Pass the peas, please!

Dinner at our house has turned into a 5-course meal, minus the fine silver, delectable dishes, and table manners. And by “dinner,” I mean Liam’s dinner.

Gone are the days of the easy meal – I reminisce about when he was satisfied simply with fresh milk on tap, or even when he ate mashed up veggies, fruits, etc. While he still enjoys cutting loose with momma-milk before bedtime, at meal time, Liam now demands five-star food service like a big boy. It took me a little bit to catch on to this.

The last couple of days, he suddenly started rejecting his favorite foods: bananas, avocados, peas and green beans… I couldn’t figure out why. He used to be the cutest little piggy – opening his mouth like a little bird when the spoon was coming. All of a sudden, he was turning his head, spitting food out, or flat-out yelling and hitting me. What’s up with that, kid!? Not wanting him to miss a meal, I let him eat Cheerios and yogurt bites (cue the boo-ing… I know, I know…).

After a few days of these shenanigans, I asked my awesome daycare provider how she was able to get Liam to eat lunch. Are you ready for this? She was cutting his food up into small pieces and letting him feed himself – a revolutionary idea, right?. Well, duh! My little guy is now a big guy… he’s quite the chatter-box and has started walking (and falling) regularly. Of course he doesn’t want to be spoon-fed! He wants to do it himself! Yeah, Liam!

So that’s what we do now – we cut food up for him to feed himself. And THAT is why mealtimes have started feeling like five-course meals… because they take FOREVER. He shovels food in his mouth… yells at the food… throws the food… mushes it up and examines it… eats more… gets bored… wants something else… plays with that new food… Oh, it’s glorious. Actually, it is pretty neat watching him explore his little food-world. But OMG – it’s like he’s in the highchair for eternity (at least it’s not the bouncy, anymore).

So now that I’ve caught on that my little guy is growing up, when Liam babbles at me, sometimes I swear he’s saying, “Hey Mom – try to keep up, will ‘ya?” I’m trying, little man – it’s like when I finally get comfortable with a new step or phase of development, we’re not there for long and it’s onto something new – hopefully we’ll stay here for a little bit and he won’t be demanding steak next week…

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Six Things I Learned from Being Published

This shit is bananas, b-a-n-a-n-a-s!

Slight break in topic, but I wanted to share…

Six Things I Learned From Being Published

1. People will tell you what you meant in your writing.

“I like bananas and they grow on trees. Bananas taste good and they are yellow. I like bananas.”

-This is all about trees – spend less time focusing on trees.

2. Trolls are everywhere!

Not the cute, fuzzy-haired trolls from middle school, but the annoying, have-nothing-better-to-do-with-their-time-type of trolls that hide behind the keys of a message board (thank you, Macklemore).

3. You will be completely misunderstood.

“I like bananas.”

-You obviously hate bananas.

I don’t even know how to approach such logic.

4. You will be psychoanalyzed.

“I like bananas.”

-What happened to you during childhood to make you this way? You are dysfunctional/delusional/in denial. 

5. From 1,000 words, people obviously know everything about you.

“I like bananas. I talk about bananas with other people.”

-Actually, you don’t like bananas. Stop hiding behind your banana conversations – you are obviously from some alternate universe and don’t know anything about bananas or conversations.

6. And lastly, but most importantly, I have learned this:

To be a writer is to have thick skin. Honesty never pleases everyone, and not everyone will understand your honesty.


So, I gave myself pink eye…

Glamorous, I know. But don’t worry, this happened weeks ago and even though this gross eye-gunk is totally contagious, there is no way you can catch it online. I know you’re relieved.

You may be wondering, what kind of adult gets pink eye, let alone gives it to them self? This kind. Me. Molly. Molly-Liam’s mom. And actually, so do a lot of parents. Here’s the skinny:

  • According to the CDC, pink eye has many causes… one of which is getting fecal matter in your eyes. You heard me right – FECAL. MATTER.
  • According to my doctor, pink eye is one of the most common ailments passed between parents and children. If you are a parent (or a child for that matter) you totally get this – POOP IS EVERYWHERE!

Again, glamorous.

So, if you need an excuse to stay home from work, or are just curious as to what having fecal matter in your eyes really feels like, just follow my lead:

A few weeks ago, Liam was totally hangry and tungry at the same time (hungry + angry, tired + hungry). It’s never a good combination, especially since he has recently started throwing himself backwards in my arms when he’s upset and convulsing like the chick in The Exorcist. Needless to say, it was time to nurse and go to bed, and I wanted to accomplish this as quickly as possible. But hold up – first, comes a diaper change. Yeah! NOT. This is the last thing Liam wanted to do. Me too. Cuz it just so happens he had just shat the shit of his life, complete with whole versions of what he had for lunch and dinner (you’re welcome for that). Needless to say, I was changing that diaper FAST… and I happen to skip a very important step… washing my hands after.

Here’s the deal – we live in an older home. It’s totally cute and full of charm and we love it, but it does not have a bathroom upstairs where the bedrooms are. And in an Exorcist/giant poop situation like the one I was dealing with, there was no way I was going to take the time to go all the way downstairs to wash my hands before giving the baby what he really wanted – a boob.

It just so happens, Liam’s poop was so bad that his poor little butt was red. So I did what any good mom would do, I put diaper rash cream on my finger, and then applied it to his poor butt. Next, I quickly put him in the cutest fuzzy jammies ever (like seriously, OMG I love Carter’s), pretty much RAN to the rocking chair, stripped like a pro and gave that kid some milk.

