I’m not cheap, I’m thrifty. Ok, I’m cheap too, but don’t tell Ryan Gosling.

There are certain things that are usually always on the minds of single mothers:

  1) Getting enough coffee in the morning to make it through the day without a) a breakdown that involves calling your mother screaming “I just can’t take it anymore, I mean I just friggin bought him these socks and now they are fifty sizes to small, I hate my life” b) the midafternoon crash that causes you to weepily text your ex about shit like “our good times”or “why babies need a happy family…” or so I’m guessing, I have never done this, and c) making a cocktail at noon.

2)How long Ryan and Eva will make it, and how you will be there for him when she breaks his heart by running off with a French baker on one of their obnoxious trips to Paris.

3) Finding that magic financial number that will put your living situation somewhere between hobo and Real Housewife of Beverly Hills.

I have yet to find this magical financial number...but that is probably what I get for taking financial advice from ANY Real Housewife.

BUT these are my two no-fail, money saving gold mines for single moms:

1)Hand me downs. If you don’t have any friends or family who take pity on you and give you all their old crap, I honestly suggest scoping out a mom at the park with a baby roughly 6 months to a year older than your own nugget, then following her home and begging for her clothes. I have purchased clothes for stupid money that Bug has worn ONCE! ONCE! That is why hand me downs are amazing. I promise that 90% of the clothing has been used less than 5 times. Hell, I have bought consignment True Religions for $100 that were in worse condition than the box of baby clothes I got for FREE from my cousin! Find someone, anyone, who will give you hand me down baby clothes. DO NOT BUY BABY CLOTHES NEW. EVER. Those assholes at Carters probably have enough money to bail out Wall Street with the scam they’re running.

2) While you are at it, don’t buy toys either. I believe in buying books…kids can never have enough books, and I make it my one promise to Bug that I will never tell him no when it comes to books…unless he’s like 5 and asking for 50 Years of Playboy. But toys? Just don’t. Save the extravagant, noise making toys for the grandparents…grandparents love that shit. But if you see a toy a Target that sings and farts and blows bubbles, seriously avoid it. This is what Bug has in or around his toy box right now:

a. A bag of blocks.

b. Rattles, shakers and various other noise makers.

c. A riding dragon that sings.

d. Fifty balls.

e. A baby cell phone.

f. A baby ipod.

g. A toy hammer.

h. A toy bat.

i. About 400 stuffed animals.

Want to know what kept Bug occupied for close to an hour yesterday? An empty oatmeal container filled with random crap from one of the kitchen drawers…a lid, a spoon, some silicone thing, oh…and an empty water bottle. Yup. Hundreds of dollars spent on toys and my baby was more interested in an empty water bottle.

DO NOT SPEND MONEY ON TOYS.

You’re welcome.

Love,

mama & b

I call this segment "Shit You Put up with When You are a Mom." Part 1.

In the weeks following Bug’s arrival home from the hospital, he did a lot of what babies regularly do—eat, sleep, poop and pee. And I will admit, in that first week, he managed to pee on his own face, in my face and actually poop down the leg of his 10 year old brother.

It went a little like this:

I announced Bug needed a diaper change. Big Brother offered to try his hand at his FIRST poop diaper. He takes Bug into the nursery. A few moments of silence, followed by “Uh, Melissa, everything is ok, but I think I need your help.” I causally meander in, not wanting to embarrass Big Brother if he was having troubles figuring out, say, how to fasten the diaper correctly. This is what I walk in on: Bug’s feet up in the air, butt aimed straight at Big Brother, who had hot baby mustard poop running down his bare leg. Big Brother was a total trooper, though. He handled it probably better than I would have, honestly. He laughed it off, and even went on to help clean up the mess.

Flash forward. In the 9 months since then, I have become a diaper changing professional. I have the system down and am happy to report I have had little to no baby urine on my person since his first weeks.

Until yesterday. I got cocky. I thought that I could risk it and actually leave his boy parts uncovered while reaching for the diaper cream. As I turned back around, my face was met with a steady stream of baby pee, hitting me directly in my eyeballs at a pretty alarming strength. And you know what the worst part about the whole thing was? He laughed. Once he was done, he looked straight up at me and laughed. Not a “oh crap, mommy is mad” nervous kind of laugh. But a look-straight-into-my-face, “your problem, lady” kind of laugh.

That’s the shit you put up with when you are a mother—being tagged in the eye by fresh baby urine, then getting laughed at.

Love,

mama & b

Sorry Ryan Gosling, but you are my second choice of dudes to cuddle with.

