It’s been busy for us.  Work.  Putting the house on the market.  Everything.  This makes me stop.  Every time I watch it I get all glowy and my heart swells up.  Charlotte learned “You Are My Sunshine” at school and regales us with it often.  I can’t get enough of how she says “shunshine.”

You are our light, sweet girl.  We love your song.

We’ll be gone a few days.  Greyson and I are taking off on a little trip.  I’m so excited I could burst.  We’re basically making my geek pilgrimage to The Wizarding World of Harry Potter.  I promise to Instagram, Vine and Tweet my way through.  I also promise to wear my Time Turner necklace.  Yep, I have one haters.  Don’t hate.  See you soon!

Dear Daughter,

Your addiction has effected me negatively in the following ways:

• You can’t sit down to a meal at our home or go to a restaurant without getting a fix.  We as a family should be able to dine together without you having to have a drink every time.  
• When you drink you act differently, most often a hyper sugar high, followed by a tear filled-crash.
• I can no longer watch you fumble and get frustrated with the plastic straw in the carton.
• I have seen you scream and throw your carton on the Barnes & Noble train table, splashing your drink all over the Thomas the Tank Engine.
• I find cartons in your car seat and by your high chair.
• Your addiction makes me feel like I am failing you as a mother if I don’t give you what you want.
• If you don’t get a drink you throw a fit and cry until you do.  As your mother, I can no longer listen to your wails for “chokate milk!”

I am here today asking you to get help.   I will no longer be an enabler.  I will not be the person who fuels your addiction any more.  I can’t stand by and watch you douse Thomas & Friends in a sugar-fueled rage.  I no longer will let you pick a carton from the Starbucks cooler thinking it is “just this once.”  I now know that Ovaltine is not any better, it just made me feel better to give it to you because it had “vitamins.”

Sometimes I blame myself because I breast fed you for a year and I have to think the only thing as delicious as my milk is chocolate milk.

Please accept the gift of help we are offering you today.  We are now a “dry” home, free of sugar laced milk.  You will now only drink plain milk and water.  I know sometimes they give you juice at school and I can live with that, but we will no longer have chocolate milk in our house.

I love you and I want what is best for your teeth and our sanity as a family.

Love,

Mama

P.S. If this is ever really for drugs and not a tongue-in-cheek blog post, I will drag your butt to rehab.  If you refuse, I will send you to jail because I’m not putting up with that crap.  Consider chocolate milk your warning.

#@&*!  I have the worst #$&^*#$ head cold I have ever had in my entire %&#$*&@ life.  Ahh!

Why all the cursing?  Well, one for thing I feel terrible and I can’t breathe through my nose.  But, really I’m cussing up a storm because it’s Fat Tuesday.  I need to get it out of my system.  For Lent I’m giving up cuss words.  Yep, our darling girl is getting into the repeating phase.  Greyson and I mean well, but we let the foul language fly on many an occasion.  In his mind, what else is he supposed to say when a running back fumbles the ball?

I give you a football watching quote from my better half: “You #$&^*#$,  %*&&^, hold on to the God #@*&#$ ball!

Pretty bad, huh?  Yeah, I’m not much better when my Internet connection is slow or I drop an armload of something I should have taken in two trips. You get the idea.

It’s not just the repeating.  Charlotte is also saying “Was dat?” to everything she sees and “Was dat?” whenever we say a new word she doesn’t recognize.  I imagine phrases like the ones above would be repeated eagerly followed by a “Was dat?”

I thought about a swear jar where we have to put in money every time we say a cuss word, but that $%*# is expensive.  So, I figure a good start would be this solemn six week observance.  We’re not Catholic, but I figure the Holy Father would approve.

$%*&!  That’s right!  The Pope quit!  ::sigh::  I guess we’ll do it anyway.  That way maybe our kid won’t have a mouth so foul it needs to be stuffed with King Cake.

This weekend I went to the baby shower of a first-time mom.  Amber is a girl I grew up with and one of my sister’s best friends.  (See picture below. That’s Amber.) Julie is my little sister, but Kristen and Amber made up their gruesome threesome.  I feel like the other two are sort of “little sisters” too.

Amber had a mountain of gifts, thoughtfully wrapped and checked off her registry.  Many other young mothers, me included, talked about different gifts.  You know, how no Americans knew who Sophie was 5 years ago, unless you had a baby in the last 5 years.  Now like, OMG everyone’s baby LOVES them!

I sat there with my two-year-old but I found my mind running.  I wanted to shout out, “Oooh!  Let me tell you how to best use that!” or “I used that this one time when…”  I chatted with the mom-to-be about childcare and other things, but I wanted to say more.  I found myself bubbling up with advice that I had to consciously bottle up at the shower.  I didn’t want to be like, “I know it all because a person came out of my birth canal and I kept it alive for two years!”  No one likes that woman.  Then I thought, “Oh that’s right.  I have a blog.  I can write whatever I want to there.”

