Motherhood Uncensored

The Beautiful Flower Dance

Didn't you know that flowers wear poodle skirts on their heads?

(This post is brought to you by this fantastic contest. If only we could enter!)

The Cone

Check out the archives --> Yes. Over the in the right side. Listen while you surf. Just make sure the kids aren't near by.

It's not just for ice cream anymore.

I'm rounding up the hot mominatrixes across the interwebs. Check out this mama and get one of your own!

And tonight from 9-10pm EST, the Mominatrix hits the airwaves chatting about sex toys. Own them? Use them? Want some. Special guest Racy Red!

We've got tons of prizes courtesy of Nexus Range and Toys in Babeland, all up for grabs for those of you brave enough to call in! (646) 915-8634. If you can't listen live, you can download via iTunes. And make sure to subscribe to my feed.

And finally, if your kid needs new shoes (um, who doesn't like free shoes!?), or you want a good excuse to post pics/video of your kiddo, enter our Blog Blast all day today (scroll down for instructions). Lots of Stride Rite shoes up for grabs just for sharing pics or video of your little one shaking his/her groove thang courtesy of Baby Loves Disco's Best Little Dancer in America Contest. Be forewarned. If you check out the round-up post today, your ovaries may hurt. Use caution.

Shake Your Groove Thing!

What?! You can't see the picture of my daughter shaking her bootie thanks to this fantastic new game we got?

Yeah, that's because I didn't take it yet.

Sorry. Drew got his shots on Tuesday and has had a fever and cranky-baby-mommy-hold-me-all-the-time since Wednesday morning.

I'm still wearing the same clothes I wore on Tuesday. I haven't showered since Tuesday. I'm starting to get a little worried. It's not a huge fever, but he's never had a reaction before. And did I mention he's cranky. And tired. And won't let me put him down.

All 22 lbs of him!

So... If you have a kid who gets a fever while teething, how long did it last? If you have a kid who gets a fever after vaccinations, how long did it last?

I'm tired of taking his temperature and feeling his head. And I want to PUT HIM DOWN!

And, if you'd be so kind, post pics of your OWN kid dancing (or video too) [scroll down the link for directions on how to participate -- it's easy, trust me!]. You could win some free Stride Rite Shoes courtesy of this very cool contest (supports charity too, people!). We're giving away like 12 pairs or something ridiculous. So, go now.

And take a shower for me, will you?

Oh... and I'll be on the radio tonight. So long as I can put my kid down. Definitely check it out or call in (646) 915-8634. I'm giving away some free *ahem* toys. Special guest: Racy Red and this cool thing. 

We've Become That Family

We had just mastered the art of eating out before Drew arrived. It was almost like watching a choreographed ballet. I'd whip out the restaurant trifecta -- books, stickers, and crayons. He'd order appetizers so once she tired of them, we'd be able to shove mozzarella sticks down her gullet. And when our food arrived, she'd be coloring with one greasy hand and covering the table in stickers with the other. We saved the sugar packet train tracks and creamer blocks for dessert. And if the restaurant actually provided some type of crayon/placemat combination, we might even have enjoyed an after dinner drink.

Cue applause.

That was until we became a family of four and cornered the market on every cliche, stereotype, and stigma of a family eating out.

Let's face it. Crayons are great so long as your three-year-old colors on actual paper and doesn't hand them off to the baby as an appetizer. And sugar packets are only mildly entertaining until they are used weapons.

Have you ever been hit in the head with a splenda packet? What the fuck do they make that stuff out of?

But when your toddler turns into Veruca Salt without the accent (and the penchant for geese that lay golden eggs but rather knives, forks, and salt/pepper shakers) and your son is the living version of the Hungry Hippo game, you have become that family.

The one that has to take their kid out of the restaurant for a "time out" after not so quietly threatening them with leaving if "they-don't-behave-because-this-is-a-public-place-and-this-is-not-how-mommy-taught-you-how-to-behave-and-you-want-to-go-to-the-pool-don't-you-so-you-better-eat-your-dinner."

The one who is handing their baby anything and everything that they can to occupy them long enough to shove one morsel of food in their mouth except then they grab a steak knife and you curse out loud.

Yeah. That curse.

And the one who tries to sneak quickly out of the restaurant with their heads down while holding screaming child so as not to call attention to the table that looks like a national disaster area.

Yep. That's us.

It hit us this afternoon when we met the huz at a restaurant near the airport during a long layover. Quinlan had just used her ice cream spoon as a stamper on his arm after throwing a tantrum-ette, and Drew was attempting to eat an entire series of paper napkins. And the tiny bit of food we had actually eaten we had swallowed whole.

"We're that family, aren't we?" he said, sort of laughing, sort of not.

"Totally," I sighed, swiping the 14th tiny piece of paper out of Drew's mouth with my finger.

"Let's not eat out again for a really long time..." he replied. "At least not with the kids."

"Okay" I agreed. Plus it's not like I'm eating anything anyway which for the the "Last of the 20 Pregnancy Pounds" isn't so bad...

"But *gulp* what the hell are we going to do when we have to fly?"

What makes your family that family?

And If That's Not Motherhood, I Don't Know What Is

I made it through half a day with a pair of my daughter's underpants stuffed into my nursing tank as a makeshift, fly-by-the-seat-of-your-leaky-boob breast pad.

I didn't realize it until I went to nurse my son.

At the pediatrician's office.

At least they were clean.

I vowed to not become the sacrificial mother. But with two under three and my husband gone almost the whole week, it's hard not to give up some of the luxuries of life.

Or at least, what have become luxuries.

I'm embarrassed to say that I do not shower as often as I should. I haven't worn make up in a very long time. Considering I just put my closet and drawers together, I basically just grab whatever I can find and throw it on.

And my toenails? Oh my poor poor toenails.

But I'm making it through the day (barely). I've been cooking dinner, getting things unpacked, and entertaining my kids without having to use my fire baton, tap shoes, and Ethel Merman impression.

[On bad days, I do all three at the same time]

I'm looking forward to when our schedule settles. When we've finished unpacking and find our daily routine.

And when my son starts to sleep at night (hello, WTF? people!).

Until then, it's a few less showers. And apparently underpants as breastpads.

What do you sacrifice on a daily basis? And what do you refuse to give up?