those hormones I warned y’all about


Oh dear glob they are bubbling up…and they ain’t no female, pms-y kind of hormones either!

My sweet boy, my beautiful son is 11 years old and the hormones are starting to bubble up. No, they aren’t a raging, rolling boil…yet. But they are just at the boiling point and…

I’m not liking it.

Not.

One.

Bit.

I have survived four girls through the transition of child to stinky pre-teen to raging adolescence. This can not possibly be hard for me anymore.

No way!

I’ve got this.

Totally.

I believed that.

I truly did.

I thought wrong.

Oh my goodness! My sweet little boy suddenly is one big gloomy, grumpy, irritated, annoyed person and he is directing that flood of emotions at me…complete with heavy sighs and eye rolls.

WHAT?!?

What indeed, son. We both are wondering what right now. Although I have to confess that my “what” is actually a three word “what“.

Then this comes on.

Oh my darling boy! Not a day goes by where I am not reminded just how fortunate, how so damn lucky we are…

you are.

Yesterday was one of those days. My heart breaks for another family, another amazing, brave and strong one like you. So I close my eyes and cry hot tears while I offer up a quick thanks for you…and say a prayer for the other. Then I say thank you for these hormones that are just beginning to bubble up to a boil because I get to experience them…again…with you.

for the last time…PLEASE dear glob let it be for the last time!!!


That feathery blink of the eyelash before puberty right around age 11, for the last time I am going through it. Any parent of teens and young adults knows EXACTLY what I am speaking of. I semi-lovingly refer to it as the scummy stage.

Apologies to my four beautiful, teen-aged and young adult daughters, but it is because of you I have named this phase thusly…with love, of course with love.
The hair…oh the hair…that ratty ponytail…”YES, I brushed my hair…cutting hair…YES, I WASHED MY HAIR!!
Certain fashion choices…a certain green sweatshirt…those stinky shoes…NO! You can not wear THAT!
The heavy, dramatic sighs…eye rolls…way too many eye rolls…gestures…stomping of feet and slamming of doors…

Oh sweet pre-pubescent hormonal surges! How I almost constantly remind myself that you are so temporary and this is still my sweet, beautiful child who is vexing me so…and perhaps grossing me out with questionable hygiene.

Yes, my beautiful child whom I love more than life itself, you MUST take a shower more than twice a week and you do have to use soap and shampoo and conditioner…and today, because it is picture day at school, you must let your Mom try to blow dry and style your hair. Sure you’ll roll your eyes and run your fingers through your hair when Mom is done but humor me, please.

And please, oh please take off THAT sweatshirt when you get your picture taken!

post-partum snark


Hurray for awards season! Time to let our clever snark fly on down the Red Carpet because who better to do that than those of us who cares (or doesn’t care) who wore who than us plain folk who likely will never, ever walk down a Red Carpet someday…

although I am counting on Jon Walkup getting nominated for an Academy Award and remembering that he promised me that I could come to cheer him on. Sure that honor should go to his mom, but I did ask…on Twitter no less.

But yes, the stars are walking the Red Carpet and we are calling them like we see them. I was cool with it until I saw on Facebook last night this photo of the lovely Claire Danes with the caption,

Six weeks postpartum. Fuck you, Claire Danes. Fuck you.

What followed was 326 comments of nothing but snark and post-partum haters hating new mother Claire Danes for being a skinny woman just six weeks after birthing her baby boy. Soon followed the arguments that it was easy for her with an army of nannies, doctors, nutritionists, cooks and personal trainers…an army of them…as well as the fact that she was breastfeeding and she is a skinny bitch anyway. Then the counter arguments joined in pointing out through proper diet and exercise before during and after pregnancy or good genes or (glob forbid!) hard work we too can return to our pre-pregnant body just six weeks after giving birth!

Um yeah!

Oh the mommy hate was hot! Of course the intent of the original poster was sarcasm and humor, very snarky humor, because we mommies love snarky humor (especially when it is not directed at us) but it very much back-fired and a whole lot of mommies did get their panties all up in a wad.

Surprised?

Really?

I would have loved to join in offering my own opinions. I’ve been pregnant a few times and have given birth a few times as well. I wanted to offer that although it didn’t take me six weeks to lose the pregnancy weight…because it took more than six weeks to put it on…I did bounce back.

Take that the haters who proclaimed that I was going to get fat after I happily announced each pregnancy!

And double take that for making the same declarations when my first born daughter announced her own pregnancies!

I almost offered that I did bounce back to my pre-pregnant self…but I didn’t…bounce back to my pre-pregnant self…because I WAS pregnant. How could my body possibly morph back into a body that never, ever was pregnant when I was pregnant? I did indeed regain my shape, albeit a little curvier, but no, I did not get fat…sorry. But I, just like EVERY SINGLE WOMAN WHO HAS EVER BEEN PREGNANT AND HAS GIVEN BIRTH, did not return to the woman I was physically, mentally or emotionally before I was pregnant. I was changed, as is every other woman…just as is beautiful, skinnier-than-me Claire Danes.

Hate her dress.

Wonder what was up with her hair.

But mothers let’s not hate on the other mothers…whether they have the imagined army of nannies, doctors, dieticians, cooks and personal trainers, or wear their size 3 before baby skinny jeans home from the hospital while they cradle their beautiful newborn in their skinny arms or find theirselves counting Weight Watchers Points and squeezing into spanx and lycra’d yoga pants six or twelve or fifteen years after they gave birth to their baby. We did something pretty phenomenal and amazing…

we are so crafty…

we made people…

and we have the gorgeous bodies…

skinny, fat, curvy, straight, muscular…

to prove it.

swimming in estrogen


Before Daniel completed our family circle, Bill and I used to joke about living in the house that estrogen built. Bill was truly outnumbered but in spite of the obvious jokes he was quite content with it all.

Then along came Daniel.

Definitely a boy…a boy who likes to do boy things:

water pistols at sunset

enjoying a bottle of your favorite beverage

checking out your newest Nintendo 3DS game, Lego Batman 2!

fist bumping and elbow bumping with your dad.

My guys are still swimming in estrogen here under the Big Top, but they do all right banded together…strength in numbers and all that.

This week’s Focus 52 assignment was all about the guys and guy things. Be sure to stop by Jan’s blog and check out all things masculine.

fifty shades of distracted


Laundry?…

Spring Cleaning under the Big Top?…

Filing my Federal taxes (waiting until the eleventh hour because in spite of yet another year of unemployment/underemployment and losing our home we still freakin’ owe taxes this year…you’re welcome 1%)?…

Catching up on neglected projects (yes, of course I haven’t finished painting the staircase!)?…

Prepping for my biennial NRP renewal?…

Training for that mud run?…

What?…

What was that again?

Sorry. I’m finding myself rather distracted these days…and yes, perhaps a little too hot and bothered as well.