Guest Blogger

Remember when I offended all of my Facebook friends when I wrote about how some people are misusing it? Well I wrote that piece for a fellow blogger and new internet friend Amanda at Fabulously Unfabulous. She has returned the favor and wrote a little something for me. Her post is basically why I really, really, really wanted a girl! Go check her out, if only to see her precious son's curly mohawk!
_________________________________________________________________________
So... Aly did an awesome guest blog spot for me, so it is only fair that I return the favor and try to match her awesomeness.

For those of you who don't know me, I'm Amanda from FabulouslyUnfabulous, mom to an adorable, curly-mohawked (it's true) 9.5 month old named Jackson.

Aly asked me to write about being a mama to a boy... and I thought that clearly this is something I can tackle since I am now an expert on this topic after 9.5 months. :-)

Let me start with the first and most obvious topic:  boy parts.

Lesson #1, They are very different from girl parts.  Duh.  But really... they are.  Sometimes I change Jackson's diaper and I have to call my husband over to ask "hey, is this normal?", or "What the heck do I do now?".  I know it seems trite, but I have never had one of my very own... so sometimes you have to call in the experts to answer your questions.

Lesson #2... you only have a very limited amount of time to decide if what you are looking at is "normal" before he gets his boy parts locked, loaded, and aimed.  Diapering a boy has to be done quickly and efficiently.  Go in to each diaper change with a plan, and DO NOT get distracted.  Get in, and get out.  There is no time for dawdling...  one mistake and you WILL be peed on.  And the pee is not just limited to landing on you... it will also spray the changing table, wall, floor, passersby.... you get my drift.  If you see it aimed directly at you, duck... you have no time left.

Lesson #3... diapers.  Their boy parts need to be pointed in the downward position when being diapered.  Think I am kidding?  Don't do it, and see what happens.  Your son will pee right out the top of his diaper.  When Jackson began sleeping on his belly we went through this night after night... changing those crib sheets at 3am is really a beyotch... so take it from me, just point his little winky down when diapering and it will save you a lot of unnecessary middle of the night bedding changes.

Lesson #4.... boys will be boys... even when they are infants.  Each and every time my son pees on me, he thinks it is absolutely hilarious.

Now on to one of my favorite topics,  clothing:

I am not sure why, but manufacturers of infant clothing seem to think that either a) all little boys should be dressed in things with trucks, animals, characters, or firetrucks, or b) mom's of little boys don't like to shop for them.  I went to the Nordstrom Anniversary sale a few weeks ago.  I left Jackson with my sister, and headed out there at 8am to beat the crowds... yeah I am a dedicated shopper.

I was really excited to stock up on adorable clothes for my son for the fall and winter.  Unfortunately, I was heartbroken to find about 15 racks of infant girls' clothing, and only 3 for boys.  WTF?!   Does my son not need clothing too?  This phenomenon is not limited to Nordstrom... it sadly happens everywhere.  And the stores that DO have an ample selection of clothes for little boys, ruin them by adorning them with theme type characters that just do not appeal to me.  Very disappointing.

As much as I sometimes get bummed when I shop for my son because there is so little selection when it comes to clothing... I have to say, the toys are wayyyy better.  Yes, many toys are not gender specific, and I am a modern mom, my son can play with girl toys if he wants to... but I personally think Tonka Dump Trucks & dinosaurs, beat a doll and carriage any day.

Another major difference between boys and girls is their  energy levels.

Think this is a myth?  Spend a little time in a Mommy & Me class, and you will see what I see.  My son, and most of the other boys are crawling all over the place, while the little girls are sitting nicely in their mothers' laps while the instructor sings them songs and does puppet shows.  I have all but given up on trying to contain him during these structured portions of class because he is just not interested in sitting still, while his female counterparts, sit contentedly clapping along with the music.

As for the  future... we are not there yet, so I am really not sure what it holds.   I do know that potty training is going to be an interesting feat, and that with little girls, you don't have to worry much about their aim... although I do distinctly remember that when I was being potty trained, I sat so far back on the toilet seat that I peed right over the top of it.  So maybe boys and girls really aren't that different when it comes to toileting needs.  But I digress.  Back to the topic at hand.

