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As Yoda Would Say… Soccer Mom, I Am Not


Okay, Yoda never said anything like that but if he had to use his car as a free taxi service and shuffle his kids around from activity to activity while they whined about being hungry, tired, mad about being rushed out of the door because they’re moving as slooow as slugs, etc., he’d be over that shit pretty quick.

Let me just start by saying, my 6 year-old hummingbird has a natural athletic ability that leaves me so proud and in absolute awe. Like I tell others, she may be small but my girl has spunk.

And yes, while I can say no to her doing an extracurricular activity, it can sneak up on me and before I know it, she’s involved in a buttload of things.

I’m all for the other activities she does… except soccer. For some reason, it makes me irrationally stabby. I’m fine with her gymnastics class, especially after being rid of the Type A mom master, and I love her ice skating classes. It doesn’t hurt that her dad usually takes her to ice skating while I’m snoozing in my warm and cozy bed. But, just like last year, I dread being a “soccer mom”.

Don’t get me wrong, I love seeing my little girl kick some ass on the field. I just find it much more pleasant watching her play soccer in our backyard. She’s more confident about being on a soccer team this year which is awesome and helps soothe my nerves since I don’t have to drag her kicking and screaming to her soccer games. I just find myself being the one who gets whiny when it comes to going to soccer practice and games this time around.

I don’t want to sit my ass out in the hot sun… soon to be the freezing cold and rain and snow… for an hour. I don’t want to be outside when I can be lounging on my couch on a Saturday morning, reading my mindless and very welcome US Weekly without pants and a bra. I don’t want to sign up for snack duty and feed 10 kids instead of just my own.

What’s up with that anyway? When I participated in sports as a kid, I felt like I won the snack lottery from saving my allowance and scoring a hot dog at the snack shack at the little league baseball field. Even a cup of cold water from a thermos that my coach brought along made me feel like I struck gold.

So, in other words, BAH-FUCKING-HUMBUG, soccer!

Who knows, maybe the little hummingbird won’t want to bother with soccer next year. One can hope. In the meantime, I will start pinning plenty of varieties of spiked hot chocolate to possibly take along with me to upcoming soccer games.

That’s what I call getting into the spirit of the game. Yeah, such a bad pun. Ahem, I’ll see myself out.


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Purrell Force Fields Would Really Come In Handy

Just when I felt like my writing mojo was finally coming back, time hasn’t been on my side. FYI, this post isn’t for sensitive stomachs.

The hummingbird has gotten sick countless times since she started Kindergarten. It’s one of the germiest places, apparently.

My 6 year-old has a few weeks left of school but has gotten two different ailments in the past two weeks. Last weekend, she had a stomach bug. I felt like I won the not very pukey child award prior to this since she hasn’t been much of a thrower upper. That’s a word.

Sure, she’s done it every now and then but nothing too bad.

Until last week.

After catching vomit in various ways… cupping hands, getting a giant bowl, grabbing her and sprinting to the bathroom, etc… I feel like I should get a barf badge to sew on my Brownie sash from when I was in the 4th grade.

Better yet, all new parents should be given a sash so we can receive badges for the milestones we go through with our children.

Pumping breast milk and accidentally spilling that precious liquid gold? There’s a badge for that.


Potty training your child? There’s a badge for that.


Surviving Toddler PMS without going through with your plans of running away from home? Get out the sewing kit… because there’s a badge for that.


My husband ran and got a bowl. A tiny, little bowl that would be more suitable for a kitten with a hairball. He must have noticed my death stare because he said “What?”

And then we had a conversation I never thought we’d have. The conversation about what bowl would be best for Little Miss Pukey.

My husband’s side of it was any bowl is suitable and he had grabbed a bowl which he uses to take his lunch to work sometimes. Gag. But my side was the bigger the bowl, the better to catch any and all kinds of puke. And it would need to be a bowl we would never, ever, ever use again. But, it would be put in the medicine and towel closet and forever be known as the puke bowl.

I can’t believe we discussed this either.

These are only stunt bowls but the size I grabbed is on the left. My husband’s is on the right.


So, I carried this bowl around wherever the hummingbird went for the next few days while she was home from school. At least it was better than using my hands or having vomit all over my shirt.

The bird was finally feeling better and finished out the school week. Yay!

And then she got sick again. Fuuuck. Of course it was on a weekend.

Her pediatrician has walk ins during the week for only half an hour at the ass crack of dawn. So, off we went. Things seemed to be looking up and then her doctor did a test.

A few minutes later, it came back positive for step throat. Fuckity fuck.

Poor kid.

After the pukefest and strep and all the school she’s missed this year, we can kiss that perfect attendance award goodbye. But really, how in the hell do some kids never miss one day of school from Kindergarten to their Senior year?

Are they surround by some protective barrier we can’t see? A Purrell force field perhaps.

