It’s official. I’m a mommy blogger.
Along with being a foodie, a boozer (don’t try this one at home), a once upon a time fitness aficionado, and new to the resume, bracelet maker, and I don’t mean the kind you can pass off as jewelry and sell. My shit is nowhere near that fancy.
You know what I always say though: write what you know, and these days I know baby or at least I’m immersed in all things tiny human, from the diaper changing station in my living room to the high chair in my kitchen. There’s a side of cat puke too of course, but that’s not as much fun to talk about and even less to clean up. I’m not sure if it’s because I’m home more these days but it seems like there’s always a feline (cough, Samantha, cough), hacking in the background. It plays well with the Cat Stevens, not so much the Kid Cudi or Kayne West.
Ah yes, the soundtrack of my life: chattering baby, regurgitating cat, and eclectic tunes with a side of dancing. The Hubby even makes an appearance at night and on weekends.
How Motherhood Has Changed Me
I’m a speed eating machine. I could legit win a pie or hot dog eating contest, provided I don’t have to soak my buns in liquid first because that’s carb abuse and quite frankly, disgusting. The truth is you never know how long the tiny human will sleep, so you learn to inhale your food rather quickly. Some days, I’m not even sure I taste it.
I think it’s perfectly acceptable to leave the house without showering. To be fair, I do put on pants. Last time I checked, public exposure was still illegal.
I could give a flying fig about exercise, which of course means it’s time for me to get my head back into the game and my body back into the gym. We’ll see if I manage to do it. I’m not sure I care right now.
I’ve always had a healthy disdain for the term food baby upon consuming a filling meal or a boatload of vegetables. After being pregnant and harboring a child in between my kidneys, bladder and stomach, I find this phrase irksome at best and the equivalent to holding a lit match next to a pool of gasoline at worst. Go get knocked up and see how fast your perception changes.
I talk in gibberish more than full sentences.
Since we’re on the topic of language, I never expected to voice the word shart so many times in my life. For those of you not in the know, Urban Dictionary defines shart as “a small, unintended defecation that occurs when one relaxes the anal sphincter to fart (blend of “shit” and “fart”).”
(This is not a shart. This is a full-blown blow out.)
I’m starting Mommy & Me story time classes at the local library today. Um, who am I?
I have the memory of the goldfish. I often times forget what I’m saying in the middle of actually saying it.
Alright now where was I?
(Sorry, I got distracted by mouse butt. It’s a thing.)
I average about eight hours of straight sleep a night, which is more than I got when I was working full-time. I call that a win.
I spend way more time on the baby’s nails than I do my own, usually after she’s made a significant dent in her face; literally.
(Thug Life. The struggle is real.)
I turn down the third and often times that second drink because I need to be on my A game at all times, or at least conscious enough to juggle a babe. It’s putting a damper in my boozing game.
Instead of using my curvaceous figure to entice the Hubby, I now use my body as a human shield to block the sun from the tiny tot’s eyes. Alright fine, I still try to entice the Hubby.
The highlight of my day though is getting Ave out of bed each morning because she’s always so happy and excited to see me. It’s like a puppy, but better.
My second favorite part is passing her off to the Hubby each night because balance yo’.
A special shout out goes to my girl Lucie who took the vast majority of these pictures. I will be forever thankful.
How has motherhood changed you?