carry ourselves, 3 babies, and all of our gear. ¬†The boys of course somehow caught up with us just in time of it all being over.

The best thing I can say about that day and that moment is that my husband and I came together and worked as a team and later laughed about it like crazy. ¬†And still to this day it is a story that will live on in this family for years to come…sorry my dear Mazel.

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Be A Parent Not A friend

We as parents have all heard this term used many times yet I still read daily social media and find that parents aren’t listening to the true meaning behind this phrase. ¬†I hear the cries of “My children don’t respect me” and “My kids are so ungrateful”…well why do you think that is? ¬†You are the parent who is raising these kids to walk all over you therefore you have the power to change them!!! ¬†You are a parent and not a friend means just that…stop worrying about whether or not your kids are going to hate you because at some point in their lives they are going to and that is when you know you have done your job right. ¬†I am not saying that you need to be Hitler at raising your children but simply that if you feel like you need to put your foot down, then you probably do.

Let’s talk about chores for instance. ¬†A child at the time they can walk can start out doing chores such as putting their toys away. ¬†Gradually as they develop and grow you can give them more responsibility. ¬†Don’t think that because you are the parent that you have to wait on them hand and foot. ¬†Doing so only turns kids into loathing 25 year olds still living at home with mommy and daddy because anything less would be….well just that…less. ¬†Work ethic to them is succeeding at the latest level of their current video game addiction or how many followers they have on the latest social media network.


I often wonder about the parents who just simply “check out” of their kids “checking in” to the real world, ¬†like it is some sort of inconvenience to raise what they have brought into this world. ¬†Letting them do what they want, just because it seems easier is not an option. ¬†Do I as a parent pick my battles? Of course I do but I always make sure my kids know that I still have the upper hand and that at any given moment I can change the life that they have become so accustomed to.

As a society of parents let’s do each other a favor…TAKE CONTROL OF YOUR CHILDREN!!! ¬†It’s ok to tell them no and send them to their room or a time out to the nearest corner, whichever you prefer. ¬†It’s ok to take their prized possessions, aka cell phones, tv, game systems, designer clothes, and social life and media away from them. ¬†As a matter of fact I encourage this. ¬†You can be their friend after they have moved out, paid their own way, and started a life of their own. ¬†Tough love is not a term used for describing getting your heart broke. ¬†It means loving your children but still knowing when it is time to take hold of the reigns, put your foot down, and not give into their never ending wants(NOTICE I SAID WANTS NOT NEEDS). ¬†Being a parent means having to be “mean” sometimes and always being one step ahead of your children’s actions…it’s ok…life will go on and the less menaces to society we have running around…the better.


Domesticated Momster