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Is my baby the only one to ever bite chunks of wood from the crib rail?! This can’t be normal.


While there is nothing fun about a sick baby, I am totally taking advantage of Grey being so snuggly.


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All Nighters

College All Nighter:

7:00 – Pre-Game Party

10:00 – Hit the Bars

2:00 – Last Call

2:30 – Mark’s Texas Hots for Garbage Plates*
*If you aren’t from Rochester or haven’t had a garbage plate, Google it. MMM….

4:00 – After Party

6:00 – Cab Ride Home

Mommy All Nighter:

7:00 – Bath Time

7:30 – Baby Bed Time

10:30 – Screaming Baby

12:30 – Screaming Baby

4:00 – Husband up to catch early flight

5:00 – Wide awake, happy baby

In college, I pulled all-nighters all the time. There was the weekend all nighters, staying out partying with friends until the sun came up. Then there was the studying all-nighter – hanging in the computer lab on campus, drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes until we finished our finals. After nights like these, you went home and crashed until 1:00 or 2:00pm. You recovered quickly; you didn’t have a hang over, and you were ready to do it again if you felt like it.

These days, all nighters included a teething baby, infant Motrin, making bottles, and watching Sesame Street. Recovering from an all nighter is a totally different experience. I wasn’t drinking last night but I definitely feel hung over. It’s very possible that it will take my three nights until I feel rested again. I mean, rested in mommy standards. Tonight, I think I might never feel rested again.  

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Mommy Pick-Up Lines

Since Grey and I are home part-time, I think it’s really important for him to get out and socialize with other babies his age. Maybe it’s even more so important for me to get out and socialize with other women as well. You know you are in desperate need of some adult interaction when the following phrases are the only things you have said in the last four hours: “No, no. Be careful. Say bye- bye to Daddy! Pet the dog gently.” A friend of mine suggested The Sandbox, which is a small, indoor playroom for children. The name alone made me chuckle a bit – it sounded like the local towny hangout for stay-at-home moms except this place features ride-on toys and bounce houses rather than a fully stocked bar and a juke box. Nevertheless, we decided to check it out.

Do you remember going to the bar when you were single? Ok – maybe the details are a little hazy…. but you remember the gist of it. You pay the cover charge at the door; you head inside, choose a seat at the bar or grab a table, check out the crowd. You sip your cocktail for the sake of something to do as you wait for your friends to show up. You scope out the guys – making a mental list of the ones you’ll consider giving a chance (Wait a second, let’s be honest, you weren’t that picky. You’d give most of them a chance if it meant a free drink. I don’t blame you. We were all poor after college). So eventually you spot a guy that you recognize from your apartment complex. You casually walk by him on the way to the bathroom, getting close enough to say hello. You make the first move (way to go, girl!) and you chat for a while. As the conversation ends and he walks away, you kick yourself for not giving him your number. Next time, maybe. It’s not like you won’t see him around your building or in the laundry room at your complex.

When I entered The Sandbox, I had a strangely familiar experience. I paid my $5.50 at the door (this hangout charges a cover). We hung up our coats and bags and began to scope out the crowd. Grey checked out the toys as I took a look around to see if there were any other mothers my age who I might be interested in meeting. There were a few small groups of women chatting together while their children played. No doubt these were organized playgroups that came together. There were one or two sets of grandparents, struggling to keep up with their busy grandchildren. There was a dad with his daughter – I always love to see a dad out with the kids on his own during the day. As much as times have changed, a stay-at-home dad is still not the norm.

Then, I spotted a few girls like me, who obviously came alone with their kids. I had a serious flashback to my singe lady days – I was prepping myself to make the first move. Grey was pushing a walker, so I casually helped him steer closer to a girl who had a baby close to his age. I dug into my stash of mommy pick up lines, which is limited considering I am new at this. “Your baby is so cute! How old is he?” I realize this is not original, but you have to start somewhere. It’s not like I said, “Hey, you come here often?” It turned out that her son was a month older than Grey and she worked in education as well. We hit it off and the boys played together for a while. The nice thing about parenthood is that there is no shortage of things to discuss. Although, you know you have a really good mommy-friend when you can get together and avoid talking about your own children at all. Maybe even discuss normal woman things, like which Kardashian is currently pregnant and who you are voting for on The Voice. Eventually, the boys got tired and hungry. I said goodbye to my new friend and Grey waved “bye-bye” to his. As she walked away, I regretted not planning to meet up again or giving her my number.

All in all, I’d say it was a successful social learning experience for both Greyson and I. He is getting better at playing with other babies (rather than pulling their hair) and I am perfecting my mommy-pick up skills. Maybe next time, I’ll work up the nerve to ask a woman out on a play date.

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#playdates #mommypickuplines #sahm

Having a drink at the bar with daddy.



While I get ready for work, Grey is quite busy as well. He is taking all of the tissues out of the box and shoving them in the diaper stacker. Nice. There are worse things he could entertain himself with, right?


