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.

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

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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.

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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.

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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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Their Brother

Yes, I’ve watched the Duggars on and off for years. With 19 kids, the most I was expecting was for a few of them to come out of the closet some day or having some of the kids go against the way they were brought up.

They’ve been pushing more shows about the older kids for the past few years. The courting and chaperones, the quickie weddings, the quickie quickies that made the quickie brides quickly get knocked up.

And then it seemed like if you weren’t hearing about the horrid Karthrashians, it would be the Duggars. There were several times I would think “I want off this fucking planet!”

Especially when the Duggar family would, and I’m paraphrasing here, call gay men and lesbians sexual deviants. Then oldest son, Josh Duggar, took his family to DC where he was working for the Family Research Council, where he resigned yesterday.

And now, this appalling news. Josh Duggar molested five girls and four of them are his sisters. Words fail me about how sick I’ve felt when hearing this.

What makes it even worse, if that’s even possible, is how his parents thought a few months of hard labor and reading the bible would rehabilitate him. They spoke of counseling in their statements but they sent him to build a house and bam, he’s fine?

In the statements the Duggars have made, they seem to stress that Josh was a “young teenager” (14, 15 years old) when he molested these poor girls.

Well, I call bullshit.

A “young teenager” may sneak out of the house to go to a party.

A “young teenager” may drink underage at a school dance.

A “young teenager” may sneak cigarettes or smoke pot.

But, a “young teenager” does not molest 5 girls, including a babysitter, on multiple occasions over the span of at least a year (I’m going by the police report) while some of them are sleeping or in other instances.

Age does not have anything at all to do with molestation. It’s not something you do to rebel and then grow out of.

Yet, Josh Duggar seems to be saying ooops, I was young and made mistakes.

It wasn’t a “very bad mistake” when he was a “young teenager”. It was incest. It was sexual assault. He changed those girls lives forever and I can’t imagine having him in the same house with his young sisters after his so-called treatment.

I hope someone steps up and gives the Duggar girls the professional help that they desperately need. Instead of having them live the rest of their lives trying to push down the guilt and betrayal in one of the worst ways from what was supposed to be a trusted family member. Their brother.

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I’m Not Really Sure What I’m Trying To Say Or If I Even Have A Point So, I Guess It’s Like Anything Else I Write On Here

Obviously, I haven’t been as dedicated to my blog in the last year as I was for the first 4 years. And I’ve been trying to figure out why because I really miss it. I’m still writing but not on here very often. But the other week it hit me. It’s self-doubt, among some other things.

Yes, I may sound like a whiny bitch but when I came across some things last summer about people doubting I was ever pregnant with my son that I lost last year or if I’m even a mom at all what the fuckity fuck?!, that just put a bad taste in my mouth when it comes to writing on my blog and over sharing. I just felt like “fuck this”. I know I’m way too sensitive but it’s hard to accept that there are people like that out there. If I read something I don’t like on a blog, I move on and don’t rip that person to shreds. Especially since there are a billion other blogs to read.

No, not everyone has to love me or what I write but damn, I openly share these things about myself because not only do I feel better when I’m so open… it’s kind of like therapy, I know what it feels like to think you’re the only person out there who’s going through depression, anxiety, the what the fucks of parenting and motherhood, and figuring out what the hell is up with this husband guy I live with and his never ending snoring and grinding of his teeth and lack of talking or talking too much when I have that special one night a year to enjoy The Oscars and the butthead talks all the way through the ceremony and I want to punch him in the balls. Really, hubby? Really? You rarely talk as it is but talk nonstop the one time of year when I’d prefer your usual silence??

So, yeah. I used to think my blog was a safe haven in a way but since last year, I worry about anything I may write and what may possibly be picked apart elsewhere.

But I know I should say fuck it. This type of thing comes along with the territory although knowing there’s a site out there specifically to rip apart women bloggers is unsettling.

The grief I’ve been experiencing more and more from the loss of Ben has also had such an effect on my desire to write. His first birthday would have been June 4th and the closer that date comes, the harder it is to get my ass out of bed and somehow function as best as I can.

We also recently found out that while we have one more year in Maine, the owners are coming back this summer and we have just a few months to find a house, pack, and move by July. And since my husband will be retiring from the Navy next summer, we then have to move again to what we hope will be our permanent home somewhere on the west coast.

I’ve logged into my blog many times to write about each of these things but since knowing that whatever I write may be put under a microscope by others and judged, it sucks. And to be blunt, it’s very hurtful.

But then I think there may still be those who actually read what I write because they like it. At least I hope they do. And that’s exactly who I should put my focus on.

It’s so true how you can have people say 10 positive things about you but it’s the one negative thing that will be what sticks out in your mind.

I need to stop thinking about those who will always have negative things to say or may hate read my blog.

