I have mom hair. I really do. It has gotten bad. I know I have a lot of other “mom” qualities, but this makes me kinda mad. I was a hairstylist, and a decent one for TEN years. I know some tricks, I know some tips…but do I do that shit? NOPE. I let the shit air dry, after a quick bang blow out, or even worse….. pile it on top of my head in a messy bun, which is really a pile of wispy grease.

I just don’t know what to do with this crap anymore. Look, I take the time to throw on some eye make-up. I have gotten much better with making sure I put on a decent outfit, (since I fit into some cute ones again, post babies.) But I just don’t take the time with my hair. And when I do I get so many compliments from my husband, it is borderline pathetic. Not for him, but for me. Like it looks so un-kept so much that when I do take some time, he is floored.

I don’t have a mom attitude. I am still fun, energetic and happy. I don’t have a mom jeans. Mine are still low rise, skinny or boot cut. I don’t have mom sex. We are still weird, experimental and frequent. I just have a serious case of mom hair.

I am at this weird point where I don’t even know what to do. I should not have some super trendy haircut that is going to cost me the equivalent of a car payment to keep up with. I should not have some extravagant color that has new growth in minutes, because I never have any Jan time to get that shit done that often. But I also should not walk around with this hot mess of a do on my head.

Why do we stop taking care of certain things we when start taking care of someone else? Time? Money? Effort? Caring? Maybe all of these things. I try and take of and do a million things every single day. I look at every day as a challenge to accomplish as much as possible, while still being present with my kids and husband. I try things to make our future brighter, even if it means losing out in other areas. The other area have been WAY more than just my hair, but that is what I am focusing on right now. It seems like a much simpler resolve than other things.

But how long can I pull this mop off? How long can this head full of split ends last? I don’t want to chop it….ugh the grow out stage. I can’t afford extensions, although I want them SO bad. I guess I just keep doing what I am doing. Having this mom hair for awhile, with very occasional Saturday night spruce. At least with all three kids in tow most people aren’t looking at my hair. They are looking at my face, like what the fuck is that crazy lady thinking having so many young kids.

Mom hair is not a big deal. But if you are any type of care giver and you have mom anything you catch my drift. Giving up something you used to nail because your time is focused on another creature can catch up to you and make you feel a little less than 100%. Hell, most days when I look in the mirror I feel less than 50%, but I guess when the kids are having a 100% day that is all that matters. That and the fact that messy buns are finally in style is a bonus too.

Some woman has the idea that she feels like females who have decided NOT to have a baby still deserve an extended paid leave. Rather than MAternity leave, she has coined it MEternity. Time that is all hers, where she can revamp, rejuvenate and revitalize her life, while getting paid. A time where she can rest, relax and vacation without fear of losing her job. 12 weeks of ME time, then heading back to work feeling nice and refreshed…..

Here is the thing, all of those things DO NOT happen during a maternity leave. In fact, the many weeks after giving birth are some of the most difficult, painful, and emotional time of a woman’s life. Going through the many hours of painful contractions, then pushing a human being out of your vagina and having your insides completely explode is a fucking cake walk compared to the weeks ahead of you. So if this women thinks that starting her MEternity means taking a deep breath and letting the relaxation begin, she is dead wrong.

Once your maternity leaves begin, your new life as a mom begins as well. Here you are, with a baby. Pregnancy is over and those months and months (for some women years) of waiting for this little bundle is over and he/she has arrived. Now comes the “relaxation” right?!

When maternity leave begins, all the fucking fun begins too. First off, your breasts. Nothing says rejuvenation like having your milk come in. Seriously, I was so relaxed as my breasts swelled to an abnormal size, became rock hard and discolored. Then after the agony of learning how to actually breast feed my child, the fun time of mastitis kicked in and my vacation was in full swing.

