Featured Favorite Blogger Friday!- Jenny Beans Blog

So I decided to start something new this week and introduce my faithful readers to what I like to read.

I'm calling it "Featured Favorite Blogger Friday!" Very clever and snappy title, if I do say so myself.

This week we will we meeting Jenny Bean from the aptly titled, Jenny Beans Blog: The madcap adventures of a single woman who went to the bank to become a mommy.

I came across her blog on twitter well before I started my own and was instantly hooked. She has also been a loyal reader, commenter and supporter of this piddly little spot of mine, which I can't thank her enough.

Jenny took matters into her own hands and went the non-traditional route to motherhood by doing IVF from anonymous donors and has 2 of the cutest and most hilarious little Beans to show for it. She's out there showing the world, in her own funny way, how it's done...Bean style.

And by "Bean style" I mean with the help of a gaggle of family Beans including the live-in Papa who apparently has a thing for Match.com. Any takers?

Someone give Jennifer Aniston Jenny's number.

Meet all the Beans here.

Jenny

Jax Bean

Cutie Patootie Moose Bean

To help you get to know the Beans, here's a post called A Bean In The Oven. So head on over and take a stroll around Maison Bean and be sure to tell her I sent you.

Happy Reading!

Jenny: Like I said, can't thank you enough. Love you, love reading your comments and love the Beans. Cheers!

Bright Starts Pretty In Pink Walk-a-Bout Review

My little Princess Boogie Boo is getting so big. Every time we turn around she is doing something new. But what she is not doing yet it walking...

Luckily, I was recently contacted by Bright Starts to see if I would like to check out their new walker and I jumped at the chance. We have been using it for about a week now and I am ready for give my review...

Drum roll please.....

We LOVE it!

What's not to love! How stinkin' cute is this to begin with?

I know right? The colors are so cute and sweet, the attached toys are engaging, fun and allow for me to attach additional toys or a sippy cup holder.

Here's what Bright Starts has to say about it:

Learning to walk has never been this much fun! The Bright Starts™ Pretty in Pink™ Walk-a-Bout™ is perfect for baby girls who are on the move.  The high back seat provides extra support as baby is perfecting those steps and getting stronger.  Also, the 3 position height adjustment allows the Pretty in Pink™ Walk-a-Bout™ to grow with baby and be used over time.  3 fun toys and 2 links for attaching more toys will keep baby entertained while on the move.  The Pretty in Pink™ Walk-a-Bout™ conveniently folds for storage.
 

Here's what I have to say about it:

When it first comes out of the box, it is in a few pieces but I found it VERY easy to put together, even with a curious kid hanging on to your pants saying "Mama Mama Mama..." and I only smashed my finger once! And for someone who walks into walls pretty regularly, that's a great sign.

As I was first putting the seat portion together I noticed how easily the washable fabric comes off for cleaning and how narrow the seat itself is. This makes the walking motion easier as opposed to the more stiff or bulky fabric seats I've seen with other walkers. It also has 3 easily adjustable height differences and collapses down to a very low profile which is good for travel or storage. The base is more narrow then old bulky walkers but still very stable so I can see this being great for people in smaller homes, apartments or places with narrower hallways.

Now comes the real test, how would Boogie do in it? Now, this isn't our first rodeo when it comes to walkers. We were given a 5 year old hand-me-down boy themed walker a few months ago from my sister-in-law. Audrey hated it. She liked to play with with toys on the tray but all she would do it go backwards.

Sit her in. Watch her back into a wall. Turn her around. Watch her back into the opposite wall. Turn her around.

Rinse and repeat.

So I wasn't really expecting too much when I finally put her in it. Observe what happened next...

Do you notice anything about these photos Um, maybe that they are not in focus? Yeah hard to get good photos when THE KID WON'T SIT STILL!

It was amazing.

I put her in and off she went! IN A FORWARD DIRECTION! Like she had been doing it all along!

I had to take this video...

Does she look happy or what?

Also, notice I have all real wood floors which worried me at first since real wood can be damaged easily but so far I haven't seen one scratch, scrape or dent!

Next came a safety concern... We have a sunken formal living room that is now used as a play room that means a step...DOWN.

And it happened. I turned around and saw she was right on the edge and before I could run to save her life..... Hey wait, what happened? Why did Boogie just not plummet the 6 inches to her doom?

