Motherhood Uncensored

I believe this much is true

Susan is gone.

And my tears for her are, in part, selfish.

Not just because she was an amazing human, as you may have read as people honor her across the blogosphere, and that I won't get to see her bright face again.

But because in losing beloved Susan, losing myself becomes that much more real.

It's an inevitable connection.

I was often comforted by the belief that my sister would be waiting for my mom. Somewhere.

Heaven. The After Life. The place where we go that no one knows until we actually get there but then we can't tell anyone about it.

That was until I had kids of my own and realized that there was no way I could ever be kept away from my children.

And the more I thought about it, the more it made sense. That the circle of life continues on, as we give birth to the family that came before us. And so on and so forth.

Around and around.

I see my sister's eyes in my own daughter. I see my friend's mom in her children.

And I don't think it's just a coincidence.

I won't know if I'm right until I leave and come back again.

But it gives me great comfort that Susan will always be with her family. Maybe waiting patiently in the stars that she loved so much until it's her time to return, when her children will be holding her like she held them.

Because these babies of ours, they are our blood, our tears, and our souls.

Together we are mighty crews of earthly warriors and explorers.

Never separated.

Eternally connected.

Waiting patiently for rebirth and reunion.

Soon, dear Susan. Soon.

In lieu of flowers, the family of Susan Niebur is asking for IBC Research Foundation. Please donate.

Why Does Healthy Have to Taste Like Ass?

I have tried, for the last time, to actually enjoy something* made by Kashi. I'm drawn in by their crisp white packaging and pretty pictures of food at its most basic form. And I really do love their message.

But let's face it. Even my dogs who lick their own assholes won't touch it.

Clearly they need to stop having these outdoorspeople slash food gatherers slash kayak enthusiasts creating their recipes because let's be honest. If you were outside chasing bears and climbing ice cliffs, you'd probably eat anything too with your chalky dry mouth.

So some weird looking cereal with cat food-like bran bits and dried currants probably tastes like a bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch.

For my taste, the true test for any healthy food is if some Pringle-slinging couch potato schmo who's been sitting on his ass for a minimum of twelve hours watching a Lifetime movie marathon thinks it's tasty.

That's my stamp of approval.

And considering I grew up stomaching my mom's own homemade extra whole extra brown extra extra rock hard rolls, then Kashi has to pretty darn terrible.

I will say that their cereal makes excellent kitty litter and I carry the granola bars in lieu of pepper spray. Aside from being about to beat someone down with it, I can force it down their throat as their mouths are overcome with complete dryness and make my getaway.

Sorry Kashi. Your seven whole grains are apparently on a mission to make me gag. And here's a challenge. Make something actually worth eating.

*I have enjoyed a Kashi waffle slathered in maple syrup, but I don't know if that actually counts.

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Here's what you missed this week:

My take on politics

Quinlan's first experience with gum

Separation anxiety at its finest

New this week:

Oliver is here. Mom and baby are great.

New ads here at Motherhood Uncensored. Check out small business Julian & Co (more details and giveaway to follow). Au revoir Blogher Ads. (The people spoke and I listened -- so small bizzes who I will crush on and love and you promised to click on it is)

My children have exchanged illnesses. So now Quinlan is puking and coughing or po-coughing and Drew has a wicked cold, or teething, or who knows what. With a cough. What does that mean for me? 3 hours of sleep last night. Sweet!

Pick of the Week: Another bag, of course!

New Blog: Shutter Sisters

No podcast, but today is the Blog Blast (hence my diatribe on healthy food, which I do love, by the way). Check it out and you can be entered to win one of five gift cards for FREE GROCERIES.

Now back to tending to sick children. Again.

You Know What They Say About Women With Big Feet Don't You?: Redux With Prizes!

Becky, Amy, and Mike: You have won a pair of shoes. EMAIL ME.

I ventured out to the mall with the family this past weekend. Let's face it. One woman's crappy mall and $2 Carousel is another woman's Jesus, and quite frankly, I have been in need in Jesus. Or at least Jesus in the form of a rotating horse, Mr. Bulkies, and a Chick-fil-a value meal #1.