I’m not exactly a needy person (lie), but if there is one thing that I can really be high maintenance about, it is cuddling. I blame my mother for this, who doesn’t? I really enjoy a good snuggle…I will snuggle with men, parents, besties, blankets, pets and babies. And now that I am single, I find myself allowing Bug to form some pretty terrible habits. He sleeps with me. Like, all the time. And seriously, haters, shut up about the whole “you’ll squish him!” shenanigans. I will not squish my son…have you seen him? It’s more likely he will squish me. Get over it.

So, I have been doing some reading about this whole co-sleeping/family bed thing. And here are my thoughts:

Pros:

·         Bond forming.

·         Comfort for me, as well as him.

·         Because I am crazy, I have to make sure my baby is still breathing every 30 seconds or so (yes, still), and if he is sleeping with me, I don’t have to get up (because I’m lazy).

·         That amazing time first thing in the morning when Bug wakes up and just lays there smiling and softly cooing to himself. I would totally never get to witness that if he were in a crib.

·         My son is an amazing nighttime sleeper. He will give me a full 8 hours of sleep. When he sleeps in his crib, I get uncomfortable and wake up every half hour in a panic. I know that this is my problem, but when he is in bed with me, I sleep, he sleeps and ultimately we both wake up with little to no hatred towards the world. HUGE PRO!

Cons:

·         I spent a stupid amount of money on cribs and crib bedding that he hardly ever use. Sucks.

Ok, so obviously I’m a little biased. And I also want to state that I wanted to co-sleep even when I wasn’t a needy and whiney single mom. My ex eventually had to kindly express that the bed wasn’t big enough for the four of us…yes, four. Our puppy would often get hateful if he was left out of the family bed.

It’s just now that I’m single I just can’t justify keeping this big ol bed to myself. It’s lonely in there. (~~~SUBTLE HINT FOR RYAN GOSLING TO CALL ME~~~)

(DISCLAIMER: While people who tell me I will smother my baby are cray-cray, I do believe two things: a) do your research and make your own decisions about co-sleeping. Here are a couple of articles--

http://kidshealth.org/parent/general/sleep/cosleeping.html

http://naturalparentsnetwork.com/five-benefits-cosleeping/

b) Even if you co-sleep, try your hardest to get your baby comfortable in a crib too…so that on those “rare” nights that you want to stay up drinking wine by yourself, watching Finding Bigfoot with the lights off, you don’t endanger your baby at all. As with texting and facebooking, co-sleeping does not mix with alcohol.)

Love,

mama & B

Hot mess is a style choice.

In my world, being hot is more of an internal thing. I am the kind of mom that has an inner MILF but hasn’t really been in touch with her for a while. My fashion doesn’t really suck and I’m fairly confident that my closet has a smattering of cute clothes and shoes, but they are probably all dusty at this point. Because at this point, all I wear is black spandex. Don’t judge. You see what you wear when you have a 9 month old and on bad days still look pregnant.  

I’m lucky if I can actually brush my teeth and shower in the morning, much less take the time to assemble and adorn a cute outfit. That’s where black spandex comes in…if I just pretend I am always either on my way to or from a yoga class, I am completely in style. No one (except the 3 people reading this) needs to know that I don’t do yoga. I don’t really work out at all. But if anyone asks, I make Downward Dog my bitch regularly.

Here is my no fail guide to dressing yourself without much effort, yet not looking homeless:

1)Yoga pants. Black. Lululemon, Victoria’s Secret and Athleta are all my top choices.

2)Funky, lively print sweatshirts. Lucky Jeans makes cool hippie print ones that make you look like your hoodie is a choice, not a necessity. Or Forever 21, if you are cheap like me.

3)Flip flips, even in winter. Havaianas. This is not up for discussion.

4)Messy pony tail. Messy is in. Again, make it look like a choice and not the reality that you haven’t brushed your hair in 3 days.

And if anyone asks, yes your chakras are aligned. Especially if by “chakra” they mean “baby” and by “aligned” they mean “pooping every 20 seconds.”

Love,

mama & b

A photo adventure into the world of trying to keep a clean house while parenting a baby...



Oh hi mom, I see you are going to try and occupy me with this box of toys.

 

Well, I'm just going to dump it out and throw stuff all over the room.

Oh, ok. You are putting me in a box. Well played.

But I'm smarter than I look. And I have been told I look pretty gosh darn smart. 

Escape! Booyah.

Now a book? Mother please...

Hmmm, freshly folded basket of laundry, you say...

Don't mind if I just help myself...

Why yes, thank you...I will just go ahead and empty this basket.


My job here is done.





 Love,

mama & b

I smell drama....amazing, fantastic, rating-boosting drama!

I have to say, I'm pretty excited to report Tamra Barney from RHWOC is getting married to that hot tranny mess of a boyfriend, Eddie. I know, it seems pretty odd to hear me express delight over marriage, but this certain union is a reality TV gold. Not that I think the ladies of OC will ever run out of things to freak out on each other about, but it's clear that next season is going to be AMAZING.