Next the real party of exhaustion starts. It took a couple days to greet me, but after having my vagina ripped open, breast engorged and bringing home a human being, tiredness had arrived (and has never really left.) But for real. I hope whoever takes a “MEternity” sets their alarm to go off every two hours. Because that is what happens during maternity leave. EVERY TWO HOURS. It doesn’t matter if it is 2 pm or 2 am, when that baby needs food, you must wake up to nourish it. And that whole ‘you nap while they nap’??? BULLSHIT. During maternity leave, sleep does not exist.

Next up on the refreshing our lives agenda, is the arrival of hormones. Up and down, then back up, then back down. You’ve never been so in love, yet you also feel so lost. This new role of “mom” is so confusing and frustrating. You are suppose to be so happy, but you can’t stop crying. You are so in love, but you just want to scream. You have so many visitors but you just want to be alone. You look at your baby and just want to smile. But all of your hormones are making you worried about if they will get picked on in high school. If they will ever find true love. If this 5 day old will have a good career path. Your partner is trying to help, but they are doing everything wrong and you really just want to claw their eyes out. Oh those hormones. I hope they give injections of those during MEternity.

Maternity leave is full of trial and error. Once you think you have mastered one thing, something new appears. And you are doing this all while trying to heal your own stitches on your lady parts. Every hour your new baby has a surprise for you and it is your job to keep up with it. All you do is care take, nurture and give. And you are doing it…GLADLY. But there is absolutely nothing ME about maternity. Once you become a mom, me goes out the window…for a long time. Me is a shadow that is waiting in the background. A longing you have to feel again, but you can’t. Me is now and forever a you and us. You know you will find your me again, but you certainly will not see her during the beginning stages. And when you do reconnect, it will never feel the same. Me time, as a parent means always having in the back of your head that you are not there with your child. That freedom of me is gone. FOREVER.

Yes, I know, being a mom is the most amazing thing in the world, but this shit is hard. A constant battle. And having been through 3 maternity leaves (of course without pay) I now see moms going through it and feel a twinge of sadness for them. The pain, the body changes, the exhaustion, the loneliness. I see it all and just want to tell them it is all about survival. One day you will sleep again. Your stitches will heal and sex will sound fun. You will be the master mom of your child. Just ride this wave right now and survive.

So what’s it like to be a true fangirl? Well, let’s just say I have been one so long, the word “fangirl” didn’t really exists when my journey as one began. I have been called crazy, a psycho, weird, obsessed…..when really, I was just a real fan. If someone is not a true fan of someone, or some band, they will call you those names. If you are a FANGIRL, or FANPERSON, then you agree with me. Words like crazy and obsessed do not describe your feelings toward this superstar. Words like loyal, inspired and devoted make more sense.

I started becoming a fan way back when. My first true fangirl crush was on Debbie Gibson. But this was really just a crush. I was devoted as a child could be. I had her tapes, dressed liked her and wrote her letters through Tiger Beat all the time. I had a small fangirl experience with Bon Jovi… in fact I thought the name Jan Bon Jovi was almost too fitting, but that was short lived. Debbie was really my first and only back then.

10. Because they think there are monsters in their room.

9. They are thirsty.

8. You haven’t finished their story.

7. They forgot to kiss their dad (or mom, or dog, or cat, or bird)

6. They are too hot/cold.

5. Because you gave them dessert.

4. Because you really want to go to sleep

3. They need other pajamas.

2. They will miss you not being next to them.

1. BECAUSE TODDLERS ARE ASSHOLES!!!!

I found out I was pregnant for the first time two and a half months after Matt and I started dating. We were having the best time. Flirting, going out all the time, spoiling each other, having a ton of sex and just that wonderful feeling of falling in love.

Well after I peed on the stick, all of that came to a halt… well, not the falling in love part. But the fun “beginning stage” of dating ended. Reality hit hard. I did not move in with him right away but it was discussed. In fact, we had to have MANY serious discussions most brand new couples don’t have to have until dating for years. Finances, insurance, work schedules, thoughts on parenting, to name a few. Things got real crazy, fast. And although I would not change a single thing about our relationship and the progression of it, there are a few things I wish we could have done. And one day we will do these things with each other, we will just do them as an old, bitter, married couple. Not a young, frisky, newly dating couple.