And that’s when it happened. My eye itched. My fucking eye itched. AND I FUCKING ITCHED IT! WITH THE FINGER THAT HAD JUST BEEN IN MY KID’S BUTT CRACK! The minute I did , I knew I was screwed. And sure enough, two hours later my eye was red and itchy, and the next day I had nasty goobers in it. Blah.

Not wanting to spend the time or money to go to the doctor and get eye drops, I used breast milk as a natural remedy (weird, I know – but Google it, it really works), and it cleared up in about 5 days. But holy-moly, I learned my lesson, and I hope you can learn from it too:

NEVER TOUCH A BABY BUTT AND THEN TOUCH YOUR EYE. Ever. Like not even if you are eye-curious or something. Just keep that shit to yourself, literally – cuz pink eye spreads fast.


What’s your excuse?

This week’s confession:

Motherhood has done something to me I’ve been striving for my whole life – something I was never able to obtain on my own before having my son. But for some reason, being Liam’s mom has done it for me:

Motherhood has made me content with my body.

I grew a human and lived to tell the tale. Now my body is continuing to provide sustenance to that small human as he grows and learns. I’m a goddamn ninja-warrior-woman. ‘Nough said.

Today’s post has been inspired and brought to you by fitness blogger, Maria Kang, and her “What’s your excuse?” photo circulating Facebook and the internet. I’d link to it here, but I neither want to pollute my blog with it nor credit her for it, because a photo like that, with a question like that, posted publicly to the internet deserves no credit whatsoever. If you haven’t seen it, Google it. Then grab the waste basket and prepare to vomit.

Kang claims that with that photo and that question “All I want to do is inspire others” – Really? REALLY? Well, you have a pretty backwards (and bitchy) way of going about that.

I have a ten month old son. I get up at 4am Monday-Friday to pump breast milk for him before heading to the gym to kickbox/lift at 5am, before returning home, getting me and baby ready for the day, and heading to work. I eat healthy (with my fair-share of adult beverages here and there). I’m wearing my pre-baby clothes (size 8-10 depending on the brand, if you must know – which happens to be the same size I’ve worn since high school), but I’m squishier than I was before. I’m happy with my life and am not going to obsess over society’s or someone else’s unattainable idea of what I should look like post-baby. And you know what? Ten years ago, majorly pre-baby, I was a college athlete and in the best shape of my life and I STILL didn’t look like Kang.

I’d like to ask Kang what her excuse is for using shaming as a motivational method (she claims she meant for her photo and question to be inspirational – she’s either a liar or an idiot). As for my excuse: Genetics. Oh, and I just don’t care.


No more eatin’ on the floor!

Today, I ordered a high chair for Liam. You heard me right – I ordered my ten month old son a high chair. Most people are all over this essential piece of baby gear either on their baby registry while they are pregnant, or at least when their baby starts eating solid foods. Nope – not me. For the past four months, I’ve been feeding my son while he happily bounces away in his Baby Einstein Bouncer. I’m awesome.

As you can see, Liam is really excited about lunch. And his Yoda hat. 

For whatever reason that even I do not understand, I researched the crap out of high chairs before choosing one – just now – today. I tend to research the crap out of everything before I make a purchase. One can understand reading reviews and doing comparisons of things like baby monitors (video? no video? web access?) or strollers (style, cup holders, will it fit in my trunk, etc.). But a high chair? Really, Molly? I refused to get one until I had found “the right one.” The one I finally chose and ordered is a traditional wood high chair and I really like it, but I still amaze myself that I’ve been feeding my son in a bouncy play-thing for months due to this huge decision.

Whatever. At least I don’t have to sit cross-legged on the floor anymore to feed him. 🙂


Photos: We are the WORST.

Happy New Year, everyone!

The 2013 holiday season made me realize something: Brady and I are so not on top of things. Although we try.

We received tons of beautiful holiday greetings and photo-cards from our friends and family in the mail. It was Liam’s first Christmas…. you’d think we would do something like this…

You would be right. 🙂 We did. 🙂 Just not very well.

On Cyber Monday, I made cute little photo-cards and placed an order for 25, figuring we didn’t need to send them to everyone and their dog. Well, of those 25, I probably only put like 18 in the mail… I still have two that are addressed and stamped sitting in my purse, ready to mail, that I simply haven’t mailed yet (Heather and Elly, sorry!) – why? Because I’m the WORST with kid pictures. Seriously. The worst.

For my birthday in December, my friend Kelly so sweetly printed photos of my son from my Facebook page and put them in a nice frame for me. She remembered hearing me say I had a million pictures of Liam on my phone and on the computer, and just hadn’t ordered any yet.

YUP. Why? Because I’m the WORST.

My Facebook friends’ news feeds blew up with pictures since they started having kids  – not just snapshots, professional pictures:

“Johnny’s New Born Pictures”
“Ella’s 3-month photos”
“Brayden’s 6-month… 9-month… 12 month…”  You get the picture (ha, see what I did there?).

Us? Well… we had a “newborn” shoot when Liam was 8 weeks old – not quite so fresh anymore. He was hysterical. He just kept giving everyone the stink-eye. No smiles. No cute sleeping baby pics. And another thing: we did not arrange this photo shoot. We are SO glad it happened, but we didn’t arrange it. Brady’s mom threw us an after-baby-shower and his cousin, who is a photographer, took photos for us as a gift. They are beautiful photos. And I would share a few with you, but the thing is… we haven’t bought any yet. Why?

Because we are the WORST. PARENTS. EVER. 🙂

One of these days I’m going to place a 2,000 or so photo order of ALLLLL the photos we have ever taken of Liam, and Shutterfly will love me. Stay tuned.