My child eats cheerios off the floor; guilty. (Sorry, not sorry). I started mom-ing my first child as if he were my 7th – I wipe his dirty face on his t-shirt, food spilled on the floor goes back on his high chair. (Pro tip: if you do this too, claim its to build your kid’s immune system)
I learned during pregnancy that my my mom style was probably going to mimic my wardrobe: I’m a yoga pants mom, not a jeans mom: relaxed, comfy and supportive AF.
As moms we don’t get to boast and brag about our accomplishments enough (believe me: keeping a kid alive all day is a fucking accomplishment. You go mama!) I’m starting a mom blog because I want to remember these years that my kids are young as enjoyable (or at least find humor and my own awesomeness in them.)
Our own perceived shortcomings as moms have had their time in the spotlight. Ya, we could worry about every minuscule detail of our kids lives but what for? Living with angst is for your teen years. I’m a great fucking mom, or at least thats what I’m brainwashing my kids to think, and I want to celebrate my own reflection in the mirror so thats what this space is for. If you’re not going to bask in your own damn glow, whats the point?
I can’t stop life from happening to my kids or the flow of the river (I’m one woman, not a dam) my kids will get bumps and bruises if I worry they will or I don’t. I’ve learned what I CAN do is relax in said river with a drink in my damn hand yelling to the shore every once in a while “don’t hit your sister!” Have a drink with me and enjoy the fucking view.