I started thinking about this the other day when we were unloading a new piece of furniture out of Matt’s truck. Our neighbor, a 20 something dude was helping his new girlfriend onto his motorcycle. They were so cute and fresh and just had that new couple glow about them. Matt and I were both just looking at them and I could tell we both remember that feeling. The butterflies, giggling, finding any excuse to touch each other. The newness of a relationship is simply amazing. And I know there is something SO amazing about growing old and having a deep experienced relationship, please don’t get me wrong. But that feeling, when Matt and I first started dating…that feeling for those 2.5 months, the sweetness of those 75 days…..man, I wish I could have bottled that shit.

Somehow we managed though. We still kept dating (that sounds so funny since I was pregnant with his kid, but that doesn’t mean anything really these days.) But we did. Instead of hooking up at happy hour, we started cooking at his place. Instead of taking nights off from each other to be with friends, we began spending every night at each other’s houses.  Instead of coming up with a vacation plan, we sat down and decided on a birthing plan. Instead of deciding on what restaurant we wanted to eat at, we were deciding on a baby name. Instead of him seeing me puke one time after a night of boozing, he saw me puke multiple times a day and was always there with a glass of water forcing me to rehydrate. Instead of meeting each other’s friends and family after a period of time, I was moving in and meeting everyone with a baby bump.

IT WAS NOT EASY. But at the same time, it was so easy. It worked. I was a mess the first time I was pregnant. It was not a good experience for me at all. But Matt, this almost stranger, this cute boy who I had a crush on for awhile, was there every step of the way trying to make it easier. And yes, we missed out on a lot of new couple things and adventures, but we had our own. Most new couples don’t go to the gyno together. We did. Most new girlfriends don’t go to sleep at 7 pm every single night for weeks on end because of pure exhaustion, but I did. (Matt read a lot of books!) Most new boyfriends don’t have to see their new girlfriend’s hot little body drastically change night after night and go from sexy to unsexy pretty fast….but Matt did (and he did his best to make me feel sexy no matter how much my waist expanded.)  Most first anniversaries of dating aren’t celebrated with a newborn. Ours was. Viv was 3 weeks old one year after we began our adventure.

I know all the things I feel like we “missed” out on will be able to happen one day. We will get to go on a vacation one day (yes, we have never been on a vacation without our kids or without one in my belly…ever.) We will get to take a cooking class, go to fancy restaurants, sleep in on Sundays,  hell maybe even ride a motorcycle together. We will just do it later on in our marriage. When our kids are grown up and self sufficient and sick of hanging out with us! And even though my neighbor and his new GF are all giddy and cute next door, I know that behind the walls of my house lives a love that is deeper and truer than I ever thought imaginable. And that even though they are cute and new, Matt and I are cute and old. And that is more comforting than any giddiness could ever be.

This week I am traveling with the family. A quick 4ish hour trip from home. I thought I would take today to talk about how traveling with a family is so different from traveling with just grownups. I hear people say all the time “You guys should travel more.” Or “I don’t understand why people don’t travel and get away.” Here is the thing, traveling with kids is a BITCH. It really is. Besides having to pack your entire house up, you have to be prepared for the unimaginable AND be prepared for everyone to be in a constant state of unhappiness. It is true. While adults LOVE to travel and adapt, children are the complete opposite. They become complete devils while on vacation…..at least mine do.

And maybe they aren’t actually devils. We are just in a new environment, that isn’t so kid friendly and I am on high alert of loudness and destruction. Like if you are staying in a hotel you have suddenly become the noise complaint. And even worse, if you are staying at someone’s home that is not normally “kid friendly”…well you are screwed. Your kids will wake everyone up, turn on a smoke detector, break a remote and shatter a vase within 2.7 minutes of your arrival.

