16 October 2013

Hump Day Mommy Confessions

Let's jump right in, shall we...

1. I do not miss the newborn/baby days at all. Now, I do admit that there are a few, very specific items that I miss about babies; their smell. Being able to hold them and cuddle anytime I want (It's a miracle if I can get Chickie to snuggle or cuddle with me nowadays. She's always on the go!) And let's see...hmmm...what else...

Nope. That would be it. I wasn't joking when I said a few things. I'm just not baby momma material y'all, and I'm confident and woman enough to admit that. I know what my strengths and weaknesses as a parent are and being momma to a baby isn't it. I am however, toddler mom material and have found my stride as a mom during this time. It also helps that Chickie can talk and somewhat communicate with me as to what she needs/wants, what hurts, and etc. It certainly makes life easier.

2. I lost my shit big time yesterday (Tuesday). I'm not going to go into this very much because I plan to do a separate blog post about this day but suffice it to say that when I hit my exploding point, I found myself standing in a McDonald's parking lot, holding a half-eaten Little Debbie Swiss Cake Roll while screaming into the sky like a rabid dog foaming at the mouth. Not one of my better moments in life but the people next door at the car wash got a good laugh. Stay tuned for more details on this award winning academy performance.

3. Some days, I feel like the most successful thing I accomplish is simply getting out of the house and into the car in one piece. Does leaving the house with a toddler ever get any easier? I mean, really. How many times do we have to sit on the stairs for a "break" because her highness is tired? Knees to chest, kid! Move! Move! Move! We've got places to be! On the positive side, Chickie's leisurely nature has really forced me to slow down and enjoy the little things but man - some days... GRRRRR.

4. 2 year molars are hell. I don't give a shit what anyone else says or will tell you is worse - it's all a lie. Being shit and peed on, thrown up on, and dealing with illnesses and the like are freaking walks in the park compared to the agony of these bastards. It's a constant barrage of whining, crying, fits, and let's see...more whining and crying. All. Day. Long. To add insult to injury, hers are coming in all at the same time...all four...at the same time. Ay yi yi. 

The sad thing is that I know Chickie can't help it - I know this. And I'm sure if she had her choice, she wouldn't have to deal with it either but it doesn't make it any easier to deal with right now. I've had moments where I've had to hand her off to Michael, pour some wine, and lock myself in a separate room to get some relief. I swear to God I've gone through more wine in the last few months than I've consumed in my entire life. Yellow Tail should send me a thank you card for keeping them in business. 

5. My child cries when I try to sing to her. I shit you not. I've always known that I can't sing. Actually, I'm willing to bet that I'm tone deaf. You know how most people who can't sing will still sound great in the shower? Yeah, that's not me. I still sound like a dying cat. So when I try to sing to Chickie, she gets mad. I mean, really mad. She furrows her brows and has even started to cover her ears and yell, "Mommy nooooo! No sing!" One day last week she even broke down crying.

This is a true story.

6. With every fiber of my being, I hate when I ask a mom how old her kid is and I get some bullshit answer like, "52 weeks." 

Bitch, please.

You are aware that's a year, right? Why don't you just say, "He's a year old"??!! Look. I don't do math. Here's a confession within a confession: My father had to literally beg my geometry teacher in high school to pass me I was that bad at math. True story. Ask Jim Patterson, he'll tell you - I suck at math. So please don't make me have to do the math to get an answer to a very simple question. Why can't parents just say "Oh, he just turned 2 months" or something like that? Please parents, let's unite and put an end to this silly talk. Deal?

Alright, parents. Those are my confessions for this week. So fess up! What are some of your parent confessions?

XO,
Courtney



Courtney @ Shiraz In My Sippy Cup
Courtney @ Shiraz In My Sippy Cup

Courtney is a published author, mom, taco enthusiast, and a Star Wars and Tennessee Volunteers fanatic. She's never met a piece of sushi she didn’t like and enjoys an amazing glass of wine and a great cut of meat. You can read more of her wine-induced, sleep-deprived adventures on The Huffington Post and Scary Mommy.

3 comments:

  1. I have bitched about that whole "age in weeks" thing before - it drives me nuts!! And I completely agree about the whole newborn thing. We were watching Parenthood last night and every time the baby cried my husband and I both cringed and said how glad we are that we're beyond that stage. I am TOTALLY going to try to give birth to a one-year old next time. :)

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    1. Seriously though - do these women not know that we're sleep deprived and can barely remember our own names on most days let alone do math?! LOL. Aaaaah, people. Gotta love 'em. :-) Hope you guys are having a great week!

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  2. I'll have you know I'm 1,976 weeks old. What's your problem?

    Seriously, though ~ I LOVED this one, especially #5. I adored #5 because I thought I was alone in that. When I was first getting to know my stepson at age 6 (barely), he did not go to bed well and I was trying everything. And one of those everythings was singing. My mom sang to me, I'm sure her mom sang to her at bedtime...and here's the kicker: I can sing. I'm really good. Seriously. So one night, I try this, sitting by the bed while my stepson is sobbing and all at once he turns his red and wet little face to me and says, calmly, "Will you stop that noise, please, I hate that." Mind you, no one has ever sang to this child, so to say he "hates that"...well. I guess that says something about my choice of bedtime music! It hurt me in a weird way and, though I'm sure it's not fun to hear from your Chickie, I'm glad I'm not alone!

    FYI, what eventually worked was counting. Slow, repetative pats on the back and counting whatever it was we wanted to count that night, stars, boats, paris of underwear...at first we had to count to 100 (200 sometimes) but after a couple of nights, we were out by 72.

    ~Erika McF

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