Motherhood Uncensored

Reason #458 to Always Wear a Bra

"Mommy, remember when I used to kiss your ninnies?"

Reason #23 to Get a Brazilian Wax: Avoid Conversations With Your Toddler That You Were Hoping to Save Until At Least First Grade

"Mommy, why you got all that fuzz down there?"

No Rest for the Engorged Boobs and Bleeding Butthole

Apparently my post-partum brain has gotten the best of me and I forgot to reschedule my radio show for tonight. The show went on without me last night, as evidenced by my archives (0 listeners -- yeah, NO DUH -- 0 host). If the kind authors of BPYM will humor me, I'm hoping to have them on next week. In the meanwhile, go read all my links and come back tomorrow.

I actually nursed my son while I was on the toilet the other day. Now if that doesn't make me the poster child of post-partum bliss, then what will?

MILFS? Eat your heart out.

So today, I give you more fabulous links -- sort of like a scavenger hunt of the blogosphere. Please humor me.

1) Tonight two of the authors of Babyproofing Your Marriage will be on my radio show from 9-10pm EST. (646) 915-8634. If you can't join me live, then please leave me a comment here or an email and then listen via iTunes or that media player over in my left sidebar. Ask them some questions and join in the banter, I mean, unless you're that special person that was totally prepared for the havoc having children would wreak on your relationship and are still totally infactuated with your spouse. Heh.

2) If you didn't read the sex column, then you should. I use the words "tickler" and "anal tonight" all in one essay. Now if that's not saying something...

3) Amidst all this baby shit (literally), I've been struggling with this whole "Not easier, just different" thing that people are trying to tell me about my toddler turned 14 year old. I guess we'll always have sleepless nights, huh? I wrote about it over at Dot-Moms.

4) Many wonderful, kind people sent Drew gifts. And I offer them my linky love and shout outs over at my Reviews Blog. Be nice. Go say hello.

5) Who's stepping it up this week, you ask? Why Crankmama, of course, with this incredibly touching post. And, one of my first blog pals ever is back to blogging. Hooray!

6) And finally, I'm just crazy with excitement because my bff -- yes, the one who many of you wanted to blame the pot incident on, wanted me to tell her to throw me a shower, and who filled you in on all my goings on while I was in the hospital and stole all your hearts -- has started her own mommy blog.

The New Girl.

I probably shouldn't tell you about her because she's way funnier and smarter than I am and well, I get all my good stuff from her.

Now go. Click. Read. Return tomorrow for a report on the "Let's Cut the Whole Thing Off" situation.

It's Hip to Be Square or in my case, a Parallelogram

With the emergence of Babble and half a dozen other "hipsta - urban parent" blog outlets, I'm starting to realize that I'm far from cool.

Basically, I'm warm. Luke warm.

At one point in my life, I might have considered myself to be fairly "in-the-know" -- whatever that means exactly. It's such a subjective term and quite frankly if "cool" means anything close to what the mainstream is touting these days, then I'm sort of glad I'm not.

But if it means being funky, different, and downright fan-fucking-tabulous, then oh-how-I-wish to be cool.

At some level, it's hard not to be envious of the fabulous hipsters that write daily on all things supposedly relevant to my life as a parent. Do I care that Boston is the best place to have kids? Not really. Am I excited that PeeWee Herman is making a comeback? Eh. Not so much. But I still read it anyway.

Because let's face it...

Don't we all want to be just a little bit hip in our fairly average suburbia lives?

But as we strive to be the slim jean, ripped shirt, dark-rimmed glasses set that make the bad mom the new good, part of me (and a few other people) [added: okay... since I wrote this... about 14000 other people wrote about this here topic plus some huge Time article] can't help but think it becomes just a little bit tired, fairly exclusive, or perhaps, one dimensional.

Damnit. It's hard to be cool all the time.

And as I read I wonder... Is there no softer side? No room for flashing princess shoes? No shopping at Old Navy? No space for the weepy, overdramatic mother of a growing brood? Is that so totally UNCOOL now?

Or maybe that's what Clubmom and Babycenter are for...

Part of me enjoys the variety of blogs I write, and the various personas they represent. Do I curse and talk about balls for the majority of my day? God. I hope not. And I'm certainly not the uber indy shopper when I'm perusing the clearance racks at Target. Hello. Even Cool Moms do sales.

And so, I think that where I am, in this mix of suburban meets hipster-wanna-be meets child-led parent who just so happens to wear dark-rimmed glasses (at night, that is), is pretty darn cool. Sometimes I don't drink and I don't curse. Sometimes I crush hard on my kids, dress her in floofy dresses, and buy princess pillow cases.

Maybe it's time to let hip be square or whatever other shape you want it to be and let uncool be the new cool.

Motherhood Uncensored. Tragically un-hip and loving every fucking minute of it.

One Month

It's hard to believe that he

came out of here

just 4 weeks ago.

Mommy, I think the cute shirt from Wonderbaby and my faux-hawk distract from my bad case of baby acne. Don't you?