She's stuck. Stuck? Wha?

Those white strips are actually bumpers or stoppers, when they touch the ground they actually stop the walker from moving entirely. This is, in my opinion, the best feature for the type of house we have.

We even took the walker to test it out over at my in-law's house where she has tile floors and several area rugs since I was curious how it would do on those. The rugs didn't seem to slow her down one bit with the exception of one small one but it slides and has fringe so it was just moved out of the way while we were there.

They also have a back patio with a step which the safety stoppers worked perfectly on and a back walkway covered in pavers that was no match for my newly mobile monkey!

Momo & Papa's back patio.

In the end, everyone in the family is happy. Rutherford loves being chased up and down the hallways by a laughing and screaming Boogie. I love that I know I can set her in there and not have to worry about her trying to climb into the fireplace to eat rocks (Worlds Best Mom Award!) and that she is safe to run around to her little hearts content. The mutts surely feel safer knowing that they aren't going to squished and loved to death at any moment....but they do need to watch their tails. Beanie learned that one the hard way.

Check out my video wrap up with a cameo by Beanie, the menace wiener dog.

You can find more information on the Walk-a-Bout walker, as well as, where to buy and the entire line of Pretty In Pink toys, gear and accessories at www.kidsii.com!

Happy shopping, my friends!








I was given this walker by Kidsii PR with the purpose of doing this review. I was in no way compensated in exchange for a good review. I just really think this is awesome sauce. Now go buy their stuff.

Stupid Planes, Stupid People & Stupid Poop

Here I am blogging again. It must be because I don't have a job and have too much time on my hands. No seriously. I was told this by someone this past weekend as they were sitting in front of a computer. Reading my blog. And then looking right at me. Paraphrasing here but it was pretty much "Blogging is for people who don't work and have entirely too much time on their hands."

::nervous laugh::

Well, okay then...

This past weekend I flew back to California, Boogie in tow, for my BFF Trudy's bridal shower. The shower itself was beautiful and she made out like a bandit in the gift department, as she should. I made the mistake of PURCHASING my gift for her and flew it with me. Apparently, I didn't think I had enough to pack, what with the baby, the stroller, the car seat, her clothes, my clothes, diapers, formula, monitor, toys, food, etc....so I figured, what the heck, go ahead and throw THIS into the mix.

 Yes, that's a door mat. And yes, door mats are heavy. Duh. And yes, Southwest Airlines charges for obscenely heavy luggage. But I am smart! I broke out the digital scale in my bathroom and weighed my bag over and over till it was the appropriate 50 lbs! (That leaves the excess heavy stuff to go in my back pack because once again, I didn't have enough to strap to my body, what with the baby, food, formula, toys, bottles, water, diapers, etc....you get the picture.)

Okay, so I am apparently not that smart. And I am also in constant back pain since I've been home. But hey, she loved her door mat and isn't that what's important??

So the morning we flew out there was nothing to indicate there would be a problem, no poop filled red flags, but of course that's not how the Murphy's Law of motherhood works. Well, there was the night filled with crying, the unusually poopy diaper in the morning...oh and the 2 other poopy diapers before we left....but other than that, nothing unusual.

::face palm::

We finally make it to the airport, Rutherford helps with the extremely heavy and EXACTLY 50 pound bag (No bag fee baby! ::fist bump::), he sadly hugs and kisses his girls goodbye and off through security we go.

Our airport, fortunately and unfortunately, has a breeder lane. Fortunately, because we got to zoom past all the other sucka's waiting in the zigzag lines. Unfortunately, because I got to zoom ahead just to wait behind the family, with the screaming baby, the stressed out Mom, the confused grandparents (She's only going to ask you 1 more time to take off your shoes, Grandpa, before she taser's you), the pissy preteen with the attitude and the Dad who is ready to jump off the nearest bridge. Poor dude.

Let me show you how it's done, people.

I pop off the flip flops, take out the laptop, water/formula, throw the baby on the hip, kick the stroller closed with one foot and hop it on the conveyor...Like. A. Pro. I then sneak past the family from hell, give the Dad an "i feel ya, brother" look and  thru the xray I go....just to be sent back because Boogie has HER shoes on. Damn you Stride-Rite infant pre-walker shoe bombers!

Now here's where the weekend gets exciting...Picture this...

