So I want to start a new blog. One of those fancy .com ones. Is it wrong to want to make money from my blog? Does that make me a sell-out? Honestly... I just want to be able to blog and hang out with my baby for a living.... Can a brotha do that?
I am the "brotha" in that scenario. I am in most scenarios...
Friday, June 17, 2011
Saturday, June 11, 2011
Moms Gone Wild
I am topless more that I am top....full?..... topped?....untopless?
I don't wear a shirt a lot.
Is it because I am so super sexy and scandalous and down to party?
no.
It's because shirts are more problem than solution when you have a baby and are breastfeeding. She's hungry every 4.6 minutes. She spits up all up on me. She has somehow managed to trick the diapers into not functioning as diapers...they...undiaper?...and she then pees or poops all over my shirt.
So I just walk around like some tribal mother, feeding the baby and gathering wild berries.
I don't wear a shirt a lot.
Is it because I am so super sexy and scandalous and down to party?
no.
It's because shirts are more problem than solution when you have a baby and are breastfeeding. She's hungry every 4.6 minutes. She spits up all up on me. She has somehow managed to trick the diapers into not functioning as diapers...they...undiaper?...and she then pees or poops all over my shirt.
So I just walk around like some tribal mother, feeding the baby and gathering wild berries.
Friday, June 10, 2011
Blog poop (I feel slightly uncomfortable with this title... but I'll manage)
I talked to my therapist today (aka myself while I'm driving) and I realized I am about 73% insane. Luckily I have a really good therapist so I feel optimistic about being able to work through this.
I got issues, yo. I'm pretty sure I'm the only person in the world that has issues so I'm definitely special. I overthink everything and stress and have serious anxiety, and you care about this because you don't have your own problems to deal with.
As happy as I am, I'm also miserable. It's only because I am constantly thinking about how my life is working and what I need to do to be better. Then, I end up not doing any of that stuff because I spend most of my day thinking about needing to do it. And watching 30 Rock.
I just had a day. You know.. just one of those days when I hated everything and everyone.. except my daughter, of course. I love my daughter. The faces she makes when she poops makes life worth living.
Let me tell you a major turning point in my life: when I felt ok with the fact that I poop. So liberating.
And yes... you do poop when you birth a baby through the vageen. I mean... I didn't.... because I don't poop....but most people do....so I hear.
Ok yes I did. Sorry about that. I had a brief relapse with the whole poop issue.
So listen, ladies. It's ok to poop.
This post is weird.
I think I'm now at 82%.
I got issues, yo. I'm pretty sure I'm the only person in the world that has issues so I'm definitely special. I overthink everything and stress and have serious anxiety, and you care about this because you don't have your own problems to deal with.
As happy as I am, I'm also miserable. It's only because I am constantly thinking about how my life is working and what I need to do to be better. Then, I end up not doing any of that stuff because I spend most of my day thinking about needing to do it. And watching 30 Rock.
I just had a day. You know.. just one of those days when I hated everything and everyone.. except my daughter, of course. I love my daughter. The faces she makes when she poops makes life worth living.
Let me tell you a major turning point in my life: when I felt ok with the fact that I poop. So liberating.
And yes... you do poop when you birth a baby through the vageen. I mean... I didn't.... because I don't poop....but most people do....so I hear.
Ok yes I did. Sorry about that. I had a brief relapse with the whole poop issue.
So listen, ladies. It's ok to poop.
This post is weird.
I think I'm now at 82%.
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Kids and their music
This moment sums up being a mother:
I was holding my little baby precious in my arms. I was staring into her big blue eyes, and she was staring lovingly back at me- studying my face as I was smiling at her. Then there was this moment when her look changed. Her face brightened, her eyes widened, and I felt this surreal connection was happening. My smile widened and she seemed to be trying to smile back, and then she let out the longest, wettest fart-poop combo that the world has ever known. I swear it lasted 10 full seconds. Then she fell asleep.