I need to go back to writing the way I used to. Writing without having all of this self-doubt about how others will perceive it.

Fun little fact… I took an Ambien an hour ago so if this doesn’t make a smidgen of sense, there you go!

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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.

Anyway…

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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An In-Law Visit: Your Ass Will Need A Nap After This

Hola! I’ve been taking a break from my blog for a bit but I’m baaaack. So, my in-laws recently came to visit for 5 days. 5 fucking days of hell. I’m so very jealous of people who have such nice in-laws and get along so well with them.

Can we please trade? No? I don’t blame you.

After a lot of time goes by from their visit, I think “Well, maybe they aren’t so bad after all.” But when they come back to visit, I think yes, yes they sure as hell are!

My mother-in-law, as usual, gave me plenty of her quips and witchy ways and I still don’t get what’s up her ass to be like that towards me.

Example: At breakfast one morning, we had pancakes. I asked the little hummingbird if she’d like syrup on them since she usually does. Simple, right?

But as usual, when I direct a question to my 6 year-old or husband, my MIL always, always, always has to interject.

Me: Little bird, would you like some syrup?

Little bird: That’s okay, I don’t need any.

Me: Are you sure?

Little bird: Yeah.

Mother-In-Law to Me: Aren’t you listening? She can make her own decisions and said she doesn’t want any! Why don’t you just leave her alone?!

Yeah, she got many digs like that in, just like she always does.

My FIL spent most of the time, like every time they visit, lecturing and rambling on. Completely oblivious to the fact that everyone becomes fidgety and bored. This man is like natural ambien.

I actually recorded some of what he was talking about, pretending like I was taking pictures when we were out to lunch one day. It was for the purpose of emailing it to my mom and sister since they are entertained by him but at the same time, can’t believe the shit he talks about.

It’s very difficult to not only follow whatever he’s saying but also impossible to chime in and try to steer his lectures conversation in another direction.

This is just a transcript from the 1 minute 32 second (it went on for 45 minutes) recording I did. And let me tell you, doing this transcript was as exciting as watching grass grow.

I started recording while he was in the middle of talking about whatever the hell he was talking about. I was so tuned out but mostly heard Blah, blah, blah, DNA. Blah, blah, blah. Blah, blah, DNA, blah. It’s like listening to adults in the Charlie Brown cartoons.

Father-In-Law: The authors had incurred their names and some sayings into a DNA. Either 4 letters and you could just use those letters to, um, to represent any letters if you put 2 or 3 together so you can make a code.

And then you can in code your name into it. What he did, uh, he’s done some pretty neat things with DNA and printings so he… his book that he just recently published, and he printed the whole thing and coded into one DNA strand and then he replicated it.

He put 70 billion copies on his book into a single drop of DNA onto this piece of paper that was smaller than a period. 70 billion copies.

The idea is that through DNA, it’s a more efficient way of storing things than the most advanced computers right now.

Here’s how the hummingbird felt about the 45 minute lunch while he was talking.

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Me too, hummingbird. Me too.

Have you had to endure any visits from your in-laws recently? 

Updated: In case you’d like to stroll down memory lane, here are a few more of my in-law posts. A Lack Of Boundaries With A Side Of Ranch Dressing, How My MIL Ruined My Wedding And Made Me Want To Set Myself On Fire Just So I Could Get Away From Her Crazy, and When You Wish Upon A Star… And It’s Stuck… Up Where?!

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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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Blog Love: Caitlin, etc., A Good Enough Mother, But Alas, I Digress, And The Simple Hive

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For Blog Love this time around, I wanted to hear from you and tell me about a site you have. Thank you Caitlin, Alison, and Sherry for sharing your blogs. I always love discovering new ones and sharing them with others. If you want some blog love, please don’t hesitate to let me know by emailing me at elle.mommyhood@gmail.com. Let me know the name of your blog and the link, a brief description, and if desired, links to some of your favorite posts that you’ve written. xoxo

Caitlin, etc.: I write about life, anxiety, and my many adventures with my husband, baby daughter and dog. I also touch on awkwardness, fear of social interaction, and the hobbies I somehow fit into life with a baby.

A Good Enough Mother: This is my mom blog, where I write about everything having to do with the screaming little demon that completely upended my life nigh on 8 months ago. I tend to focus on the harder stuff–postpartum depression, anxiety, terror, colic–but I try to touch on the happy, ooey gooey things sometimes too.

But Alas, I Digress:  I want more people to comment so I can go check out their blogs too! I talk about sewing and craft projects, recipes, and general life. It’s often a little sparse but I try to post at least every month.

The Simple Hive: I share ways in which we deal with homeschooling, multiple food allergies, an insane DIY addiction and the goal of living well, all without losing our minds. Sherry also has an Etsy shop: Simple Hive.

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