Boarding overly crowded, hot airplane with infant. Of course everyone sits on the aisle or window so there are a bunch of empty middle seats so I continue to walk towards the back of the plane when the flight attendant announces that the flight is packed so we all need to be civil and move our rears over to make room.

Just then a very nice woman moves to the middle seat and I ask if I can sit there. She says, yes, of course and even helps me with the worlds heaviest back pack as I get settled and grab a pre-made bottle for Boogie.

Now I don't know this but I am about to have, what will from then on be, the MOST awkward moment of my life because about 2 seconds after I sit down, the very nice lady then begins to FIGHT with her husband whom is sitting on the window.

Oh yeah. And not just the dirty look pissing match fighting that we all do with our other halves but the full on fighting.

Here's the best part: They are fighting about ME!

You read that right.

"I can't BELIEVE you let her sit there! She's got a BABY!"

"What did you want me to do? The flight is full!"

"But she has a BABY!"

"Be quiet, she can probably hear you!"

"She can't hear me!"

I can totally hear him.

They continue like this till, I kid you not, pretty much the entire flight. I finally lean over and tell him "I promise you, she's a very quiet baby!" ::awkward smile:: Then I give Boogie the don't-you-dare-make-a-noise death stare and pray she can read my mind.

He looks me right in the face and as sweetly as ever says to me, "Oh no worries! We LOVE kids! We have 2 boys at home and are thinking of having another once because we want a little girl like her!" Then gives his wife the nastiest look ever to which she says "Are you done yet?"

If he wasn't done yet, I sure was.

But wait! It gets better...

So now I'm sitting there, quietly BEGGING the kid not to make a sound, unless she wants to become a homewrecker before the age of 1...and then it happens.


Big.

Giant.

Poopy.

BLOWOUT.

Kill. Me. Now.

I've been there before, I know what I'm up against..just never been there in a square foot of personal space while wearing a cream poop covered shirt...so I, of course, freak out.

I immediately grab for the Diapees&Wipees, jump out of my seat and run for the back of the plane...not really noticing that we aren't really all the way in the air yet, still on that slow climb when walking around freely is not recommended...

Bitchy stewardess A: Um, the seat belt sign is still lit.

Me: Yeah I got that. ::lifts baby:: I'm full of poop can I please change her???

Bitchy stewardess A: Yes, sure, but the lavatory with the changing table is in the FRONT of the plane.

Now I'm the crazy woman with the baby running to the front of the plane with the seat belt sign still on.

Bitchy stewardess B: Um, the seat belt sign is still lit.

Me: Yeah, heard something about that already. ::lifts baby:: I'm full of poop can I please change her???

Bitchy stewardess B: Yes, I suppose, but use this bag and dispose of the diaper in THIS trash can. I don't want you DIRTY baby diaper in MY lavatory.

Me: But, I have my...

Bitchy stewardess B: I want you to USE MINE!

Me: Yes ma'am.

I'm not going to argue with her anymore, she's small but she looks like she can take me.

In what I can only imagine is the WORLDS SMALLEST BATHROOM, I give Boogie a sponge bath, wash her clothes, wash my clothes, PUT THEM BACK ON US, change her diaper and appropriately use Bitchy stewardess B's trash bag.

No, I did not pack a change of clothes in my carry on for Boogie.

::ducking for cover::

How was I supposed to know!!!??!?! She's almost a year old! It's a 50 minute flight! We NEVER have blowouts anymore!

The remainder of the flight went as expected. I used Boogie as a human shield, not wanting to show off the wet t-shirt contest that was going on with me, the couple continued to argue, I continued to hear them, I tried to keep a now very sick baby from crying, I tried to keep from crying myself and I just prayed.

A sick baby is no fun, but a sick baby 500 miles from home and on your own, is my little version of hell. Poor girl spent a good amount of time whining and wanting to be in my arms but we had a good time anyway. I did, however, change my flight to return home a day early. As soon as the shower was over I was packing my bags to get ready to come home. It would have been fun to stay and hang out with my BFF but it was more important to get that baby home and in her own crib.

The flight home was less exciting than the flight out which was just fine by me. I think by then I was just over it. Over poop, over people, over all of it.

Of course it started to POUR on the way to the airport which made unloading me, all my crap and baby, very interesting. We say our thank you's and goodbye's to the BFF, I get us checked in and through security only to find out my plane is now delayed almost 50 minutes.

