When they are quiet...

When they are quiet, they are usually up to something. If you have children or have taken care of young children, you probably know what I am talking about. This is something that I have lived by and is always in the back of my mind, except for today. I learned this the hard way when I had to spend three hours cleaning bits of finely shredded Styrofoam from every inch of my living room. The girls wanted to have a winter wonderland and I was busy putting together some new end tables. They

Big Z knows they are in trouble, Little Z does not care!

asked me if “they could make it snow in the house” and I absentmindedly agreed. I learned never to just say “yes”. Yesterday I turned my back and discovered that baby Z had drawn and colored all over the kitchen floor while peacefully playing and gleefully singing “happy birthday to mama!” Big sister Z had finished using her markers and left them uncapped within reach of the baby. As I mopped the floor, I reminded myself that when they are quiet, they are usually up to something. Today was different. We had “the Vaseline incident”, but that was not major. The girls had decided that they needed to moisturize so they used the tub of Vaseline on my bathroom counter.

Today, I was a cleaning machine. I smiled proudly as I surveyed my accomplishment. Despite not feeling well, I had managed to clean the house and do a couple loads of laundry. Capitalizing on this new burst of energy, I decided to clean the bathroom (refer to the Vaseline incident).  The girls were finally getting along and playing very well together. I gave them some books and a couple of toys to keep them occupied and immersed myself in cleaning the bathroom. Everything was good…too good. The house was quiet... too quiet. I snapped back to reality when I heard big sister yell “stop!” As I ran to the Livingroom I felt crunching under my feet, but I ignored it. As I entered the room, I was greeted by a sea of chocolate cheerios and Craisins wonderland. Every inch was covered with their concoction. They both realized I was standing there and proudly displayed their masterpiece. I faintly whispered “why?” With an innocent doe-eyed look, my oldest answered “We were hungry.” For the record, they had just finished eating lunch, so they were not hungry. Big Z knew they were in trouble, the implication of their action had not dawned on Little Z. “Look, mama!”

"We were hungry!"

she exclaimed. She scattered the mess even more pushing them further in all directions. I could not even get mad. I let out a chuckle as I plopped down on the floor beside them. Big Z realized that they were not in serious trouble since mommy was laughing and playing along. She relaxed and resumed working on her pile. Baby Z gleefully scattered the remining mixture of cheerios and craisins farther in to the Livingroom. I let them enjoy playing for a little bit, then we had a brief talk about why we should not waste food. They were more than happy to help me clean up the mess. Life with my little divas can be messy, but I’m so happy to witness the little things that brings them so much joy. Now I know, when they are quiet they are definitely up to something!

     

True Story, I was pregnancy shamed

This past weekend I was pregnancy shamed. Allow me to explain. You may have heard of slut shaming or fat shaming, but rarely do you ever hear of people saying they were pregnancy shamed. Hubby and I went to Houston this past weekend for a baby shower. It was indeed a most enjoyable event! The last guest departed the baby shower at 1:00 am! Yes, I am a party animal.

My day started out normally, as any other day. I got up, ate an emergency breakfast (emergency because ever since I got pregnant, I have to have something in my stomach or else this baby becomes a monster). After eating breakfast and talking to some of my family members, I went upstairs to take a shower and get ready to hit the road back to Arkansas. It was extremely hot, so I picked a maternity dress that was a light and stretchy material. My stomach has gotten bigger so the material accentuated and clung to my stomach. This is the one feature that I liked about the dress because it allowed me to show the evidence of my soon to be baby Diva. I met my little sister and she complimented me on the dress; it made me smile. As I made my way down the stairs, I became aware of the distressed looks I was getting from some of my relatives. The incessant chatter ceased and the room fell quiet. I felt weird but thought I was being paranoid. I made a mental note of how I had checked and double checked my appearance before going down the stairs. So why the weird vibe? At last, one brave soul ventured out to tell me they thought it was best to go back upstairs and change. I asked if she could see my underwear or if the dress was too short. She said no, but that the dress was not appropriate for me to wear. One of her cohorts further explained that the dress would be good for someone who did not have curves, someone tall and slender. She also stated that the dress made me look more compact. I was not satisfied with this explanation. My older sister piped up and asked me to turn sideways because she wanted to see baby Diva in her full glory. She did not seem to have a problem with my outfit.

Hubby loaded the truck and we got ready to speed off to the redneck highway (remote windy two lane roads) to our beloved El Dorado.  As we approached the truck my relatives kept pressuring me to go change prior to my departure. I finally asked why they found this dress so offensive. Finally, one of my shamers stated, “well, the dress would not look so bad if your stomach was not so big...you know if your stomach was smaller.” After picking my jaw off the floor, I mounted the waiting truck and sped off.

Dear reader: I. AM. PREGNANT! Yes, my stomach is big…like a mini beach ball or a round, smooth extra-large bowling ball. It is big and round, like a perfectly shaped dome. It is also beautiful and exquisite; it is carrying life! I could not help but wonder why two women who have had children (emphasis on CHILDREN) felt it was ok to shame another woman because of her glorious pregnant belly. I wasn’t being told to change because my outfit was too provocative, but because of my protruding belly. My big pregnant belly was making them uncomfortable. As our truck carried us up home, I wondered, how can a pregnant woman make her stomach less conspicuous? Should I wear Moo-Moo’s for the rest of the pregnancy? I wistfully turned to my hubby and asked him if he thought I should cease wearing the offending number. He lovingly looked at me and smiled. Then he reassuringly answered, “no babe, your outfit is great, you look beautiful.” With a huge grin on my face, I turned and looked out the window to watch the trees pass in a blur and make our way a little closer to Arkansas. 

Slut shaming, fat shaming and now pregnancy shaming, what has the world come to?

Have you ever been shamed?   

Back and Bigger than ever!

Hey Lovies! I have been gone for a while, but I am so glad to be back. A lot has taken place since my last post. Well, I won’t beat around the bush, the hubby and I have some news…we will be welcoming a new addition to our family in October! We are all excited, including our two furbabies (they know they are about to get a new baby sister).

Folks, I can’t lie, it’s been quite an adventure since finding out that we are expecting. At first I felt like...

 and then I felt like… 

Morning sickness and all day sickness had me down y’all! All I could do was...

After about 19 weeks, I started feel a whole lot better!Today, I feel like a million bucks. 

Hubby and I are busy getting ready for the little one and we are tickled pink! We are looking forward to playing with and holding our little pumpkin.

To all the mommies and mommies to be, I give you mad props! I underestimated how difficult the journey to motherhood would be. To all the daddies and daddies to be, way to support your significant other as she experiences the sometimes crazy roller coaster of motherhood!

     

XOXO #NOTSOSMALLtowndiva