Cawfee Tawk

Linda Richman, she is like buttah.

It's been a while since we've had a coffee date, so I've decided we need to have a "Cawfee Tawk".  Mike Myers, SNL, Linda Richman.  It's the shaz, your welcome.
So this week I felt like I was on a Hamster Wheel.  Like I was running with no place to go.  There weren't enough hours in the day.  There aren't even enough days in this week!  I've decided to start working out again, and while I'm exhausted now, I know I'll be feeling better next week.  However I am having a hard time washing my hair as I'm pretty sure my arms are going to fall off.  Also squats make you never want to sit down every again.  It's like my legs cry every time I have to pee.
I also was a little sick this week due to some rancid almonds.  Yeah.  That.  Look, I thought they looked funny, but the smell didn't start for a couple of days so I kept eating them and wondering why I was feeling like crap.  I have issues with lots of foods so I was trying to pinpoint the bad one.  Then yesterday I opened the huge, econo bag from Costco and knew, they had offically died.  So I took them back and let Costco know, just in case they cared.  Then I went to the grocery store and bought some in a smaller clear package.  You know so I could check out if they were going bad.  I mean it's bad enough that most foods make me sick, but then to eat bad food...
I had total and complete writers block.  I know of a blogger who is hosting Blogtember with prompts for the entire month (next Thursday's is super fun, check it out!).  But even those eluded me.  I think sometimes you just have to surrender yourself to it.  It's like you have to let it ride, far off into the sunset before it can come back to you.  I'm sure it's that way with most arts.  You just get to this point where there is nothing to say.  That was me this week.
Plus do you ever get paralyzed by your to do list?  I was this week for sure.  So many things to do and not enough time to do it in.  It's like you know what's waiting for you, but still you procrastinate.  I like to say I work better under pressure, but the truth is I usually eff that up too.  For example, I waited until the last possible moment to post this giveaway (still open by the way).  I also have failed to give the Influenster Vox Box my undivided attention.  You know, I'm really not the "blogger" I think I am.  I'm all party and no business.  Like a shag instead of a mullet.  It's also a good reason why I make no money at this "hobby".  And by hobby I mean life's work.
School is still kicking my ass.  Mac still cries at drop off, which isn't that bad since we are only 3 weeks in.  However it feels like a lot longer.  Caitlin has decided that dropping her off at the curb is totally acceptable.  Especially if she sees friends she can walk with.  Like I've said, she is six going on sixteen.  What's a mom to do?  I went to a PTC meeting, which in my day was called PTA (totally aging myself in this process).  I've also rejoined the ranks as a Room Mom.  Did I forget to mention I'm going to also be a Daisy Troop Leader?  That's the one I'm worried about most... Hopefully those parents won't read my blog.  I promise the Daisy curriculum doesn't include raw chickens.
Speaking of Raw chickens, I went back this week for another bellybutton to tailbone wax.  Still hurt like a mutha.  Hot lava in full effect.  But since I knew what to expect, I did a little better.  Sure I let out a yelp a few times.  And it's something that's not for the faint of heart, especially when your wax lady has to literally go knee deep in your baby maker.  Well, maybe not knee deep, but seriously...
This week has been chalked up to a total wash.  I'm exhausted friends, and well, my fingers have little to tell this week at this keyboard.  So while I did recycle some posts this week, I'm crossing my fingers that next week will bring the break through that I need.  That I'll be inspired by something I see, or do, or even better, read.  Where do you draw your inspiration from?
So have a great weekend.  This cawfee tawk has been like buttah. You, my readahs, are like buttah...

Linking up with Alyssa. Don't miss out!

Dear Megan, aged 17

If you can't already tell, I've been suffering from writer's block this week.  Not anything major, just overwhelmed by life and the mess of it.  I've been on the go,  I've been crafting, and let's be honest here I've been playing candy crush and stalking some of you on Instagram.  Here is another repost that originally appeared on Confessions of a Semi-Domesticated Mama over a year ago.  

And who knows I may have posted it here.  

So I hope you enjoy some of my old stuff, 

even if you have been reading for awhile.  

XOXO

Dear Megan, age 17

You are going to think this is crazy, but I'm you.  Seventeen, or so years from now.

I know, I know, you don't want to hear it, because you are smarter than me.  Let's be honest, you think you are smarter than everyone.

