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Mothers of the Year, because we all deserve an award.

Cracked nipples.  Sleep deprivation.  Public tantrums.  Our only reward is our children?  Kidding.  Mostly.

#thirdkid

1/27/2015

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By Layah and Annie

We all know that mothering is an active experience. We are constantly learning and evolving as parents. Our first child is the recipient of careful research, seemingly unlimited time and devotion, and a terrifying, all-encompassing love. Second children arrive to find mothers who are more relaxed, more confident, and way more capable. And third kids? If we, after all the sleep deprivation and incessant "why"-ing and insurmountable mess, commit to having a third child? Well, let's just say the way we parent our third child is inherently different from how we parented our first. Check out some of our #thirdkid moments!
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Midge loves her toy "snake!"
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Little Hawk bonding with the dogs.
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Big brother's dirty underpants make a great toy.
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He's got four teeth. He's totally got this.

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Indoor Fun: Expectation vs. Reality

1/26/2015

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By Annie

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The Expectation
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The Reality
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MOTY Tip: Regulate Baby's Temperature 

1/21/2015

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By Annie

You already know that Baby has a hard time regulating her body temperature. But, as a mommy, what can you do to help? Whether she's eating, sleeping or playing, it is your responsibility to make sure Baby has the appropriate amount of layers to maintain that healthy 98.6 F. 
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Sample cold day

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Sample hot day
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A Mother's Wish for "Mama's Boys"

1/20/2015

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By Layah

Let me start off by saying...that don't get me wrong here, I absolutely WANT my boys to be mama's boys. Not that any of my children's sexual orientation would matter to me, but a part of me has secretly hoped that at least one of my sons would be gay, so they would never leave me for another woman. Isn't the old saying "A son is yours until he meets a wife, a daughter is yours for life?" I'm definitely the main woman in my husband's life, and the strife I've had with my mother-in-law does leave me with worry about how my own relationship would be with either of my sons' partners. Even though, I would definitely be way cooler, of course....

Anyway, I want my sons to stay mama's boys forever. All in the sense that I want them to seek out my incredible words of wisdom for everything from relationships to work to what adventure they should go on next. And, I want them to take those words to heart because they truly respect and trust me. I want them to let me hug and kiss them, and I want them to genuinely hug and kiss me back. I want them, when they speak of me, to say, "My mom is the best. She's my rock. You'll love her." I want them to call me and keep me updated on their lives and the people in them. I want them to love me like they love me now.
 
I was brought to tears last night looking at my husband holding Little Hawk. He is almost a year old -- ALREADY. Our last baby, almost a baby no more, and in that moment, time flashed before my eyes. Roger was once that small, too. I pictured his father holding him the same way, comforting and protecting his son. And now that tiny baby is over 6 ft tall, a grown man, strong, comforting, protecting, and providing for a family of his own. A man who never needs that sort of comfort from his parents. I immediately became overwhelmed by how beautifully tragic the process of a life is. These times, this day, this moment, is over and there is never an opportunity to get it back. I always want life to move forward because the opposite would be devastating (I would never want my child to be young forever; and I'm so superstitious, I will never even say those words jokingly.), but there is still a sadness, a nostalgia, that sweeps over me from time to time. 
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One day my sons will grow up. They may be exactly like their father: fiercely independent, kind, brilliant, adventurous, self-sufficient, funny, and amazing fathers. I pray that they are all of those things. But they also may leave me behind, as I watch through social media and the occasional call or email, the ins and outs of their daily lives. They may love me and enjoy our time together, but they might not be the "mama's boys" I dream of raising -- the ones who are there every damn day. Therefore, I'm not taking for granted a single moment to show my sons love and affection. I'm relishing in the joy, laughs, and comfort that those hugs and kisses bring.
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Overheard at the MOTY Water Cooler

1/19/2015

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"Do you think he's too fat? Maybe I should have pushed for a thyroid check. He walks around like a fat little drunk drag queen."
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Our Greatest Adventure

1/18/2015

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By Mandy

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I married Brian for so many reasons. One biggie is that he made my life feel like an adventure. We're both explorers. Brian is a free bird and I have a wild gypsy soul. He's the funnest guy I know and being with him always made me feel like an adventure was about to happen. Some of our bigger adventures include road-tripping from Ohio to the Rocky Mountains of Colorado and also running off, just the two of us, to elope in the Appalachian Mountains of Southern Virginia. But our greatest adventure by far is becoming Mommy and Daddy to Sofia.

