I want to drink milkshakes for breakfast and eat ice cream for dinner. Truly. It’s been a lifelong dream of mine. But alas, I want to live a long life.  So, I’ll eat lean protein and fruit for breakfast instead. Oh, and I’m influencing the lives and healthful eating habits of the two little humans I’m raising, so Neapolitan for dinner is out.

I also want to support mom-owned businesses while being healthy. So when Erin from Mommi sent me some samples of the Mommi 3-in-1 shakes I was psyched. Erin likes being healthy too. (Please note the adorableness of her daughter.) She loved protein shakes for breakfast. She got pregnant and noticed none were recommended for the pregnant and breastfeeding ladies.

That’s when she invented Mommi 3-in-1, vanilla and chocolate daily supplement shakes that you mix with milk. Each has 15 grams of whey protein, 100% of the daily recommended prenatal vitamins and 200 mg of DHA in every serving. So, pretty much your prenatal vitamin with DHA with protein in a shake so you get your sweet fix. I can’t wait to try some of these recipes. Dude. The Apple Pie a la Mode? I told ya’ll I love ice cream.

My OB/GYN insists I still take my prenatal vitamins with DHA as a breastfeeding mother. I’ve been drinking shakes before my workouts, so this was perfect for me! Please excuse these photos of me with no makeup. I drank the chocolate for an evening chocolate fix. I blended the vanilla with a banana for a yummy pre-workout breakfast.

Now Mommi is offering a Somebody’s Parent’s reader two weeks worth of shakes and a shaker to drink them up! A random winner will be picked next week! Good luck!

It’s raining outside. Like, pouring. We have a storm front coming through. My babies are napping. It’s quiet in the house except for the sound of rain and CNN. (Whoa! Looks like they could use this rain in Southern California.) The skies were ominous when I went to Target and then to pick up Charlotte from preschool today. I snagged a Disney Princess and Sofia The First paint set from the $1 bin. Just $2 for rainy afternoon entertainment? I’ll take it!

I stripped her down and let her paint, explaining that “Paint is only for big kids!” She was delighted. I’m working on being more “in the moment” with my kids. I left her clothes on the floor and the bags and the door. I stopped everything and and painted with her for a bit. It lasted through painting Sofia’s purple dress when Henry piped up.

I went to change him to find an epic poop explosion. I’m talking liquid stool dripping down his leg. He needed a bath but, I remembered the storm. I heard my mother’s voice in my head, “You can’t take a bath during a thunderstorm! You’ll get electrocuted!” But, I couldn’t leave my baby like this. The crap was settling in between his leg rolls. Oh, and I left the wipes I had just bought at Target in the car. That’ll teach me to be “in the moment.”

I looked outside. It hadn’t actually thundered that I had heard, just rain. I said, “Charlotte, keep painting, I’ll be right back. I need to wash Henry.” I said anti-electrocution prayers as I shuffled my sticky little shit nugget upstairs. Okay, no lightning, no thunder. We’d be okay. I didn’t submerge him. I put him in his little bath seat and just poured water on him. I kept him away from the faucet as if lightning would shoot through it and kill us all. I think I saw that in a movie once. I prayed more as I quickly scrubbed him. It was a terrifying 2 or 3 minutes.

He was dry and clean. I took him down for his lunch. We have just started solids and he got to try squash today. I wanted to feed him right when we got home, but I was all “in the moment.” So, naturally this happened moments after I bathed him:

I went to the car and got the wipes. I wasn’t going to go to the trouble and risk death by electrified bath water for the second time in one afternoon. I still haven’t heard any thunder or seen any lightning, so I keep telling myself the threat was minimal and I’m not a careless  endangerment to my child. I look forward to the squash poop I’ll get to clean tomorrow, hopefully without shocking anyone.

There are looks only we get to see as mothers. The looks on the faces of our children. It starts with milk dribbles down their chins with sleepy, smiley eyes as they peek around our breasts or their bottle. They meet our gazes and grin between suckles.

Only we get to see the adoring eyes from a stumbling toddler when they say, “Mama!” Those sparkling, drooling smiles are for their mamas.

Their looks of horror after scraping a knee or hearing a loud noise are scary, indeed. But, they are faces that show that only you will do, mom. Only you.

I love the excited face, the face after you are reunited with your child after a few hours or days. The face of joy that we see and we can’t help but scoop up our babes, relieved they are back in our arms.

Enjoy the looks. Those faces make life better and they are for us, alone. Happy Mother’s Day.

Since being home, my wardrobe has gone to shit. When I was working full-time I may have rocked a low ponytail too often. It did have a side part to look “professional.” Let’s be honest, it was just in a low ponytail because it was dirty, but I was dressed for work. I had on clothes that weren’t yoga pants. Now I frequently squeeze into these spandex running capri things because that’s what the other moms wear when they sweat it out with me and our screaming children in strollers.

So, yesterday I was psyched to wear a dress for the preschool Mother’s Day Tea. I had every intention to dry my hair and wear it down, but the road to low ponytails is paved with good intentions. The first dress I tried on was way too short. I was worried I would flash my vag to the three-year-old’s if I had to sit in those tiny chairs, so I opted for one a little longer. Well, I ended up being a tad too scandalous for the kids, but didn’t know it.