Such attitude, 17 is serious business.

Well honey, you're not.

You think you suck right now.  You think that your differences set you apart.  That you are strange and ugly.  You think that because the boys aren't knocking down your door, that that means you suck.

On the contrary that's what makes you incredible.

Trust me.

I know you put up a nice front.  That you are strong and tough, that nothing can hurt you or touch you.  Nice try, I know what's going on.  And trust me.  I'll never forget what you are feeling right now.

Here's what I want to tell you.

Mr. Right now, is actually Mr. Wrong.  Be grateful.  What you think is love, is literally high school.  Sure he is what you think you want, but he doesn't want you and that's the toughest lesson to learn.  Learn it, embrace it, and be better for it.  I'll let you know right now, that you eventually do this, and you are just fine...

The next few Mr. Rights are Mr. Wrongs too.  Sorry, just a warning.

You are not going to make it to Berkley.  You are not going to major in Poly Sci with a minor in Women's Studies.  You will not go on to design a skate punk line for girls... I know, I know, majorly crushing your dreams.

YOU WILL, go to college, and even join a sorority... Hear me out, now.  It's an amazing group of women, who will help you find your true self.  Who will love you even though you are dressed like a skater the first night they meet you.  Who will walk next to you through every major milestone in your life. 

YOU WILL, find Mr. Right, and he will be Mr. Right, but that road will not be easy and you will work very hard on that relationship.  But you are passionate and only your best self with him.  Don't even think about looking for him now.  He will come to you when you least expect it, and you will be wearing little make-up and a hat, but he will call you anyway.

YOU WILL marry a registered republican, who will someday drive a gas guzzling SUV, and makes fun of you because you will one day ask him if you need to compost.  He will not like the Beatles, he will have no idea who the Descendents are, and will only like Blink 182s new stuff.  Deal with this.  HE IS IN FACT THE LOVE OF YOUR LIFE. 

This is you and the hubbs on your
7th Wedding Anniversary.

YOU WILL HAVE BABIES and they are beautiful and give you a renewed life.  I know you hate kids now, but somewhere about 25 you will change your mind about procreating.  Everything you thought you knew about love and devotion will go out the window with motherhood.  I'm just warning you now.  This will change you, the amazing part is, you won't care.

This is you and your babies at the beach (2011).
They are your heart and soul.

MOTHERHOOD WILL BE THE HARDEST JOB YOU HAVE.  You will think you suck at it.  Well this might actually be a good thing to mention now.  How you feel right now at 17 about yourself, you will feel all over again at 29 with a newborn.  This too will pass, and you will find your way.  Take my advice.  Ask for help.  Lean on people.  Let it go.  Be the mother you want to be, not the mothers you read about in the books.  Those books suck and don't tell you the nitty gritty on what to expect.  Expect exhaustion, expect a landslide of emotion, expect joy and liberation.  Expect to love and hate it at the same time.  And expect to want to do it all over again, ten fold.

So now I will close by telling you to LIVE THIS LIFE.  Even when you think it sucks.  Don't give up on you.  Be grateful you are living it.  Dreams change, people change, goals change.  So let go, and be.  Let go and do.  Let go and thrive.  Don't be scared, be excited.  This life is all we never dreamed of.

It's more!

With Love,
Megan, aged 35 and counting

Too Cool for School {Yak Pak giveaway}

Seriously when did we get too cool for school?

When Yak Pak contacted me about doing a giveaway I was excited.

I needed a new laptop case that was more me.

Not that the black professional one the Hubbs got me 

for Mother's Day wasn't great. 

It was.

It's just that it was professional.

I'm not all that professional.

I wanted something fun.

Something more me.

Possibly something with a little rocker mom vibe.

Because who doesn't want to be a rocker mom??

I was all set to receive and rock this Notebook Shoulder Bag

in rocking stars and paint splatters.

Until the box came and this girl who all of a sudden is a teenager,

put her foot down and said, "that's mine".

Obviously she looks a lot cooler than me.

So if you are looking for bags with serious attitude,

check out Yak Pak.

Bags, Lunch Totes, Handbags, even Yoga Mat Bags.

There is something quirky and unique for everyone.

Even your six year old who swears she's 16.