All was well with the world -- happy toddler, sleeping baby, and fairly unannoying husband until I got this bright idea that since I had lost all this weight now, I might be able to actually wear cool shoes again. You know, ones that aren't hidden in the back of the store on the extra-sale-clearance rack because even though they are only $10 no one wants to buy them.

Hey. They're comfortable! (Isn't that what the old ladies say about their Rockports?). Ack.

Anyway, I walked into Macy's, found some delightful ballet flats and a pair of kick-ass Steve Madden boots, and to my surprise (and much skepticism), they had them in my size.

A 10. Or recovering 10.

Now let me remind you that I'm 5'11" and no matter how big you think my feet are, they are pretty relative to my height. I've gotten the "omg you have such big feet" comments almost my whole life but look here tiny people. It would be really odd to see me wearing a size 6 shoe. In fact, I think I'd fall over. And so yeah, my feet are big. But so am I. You know. We sort of go together. Like Laverne and Shirley. Strawberries and chocolate.

It's tall Kristen and her big feet!

I do admit that in the latter half of my pregnancy, I was unable to wear most of my shoes. I even bought a pair of wides. And, much to my chagrin, I fit into a pair of size 11 Diesel sneakers that just so happened to be on that extra-sale-clearance rack in the back of the store. So sue me. I'll take a pair of Diesel sneaks for $10 any day. At least that's what I told myself as I brought them up to the counter and hid the size from the sales guy.

"These are on the rack back there because of the size, right?" I thought to myself. I mean. God forbid I buy gigantic shoes that are ugly too.

Now I'm not a predjudiced, but I will say I've often thought pretty bad about the size 11. I mean, size 10 is big. But still cool. An 11? Oh man. You must be a giant. And from what I can tell, have absolutely not taste in shoes. Seriously, aren't the most awful looking shoes always an 11? I always felt bad for those people. Until I became one of those people. And then I realized, like clothes sizes, it really doesn't matter so long as they fit and look great.

Stacey and Clinton would be so proud.

So, I try on the shoes at Macy's and except for the one pair of 10's that are too big, everything else is just a little snug. I look at my foot. I look at my baby. I shake my head. And just as I was about to walk away, the chipper salesguy reappears.

"How did they work for you?" he asks, rubbing his hands together as if he thought I was about to buy four pairs of shoes.

I sigh.

"Well. I love the boots, but they're a little snug. Do you have them in an 11?" I asked, boldly going where few women have gone before.

Suddenly, the little man becomes oddly somber and leans into me speaking in a weird strained whisper.

"No, we don't have 11's in those," he says, shaking his head.

"And in fact, we don't carry 11's in ANYTHING."

His eyes bulge. He huffs. He grabs the boxes. And walks away.

Um. Okay. Thanks for that humiliation. And PS. Grown men don't huff.

Honestly, I can't say that I wasn't surprised. But was that really necessary? Because he should know better. I mean we all know what women with big feet have (or at least, this big footed woman).

One big post-partum ass to squish little wiry shoe salesmen.

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Can you figure out what I'm giving away today?

Okay. Don't think too hard. It's SHOES. Yes! Weeeeee. Easy Spirit is offering three MU readers (with big  feet or small feet) a pair of these spiffy clogs ($79 value!). Now I admit to being a bit scared to go into an Easy Spirit store because, well, you know, but after looking through their Fall catalog and realizing I need comfortable shoes but refuse to wear ones that are fugly, I'm all about them!

These are perfect for Fall and clearly a good mix between comfy and stylish without screaming "I'm a mom of two."

So, just leave me a comment (and while you're there, enjoy the lovely sort of hilarious-sort of vurp inducing comments from random googlers with foot fetishes) and I'll pick three winners at random! Only one entry per person per post.

Funny comments get extra consideration (but no extra entry... sorry!).

Check out The Blog Exchange today! My post is here. And check out LMJ for a new design and updates, superhero alteregos included. Mmmmmmmmmm chicken.

There's Nothing Like a 4 Minute Interview with Some NPR Guy Outside a Mall After Just Enduring Your First Gymbucks Redemption Day to Make You Feel Like a Total Smacked Ass

Guy: Um, Maam, excuse me, but do you live in My County?