Of course.

We decided to use this time to window shop since all of the little stores where you can buy all of the fun stuff that would keep a sick baby busy as you're waiting for your delayed flight...are now closed...except for 1. Thank the Lord....AND...they sell The Backyardigans beanie baby's!!

Boogie & Tyrone ready to go home.

Thank you, Baby Jesus, for small favors and Tyrone.

We have 2 more poopy diapers as we are touring the airport with our new friend and one just as we are boarding but I did remember to bring a change of clothes this time.

Saying we are so happy to be home is a total understatement and I don't see me doing that again any time in the near future but I learned a few lessons.

Lesson 1: Babies who are never sick will get sick as soon as it comes time to go somewhere in a plane.

Lesson 2: ALWAYS ALWAYS ALWAYS take an extra change of clothes on a flight for everyone involved.

Lesson 3: Some people are just big ol bitches.

It's a girl! ::faint::

I have a daughter. Lord, help us.

I thought for sure she was a boy. I dreamed of boy stuff, that she was a curly headed little guy. I thought for sure these were signs.

They weren't.

I was 17 weeks pregnant, to the day, when I went to my ultra sound appointment and Kevin told me it was a girl. "Are you sure?" I asked. "See the hamburger there? That's a girl." He said.

Boogie has a hamburger.

Rutherford had to work that day so he wasn't able to go with me to see the hamburger for himself so I called him as soon as I got to the car.

"Guess what honey. It's a girl!"

"Are you sure?" He was unsure.

"Yes, I'm sure." I was sure.

"Sometimes they get it wrong. You should go back and ask if they are sure." He was sure they weren't sure.

"I asked. They are sure." And they were sure sure, so I was sure.

"Oh." He's was still unsure.

That was right about when the panic set in for the both of us. I was sure I was being punished for be a pissy teenager. I remember what I was like as a teenage girl. It was not pretty. I'm lucky my parents didn't put me down. Lock me in the cellar (we lived in California where people don't have cellars, but still..). Send me to a convent. Or other wise rid themselves of me.

The face of evil.

 As the days passed and the news sunk in I started to ask people with daughters, how the heck do you do it?

My father, who has 2 daughters and 3 sons (I'm his favorite) said, "Girls are easier...until they start wearing makeup."

My father-in-law, who has 2 daughter's and 1 son (strangely, I'm his favorite too..kidding!), told me it was Rutherford who was the difficult one. Boys are more adventurous and fearless and Rutherford was prone to climbing furniture and hurting himself. At 3 years old, this child closed himself in the fridge because he wanted to see the food talking (like on Sesame Street). Can't make this stuff up, folks.

And someone who shall remain nameless (mostly because I can't really remember who said this but the actual quote is still burning my brain, "With boys you only have one penis to worry about. With girls, it's 100's of penis's you have to worry about." 

Awesome. Sign me up.

Not long after we found out what was headed for us, Rutherford implemented the No Pink rule. Even going so far as to tell me to inform my shower guests that gifts of the pink nature will be frowned upon by the establishment.

It didn't take long for him to realize that, as far as baby gear companies are concerned, there are only 2 colors to choose from: boy and girl. Really?

Those of you that pay attention and read the last post, you will have noticed that Boogie's walls are, in fact, pink.

Exactly.

So now there I was, getting fatter and fatter with every passing day. No donut in town is safe. Boxes of Lucky Charms are fleeing the city in fear. And growing along with my waistline is my anxiety.

What if I am Yolie?

For those of you who don't know, Yolie, is my 'mother'.  Not to be confused with my Mom. The one who put flowers in my hair for church when I was a little girl, taught me how to put on purple eyeshadow and was there when my daughter was born. It is also my Mom who always seems to know what I need to hear and when. You can't put a price on what it feels like to have your parents tell you that you've grown up into someone they are so proud of.

Now I haven't spoken to Yolie for going on 9 years now.  I had to finally say 'when' and stopped the hemorrhaging. There is a VERY good reason for this but I will share it with you on a day when I feel I need to repeatedly punch myself in the mouth. Cuz that's what talking about her is like.

Puts me in a stabby mood. And I'm not in the mood to be stabby today.