Boy, girl... the slight differences end there... with subtleties and nuances.  The gender gap is closing in society, so raising a boy, or raising a girl is all pretty much the same.  As parents, we tackle a lot of the same issues, and have a lot of the same worries about the future for our offspring; regardless of their gender. All we REALLY want as parents is to raise happy, healthy children who become productive members of society.  And of course it wouldn't hurt if our sons always remembered that their mommies were the first women who they ever loved... just kidding.  Kind of.  :-)

Random Thing of the Day

I think Dr. Oz's scrubs are a little too tight. 

Sometimes Love Takes Time

It's raining. Like cats and dogs raining. Beatrice is napping, JD is at work, and the cat is trying to make a nest in my lap but I can't be bothered with cuddles (and shedding fur) right now. Ahhhh solitude. It has been awhile since I felt this calm. And in control. I think I like it. This shall be my new mood. Disrupt it at your own risk.

I was not a calm pregnant person. I worried that I would lose the baby, I worried that JD wouldn't love me as much, I worried that I wouldn't love the baby enough. Or at all. We didn't plan to get pregnant right away. We had only been married 10 months and were still settling into the idea that this was for the rest of our lives. We thought we'd travel, buy a bigger house, save some money and enjoy being a couple for a few years. When a bad fight turned into a night of carefree passionate making up, I found myself sobbing in my office bathroom with 2 blue lines in front of me. Crap. We were having a baby. And I wasn't ready.

JD took the news great. He was excited and nervous and really supportive. Supportive, you say? Why would he need to be supportive? Well because I was a sobbing, hysterical mess. I kept muttering things like "I'm too young to have a baby, I'm a child having a child. How will we feed it?" He said "Honey, you're 26. Get a grip." But I never really got a grip. The whole pregnancy I kind of ignored the fact that in less than a year, I would be a mother to some helpless little person that deserved a better mother than me. I was in complete denial of how my life would change and how our marriage would change. Everything was pushed to the far corners of my mind.

As my belly grew, my denial changed a bit. I accepted that a baby was growing in there and that I had to birth it out, but the magnanimity of knowing that I would be a mother was still suppressed in my mind. I started praying that she would be healthy and grow up knowing the Lord. That she would be smart and kind and honest and meek. That JD and I would be good parents. That I would love her. I never admitted the last prayer to anyone because what kind of woman doesn't think she will love her own child? It's not that I didn't think I'd eventually love her, but the feeling of instant love that women talk about when they feel the baby kick for the first time never happened to me. I felt stunted in motherly love. Was it because we weren't planning to get pregnant? Why was I so freaked out about a sweet, precious baby? What is wrong with me???? Ugggh, just remembering that makes me feel sick. 


As my due date approached, everyone told me that I would instantly fall in love as soon as I held that baby. I would look into her eyes and this unbreakable bond would form and last forever. Great, I thought. Finally, I will feel normal and no one will know that I am a heartless, unloving freak. I had Beatrice and as soon as she popped out, JD and my mom sobbed tears of joy. She pooped in utero so the docs had to check her out before they brought her to me. I never cried. When they handed her to me I fumbled trying to hold and calm her. Nothing came naturally to me. I didn't feel nurturing or motherly at all. I felt the same.  The nurses wanted to bathe her so I eagerly gave the baby to them and felt the biggest dread come over me. I still didn't feel love for my baby. And I had to take her home in a day. And even bigger than that, I had to pretend that I wasn't completely freaking out in front of our family.

The next month was a blur of sobbing, feeling inadequate, and resenting myself for not being normal. Why did I not feel anything for my baby? I didn't hate her or wish she didn't exist, I was very grateful for her. I just didn't feel anything. I thought that all good mothers would instantly love their children and if they didn't, they weren't good mothers. I lived with this guilt for a month before I finally confided in JD and my best friend. I would have told someone sooner but I wasn't depressed and didn't want anyone suggesting that maybe I was. Also, I felt that I would be terribly judged. They were totally supportive and told me that I was normal. Being a new mother is exhausting and confusing and full of pressure to get it right. They told me to relax and enjoy my baby. Everything would happen naturally.

And it did. Once I admitted how I felt, I suddenly felt free to love her. Like I wasn't trying to hide my secret anymore. I always felt like she could see through me anyway so that added to my guilt. I also discovered many other new moms felt the same as me. Sometimes it takes time to bond with a baby. Even as I fell in love with her, I still never felt relaxed or calm about being a mother. Would I screw up her life? Would she hate me? Would I be a good example to her? I have always felt way under qualified for this role. But as she has grown and is a complete mommy's girl, I know that I have done all right. We are gonna make it. She is healthy and smart and loved.