You see, Henry slept through the night Monday night! Woop woop! He has only done that a handful of times. My husband says I rejected his advances when I rolled over in deep, blissful sleep yesterday morning. I have no recollection of this shunning. I slept until 7:00 am! It was glorious and everything I thought it could be. Greyson woke up with Charlotte, so I could sleep. This meant that when I did wake up my boobs were like ZOMG, full of milk! I fed him, dressed the kids and decided on this purple dress.

I packed my pump in the car with everything else to pump while I drive. That’s my thing. Vehicular milk expression. But, I was wearing a dress. Blerg. Well, it was only an hour, forget it. I figured I’d be alright. I didn’t pump. I was a little lopsided since he ate on one side, but I’d be okay. Right?!

The tea was adorable! We got flowers in pots the kids had painted. Oh, God a flower! I kill anything in potting soil. I really hoped to keep this little flower alive.

I got to hear my girl sing her class songs in her pretty dress. I was able to squat down by the tiny tables in a ladylike way to take a selfie.

But again, I suck at selfies. My friend Clare caught me taking forever to take a selfie.

After the tea I got back to the car and something happened that hasn’t happened in MONTHS. My overflowing boobs leaked on my dress. I also forgot my nursing pads/nipple covers so I was straight up nippin’ out of the dress. I was so full my cleavage was busting out of the top. Yep, nips and cleavage at the preschool in the Baptist church.

Then, as if the pump was throwing itself in my face to prove a point, I was forced to slam on breaks leaving the tea. The pump slid and knocked my flowerpot, sending dirt all over the car.

So the preschool tea gave me a physics lesson I already knew. If your boobs are too full, they will overflow. I guess that’s really biology, but you know what I mean. The other biology lesson? If there is a plant, even a precious one given to me by a child, I will kill it. That’ll teach me to try to wear a dress. Today I’m back in my shitty wardrobe.  Spandex with a low ponytail and proud of it!

Yesterday I got off to a great start for a Monday. We were out the door and had grabbed Starbucks for breakfast before my 9:30am Stroller Strides class. No groceries. It was the ‘Bucks or starve. That aside, we were doing alright with just one threenager tantrum and only a little pee through the baby’s diaper on his pajamas. I even pumped milk before we left so I didn’t have to do it while driving when pervy truckers can peer into my SUV. I had all my clothes on behind the wheel. Win!

I told the instructor we had to cut out of class a little early to get Charlotte to gymnastics class. We were making good time and I got half a workout in. I’ll take it. I downed water on the way to gymnastics. Water is my thing now. So. Much. Water. Now that I have time to exercise in my new #SAHM life, I’m gonna take advantage of it. I’m embarrassed to tell you how long it had been since I did actual exercise before leaving my full time job. We’ll just go with “more than a year.”

The water has a downside, no doubt. I wear my baby in the carrier when I have to pee. I wake up in the night when I’m not breastfeeding to pee. I hate even having to say “pee.” It’s so crass. Sorry, but bodily fluids are my life, ya’ll.

Our relatively blissful morning was cut short when after gymnastics I made the risky move to take my brood to Carter’s to round out their spring wardrobes. It was before lunch. We were prime for meltdowns. After my successful hunt for size 3T capri leggings, we headed home. Charlotte started losing it while we were still in the store. We had a bit of a “come to Jesus” discussion between racks of 30% off cargo shorts.

No worries. We got back in the car to head home. We were still hanging in there for a Monday. That is until my bladder was overwhelmed by my excessive hydration. I had to go. Bad.

That’s when they started up, both of them. Henry, the world’s happiest baby, turned on me in my time of discomfort. He wailed and screamed. No bottle that I awkwardly poked in his face by reaching in the back seat would soothe him. That’s when Charlotte decided this was too much for her. She whined and wailed. More bodily fluids. This time tears.

She hollered, “This is ruining my whole day!”

Really?! You ruined my junk for the better part of six weeks when I pushed you out and you want to tell me how this car ride is ruining your day?!

The more I pleaded with my children to calm down, the louder they screamed. We hit every red light. I was sure people in other cars could hear the wails of my discontented babes. I panicked and looked for somewhere to pull off the road, anywhere. Why did I drink so much damn water!? Why didn’t I do kegel exercises to strengthen my pelvic floor like my OB/GYN told me too?! Where is a bathroom!?

I pulled off the only place I could, a small, quiet side road. I threw on the hazards and jumped out of the car. I took Henry out of his seat to try to find out what on earth was wrong with him. I continued to do kegels so I wouldn’t wet my pants. He stopped when I rocked him a bit. I looked around. I couldn’t take it anymore. My sniffling 3-year-old stared at me with teary eyes. I looked around.

I was gonna do it, ya’ll. I was gonna do it. I was going to hold my baby, drop trow and pee on the side of this road because I couldn’t take it anymore. Just then a truck carrying a crew of construction workers came around the curve of my quiet side street. Thank God I still had my pants up.

I put Henry back in his car seat and thought about what I was about to do. I stood with the car door open and laughed until it hurt. My children looked at me like I was insane. Maybe I am. I’m a kegeling, milk pumping, full-bladdered mess who almost flashed a construction crew who could very well know the truck driver who may or may not have seen me pumping milk on another day.