I should start working on that before the hummingbird starts first grade. Wrap her in bubble wrap to prevent bumps, bruises, and scratches, put her in a hazmat suit with a built-in alarm system, and have a Purrell force field follow her everywhere she goes.

Then, I may not be so freaking anxious whenever she’s not in my care.

Who am I kidding? I’ll always be that way.

What kind of parenting badges would you like to receive?

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Fun With Words

After becoming a mom, I found that there’s a lot of multi-tasking and juggling to the point where your brain gets so overloaded with all of the things you need to do, places you have to go, and that damn Elsa crown you’re being begged to find in a sea of toys.

I’ll get to sorting all of this stuff out in my brain, then I’ll see something shiny and get distracted. After a few minutes, okay… longer, I often find myself thinking “Wait. What the fuck was I supposed to be doing??!” It won’t be until 10 minutes go by that the hummingbird yells “MOM? Did you find Elsa’s crown? MOM? I still haven’t gotten the glass of water you were getting me after lunch.”

Then I think “Oh, shit! Yeah. She asked me for a glass of water an hours ago. Ooops.”

Do I have a point to this? No. No, I don’t.


When you have a kid, your privacy and dignity go out the window. Forever gone. Thankfully, there are those times when your child gives you a good laugh and helps even things out. The hummingbird is now 6 and since Kindergarten, it’s amazing how she’s grown mentally and emotionally.

You think they grow fast when they’re babies but damn, when they start school, it’s at lightening speed. Which is great. Yep, it’s wonderful. Fabulous.

Excuse me while I go cry in the corner and bang my hands and feet on the floor, screaming “Why, sweet baby jeebus? WHY?!”

My baby girl is becoming a young lady. Fuuck.

The hummingbird may seem so grown up at times and her speech has greatly improved (while those aspects of myself seem to be deteriorating), she can still act like a silly, wild little hummingbird.

She always seems to ask why things are the way they are and may need help about what some words and sayings mean and that’s when the funny ensues.

Here are some examples of words and sayings she can mispronounce or might not be clear on.

Apple Dumplings = Apple Ducklings

Heartbeat = Heartbeep

Breakfast = Breksfust

And my favorite… chocolate = cocklate. Yes, cocklate (cock-let). It’s get me every time.

*At the check out in the store*

“Mom? Can I have some COCKLATE? Please?! That can be my only treat today. Pretty please? I’d really like some COCKLATE.

Inside, I’m laughing my ass off. When I can contain myself, I’ll say it back correctly. “Are you sure you want some chocolate for your treat?”

“Yes! Please? I really, really, really, really, really would like some COCKLATE.”

So, yeah. It’s funny and endearing to see that she is still little and won’t be learning to drive or moving into her own apartment next week, which is what it can feel like to me sometimes.

Recently, for an after school snack, she asked for a lightly toasted bagel with cream cheese.

But my 6 year-old asked for a “Politely toasted bagel with cream cheese.”

In the past several months, I would think she would soon grow out of her love of talking about poop, farts, and burps. Thankfully, I was wrong… for now.

Last night while cuddling, this went down and it’s actually a more frequent conversation that can last a few minutes.

Hummingbird: I farted while I was burping. Did you hear it?

Me: No.

Hummingbird: Do you smell it now?

Me: Nope.

Hummingbird: How about now? ……

It never crossed my mind that with all the things that motherhood entails, “fart smeller” would be one of them.

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Being Baby: Zombies Are More Rested Than You’ll Be

The little hummingbird will be turning 6 next month. 6!! So, recently I’ve been thinking more about my past experiences with her and each stage she’s gone through up until now.

Did I mention she’ll be 6 soon? 6! What the hell?! The time really does go by way too fast. Although, at the same time, it can feel like it’s going by way. too. slow.

Then BAM! Your kid seems to grow overnight.

Babyhood – Looking back, I wish I paid much more attention. Or maybe it’s the exhaustion that makes this age a blur. I wish I wasn’t so hard on myself and the fact that I always compared myself to other moms.

The new mothers that would say motherhood is “the best thing ever” while I would have plenty of moments where I would cry or feel depressed and overwhelmed.

The new mothers that seemed to make it look so easy and effortless while I was frazzled.

No matter how much I tried to prepare myself when it came to being a parent, in reality it was learning as I go. It’s still like that and probably always will be.

Once you feel like you have this shit down, the fruit of your loins won’t get the memo and will change things up no matter how old they are.

Your baby is sleeping through the night? Maybe not in a few weeks.

Your baby loves a specific food? Ha! That may be all they want but out of nowhere, they’ll be like nope, no way, not gonna eat it.

Sleep – Zombies are more alert than parents who have a newborn.

Sanity – You’re running on adrenaline and have every single emotion there is. Sanity is unlikely at this age.

Lows – Being sleep-deprived, not sleeping, lack of sleep, crazy hormones.

Highs – Having it sink in that you created a little human, the love that develops, the first smile, the first everything.