Yak Pak is giving one of my lucky readers a Yak Pak bag of their own!
a Rafflecopter giveaway

Motherhood: The Sequel

This post originally appeared last year on 2 blogs that are now history.  It also became a much talked about post, later in the year.  Since those 2 posts are gone, I've revised the original ideas.  The revision was debuted on Davenport & Lillian last month for Stephany's Hello Baby Series.

Me and my 2nd born.

My first go round with motherhood scared the shiz out of me.  I was almost paralysed by the imperfection of it all, so imagine my surprise when I agreed to do it all over again.  I was sure to make promises to myself that this time would be different.  This time would be easier.  That I wouldn't stress so much.  And for the most part I kept those promises.  The only exception is that I changed so much from baby 1 to baby 2, I feel like I'm a totally different person now. Like with everything I do, I thought I'd share some of those expectations with you.


Here is what to expect when you bring home baby #2.

Know that good, restorative sleep is not in your future.  Period.  There will be a "S" load of people who will tell you that they will take the kids so you can sleep.  Especially in the early days.  There will be promises from the mother in law, the husband, your mom, even your best friend.  Just know, unless they physically take your children out of your house, there is no sleep in your future.  The slightest whimper of your newborn, or the shortest outburst of your toddler, will stop your heart and your sleep. Your mommy senses have been heightened ten fold.  My apologies.

It doesn't matter if there are 2 years between your kids or 10, your husband has forgotten everything there is to know about newborns.  Ok, maybe that's taking it too far, but prepare yourself for a mountain of stupid questions.  Can you get me a receiving blanket?, seems simple enough, but now you have to say, "can you hand me the blue flannel blanket with airplanes on it without any extra fluff on it".  Which you have no time for, so you will just get the damn receiving blanket yourself.  Also you hubby has forgotten that your vagina has lived through a very traumatic experience, or you have possibly have had major surgery on your midsection.  For some inhumane reason he thinks sex with you is on the horizon.  I'll wait while you have a good laugh about that one.

When you bring home your new baby, your first child will look like a 17 year old.  Maybe not 17, but definitely 7.  Those little hands you used to hold look giant, that little face no longer looks like your sweet baby.  And if your first child is still in diapers you will almost faint the when you have to change their poopy diaper.  Yes, your toddler poops like an adult human, as compared to your newborn's angel poops.  You will also be astounded by what your first child can actually do, like watch an entire movie while eating goldfish while you cat nap with your new born.  Score one for you.  Also they can empty an entire bottle of Swiffer solution in your entry way while you are stuck in a breast pump.  Score one for the toddler.  Don't forget that while said first child looks 17, they are still a little human who needs supervision, love, and Oreo cookie bribes.

The baby blues are also bring the baby rage.  Look, you are exhausted.  You are emotional.  You go from totally overjoyed to totally overwhelmed in zero to five.  Repeat after me, It's going to be ok, it's going to be ok, it's going to be ok.  Now add chocolate, wine, or Starbucks at your leisure.  Parenting one child is hard, parenting that same child with a new addition is a new kind of Hell.  It's not always wine and roses. You will lose your temper.  You will over react and yell at your first child because they "know better". Honestly all they know is some kid is totally cramping their style.  Go ahead yell, scream, loose your poop. Then have a good cry, let those tears wash away all the guilt, and then grab a special snack for you and your first born. Like ice cream sandwiches at 8 am, because this kind of shaz happens at 8 am on a Tuesday after you haven't slept since Monday.  It's normal.  It's real.  Now, eat that ice cream and move on.

You will run out of "effs" to give.  Your second child will know nothing of bottle sanitizers or wipe warmers. They will know nothing of lavender "calming" soaps and expensive diaper creams.  You know why?  Because you know what works.  You know that if that pacifier hits the ground at the grocery store, sticking it in your mouth is how to sanitize.  You will smile and nod at tall the "advice" giving mamas, knowing full well they are full of shaz.  Your first child will full open mouth slobber kiss your newborn and while you think it's gross you will know that there is no longer enough hours in the day to worry of such things.  You have two kids to take care of, showers, dinners that require the oven, and breakfast foods that aren't found in the freezer are no longer part of plan.  And you are too tired to give an eff about any of it.