It all happened really fast for us. We eloped in April, had an awesome wedding reception with family and friends in August, and I was pregnant by September. I always assumed I'd have fertility problems because of my unhealthy past, my age and general bad luck, but we conceived within the first three weeks of trying. We were shocked! My heart absolutely breaks for couples who struggle with infertility and I felt so blessed, so incredibly lucky. Soon after, I read some blog -- "What They Don't Tell You" about becoming parents. I read only bullet point out loud to Brian with a smirk, "You will fight. Even if you and your partner never fought before you had a baby, you WILL fight."
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Losing the Lunch Battle

1/16/2015

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By Layah

When the Munch started eating, she hated food. But, that was OK because I waited until she was seven months to feed her solids, and even then only when her dad was around: what if she choked on that organic flavored liquid?! I'm not sure when it happened, but she suddenly became a fantastic eater with what my mother told me (so you know that has to be legit) was a sophisticated palate. My girl ate guacamole (and she could even say that word), olives (nasty! definitely from her father), and pretty much everything else we put in front of her. Except eggs, because she has an allergy. When I read other mamas posts on mom's groups begging for meal ideas and advice on how to get their child to eat more than just crackers and cheese, my back perked up a bit, and a slight wave of superiority washed over my normally humble self. I gleefully thought to myself, "I may not have good sleepers, but I have good eaters, motherfuckers!! Muahhhahaa! Suck it!" Don't judge me. We all have to take a win where we can get one.

And then the Munch turned three. Now, this was only last month, but fuck! Can someone please tell me what the hell happened? She doesn't eat shit. It's a constant barrage of "I don't like it" and "I'm not hungry" or "I want more cheese." What the fuck? My boys still don't sleep through night -- like at all -- and they are joined occasionally by their sister. So I want to know what I did to the parenting g-ds? Or, what happens to a three-year-old's brain that turns her off of good food and into a picky little monster?
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Munch is eating ketchup only today.
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Don't be a douche...

1/13/2015

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By Scarlett

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Des (riding a llama), Roman (in the carrier), and I in Plaza Bolivar, Bogota, Colombia.
I haven’t lived a normal life. Far from it. I moved around a lot as a kid; my family was wildly, wonderfully dysfunctional; I made huge, fantastic mistakes that have taught me so much about myself. I am used to the thinly veiled skepticism behind the questions and comments my well-meaning friends and families have made throughout my life. And that was OK...I took those questions and comments and swallowed them up like a champ, because, yeah, maybe I did screw up a few times and deserved the skepticism and chastisement.  

Fast forward to age 31. I’m married. A master’s degree under my belt, working on my dissertation. I have one amazing 2.5-year-old little boy. I’m happily married to the love of my life. We own a small business together that we are trying to grow internationally. Looks pretty good on paper, right? I’m sure if you would have met me two years ago, you would have nodded your head in tacit agreement with the path my life was taking.  

It felt good, to have everyone nodding their heads and saying, “Good job, Scarlett! We’re proud of you! You’ve finally done something great.” I loved all of the approbation. So, when my husband approached me about traveling the world full time for a few years, I immediately said no. Me, the girl who was considering getting an utterly basic “wanderlust” tattoo, said no. Why? Because I finally had a stable, safe life. I was on my way to realizing the American dream. All that was left was the big house and the 1.5 kids.

It took a lot of courage to let go of that. To let go of my doctoral program. To let go of my “dream” house. To let go of the lovely, safe neighborhood we lived in in St. Louis. To let go of the possibility of a steady income working a 9-5. To let go of living a life that EVERYONE agreed was just fine.  



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MOTY Tip: Baby Proofing

1/13/2015

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By Layah

Baby proofing gear can get expensive. Plus, actually doing the proofing (reading the directions, the latching, the screwing, the damaging your furniture..) really takes a big chunk out of your rare and precious free time. Time that could be spent doing more productive things like drinking, having sex, or watching reality TV. My solution for you, MOTYs, is HAIRBANDS! Not only are they a fraction of a fraction of the cost of the normal cabinet latch, but you probably already own them, and they take about 2.5 seconds to apply. 
                                                                 You're welcome.
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MOTY Moment: Succumbing to the Dog Crate

1/8/2015

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By Mandy

My Sofia is a mover! As a yogi, I take great pride in the fact that she is so in touch with her body. When she rolled over at just two and a half months, I gasped. When she started legitimately crawling, beeline across the room, at five months, I swelled with pride. At eight months, sweet Sofia is fast and curious and nonstop. And me? Well, I just want a hot cup of coffee in the morning without having to chase her away from the stairs!
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