Regardless, I still share her blood and unfortunately,  some of her traits (as much as I hate to admit it).  Because of this, I spent my entire life not wanting a daughter. And by not wanting a daughter, I mean BEGGING the Lord God Almighty to never ever, by any means, bless upon me... a girl child.

Apparently, God didn't get the email.

I am probably in Gods #spam folder with the online Canadian Pharmacies and the Nigerian millionaire.

My biggest fear in the world is that some day my precious, beautiful child will some day look at me the same way I looked at her.

I just couldn't live like that.

Then I started to obsess about it. Asking myself questions about how and why we become our parents, for good or bad. I replayed every argument, every ridiculous conversation over and over in my head. Every lie. I needed to know how I could avoid making the same mistakes.

When Boogie was finally here, it wasn't until it was just her and I alone, in the middle-of-the-night stillness of the house, that we bonded. It was in those quiet moments that I would introduce myself to her and she would lay there, so trusting and comfy, in my arms. It's then when you wonder how anyone could possibly hurt a child much less, how you could knowingly and purposely hurt your own.

Then one day, as I was driving down the street, it hit me. I am nothing like Yolie.  

::happy epiphany dance::

Why?

Because, I could never even fathom doing what she has actually done to her poor children. I could never pit them against each other, or walk away from my baby, or otherwise terrorize. I could never ignore one while doting on another while pretending, yet another, doesn't exist.

On top of all that, I could never do all this and yet act like the victim, the child, the buddy.

I didn't need another friend. I needed a mother.

So I guess I'm in the clear. In the clear because that kind of stuff doesn't even cross my mind as being in the realm of possibility.

See? I can relax now. Nothing alike.

I would, however, have loved to get her button nose or the eyelashes that have now been passed down to my Boogie.

I am thankful every day that I am almost exactly like my Dad (so is Rutherford). But don't you DARE tell him I said so.

I am silly and corny and talk way too loud. I have a tendency to repeat myself if I think I said something even slightly humorous.

And if I got half Dad's heart and a quarter of his devotion and acceptance of his children, than I have one lucky kid.

1977

Summer Infant BabyTouch Digital Video Monitor Review!

So my initial reason for wanting to start a blog was to share my abundant knowledge of all things baby.

What's that you say? What do I know about baby stuff since I only have one child and she is barley 10 months old?

Very observant, my dear readers, but let me tell you...It's called OCD. Or actually, O.C.D.

That's better.

Hello, my name is Nicole and I'm a baby stuff stalker.

Hi Nicole.

No really, not kidding. So. Not. Kidding.

Observe...

Before Boogie was born I read all my baby books, cover to cover. (BabyWise is actually highlighted, underlined and earmarked.) I also read the ones for Rutherford, and earmarked the good parts for him too.

Choosing bottles took MONTHS.

Weeks of scanning the Internet, reading reviews, pricing and in person walk-by's at Babies R Us & BuyBuyBaby, went into buying the umbrella stroller. (Which I then ended up buying at Wal-Mart because they had it cheaper then anywhere else and IN STOCK. Score!)

And that was just a $40 umbrella stroller.

Don't get me started on the convertible car seat.

I anguished over the digital thermometer.

Do normal people take 2 whole days to decide on a bottle brush? Just me?

See a pattern here?

So lately we found ourselves in need of a new video monitor for the Boogie's room. Game on...

This monitor is actually a replacement monitor for the one we had purchased in November. I don't know how it could have happened (yes I do, it was dropped) but it suddenly had the worlds most annoying hum. And not just a low hum, a keep you awake staring at the ceiling, kind of hum. Rutherford pointed that out to me. Thank you for that because until he said something, I hadn't noticed it and then couldn't get it out of my head.

Like the little problem solver I am, I took to my Twitter account and called out the manufacturer. To my surprise the contacted my right away, refunded my total purchase price AND promised a replacement free of charge! I am now a huge fan of Safety 1st and can honestly say they have some of the best customer service I have encountered from any large company, as of yet. Kudos.

In the mean time, I needed a new one. You don't understand, it's like that old saying: Once you go video, you don't go back...or whatever.

Anywho...

So back to the drawing board I went with my new mission. Armed with the promise of a $161.00 check from Safety 1st, I started looking at nicer, newer and more upgraded models of video monitors for this time around. And that's when I saw it....

Que singing angels here.

Feast your hungry eyes, people. Soak in it's gloriousness. Bask in it's udder awesomeness.