You will care about your body though.  You will find that you want your pre-baby body back.  But not your original pre-baby body, your post 1st child, pre-second child body.  It's fine.  You may find you get it back faster than you expect.  But don't really stress, remember all the effs you are too busy to give?  You also have no room in your life for clothes that button.  Yoga pants and maxi dresses are the staples in this new life.  You will have house dresses and going out dresses.  You will have yoga pants and dressy yoga pants. This will last until someone posts a picture of you on Facebook or Instagram, then you will decide that enough is enough, and you are ready.  Until then pull on a maxi skirt and chill.

Did those two babies really come out of the same baby maker?  Indeed they did, and they are nothing alike. Perhaps your first one was a sleeper, your second?  Not so much.  Maybe one loved their swing, the other hates it like a cold bath.  Just be warned that the second time around is going to be nothing like the first.  The child is different, but you are too.  Your kids personalities will be so different your head may spin.

Your second child will be a tough mudder.  No joke.  Your medicine of choice with your second baby will be, "walk it off".  You will make them tough out colds, wait on head injuries that seem questionable, and possibly go to school when their coughs aren't that bad (like the time I sent my kid to school with bronchitis). They will also have to draw blood to get a reaction out of you.   It's fine.  You've done this before, you know they will survive.  In fact a little eyebrow scar never hurt anybody.

You will either get a chance to fix mistakes, or surrender to the dark side.  If you think co-sleeping was a mistake, here is your chance to have a crib sleeper.  If you want to take a stab at breast feeding again here is your chance.  If you want to do baby signs as a form of communication, start fresh.  Or be like me and give in to the dark side.  Co-sleep because you are too exhausted to do otherwise.  Formula feed because pumping has become daunting.  Let your first child communicate for your second because it's easier. It's up to you.  As long as you remember, you are now short on time, short on sleep, and short on effs.  And the dark side usually has chocolate.

Second children are blessings.  They bring comfort and confidence.  They bring joy and chaos.  They remind you about everything you love and hate about parenting.  They also solidify that this is the most important thing you will ever do.  That said, have fun and don't stress about the little things.  Those are easily forgotten, swept under the rug with a Disney movie and some popcorn and M & Ms.  Also, as your new second child mama coach, when the going gets tough, add Starbucks and chocolate. Always.

Sometimes I can't

Some people eat their feelings. I blog my feelings. This is one of those times.
My little alarm clocks when off at 8:30 this morning, which isn't bad. Still I just couldn't get out of bed. I didn't want to get out of bed. So I laid there for 15 minutes checking Instagram. While they destroyed their play area.
I didn't want to make breakfast this morning. Not even the microwaved kind. Not even the bowl of cereal variety. I just couldn't.
When I did finally make breakfast it was choose your own adventure. Grilled cheese sandwiches. Quesedillas. Granola bars and Cheetos.
I didn't want to take out the trash that was over flowing. I didn't want to clean off the table so we could eat. I didn't want to start the laundry that's been sitting all week.
I couldn't bring myself to pick up the same toys again. The same ones I've picked up all week. The same ones that must have a life of their own. The toys that I have threatened to throw out if I have to pick them up: One. More. Time.
Because sometimes I just can't. Sometimes I just can't make another grilled cheese sandwich that doesn't get eaten. I can't bring myself to take the garbage out again,  even though it's been stacked higher than me for a full 24 hours. I can't pick up the same toys just for them to show up again. Sometimes I can't fold another pair of tiny shorts or try in vain to find all the sock mates. Sometimes I just can't.
Today was one of those days that I threw more tantrums than my kids. Today was one of those days where I was embarrassingly ungrateful. Today was one of those days that I sat instead of moved. Watched a Harry Potter marathon instead of cleaned. Doled out snack food instead of cooked.
But by the end of the day I found remorse. I was sorry I cursed uneaten grilled cheese sandwiches. Because tomorrow I'll make another that gets eaten. I was sorry I was angry about little pairs of socks. Little pairs of socks mean there are little feet to fill them. I was sorry I delayed in getting out of bed. It won't be long before my alarm clocks sleep later than I do. I was sorry I almost wasted a Sunday on what I couldn't do. Instead of what I could.
Today I found my silver lining. In a life filled with laundry and uneaten grilled cheese. A life of granola bar breakfasts and Cheeto lunches. A life in a messy house, the same toys scattered in the same rooms. A life that is chaotic, messy, and so imperfect it's funny.
Sometimes I think, I just can't. But before I can give up there is that silver lining. And it shows me that I can.