Why My Second Kid Has A Better Mom

Being a second kid can totally suck. You get hand-me-down toys, hand-me-down clothes, and you never really get Mom to yourself. You always have someone picking on you, annoyed by you even though you just wanted to play, someone bigger/stronger/faster than you.

But you know what is awesome about being the second kid? You get a much better mom. Before baby #1, I was terrified but knew I would be a great mom because I read every.single.article. I read every.single.forum. I was in every.single.mom group. Baby #1 got like three baby showers, a perfectly curated nursery, brand new clothes, every teether on the market. I wouldn’t feed non-organic, I wouldn’t put her down if she was crying, I wouldn’t let anyone babysit her. I wouldn’t take time for myself, I wouldn’t let her self soothe, and I wouldn’t let her just do her thing.

Baby #2 didn’t get any of that shit. And honestly, I think he’s better for it. He is still THE happiest baby on this earth and he doesn’t give a shit about any of it. Now this all may change when they get a bit older, since now they are just 3 and 10months, but for now I’m not stressing it. He doesn’t care he has purple sheets. He doesn’t care his toys are his sister’s hand-me-downs bought from Goodwill to begin with. He doesn’t care that I let him eat pepperoni and shredded cheese for lunch.

Baby #2 gets the “cool mom.” She isn’t worried about the tiniest bump on his arm because she knows it is just a mosquito bite, no reason to ask the mom group, go back outside and play. She isn’t helicopter-ing around him as he learns to crawl and walk, she’s just encouraging, knowing there will be a few tumbles. She isn’t staying at home locked away from the world because she wants no one to watch him, he gets to know everyone at the party as he gets passed around and loves it. She isn’t stressed and hating herself and beating herself up because of that one little mistake that Suzie from Facebook would NEVER allow but really doesn’t fucking matter. He ate an m&m, holy shit!

Baby #2 gets to experience more in life. He gets an older sister to inspire, teach, and torture him. He gets the already tired parents willing to let him “just be a kid.” He gets a ton more freedoms off the bat. And he still has parents who freaking love him. Because that’s what it’s all about, right? Teaching them love? For the world, for others, for themselves?

So if you have baby #2 on the way and you’re fucking terrified, shit even baby #1, just let them be. Don’t be so caught up in all the little things you have to do, focus on just being the best mom you can be. That doesn’t mean the laundry will always be done. That doesn’t mean your floors are spotless. That doesn’t mean everyone is always doing exactly what they are supposed to be doing. Because after baby #2, none of those things are going to be happening. But you are going to notice all of the little things you didn’t really pay attention to with your first because you were too concerned with what you should be doing.





Things You Can & Can’t Wear When Breastfeeding

DISCLAIMER: I am incredibly grateful I am that I can breastfeed and that I have a good supply. It saves us SO.MUCH.MONEY! However, that good supply can make things as simple as going out in public a hassle. Finding outfits that make you feel like less of a lump when postpartum is difficult enough, but adding in breast accessibility creates a whole new challenge. So, here we go with things you can’t wear when breastfeeding.


Things you can’t wear when breastfeeding


white tee

One would think that the classic white tee would be an easy go-to, but one would be fucking wrong.  If you leak through, it looks like a very specific wet t-shirt contest and dries into hard, off-colored spots. And every time you look at your baby or hear a baby crying at the store, you will feel the familiar and uncomfortable pressure of a let down.



black tee

Refer to #1, just in black, and way worse. You will have white orbs over your nipples no matter how many breast pads you put in to prevent leakage.






anything tucked

You know the cute “in” style right now with a tee tucked into your jeans/shorts/skirt/wtf-ever. This will not happen because there is absolutely zero ways to look cute and put together when feeding. You are trying to get the fussy baby to stop wiggling and onto your tit without drooling milk all down your shirt and/or belly.



gray anything

No. No we dont. Gray is the worst of all the neutral colors. The second it gets wet (and it always does) you can see it from a mile away. And when it dries into a crust, it still looks wet. There is no winning with gray. Stay away from gray.



crew neck tees

The crew neck makes it impossible to whip out your tit from the top so you have to pull the whole shirt up, offending the world with boobs that have a purpose and a flabby belly yet to be toned (I’m getting to it, okay?)



high necklines

Yeah, keep dreaming sunshine. There is absolutely zero boob access and since you have now become a milk maid, you no longer get to worry about “cute.”