Summer Infant's BabyTouch Digital Video Monitor

Swoon. Told you so.

Here's the description straight from the Summer Infant website.

The BabyTouch Color Video Monitor is the most innovative baby video monitor on the market. It features a revolutionary touch-screen controlled monitor, the first of its kind. Like many of the smart phones, simply touch the screen to control the monitor’s pan, scan, zoom and brightness features. Two other great aspects include a stylish, magnetic docking station for the handheld unit and a wireless, rechargeable battery-powered dock for the camera. Another wonderful feature is the unique talk-back option, giving parents the ability to speak into the handheld monitor and have their voice projected through the camera.

Summer Infant monitors always came highly rated from all the Moms around the Twitter water cooler but the are not cheap so I hesitated to buy one but that doesn't mean I didn't covet thy neighbors monitor. I have also been known to casually walk by them on every visit to the store every now and then, you know, for research purposes only.

Here was my chance to finally own the Rolls Royce of baby gear.. the Summer Infant video baby monitor and I was going for it. Oh yeah.

Off to BuyBuyBaby I went to buy buy my monitor. $249.99 later I was on my way home but not before a thorough walk through, you know, just to make sure everything is right where it was last time. (Including the new Munchkin Diaper Pail and First Years bottle drying station, either of which would be a very nice surprise from the other half for the low low price of $29.99 and $14.99, respectively.)

Hold on! Important side note here!!

If you don't know this already, BuyBuyBaby is owned by BedBath&Beyond. Yup, that's right! Which means all those 20% coupons you have piled up work at BOTH STORES. Let me give you a minute to let that one sink in...

Okay back to my story...

I then raced home, my head spinning with images of all the fun times my monitor and would soon be having. I ran into the house, a quick "Hey, how are ya?" to the kid and the father and I was tearing into the box with my teeth like a kid on Christmas. A quick scan of the directions (directions are for being read AFTER you fail to figure it out on your own) and I was up and running.

Small camera unit & notice the Ohio State Buckeyes Brutis mobile on the crib. Yeah baby!

Here it is on the wall in Boogie's room. And here are actual pictures of it's awesomeness in action.

Great color picture of the play room and WAY too many toys.

Second favorite feature is the "talk back" ability. Think of it like a walkie-talkie. I demonstrated this one this morning by giving Daddy a verbal "high five" on his diapering job. Fun times, people.

If I had to make one little improvement on perfection, it would be to have a temperature reading on the parent unit. Our other monitor had that and it was so helpful when the temp dropped here in the desert. (Her room is in a far corner of the house so it's hard to tell how hot or cold it is in there.) But this is minor and all of the other features, by far, make up for that one place it's lacking. The parent unit is also super fast when charging, like 4 minutes to get it 80%, a portable battery powered charging station for the camera which will keep the camera running for 10 hours when not plugged into a wall, AND a/v cables so you can hook up the parent unit to the TV. Genius!

All in all, my favorite baby item, hands down. I will be recommending this one to everyone, including you. Another bonus, @SummerInfant is readily available and willing to chat on Twitter and I am very pro any company that makes themselves accessible to it's customers.

You can find Summer Infant monitors and all of it's other amazing and thoughtful products, as well as, where to buy at http://www.summerinfant.com/

Happy stalking!



I was given permission to do this review by Summer Infant PR but I was not compensated in any way in exchange for a good review. I just really think they are awesomesauce. Now go buy their stuff.

This is the last time I'm going to say this..

Awhile ago, when I first came across the world of mommy bloggers and Twitter moms, my first thought was 'Yay! Friends! Someone else who shares my pain, my experiences, my brand of diapers!'

In my head were visions of us skipping through the meadow, long blond hair flowing in the breeze, holding hands and singing the theme song to The Backyardigans...

Oh boy was I apparently mistaken. (And not only because I don't even have blond hair.)

Don't get me wrong. There are some seriously kick ass Moms (with a capital M) out in the Twittersphere. Those are the cool Moms. The A Group Moms. The ones I can only imagine were Homecoming Queens, and only gained weight in their belly's when pregnant.

I won't name names...but I'm looking at you @sdmomfia.

But there is a small group (thankfully) of moms that get on my last nerve.

I'm sure I'm not going to make any friends here by saying this but I already have friends, thankyouverymuch. And it's my blog, so suck it.