Packing for a vacation when you have kids is almost laughable. It does not matter if you are leaving for 15 days or one night, you will have at least 7 suitcases per kid. And you will have to pack everything you own for every fucking scenario. In case it gets hot or cold. Rain or shine. Swimsuits or rain boots. Extra clothes for all occasions (because guarantee, everyone will pee or poop their pants at some point on your trip.) All medications must come with you. Even expired antibiotics that you gave your dog that one time….JUST IN CASE. Pillows, blankets, pack-n-plays, high chairs, booster seats. You own it? You have to bring it. Because what is worse than being unprepared on vacation with kids? Having to buy more kid shit that you know you have at home somewhere.

Then once we have gotten to your destination, sleep comes into play. Sleep is something that will surround your life for years once you have kids. You are always thinking about it, preparing for it and let’s face it, PRAYING for it. Even if you have the best sleeper in the world, as soon as you are on vaca, not sleeping in the normal place, all fucking hell breaks loose. Everyone forgets how and when to sleep. Babies hate their pack-n-play’s suddenly. Toddlers roam the halls at all hours of the night. Like no one gets any sleep. ESPECIALLY YOU. Matt and I don’t argue. Like ever. But after a few days “relaxing” with the kids, we are both so sleep deprived, we basically don’t speak the entire trip home.

So yeah, we should travel more right?! And we will. One day. When the kids are old enough to stay by themselves. Then we will come home to a house full of teenagers who just threw a party, drinking our booze and breaking our shit, but that is a long time from now. Traveling is just different right now. And we would love to do it more, but sometimes the idea of going through all of that sounds way more exhausting than just sticking to our at-home exhausting life.

I guess I should wrap this up. I can hear my children breaking Matt’s cousin’s fish tank as I type! I will try to enjoy myself a bit. And I know that as all of these fun stages of parenting go…this too shall pass. One day when we vacation with them they will won’t even want to speak to us we, will be so uncool in their eyes. They will yell at me as I try to pack for them. And instead of asking, “are we there yet?” every five minutes, they will ask, “are we home yet?”

So next time you want to ask me why I don’t travel more, just stop yourself. Don’t ask and enjoy your uninterrupted non-diaper changing, sleep filled, quiet vacation.

The rule book out there says fucking on the first date will lead you nowhere. If you are a female, you will be considered a slut, a one night stand, or simply, the guy’s new booty call. If you are a guy, you will be considered THE MAN. But overall the general consensus is said that first date booty will lead a relationship in a horrible direction, right?

Wrong.

I had sex with my husband on our very first date. Yep…there it is. Out there. If any of my friends are reading this right now…yes I lied to you and said I waited till date 3, but I didn’t. I did not take your advice and hold out. We went out on our very first date and hours later we were having our very first romp in my bed.

Why didn’t I tell anyone, even my BFF? I feared judgement. I feared the backlash of feeling like a whore. I feared the truth, but I don’t do that shit anymore. Judging and being judged is for the fucking birds and if you don’t like my decisions, so be it.

So back to first date booty. Matt and I had kissed in his car after an amazing date. So I invited him inside my house. When things got a little more hot, I told him I was NOT going to have sex with him, but then when he stopped, I said screw it.  I wanted it. Badly. So I did it. This hot ass boy who I had been lusting over for 5 months was hooking up with me. This man who made my skin feel like it was on fire when he opened his mouth to speak. This guy who gave me way more than butterflies… there were fucking UNICORNS swimming through my insides because of him. I wanted it more than anything and I did not feel bad about it at all. And 5 years later we have three kids, are happily married and still have a very exciting sex life.

You see, these rules we have created in the dating world for all humans, are just silly. I mean, who are we to judge when the appropriate time for two consenting adults to screw is? I was 32, he was 31 (yep, I am robbing the cradle) we both were attracted to each other and we had some serious sexual energy going between us. WHY NOT?! It was fucking awesome (and no I did not get pregnant this night…I promise!!)