Not gonna happen, girlfrannn. Even going from the smallest of boobs (like my perky lil 32As from before) your boobs will now be far too large to wear these enhancing stripes. Your boobs will be enormous, (like my now 36 DDs. What the fuck, man?)




These are too adorable. No doubt. But bring some duct tape or cable ties because no way is that little bit of lace going to hold in these engorged puppies. And these look far less cute with pads shoved in to try your best to prevent the dreaded leaking.



bras in general

The boulder holder you used to love because it perked you up so nicely will likely no longer fit and will be burdensome. You either have to pull it up over your boob and get squeezed by the underwire or pull the strap off and tuck the cup under your boob to get wet and misshapen.


things you can wear when breastfeeding



I swear, its like every color, shape, material I try there is some downside to it. If you want the easiest of the hard, stick to:


These will give you the best access for a tee. Just make sure it is loose enough to where you wont be able to tell the neckline is stretched out and have something to wear over it because no matter the color, you will have leak spots somewhere.


button downs

You can decide your level of access and can layer to make yourself look presentable. There are tons of styles, patterns and colors.



athletic wear

You can get away with looking a mess because people will think you just worked out (and there is no problem with not correcting them.) There are zips and pockets and the fabric sucks everything in just right. Plus, the special water-wicking-dry-fit-rain-x style bullshit helps leaks from looking too leaky. It spreads it around more and makes it a bit less noticeable.




and finally,


the Mom bun

This is a fucking staple. You can wear it everyday without worry. Throw some dry shampoo in that bitch and call it an “updo.”







So next time you step out, don’t worry about what you wear because you are fucked regardless. Breastfeeding is great, now make the hubs do it and he will finally understand the hour to get ready and the meltdowns.


The Mall Allure as a Mom


The mall has been there for me through many phases in my life. It has marked my journey through womanhood and tracked my stages in life. But it seems so different now, as a mother.

In middle school, it was the first place I was able to go solo with friends. We would get Starbucks frappuccinos (with minimal coffee taste,) browse the aisles, try on clothes, and buy the cheapest sample or best clearance item just so we could have bags on our arms. In high school, it was my happy place. I was always an introvert and on those trying days I would head to my favorite mall by myself and my nanny-fund for some serious retail therapy and my favorite food. Then my later teen years where I skipped school with friends and almost got arrested for shoplifting… but I am insanely NOT proud of those times. In my early college days, it was somewhere I never was but always wanted to be to escape the harsh realities of the impending doom that was adulthood. I realized quickly between work, classes, and my boyfriend’s unwillingness to go that I didn’t have the time or money to even step foot in the mall, as much as I craved it. And now, as a mom to a toddler and pregnant with another, somewhere I think of as a memory of days past. Somewhere I can’t afford or wish to be with a toddler in tow. Those soft pretzels though…

So when another one of my mom friends uploaded a new selfie the other day in this adorable lacey, tank top, bralette thingy, I asked her about it. She told me it was from Abercrombie & Fitch and honestly, I rolled my eyes a bit. All I could think about was the price tag for the tiny amount of clothing, the overloud music, the signature cologne overwhelming the air even two stores down, and the perfect little model sales girls that were super nice making them even more intimidating. She sent me the link anyway and let me know it was on sale for only $7! I was shocked and SOLD! I rarely buy anything for myself, especially now when nothing fits my 8 month belly and we are saving for the new baby, but I said screw it and got two.

I set up ship-to-store to save 5 bucks shipping, because I am forever thrifty (and cheap as hell) and waited for its arrival email. In no time at all, the email came to pick it up and I headed to the mall, without toddler and extremely pregnant, but super excited with a twinge of nervous fear. What would it be like seeing those perfect little 00s or even worse the perfectly douchey and chiseled male models… But on I went.

I parked by the Dillard’s, like I always had, and walked through those doors to the smell of “mall.” I know you know the smell when I say that but I had forgotten all about it and it took me back. I felt like a teen girl again, that’s until I literally walked into one of those stupid display table they have in the middle of the aisle, and I felt my age and size again… I got to the A&F and prepared myself mentally to walk in, thinking how silly I was for being nervous, but almost trembling all the same. I wasn’t greeted by anyone and actually had to seek out a sales girl and to my surprise, while beautiful, she was totally normal and easy to talk to. I gave her my info and she disappeared to the back to get my order.