The moms I'm referring to are those judgmental little B's who troll, not only Twitter, but Facebook too, looking for a chance to tell you what you are doing wrong and why. Like someone out there made them Lord all mighty of the Moms. All knowing and all seeing in the world of child rearing. The be all, end all, of motherhood.

True story:
Commented a friendly comment in reply to something a friend had posted on Facebook.

Insert judgmental mom who is not only NOT my friend, but I don't know this woman. So I most defiantly could not give a crap of her opinion on my parenting style or the fact that I have read and used the BabyWise method of sleep training.

Really?! I mean REALLY?!

Excuse me, who are you again? And your name is...?

This woman proceeded to berate me on my lack of love for my Boogie because I have let her cry it out, via the Facebook page of a mutual friend. Huh?

**** Let me just stop right here and clarify something. I DO NOT ignore my child. I have, however, let her cry herself to sleep in order to get her on a sleep schedule starting when she was about 12 days old. The result? I have a happy, healthy, intelligent 10 month old who slept through the night at 7 weeks old. She has a regular sleep schedule, rarely cries and can self soothe better than most adults I know.  Does this work for everyone and their child? No. Will I beat you over the head if you go to your child when she cries? No. Why? Because it's none of my damn business.

Delete.

I played the bigger woman card.

"Um, I do not know you. I don't need to explain myself to you, whoeveryouare. Please stop talking to me."


Silence. Ahh... Then there it was. That little red notification bugger. She was at it again.

This time she informs me that she had gone through my photos and noticed that I use a Graco Nautilus car seat for Boogie and wanted to know how old she was because according to manufacture directions, children under the age of 1.....blah blah blah.

I stopped reading.

(Her comment, not the manufacturers directions, I've read those...many times. Those of you that know me, know that.)

Note to self: Check privacy settings. 

That's right about when the chick in me that usually takes the high road, took a hike herself, and the  snarky little B in me, reared her ugly head.

This woman was MILD, even NICE (okay, not really) compared to some of the other women I've met on Twitter. Those women? Vultures. Those women? Breastfeeding, cloth diapering, baby food making, vaginal birthing, treehuging, uber-moms who's only goal is to make the rest feel bad about our own mommyness.

---> Please know, I do not have anything against doing any of these things for your baby. It is recommended. It is good. It is HARD. You go with your bad self if you can make baby food and wash diapers after birthin' yo baby.... You. Are. A. Rock. Star.

Some of my favorite Mom's cloth diaper and make baby food, and they don't beat me over the head with their Bum Genius. (Looking at you @mamabmy!)

But this is not me.

So do I need to be told multiple times that I must be a terrible mother because I delivered by c-section?

I did not know this but apparently when you deliver vaginally, you release oxytocin, otherwise knows as the love hormone which helps with bonding and maternal instincts.

See:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Oxytocin

Because I did not vaginally deliver, I did not give off oxytocin and, therefore, I do not love my Boogie. Am I getting that right?

My new favorite saying: Keep your opinions out of my scar and I'll keep mine out of your vagina.

Do you see this little face?

I live, breathe and die by those brownish-green eyes. I kiss those cheeks goodnight and miss her until she wakes up in the morning. I watch her sleep on the monitor and CRIED the first time I had to let her cry it out, for her own good. I worry daily about the world I brought her into and what it will be for her after I am gone. Most importantly, I think it would be impossible for me to love ANYTHING more than I love this kid and her father.

So if you think for a second,  because I don't breastfeed, won't spin my own cotton to make cloth diapers, can't grow my own vegetable garden for organic baby food or whatever else is new in uber-mommying,.. it means that I don't love that little face and everything attached to it....think again.



UPDATE:
Okay, just to clarify, Twitter & Facebook are not crawling with B's. 99.9% of the people I have met are awesomesauce. This post is just me and my encounters with the ridiculousness of mommy-on-mommy judgment.  I'm tougher than the average cookie but not everyone is.  This is for the Moms that are just looking to their peers for advice and conversation and get this crap in return. Can't we all just get along? Kumbaya anyone?

BFF's

When I was about 7 years old I met someone who would be in my life to this very day. There's a lot to be said for that considering I'm 33 now.

I just did the math. That's almost 27 years. Something must be wrong with math today because that's can't be right. Math is obviously broken.