Now I want 3 more kids, all girls. I can't wait to feel what a pregnancy full of excitement and anticipation is like instead of dread and fear. I also know that if I don't instantly fall in love with a new child, I am not a freak. I am a person doing the best that I can and wants to love the crap out of my kids. Just not in utero. Remembering all of the turmoil and angst that led up to this place of peace and confidence in my ability to love and mother makes me glad. Glad that I am not there anymore. Glad that I am normal. Whatever that may be. And glad that I am completely in love with my baby. Even if it took a little extra time.

Changes and Some Ramblings

Ch-ch-changes. There are a few new things going on with us that I'd thought I'd share.

JD got a promotion a few weeks ago. It's a great opportunity for him and he is really enjoying it, but our schedule is totally rearranged. He was working "normal" 8-4 hours before the promotion, now he is working 2-10. This means we don't see each other very often. This is good and bad. Good because we are very ornery people and too much togetherness can quickly turn into bickering. Also good because I have my nights back. The hardest transition to make when JD returned home from his training was sharing my nights. It's when I blog, read, clean, watch The Real Housewives of whatever city and veg out. When he returned, he took over the TV, insisted that I cuddle instead of play on my computer and wanted to go to bed early. That part was kind of awesome actually. I can't really think of why this new schedule is bad so I guess it's not; just a change.

I have been blogging for hire over at 100Cafestreet for a month now. It's a dessert website and I am a contributing baker/blogger. It's pretty challenging because I have to come up with my own spin on recipes, take a decent photo and write a little something about that particular dessert. I will not be getting rich from this venture, but it is a cool opportunity to sharpen my writing skills. And we always have dessert in the house so JD is thrilled.

Beatrice loves balls. Bouncy balls, soccer balls, foamy stress relief balls, little rattling cat toy balls. She plays ball all over the house and we are actually loving it. JD can juggle by the way, who knew? On Sunday, I sat at the top of the stairs with Beatrice in my lap while JD stood at the bottom and we tossed a ball back and forth. We all had a pretty good time then realized that we were breaking 2 cardinal rules of parenting. 1. Playing ball in the house. 2. Encouraging our baby to play on the stairs. Is it a parenting fail if the parents actually don't mind playing ball in the house? Oh and having an assortment of balls in the house makes for some awesome sneak attacks. We have been punting balls at each other all week. Not at the baby of course.

A little shoppe on the downtown square is selling my crochet hats. That means I have been busy with my craft all week. And I am so burnt out. I hope they sell otherwise everyone is getting a crochet baby beanie for Christmas.

I painted my nails for the first time in over 10 months today. And I feel really pretty. And girlie. Until it chips then I will remember why I don't paint my nails anymore.

Watching Shark Week on the Discovery Channel has been an awesome workout for my glutes. My cheeks have been squeezed so tight watching these beasts shred muscles and rip legs off of swimmers. Gruesome.

Beatrice has been taking really crappy naps lately so I hung a dark blanket over her pretty organza Pottery Barn Kids curtains and voila, she sleeps until after 8 am and takes 2 hour naps. Homemade rigged blackout curtains are more valuable than a picture perfect nursery any day.

I could go on but I this post is getting very rambly. And I must crochet some more. Goodnight.

Random Thing of the Day

When I was a little girl, I saw an episode of Mama's Family. I don't remember the plot but Mama was on a mission of sorts. She hoisted and rearranged her boobs and marched off to accomplish whatever it was she was trying to accomplish. I was amazed. I had never seen someone hoist and rearrange that area of their body before and I decided right then and there that I wanted boobs big enough to hoist and rearrange too. Much like Mama's mission on that particular episode, I too was on a mission to have big boobs one day. So I prayed and asked God to please give me big boobs when I grew up, the bigger the better. And He did. True story.

Facebook: Some of You Are Doing It Wrong

I did a guest blogging post over at Fabulously Unfabulous. Go check out Amanda and read my post below!

