Tattooed women like Courtney Love and Drew Barrymore used to be my idols, but after having my kids, I realized I didn’t need a bunch of tattoos to tell the world who I was.
With my first baby, I shared many of the same challenges as the other worried, overtired and overwhelmed new moms in our playgroup—breastfeeding struggles, sleep regressions and battles with diaper rash. But there was always one thing none of the other parents could relate to: my son’s plagiocephaly, a.k.a. flat head syndrome.
I’ve done everything to keep this kid by my side. I’ve bribed him, telling him “If you stay with me, we can get a new Hot Wheels car!” I’ve told him about stranger danger, which has prompted him to point at people, yell “Stranger!” and then run off. I’ve strapped him in a stroller, only to have him wiggle and scream like a rabid animal. I’ve tried carrying him, too, but it was like trying to hold a little breakdancer popping and locking in my arms.
Thank you so much for coming to my house for the playdatetoday. My son adored playing with your daughter, and I know he’s looking forward to the next time they get to hang out outside of school. I’m all about honesty in a relationship, so I wanted to write this email to address something that’s been on my mind since you left my house.
Since I’ve had kids, I’ve created a whole new network of friends who have kept me on course throughout this wild journey. What I never expected about parenthood, was how hard it would be to create and maintain new friendships with people. Things like naps, parenting techniques, and exhaustion end up making or breaking potential mom-friendships.
It was too quiet in my oldest son’s bedroom but my gut told me he wasn’t napping. My youngest was peacefully curled up in the Bjorn, snoring against my chest.
My period is a powerful force and not one to be trifled with when it comes to food. I’ve seen too many articles telling women how to eat well during your period or how to curb your cravings. I’m not hearing that. Emily Dickinson once wrote, “The heart wants what it wants.” I’d like to fine-tune this quote and declare, “The period wants what it wants.”
I waited tables for over 12 years. I’ve worn uniforms and served all kinds of foods from ramen to crepes to ribs to pizza. I’ve worked in places that I really loved (mostly because of the staff) and other places that I’ve loathed. Most of my waitressing shifts have been excruciatingly painful to get through. However, I’ve learned more about the human psyche and the world around me from these serving jobs than probably anything else in my 30-plus years on this planet. Read more...
The barbecue was wrapping up. My oldest son was running around in circles on a sugar high from the two cupcakes he’d managed to scarf down. My youngest was on the verge of a breakdown, arms reaching for me, whining to be picked up.