Oh, and Tamra, seeing as how you know that you are my second favorite Bravo blonde (after Rachael Zoe), I will expect an invite. And this is the dress I plan on wearing, so I will need it to be a beach wedding in...say...the Bahamas.

Oh, and this is what B will be wearing. So make sure to plan your colors accordingly.

Love,

mama & b

Fight for the right to potty...

I don’t tend to be an over-sharer, especially about bathroom habits. But I would like to take this moment to go outside my comfort bubble and talk to all of you about pee. More specifically, my troubles with peeing.

Let me start by saying that Bug is in a very nosy phase. He isn’t particularly needy; he just always wants to know what everyone is doing. He isn’t impressed by the prospect of being plopped in the living room to play with his toys when others are in, say, the kitchen or bathroom. He wants to be part of the action. This is fine most of the time, as I just let him chill in his highchair while I cook or whatever.

However, if I dare disappear into the bathroom for even 30 seconds, he goes bat shit. He needs to be involved. And I’m just not thrilled about having to haul a baby into the bathroom with me all the effing time.

Now let’s back up a moment. My pee problem started with pregnancy. Then, I had to pee like every two or three minutes…and if I ever wanted to get anything done…like make it through a Top Chef marathon, I couldn’t really stop everything every minute. It became quite a struggle.

Then when Bug was born, the pee problem continued. All I ever craved was a second or two alone so I could relieve myself in peace. But Bug went through a fussy stage from about birth to 3 months and would freak the eff out if I set him down. Needless to say, I held it a lot.

In fact, I still find myself harboring some resentment towards B’s father. He really took his bathroom time seriously and would camp out in the bathroom for like 45 minutes after he got home from work…I would have killed for that much time to pee in silence.

So, now that Bug has become more independent and capable of amusing himself for a few minutes at a time, I can’t lie…I started to get excited about being able to pee…by myself…nothing to distract me but the bathroom fan…

But no. He is far too worried mommy is doing something fun without him and crawls/scoots his way into the bathroom within seconds of me making contact with the seat.

Sigh…

Love,
mama & b

There better be vodka in that tea cup.

A plea for help...

Why hello friends. Beckett here. I hijacked mom's computer to try and elicit some sympathy from all my fans and followers. Mommy has had me in the same damn dinosaur pajamas for the past three days. She explains it like this: "Look buddy, I spent good money on these jammies, and they are really cute on you and they are already small, so you are going to get full use out of them for the next week because they will be too small after the next wash." Ok mom, let me explain a couple things to you. Yes, I am friggin cute in these jammies. But I'm cute in everything, so your argument is weak. Second, I'm a baby that likes to eat and grow, like, a lot. So stop spending money on expensive crap that I will only fit into once. Honestly. Parents these days. So yeah if you, my loving and loyal fans, can help convince my mom to put me in new jammies...that would be swell.

Slobber kisses,

B

Like a Boss...

Play with socks...

Eat a leaf...

Flirt with girls...

Get time out...

Crawl around...

Eat some food...

Since I can't get a boob job, I'll give my blog one.

I get bored easily. And I was totally over pink. White is the new pink. Welcome to the new blog.


Sooooo it’s been a while...no tragic divorces to report. Though I hear Natalie was showing off an engagement ring at theOscars. Don't do it Nat, it will only end in tears.


Speaking of ending in tears, B is crawling! I know right! Excitement and terror on every level. On one hand, I'm so proud of my boy. On the other, I'm realizing how woefully unready I am for a toddler. B is only 9 months, but he seems like he over this whole infant thing. I'm not. I like non-mobile, bottle feeding love buckets that just want to shake a rattle all day long.


But instead, I have this little monster that now crawls and scoots and eats like a million times a day--but is totally dissatisfied with the mush that is baby food...honestly, he wants honest to goodness meals. Just simply getting his diaper on takes close to a half hour...and sitting? Sitting is for "INFANTS" B says with contempt. No, he wants to crawl,stand, scoot and roll his way into every crevice of the house. He's getting his driver's license next week...I mean, it is the next logical step.


Oh, and did I mention he screams. Not a "wahhhh, I'm displeased and need you to do something about it" kind of scream. But a glass breaking, high pitched, Yeti with his finger being pinched under a boulder/Hyena having it's food stolen kind of yell. And he does this indiscriminately. Happy, sad, hungry, bored or poopy. He doesn't care. He screams. I'm pretty much deaf now.


Oh, and he's teething.


But, despite it all, I love him more than I could ever imagine loving anything. And that is the amazing think about parenthood...they can poop on you, scream in your ear, lead you on a wild goose-chase all over the house and bite you repeatedly, but you still believe this little human is perfection personified. It's the greatest feeling ever. Really.

Love,
Mama and B