And I loved it.
I remember the days when I would wake up at noon after spending the night before doing crazy party things (I'm such a mom now that I literally can't think of a cooler way to say "crazy party things") and then spend the day watching reality TV, going out to sushi with friends, shooting up heroin behind some abandoned building (I tried to make up for the "crazy party things" moment with that last one, and I fear I went too far in the other direction), and then cramming in a bunch of school work to turn in the next day.
That life seems so far away. My life now is so... responsible... and doesn't include any crazy party things or abandoned buildings. And yet...I like it.
Being a mom is so sappy.
I really am getting significantly more lame on a daily basis. I snap a lot more when I dance in the mall (mall dancing is less noisy than club dancing...see? lame); I am losing touch with neato slang terminology; I call people younger than me "hooligans." When you become a parent, though, you don't care about things being in style. You don't care about knowing who Joseph Bieber is. You don't care about what the homies are sayin' these days. You just care about germs, and living in suburbs away from sex offenders, and making your daughter Miss Toddler USA at the Miss Toddler USA pageant.
Priorities people.
I was holding my little baby precious in my arms. I was staring into her big blue eyes, and she was staring lovingly back at me- studying my face as I was smiling at her. Then there was this moment when her look changed. Her face brightened, her eyes widened, and I felt this surreal connection was happening. My smile widened and she seemed to be trying to smile back, and then she let out the longest, wettest fart-poop combo that the world has ever known. I swear it lasted 10 full seconds. Then she fell asleep.
And I loved it.
I remember the days when I would wake up at noon after spending the night before doing crazy party things (I'm such a mom now that I literally can't think of a cooler way to say "crazy party things") and then spend the day watching reality TV, going out to sushi with friends, shooting up heroin behind some abandoned building (I tried to make up for the "crazy party things" moment with that last one, and I fear I went too far in the other direction), and then cramming in a bunch of school work to turn in the next day.
That life seems so far away. My life now is so... responsible... and doesn't include any crazy party things or abandoned buildings. And yet...I like it.
Being a mom is so sappy.
I really am getting significantly more lame on a daily basis. I snap a lot more when I dance in the mall (mall dancing is less noisy than club dancing...see? lame); I am losing touch with neato slang terminology; I call people younger than me "hooligans." When you become a parent, though, you don't care about things being in style. You don't care about knowing who Joseph Bieber is. You don't care about what the homies are sayin' these days. You just care about germs, and living in suburbs away from sex offenders, and making your daughter Miss Toddler USA at the Miss Toddler USA pageant.
Priorities people.
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
I'm not gunna lie.... I looked up "rue the day" before I posted this because I fear I am an idiot and don't know what expressions really mean.
Well I'm officially a madre now. My daughter was born a few days late, but totally worth the wait. She is abnormally beautiful. Like... if I was a week-old girl, I would totally hate her and call her a biatch but only because I would be deeply jealous of her. Jealousy among babies runs deep.
Being a mom, even for such a short time, has already changed me so much. I am even less tolerant of bullshit from others. I really know now what is important. She is such a relief in my life. Yes... she keeps me up at all hours of the night; she destroys my nip nips on an hourly basis; she poops what appears to be old mustard; but she reminds me that things I used to stress so much about- being a "successful" artist, money, keeping up with the Kardashians, etc.- are so so very silly. Old mustard poop is more important than these things so obviously they aren't that important.
I love being a mom. Everyone should do it.
No. Really they shouldn't.
One negative personality trait I may have acquired because of her birth is my true hatred for anyone that could possibly endanger my child in any way... I'm talking the vaguest way possible... A car drove by us when we were getting out of our car and I immediately felt burning rage because that other driver could potentially be a little tired while driving and swerve and hit our parked car and hurt my daughter. I called the driver a douchlord "beepity beep" (my attempt to censor) and swore to myself that if I ever met that driver again, I would make him rue the day that he ever even got inside of car.