I walked around the store to see such a change. They had swapped the mens/womens to opposite sides of the store and the entire back section was now abercrombie kids. It was full of 4T jeans at the price tag of $54 and t-shirts with huge moose logos for $25. My “mom of toddler” mode switched on and I found it almost humorous. I looked around and noticed there was much more lighting, less plants in your face and while it still smelled delicious, I had feeling left in my nostrils. I realized how silly I was to be so intimidated by this store and how my mom must have felt every time I dragged her in and tried to guilt her into an extremely overpriced purchase. And I immediately wanted to simultaneously apologize for the times I gave her attitude for not buying me $75 jeans at 12 years old and thank her for not killing me for said attitude and instead spoiling me with a pair at Christmas (only to outgrow them in a few months and hand them down to my baby cousin.)


I was late to pick up my kid so as soon as I got my order, I raced back out to my car, wishing I could spend more time exploring the place that I had spent so much time growing up. I felt like I was visiting an old home, but that I didn’t belong there. I think I would still go to all the same teen stores with their comforting feelings and smaller price tags that I was used to, not the adult lingerie or business casual stores that I always thought I would as a mom. I felt the nostalgia wash over me and while I realize it isn’t somewhere I want to go shop on the regular, a nice afternoon out sounds nice to just stroll and sip. After all, I can find some killer Banana Republic and J. Crew deals at the Goodwill 2 blocks away.

Long story short, the “adorable lacey, tank top, bralette thingy” are far too small for the belly and have snaps like a onesie at the bottom, which my boyfriend quickly pointed out, taking away all sex appeal. Thanks, babe.



The Timing of a Girlfriend


“I never wanted to be a wife. It wasn’t really a major goal of mine. I never had the wedding dreams or thought much about rings. I just didn’t get that girly gene…”

That’s just how Jan started her article, Timing of a Wife, today last year, and I would say I totally agree. Growing up I never understood the idea behind needing “just another piece of paper” to prove your commitment. And while I still find it very formal and silly, I find myself craving it.

Maybe blame the preggo hormones, but I have been feeling it for a while. To the point where I find myself dropping stupid, pressuring “hints” about as subtle as a potty training toddler peeing on your carpet yelling at you the whole time… I do it to the point that I annoy myself as I say it. Its like Mean Girls word vomit. I hear the words coming out of my mouth while my head is saying, “WTF are you doing?”

We have been together for over 6 years, have a 2 year old and a baby on the way. I always thought that if I were to get married, it would be before kids (even though I NEVER thought that would happen either. Joke is on me!) Then, I claimed it would be a deal breaker for us to have a second kid. No judge, no love. Here I am 7 months pregnant with no proposal in sight. And I know this for a fact, because of what he said at Christmas that really messed with me…

Now, hear me out because I know it sounds bad, but I know what he meant.

**Setting the scene, Christmas Eve, heading home from family’s house with our little girl sleeping in the back, high on hormones and butterflies, his hand resting on my thigh where it always is when I drive, just giddy** And then he says this:

You know, I am definitely not proposing or anything,right?

My heart sunk… like I had no inkling or reason to believe that he was going to but hearing that just hurt… I felt all of these weird, oddly unlike me feelings. I felt unworthy, like I hadn’t proven myself good enough, like he didn’t want me as his wife.

He noticed my heart drop through my butt and we had a talk… He explained how he didn’t mean it like that at all but that he would never propose at Christmas time, he was giving me jewelry and wanted to prepare me that it wasn’t a ring in the box, and that all of my feelings were wrong, because I am good enough. I understood where he was coming from and realized those beers from the party make his typically already bad choice of words worse than usual.

But it kind of triggered something inside me. I realized I need to chill. Getting married just wouldn’t make sense for us at the moment and I know this, so I don’t know why I am so worried about it. He loves me, he’s committed to me, and he treats me like I should be treated. We are a typical old married couple with kids but I don’t share his last name. Yet.

As of now, I am happy with our family, with our lives, and with my gorgeous, sweet, adoring BOYFRIEND. When the time comes, we will still pass out watching Netflix at 9pm, eat ice cream in bed, passive aggressively state who changed the baby’s diaper last, and avoid doing dishes together.

So Nicholas: husband and wife, boyfriend and girlfriend, baby mama and baby daddy, no matter the stage I will always have a crush on you.