In the morning, with a mild hangover haze, we said our goodbyes and I did not feel the least bit weird. I felt good. Happy. Satisfied. Of course phone calls came in and yes, I told my friends we just made out. I felt bad lying, but I also did not want to hear it from anyone. I knew I would see Matt again. And not just because of the good booty.

Him and I were two adults with a lot of good vibes flowing. Sex is an awesome, natural and fun thing and I wanted to experience that with him. Quickly. From the moment I laid eyes on him, months before our date, I wanted to have sex with him. The first time he opened his mouth to speak to me at his job and I heard that hot ass Boston accent, I wanted to rip his clothes off. 5 months of him and I sharing a client through our work, I thought dirty things about him. When we would see each other for 5 minute increments and “work talk” I would walk away so hot and bothered, Masturbation Monday became Masturbation Matt-day. Like for real. I wanted this dude and when the opportunity arose (pun intended) I pounced on that shit! (again, pun totally intended.)

The entire night on our first date, I was thinking about it. Yeah, I was thinking about how cool of a guy he actually was, (which I was not expecting) but I was also wishing the end of the night would come, so we could too…..

I am a strong believer in going for things that you want. Especially as a woman. If you want something, you need to do it. You deserve it!! Whatever it is. A job, an idea, an item, a lay…..fucking get it. Be realistic and be safe, but do it. I wanted to have sex with Matt as soon as I could. And I did and it was the best decision I have ever made.

There is nothing wrong with first date fornication. If you want it, I say go for it. Whether you see each other again or not is not going to depend on sex. If you have sex, hell yeah. If you don’t, hell yeah too. It is whatever you want. But let’s’ stop the judge-y, “you’re a slut if you do” talk. It is just silly.  In my eyes, you are not a slut if you do. You are a fucking go getter and man, I hope you are getting it.

When I found out I was going to enter the world of motherhood, I assumed I would be welcomed with open arms by fellow moms out there. We are all on the same page, raising a child right? But boy was I wrong. I didn’t realize I was entering a new world full of “I am better at this than you” attitudes. A world where putting me down for my decisions as a mother could be so easily stated. A place where judging another mom happened as quickly as newborn diapers needed changing. A place full of MOM BULLIES.

You all know who I am talking about. Mom know it alls. Moms who do no wrong. Moms who feel the need to pick you and your parenting style apart. Moms who are a member of every mom group online, in real life and who know absolutely every fucking child event in your city. And moms who love making you feel bad for the way you are raising your kid.

Although it was nobodies business, I still felt the need to justify my reasons for expanding my family so soon. BUT WHY? Why did these women, most of whom I barely knew, care about what was going on in my life and with my kids?

It is crazy to me that people can be so absorbed with someone else. My actions as a mom do not reflect their actions as a mom, so why the fuck do they care? My kids get told no. My kids get sent to their room. My kids watch TV, some days a lot. My kids eat junk food. My kids are safe and happy and that is all that matters. There is no reason to push your views, your ideas, your ways of parenting on mine.

Moms can be the meanest, most judgemental, insecure group of females I have ever encountered…but why? We are all fighting the same battle, so let’s stop picking on each other and tag team this motherhood shit together. That woman you are bullying and degrading is just parenting a little differently than you. But at 8 pm you both want the same thing, bedtime, a break and a breath to yourself. We all want to reflect on our day and think about the positive experience our kid had, not the mean mommy who picked on us.

I think it is about time we all ease up on each other and start supporting a bit more. If you see a mom shaking a bottle of formula, offer to hold the baby while she preps. Don’t glare her down. She is doing her very best. If you see some dirty, tantruming kids, bring them over a lollipop, their mom is trying so hard and needs your help, not your dirty looks. And when some mommy is opening up about a certain parenting style you don’t agree with, just listen to them, be open-minded and save your backlash for later to your husband. Lord knows he is probably used to the bullying too.