I love Facebook, I really do. It's how JD and I got together (we knew each other for 7 years before we dated but Facebook reconnected us). What started out as a way for college students to connect has quickly turned into the biggest online social networking community around. And that is really awesome. But I think some folks are doing it wrong. It has somehow turned into an outlet for everyone to share all of the gory details of their lives with revealing status updates and photo albums filled with placentas, mucous plugs and linea negras. I am totally guilty of the latter, forgive me please. To make it up to you I have deleted all offending pictures.


Facebook has become the ultimate outlet for over-sharing. From the photo albums of full body tattoos to the sexy boudoir pics you gifted your husband with on Valentine's Day, nothing seems to be off limits. Had a snowboarding accident and broke your bone? Post it on Facebook so we can all see what the inside of your body looks like. Your kid just puked all over the kitchen floor and the dog is eating it? Thanks for sharing it in your Mobile Uploads album. Nothing seems to be too personal (or disgusting) to share with the world.

And speaking of photos, what is up with this pose as every one's profile picture?



Ignore my claw-like fingers. And my hair, I didn't dry it today. Also know that it was painful for me to take this picture. I loathe this pose. What the heck is this? A duck-billed platypus? The trout mouth a la Meg Ryan? Please, someone tell me what is the significance of this face and why does every girl have some version of it at least 15 times in their album title Just Me. And also, how is it possible to take this photo of yourself whiling driving your car because that can't be safe? I'm just saying.


Remember the old days of Facebook when you had a drop down menu bar with possible status updates? You could choose "Aly is studying," "Aly is working," "Aly is sleeping" and a handful of other generic options. Nowadays, Facebookers are getting way too personal and in depth with their statuses. Every day I log on and see that "Jane woke up, ate breakfast, took a shower but didn't wash her hair, put her pants on one leg at a time like everyone else, went to work, had a snack, went to lunch, came back to work, got fired, went home, walked her dog and is watching the Bachelorette before flossing and going to bed." Or the posts that say "Joe is having a colonoscopy in the morning, thoughts and prayers needed." It's just way too much information for me. I like leaving a little something to the imagination like "Aly has a secret." Actually, I really hate those cryptic posts too because undoubtedly everyone thinks you're pregnant or have some icky medical condition, then send you all of their thoughts and prayers. Maybe a "less is more" mentality should be applied when Facebooking. People just don't need to know that your doctor thinks you need more fiber in your diet to help with your irregularity. Not Facebook people anyways.

If you have  5997 friends, you may not be doing Facebook right. There is no way you can know that many people in real life. Especially if you are posting pictures of your colonoscopy. I have 214 friends and I know/knew them all personally at one time or another in my life. Sometimes I get the random friend request from a friend of a friend and that kind of creeps me out. If we don't know each other, why do you want to look at my page? And pictures of my kid? JD has about double the amount of friends than I do but he's much more social than me. And older.


I love how Facebook turns everyone into a pimp. For yourself. You can pimp your business, your banging new body, your new tattoo, your political agenda, your religious agenda, your pregnancy, your wedding, your divorce, your kid. You are the master of your profile and can let everyone know just how awesome you are with status updates, photos, and youtube links. If we are all pimps, does that mean Facebook is our hoe? Hehehe. If you feel like a pimp, you may not be doing Facebook right.

If your primary reason for joining Facebook is to cyber stalk your ex boyfriend, you may not be doing Facebook right. In your defense though, Facebook makes stalking so easy by suggesting people that you may know to be added as your friend. And if you ignore it, it will be suggested again tomorrow and the next day until you click on your old flame's profile. Once you stalk one old boyfriend you slide down the slippery slope of stalking all of  his friends' walls and photos until you feel fairly certain that his life sucks and you made the right decision dumping him during sophomore year. Then you update your profile and albums to be certain that anyone stalking you knows how awesome you truly are. It's all about strategy.

Something as awesome as Facebook should be censored a tad by everyone posting platypus trout mouth profile pictures while driving to work and relaying the details of their pap smears. Pimp yourself with class. And if I never have to see another photo of a broken toe with yellow ooze coming from the toenail ever again, I will be a happy Facebooker once more. Less is more folks, less is more.

Random Thing of the Day

Today's random thing of the day is JD's facebook status and profile picture:

It reads "oh to be a pygmy marmoset....to just chill out on fingers and stare off into the sky and dream of days to come!" He = awesome.