Me: Er, yes. Sure. I guess so. Where the hell do I live now?

Guy: Great! Well, I'm just curious if you're planning on voting this November?

Me: Oh shit. Voting? There's voting this November? Oh that's right. Commercials. Lynn Swann. Football. Right. Ha. That's funny. Focus. Right. Jeezus. I can't tell him I'm NOT going to vote...

Of course. I'm voting.

Guy: Well, I'm out here today asking folks about the issues that are important to them this election.

Me: BLANK STARE. Er. My ass. My in-laws. No. I can't say that. Poop. Big solid poops are important. Damnit Q. CRY NOW. *kicks stroller* Pumpkin pies. I could use a pumpkin pie right now. In my mouth.

Women's Issues.

Damn. That was so lame. Oooh I know...

Abortion.

Shit. Did I totally just say that? I'm such an idiot. Like on Jay Leno, when they ask them the... Oh wait... Got one.

Gay Marriage. Are they concerned with that around here?

Okay. WALK AWAY NOW YOU DORK.

Because I think it should be legal. Right. Yes. Legal.

Oh My God. Clearly I am a total freakwad. I need to say something funny.

So. How uninformed am I? *laughs* I did just move here. Like last week... from Mississippi. *gives knowing look.*

Guy: Welcome! So, what about the war? National Security?

Me: Duh. Hello! The war. Well, what do I say about it. Who are we fighting now anyway? Any country that starts with an "I," please stand up?

Well, yes. The war is important. I mean. I think we need to leave and focus our attention to more pressing issues here in our country...

...Issues that I cannot seem to fucking name right now.

My husband is in the military...

Guy: Is he deployed now?

Me: Oh no. He's getting out next month. Headed to the guard. He's a pilot.

Um. What the fuck am I saying? I must distract. Shake my boobies? Rip off my bra? Do my one and only weird bar talent (repeating the books of the Bible in order at an extremely fast rate)?

So what are you doing? *points to recorder* Are you a blogger?

SCORE. I sound sooo cool now!

Guy: *turns off machine* Oh no. I work for NPR.

Me: HAHAHAHAHAHAHA. HEHEHEHEHEHE. opdfdfofdofdfhdkhfkdfjpdoiopisfdthhhhhhh. Great. Now I'm a total smacked ass talking with a guy who isn't just doing this for a fucking undergrad poli-sci class.

Guy: So do you work?

Me: Yes. I'm a blogger *laughs* Um. And I write. Like about parenting. And stuff.

Yeah. Sounding like a really great writer now.

Guy: *turns on machine* So education is important, right?

Me: Oh yes. Very important. Education. Maybe if I run now, I won't have to tell him my name.

Er. Like I said. I just moved here.

Guy: Great. Thanks. And welcome again. And what's your name?

Me: Er... Use another name. Someone else. Your mother-in-law. Something...

Kristen Chase.

Damnit. It just flew out.

And I write Mom-101.blogspot.com. BYE!

hehehehehe (just kidding Liz).

A Family That Blogs Together Stays Together

They are just how I imagined.

She is sweet with a graceful stance, trendy without trying, and inexplicably beautiful. He is kind, silly, and approachable. And together, they made this amazing little creature, with the sweetest face and curious spirit.

I'm not sure how a family is supposed to be. My own was pretty crappy and I'm doing my darndest to make good on the one I have created.

But when you see them together, following their little one's wobbly romps around the pool and taking duty turns without question, it's inspiring.

Their story is enviable. His desire to be at home now is met with her willingness to return to work. And it touches me. In fact, they always have. His writing combined with her thoughtful posts and the beautiful pictures of their daughter have made me weepy on more than one occasion. And if I ever wanted to be anyone or anything else than myself, I want to be them.

I guess they represent how I thought my life would be or at least how I had always hoped it would. And while I know they are not perfect, they represent something perfect in my mind.

On their blog and in real life.

I love my life - my husband, my daughter, and myself. But when I see little Juniper sleeping soundly on her mommy's back, it reminds me that all is well with the world. And that the beauty of the family - the one that loves and lives and learns together is still alive and kicking.

And it makes me want to do better for my own family.

Right now.