Professional Parenting

I came across an article today that said that less than 1% of the population is professional athletes. Clearly, it takes a certain breed to become a professional athlete. First of all, genetics plays a big part in this. You have to be born with the proper physique plus a hell of a lot of natural talent. Then, you have to begin training at a young age, devoting a ridiculous amount of time to learning the sport. You have to play in high school, some in college, get drafted, play in the minors, whatever it takes… It sounds like a lot of work to me. Basically, what I am getting at here, is that if you are banking on a career as a professional athlete, good luck. Maybe you should plan on winning the lottery instead. Your chances are probably similar in achieving one or the other. Or just join the rest of us on your couch on Sunday and watch professional football rather than pursuing it. It’s a lot more enjoyable.

When I worked as the Director of the daycare, I spent a lot of time observing the mothers that came to drop off their children. I spent time chatting with most of them as they dropped off their kids and I even got to know some of them very well. When I became pregnant, I started paying even more attention. I was taking mental notes – what car seats they used, what bottles were most popular, how they handled difficult behaviors from their children in public. I wanted to be as prepared as possible.

When Greyson was born, I realized just how difficult it can be. Everything is a challenge when you are adjusting to parenthood. When I returned to work, I was over-tired, over-worked, stressed, and frazzled. I felt like I could relate to most of the mothers whose children attended the center. They gave me looks of pity in the beginning, understanding why my clothes were not ironed and why I looked exhausted. There is definitely an unspoken sisterhood between all mothers – working mothers, stay-at-home mothers, single mothers – You don’t have to say anything. Just a smile lets a fellow mother know you understand what she is going through. At least 99.5% of us belong that sisterhood.

And then there is less than 1% of mothers who are different. It’s almost like they are born with more natural talent than the rest of us. In an earlier post, I mentioned that if a mother tells you that everything is perfect, the baby is sleeping great, and their marriage is better than ever – I said that they are most likely lying. And most of the time, they are. However, there is a breed of professional mothers who I think are actually telling the truth. There is one or two of them that attended my center. I swear, these two women came in every morning dressed to the nines. Their hair and makeup looked great, they dressed fashionably, and what’s most mind-blowing – they were carrying their babies in four inch heels. One of these moms in particular, she had four children. FOUR. She looked amazing, worked full-time, and was always happy. And she had four children. It’s like these woman trained their whole lives in how to be a perfect mother. If there were mommy Olympics, these women would blow everyone out of the water. In events like housework, parenting, career, sex life – they’d win gold in all of them.

Do a quick Google search on “how mothers can have it all.” You will find a million articles written about how mothers can balance work and home life and do it with expertise. The 1% of women that I am talking about here are the ones who wrote those articles (note: some of these articles are written by men…. which is just wrong…) Next time you are out in public, take a look around for the mother toting around a small brood of children, all dressed nicely, all clean, and all happy. Ask her for a photo and an autograph because this woman is part of the elite 1%.

If you are one of the normal 99% of mothers who are usually frazzled and exhausted, don’t feel bad. Remind yourself that less than 1% of the population makes it to professional parenthood. Let’s agree to simply admiring these women as we do our grocery shopping on Sundays and stick to playing the lottery and watching football instead.

#professionalparenting #motherhood #sahm #parenting

This is the cutest bed head I have ever seen!



Twelve Minutes

Tonight I am having dinner with my girlfriends. I am trying to get ready while Grey whines at my feet, begging me with the sad look on his face to build a tower for him to knock down one more time. I hand him over to Matt when he gets in from work as I glance at the clock. I have exactly twelve minutes to get ready. I wash my face without removing my mascara because clearly twelve minutes is only enough time to reapply concealer and foundation. I change out of my spit-up covered jeans and my shirt that Grey used to wipe his nose several times this morning. I peek in the mirror, praying that I don’t look like I was knee deep in diapers today. With one minute left to spare, I run downstairs to switch to a purse that matches my outfit, which really means that I am taking my wallet and lipstick out of the diaper bag and putting it into an actual purse.  I seriously considered just taking the diaper bag with me. I mean, it’s a Vera Bradley. Nobody would notice, right?

As I get into my car, I breathe a sigh of relief. I take a quick look in the visor mirror before I pull out of the drive way. Not bad for twelve minutes. I am so exhausted from my getting-ready marathon that I’d almost rather just hit the Dunkin drive thru and sit in the parking lot and enjoy some time alone instead of going to dinner. Apparently becoming a mother has made me easy to please. I would volunteer to go pick up the dry cleaning, which has to be the absolute most boring errand EVER right up there with getting an oil change, if it meant leaving the house alone. It’s not that I don’t want Greyson with me (usually) but it’s that trying to get myself ready, get Greyson ready, pack the diaper bag, load the car, check the trunk for the stroller, fight Grey into his car seat, and so on… it seriously sometimes takes light years of time for us to get out of the house. Picture me carrying Greyson in his ridiculously large winter coat, while forcing the dog into the crate, then trying to pull on my (fake) Uggs with one arm without dropping the baby or the diaper bag… How do people with more than one child get anywhere, ever? Thank God I canceled my gym membership because this is a workout. Just trying to go to the gym would be more than enough physical activity for one day.

Greyson will turn one next month. Over the course of the year, I have gradually accepted that going anywhere will always be a sweat-breaking ordeal when you have children with you. And when you are given the luxury to leave the house alone, don’t get excited for a stress free outing – most likely you’ll only have twelve minutes to get ready.