Unwanted advice that made me want to stab everyone that would tell me this – “Sleep when the baby sleeps.” Much easier said than done. When my child would actually sleep, I had shit to do. Things like endless laundry, trying to finally eat at the end of the day as fast as possible and discovering that I can shove half an El Monterey bean and cheese burrito in my mouth. Taking a fast shower. Staring at my newborn while she slept, despite having shit to do. Being able to have 5 seconds to pee.

This age was a lot harder for me than I thought it would be. Being in charge of a tiny, helpless baby can be stressful and you may feel like it won’t get easier. Okay, so it may never be easy but they grow and as cliché as this is, you learn to expect the unexpected.

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10 More Signs That You Have A Little Girl


Little girls seem to have a superpower. They can turn you into a puddle with their sweet, little voice which can cause the inability for you to say no. Your house may look like a stuffed animal, princess dress, and Hello Kitty factory blew up. Check out part one here.

10. Glitter – I banned glitter from the house while my 5 year-old was still in utero. Yet, glitter seems to appear out of nowhere.

9. Band-aids and stickers – You will see things tagged around the house with these items. Whether it’s her stuffed animals to my hair shine spray. There is currently a snowman sticker staring at me on the wall by the office door.

8. Tutus – Your little girl may acquire a crazy amount of tutus like mine. They take up two of her dresser drawers and that’s still not enough room.

7. Princess clothing – Before motherhood, I wasn’t going to let my kid be a walking billboard for Disney princesses or any other cartoon character. Ha! Little girls just like little boys I’m sure, will somehow sucker you into buying some hot at the moment cartoon character clothing item. It can include t-shirts, dresses, shoes, socks, etc.

6. You usually have missing couch cushions because hello, pillow forts – Once your child reaches a certain age, you will probably have a few, if not all, couch cushions missing most of the time for their fort.

5. Dad’s a boy… yuck – Your daughter may have her dad wrapped around her finger but soon she’ll understand that he’s a stinky, loud, gross boy like the ones in her kindergarten class. Ewww.

4. Princess dress up – Despite having a princess dress for every day of the week, it still won’t be enough for your little girl. You or your husband are also bound to accidentally step on and break a tiara and will have to endure the drama of the incident that only little girls can bring.

3. Tea parties – I don’t care who you are, you have to stop everything and drink your daughter’s pretend strawberry surprise tea and fake chocolate chip cookies with rainbow sprinkles.

2. You need the same color cups and dishware on hand – When your little girl has play dates at your house, save the trouble and your sanity by having the same color or design. If not, you may have an intense stand-off over who gets the “Elsa blue” cup or the polka-dot plate. Trust.

1. She’s your sweet girl one minute and a kid with major attitude the next minute – No matter how well-mannered and sweet your child is, they can turn into whiny, foot stomping, door slamming little monsters in the blink of an eye and you’ll wonder what happened to your adorable child while also thinking you may need to have an exorcism for them.

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My Therapist Is On Vacation For The Next Two Weeks. I Apologize In Advance.

I was at Target and as usual, bought much more than I planned to. You go to Target for a bottle of shampoo and end up spending $200.

After getting the things I needed, I got the hummingbird some new clothes, My Little Pony socks, and a freaking Frozen comforter. For no reason whatsoever! We give her treats occasionally for doing well in school, keeping her room clean for a week (that lasted less than a day), putting her plate in the sink, etc.

But I’ve been noticing that it’s been happening more often and I realize that I’m spoiling her and need to stop this shit.

I started to wonder if it’s because she’s an only child and I’m trying to overcompensate? Or parents of more than one child can indulge their kids too and it doesn’t matter if you have 1 kid or 4.

The other part of it is spoiling the hummingbird came more often after we lost Ben. At the time, I was so far off in my head and emotionally wasn’t there like I should have been. That’s when the treats started to become more frequent. My husband has been doing the same thing since.

I know the only way to solve this is to quit buying all this crap I’m spoiling her with. It’s one of those things that’s easier said than done though. But I really need to come up with some boundaries.

Do you treat your kids? How often? Is it only for special occasions or can it be random?

*I’ve read this back and it might not make any sense. I just don’t want to raise a spoiled brat. So, I wanted to know if you do the same with treats or if I should put the brakes on it, etc.

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Kids Have No Filter


Kids love to tell the truth, the more brutal, the better. Kids will most certainly keep your ego in check… and possibly embarrass the hell out of you.

After putting my daughter to bed…

5 yo: Will you tell me if you’re going downstairs?

Me: I always do. You know, you don’t need to tell me that every night.

5 yo: I know. But you’re old and might forget.


When I made spinach and goat cheese quiche last week.

Her: Mom… this really doesn’t look good.

Her: And it smells like cat puke.


Standing in line at Target.

Her: Mom, that lady looks like a grandma (the next lane over).

Me: She does.

Her: Is she the grandma you called an asshole for driving so slow?

Me: Well, umm, she might be.

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