So here it is.  For all the Amber’s out there with your big bellies and glowing faces. My advice.  Take it or leave it.  I give it with love.

• Get a really good breast pump.  DO NOT cheap out on a breast pump.   It pays for itself as much as you use it.  Oh!  It pays for itself anyway.  For working mothers, breast pumps are now tax deductible.  Go ahead and warn your husband they are like $300.  But, save the receipt!  Again, TAX DEDUCTIBLE!  I did not rent one from the hospital because of this.  I had the Medela one that looks like a purse.  It was great.
• Get a hands-free pumping bra.  Looks hilarious, but extremely handy.  You’re welcome Bessie, now hook on up to that there pump and get yourself milked!  That’s  a good girl!
• Get on a waiting list for a day-care NOW!  If you’re not already on one by your baby shower, you may be screwed.  Sorry.  It’s true.  We were on five and only one could take us when I needed to go back to work.  Oh, it’s $150 to just get your name on the list at each one.  No, it’s not refundable.
• Wrap up those Dr. Brown’s bottles and take them back to the store.  They are a gigantic pain in the ass.  You will spend the next year of your life with a tiny bristle brush washing those stupid parts.  I’m not convinced they are any better than any other bottle and now I will have to use them for the next kid because I have about 25 of the damn things.
• Take the Brest Friend pillow to the hospital.  For me, it is the greatest breastfeeding invention of all time.  When I was shopping for Amber I saw the new Born Free pillow and got very excited.  It looks really great too and may have some features the Brest Friend pillow doesn’t have.
• You may have to buy more than one nursing pillow.  I had a Boppy at the hospital.  A friend brought me a Brest Friend.  Boom!  That worked.  Find the one that works.  For me, the Brest Friend worked when she was little, but the Boppy was better when she was older.  Like I said, the Born Free looks phenomenal.  You’ll have to adjust as you get more comfortable with nursing and your baby grows.
• Find a pediatrician.  We toured ours before the baby was born.  I didn’t know it, but having a lactation consultant at the pediatrician’s office was WONDERFUL for those newborn visits. Yep, I whipped out my boobs for the nurse at the peds office.  I needed advice and I knew she could give it.  Be weary of peds offices that don’t have them and be weary of peds offices that pump out formula samples.  Formula is fine, but advice that helps you keep nursing is even better.  You CAN do it.  It’s just hard at first.
• Buy a boxes of unscented maxi pads before you go into labor.  No one tells you you’re going to have a heavy period for 6 weeks after the baby is born and you can’t wear tampons.  Use unscented.  Trust me.  You’ll thank me later.  Use the big ice pack ones they send you home from the hospital with while you’re still sore.  But, you’ll run out and be with 8 extended family members who came to see the baby and you be all like, “Ah!  Someone go to the store!”
• Get your FMLA and maternity leave stuff lined up.  I was in a panic because we got a new HR rep at my old job when I was 8.5 months pregnant.  Fortunately, I got some of the necessary paperwork earlier.  MAKE SURE you know how much time you’re taking off and what’s paid and what’s unpaid.  My husband and my daughter were on my insurance so right after she came home from the hospital I had to get on the phone and make sure she was covered.
• Fill out paperwork for the cord blood banking now.  I totally didn’t and have no cord blood saved.  Not the end of the world, but it would be nice to have.
• Take everything from the bassinet at the hospital.  Diapers, wipes, everything.  It’s yours.  You paid for it with insurance.  Ask for two bulb syringes and two squirt bottles.  Get the nurse to grab you extra ice pack pads and that numbing spray to take home too.
• It’s okay to cry a lot.  You will.  You’ll cry at every freakin’ commercial with a baby, or when your mom leaves after staying with you that first week.  You’ll suddenly be afraid that EVERYTHING will harm the baby.  Ugh.  It’s a little rough sometimes.  You’ll get it together, but you cry a lot in the first few weeks.
• This is awesome.  It’s great.  Not all the time.  Sometimes it’s really hard, but it’s also amazing.

Phew!  That’s all I got today.  I may have to do a Part 2 of one of these posts.  Okay, other moms, what did I miss?  What did you wish you had known?

Pin it!  You know you want to!

If you don’t already read my friend Erin’s blog, you totally should.  She came up with a fun idea for a link up and I’m all about it.  Why?  Because it has to do with sparkly stickers.  Let’s face it, I love sparkly stickers about as much as my two-year-old loves them.

Her idea?  Parents should get gold stars for being awesome, or simply for doing things that aren’t terrible.  Agreed.

• My little potty-trainer said she needed to drop a deuce.  Yes!  We’ve been working on that.  I hurried her to the commode.  I helped her pull down her pants and a turd fell out and rolled on to the bathroom floor.  I did not groan and grimace.  Nope.  I plastered a shit eating grin on my face and said, “Uh oh!  That’s okay!  You got really close to the potty!”  I helped her do her business and cleaned up.  My little one then reminded me “You no eat poo poo, Mama!  Is yucky!”  I had my shit eating grin on for nothing.