life at the daily grind

Shouldn't have done it. I should not have done it. There I sat, rocking back and forth with a small child on my chest. He's asleep, limbs limp, drool flowing, little chest gently rising and falling. To my right sat my coffee cup only about 8 inches out of reach.  The sleep we had last night was mediocre at best, so why wouldn't he continue to nap now? I stand up, walking slowly to the pack n play, and carefully lay him down. As that little body touched down and my arms slowly released... Suddenly two large brown eyes stared widely accusing at me. And now we are here. The child has been wide awake since 6:30 am. Twice he has drifted off in my arms and twice I have been given glares of betrayal when I have tried to put him down. We are approaching 6 hours of crankiness. A parenting app on my phone informs me that at 10 months old my child could be sleeping "11-13 hours a night". A Facebook friend excitedly shares that her 8 week old slept 11 hours straight

Today, I woke up, I made coffee, I started laundry, went to the post office, paid a bill. Man, adulating is exhausting, am I right? Like, I need a nap now! Just kidding. I don't have time for that, I've been keeping a 4 month old little boy alive and entertained, I don't have time to do all that other stuff, at least not uninterrupted time. The only thing that I hate more than being grouped into the insolent and immature group of "Millennials", is the phrase "adulting", ok maybe not the "only" thing. What started a couple years ago as a slightly funny way of complaining about day to day tasks has become such a common phrase that is being used with an underlying seriousness. I'm just curious, when did doing everyday things become so hard that we feel the need to be patted on the back and congratulated for doing it? When did responsibilities, that literally everyone has by the way, become things that need to be glorified, or on the ot

It's 6pm.  The chicken is taking longer to cook than expected. The potatoes are almost overdone. My beer is sitting on the table getting warm in front of me, I think I opened it about two hours ago. My crying son only wants me. I am dicing tomatoes for my husband who is covering his bloody finger in bandages. From down the street a neighbor walks over for a haircut...but not from me. A lump appears in my throat as my chest gets heavy and eyes threaten to leak. I continue dicing tomatoes, fighting all these things, trying to hide any hint of being even just a little upset. I don't know why I bother, G can always tell, especially when my face looks bunched up as I'm sure it did. After about three denials that something was wrong, a tear finally burst free and I crumbled into a mess in my husbands arms. I was barely 19 when I graduated school and was officially set on my career path. Now I've been in my field for nearly 8yrs. For a typical woman my age, it is unusu

The Daily Grind. My personal grind has changed significantly since two months ago. On the 18th of January I went to work. My last day was  supposed  to be the Saturday before that. I was supposed to have two weeks to myself to clean my house, get a massage, relax, stock my freezer with meals, and enjoy one last childless date with my husband, but instead I went in one last time for a good client of mine whose company I enjoy.  I didn't feel too great, I had cramps that kept coming and going the whole time I colored and cut this woman's hair. Dull, but they were there. I ignored them, I had a couple days already in the past week where I had thought something was starting but it never took off.  I finished up and rushed home, I had about an hour to eat and relax a little before heading up the beach to my 38wk prenatal appointment. G and I sat on the couch with bowls of stew from the night before and watched our favorite YouTubers do their daily show. I picked at the m

*Warning* rant of a hormonal and 9 month pregnant woman ahead. If easily offended by opinions that may not be your own, either turn back now or proceed with caution. I'm a bad mom, and my son hasn't even been born yet. Or maybe he won't be born, according to many people out there on the gracious and unjudgmental world wide web. We are officially in month 9 of pregnancy.  In T-29 days we will arrive at our long awaited Due Date, and hopefully our prize. Throughout this wonderful journey of carrying life inside me I have been keeping track of everything on an app that has a ton of great articles and tools as well as a community board meant for other moms-to-be to ask questions and share their experiences. And here is where I start to roll my eyes. It could be that at this point I'm just very pregnant and willing to fight anyone who acts like an asshole, but seriously, if you ever doubted that people could be so tactless to strangers, just go on one of these boar