But I digress...

Trudy is this very special person but I call her Dewey, and in all my life I have yet to meet someone else like her. 

Dewey and I met on the grade school playground, when she stuck up for me and didn't even know me. That's just how she rolls. From that day on I looked up to her, admired her, was jealous of her, wanted to be her and was grateful for her. We made friendship bracelets and wore BFF charms, like any other respectable best friends. Duh.

As a kid I spent more time at her house than mine. Her parents were married and mine were divorced. She also had a cool older sister, a schizo cat named Elvis and a dog named Mitchell who I always called my boyfriend. Her Mom would drive us to Skate Junction and her Dad would make pancakes for our dolls. I still remember her home phone number from when we were kids.

Grade School

If she thought something was cool, well then HELL YEAH it was cool! And she was also one of those people who did every sport and activity like second nature. I was awkward and uncoordinated.  She ran, I ran and fell down. She made a base hit, I struck out. She was captain of the dance team, I was only near the front because I was short. But I tried everything and I owe that to her. She got me to do the things I never thought I could. I didn't always do great but I was still out there doing it and she was out there telling me she knew I could. 

Some of my earliest memories are of torturing her dad. Poor Bob.  Really, like seriously, POOR BOB. I'm almost positive that to this day Bob probably questions my ability to drive. He also probably wished the Mercedes had child locks (because opening car doors while your moving just to see the interior lights go on, is never recommended but still funny) and that even as very small children that we would recognize that we were going to Disneyland when, in fact, we should have been going to Knott's. Bob just always reminded me of one of those cartoon Dad's banging his head against a wall whenever we were around.

Side Note: Dear Bob,  I have, in fact, figured out the difference between the clutch, and the brake, and that cars need oil. Also, if it makes you feel any better, I have a daughter now who will probably torture me because that's how karma works.

Later in high school, there was no shortage of getting in trouble. Drill team kidnappings, Taco Bell parking lots, paper crowns, Australian Beach Club, The Metro in Riverside, the Gia, engine fires (hence the lessen in cars needed oil), boys and everything else that goes along with being that age.

Once we were even driven home from a rave gathering of people outdoors, in the trunk back seat of some girls car because our ride freaked out and ditched us had to leave early. Not really recommended. (And if it's now 2026 and my daughter is reading this, I'm lying. Good girls don't go to raves or ride in trunks.) But if it did happen, which it didn't, it would be totally hilarious.

Dance Team

Graduation 1995

 After graduation I went off to San Diego State and she to Long Beach State. New friends, new lives less time for each other. As more time went by I moved out of state. What we realized was that no matter how far or how long between visits, all it takes is a phone call. We could go months without talking and 1 phone call or text and it's like nothings changed.

We both knew if one needed the other, the other would be there. No matter what it took. 

Mexico

About 8 years ago she was going through a particularly trying time in her life and I come home to see her. At one point we snuck away and sat on the porch of her house and I  finally told her how much her friendship meant to me all those years. How much I respected and admired her my entire life. How much I would have given anything to be her at times. The last thing I would have ever expected to come out of her mouth, was the next thing that did. Turns out it was ME she respected and admired and wanted to be!

My heart grew a little that day. I'm not sure if she ever knew how much *I* needed to hear that at that time in my life as well. Your 20's are never easy. I left to go home to Arizona with a renewed sense of self and confidence.

Next month, the day before my 34th birthday, my best friend is getting married and I will be there, standing with her in front of friends and family on the most important day of her life. I am honored.

Not many people are lucky enough to have friendships like this in their life time.  The kind of relationships that the others are measured against. But I do, and I am and I know it.

To my best friend:  Thank you for sticking up for me that one day so long ago. Thank you for pushing me when I needed to be pushed. Thank you for teaching me how to drive a stick, how to do split leaps, how to play light as a feather stiff as a board, introducing me to my first scary movie, telling me he wasn't good enough to me, listening to me when I said he wasn't good enough for you, not getting mad at me when I kicked lightly tapped your 3 year old in the shin because he REALLY deserved it, and for every other moment in my life when we laughed, cried, danced, drank and generally caused a ruckus together. They, and you, are priceless to me. Congratulations on your wedding. Love, Me

I still have this.

P.S. Thank you for letting me pick out my own bridesmaids dress. Nothing worse than an ugly bridesmaids dress.