My hate, though, is all rooted in a strong overwhelming love for my daughter. So... it's a good thing.
So... my point is that I am very happy these days, even though the number of people I despise has increased substancially since I became a mother.
Love (hate),
Katie the Mom Lady
Being a mom, even for such a short time, has already changed me so much. I am even less tolerant of bullshit from others. I really know now what is important. She is such a relief in my life. Yes... she keeps me up at all hours of the night; she destroys my nip nips on an hourly basis; she poops what appears to be old mustard; but she reminds me that things I used to stress so much about- being a "successful" artist, money, keeping up with the Kardashians, etc.- are so so very silly. Old mustard poop is more important than these things so obviously they aren't that important.
I love being a mom. Everyone should do it.
No. Really they shouldn't.
One negative personality trait I may have acquired because of her birth is my true hatred for anyone that could possibly endanger my child in any way... I'm talking the vaguest way possible... A car drove by us when we were getting out of our car and I immediately felt burning rage because that other driver could potentially be a little tired while driving and swerve and hit our parked car and hurt my daughter. I called the driver a douchlord "beepity beep" (my attempt to censor) and swore to myself that if I ever met that driver again, I would make him rue the day that he ever even got inside of car.
My hate, though, is all rooted in a strong overwhelming love for my daughter. So... it's a good thing.
So... my point is that I am very happy these days, even though the number of people I despise has increased substancially since I became a mother.
Love (hate),
Katie the Mom Lady
Sunday, May 8, 2011
Monday, May 2, 2011
I need to eat before I blog
The sooner I realize that money doesn't matter, the happier I will be.
How much more annoying and cliche can this blog get?
Don't challenge me.
I am just waiting for that turning point in my life when all the lessons I have learned, and all the wisdom I have blogged, and all the knowledge I have spit come together in a way that is conducive to real life. Yeah. I have said, "Money doesn't matter," but I sure as hell don't believe it. I have said, "Looks don't matter," but I still know the only reason I am such a successful stay-at-home pregnant writer wannabe (I want to be a writer; I actually am pregnant) is because I am so damn attractive (My sarcasm and ridiculous displays of confidence are just defense mechanisms. I don't need them because I am so perfect in every sense of the word, but I use them to make my blog more relateable.)
Today I am feeling heavy. Mainly because the baby inside my belly has to weigh at least 20 pounds at this point. I am also feeling heavy in the emotional sense, though, because.... well I am having a baby (did I mention I'm having a baby?) and that shit is real.... but also because I know big changes are about, and I feel all the past mistakes and decisions and lessons and blog musings are very present in my life now but I cannot yet put them into action. Everything is a big blob right now... a big leaky, awkward smelling, waddling blob of baby goo, and maybe when this baby thing is actually real then this blob phase will finally make sense. If not, I have gotten pretty good at squatting down to pick things up as a blob of baby goo and my glutes are pretty fantastic....so things really aren't that bad. Maybe that's the point of all this. All these life lessons culminate into amazing glutes.
I find such joy in simple moments, but somehow cannot resist making them more complicated. Today at the park I was so enjoying watching the dogs play and the poor people try to have fun without money, but soon I started putting pressure on myself to write and be productive on this "day off" (whatever that means.) Then I started worrying about if I am wasting time and life and if this baby blob will prevent me from accomplishing my goals. Then I started telling myself to shut the "f" up you crazy pregnant whore face (I'm very hard on my my whore face). Then I tried to be all Taoist and Zen and calm myself. And then I got hungry so I ate an orange and didn't know what to do with the orange peels so I put them in my shoe. Then I didn't have a shoe to wear to bring the orange peel to the trash can.
In the end, though, all my craziness allows me to blog about my craziness and spread the craziness and I can feel good about that.
The longer I am out of college, the worse my grammar and syntax and diction and all those other thingy things get.
Did I mention I am friggin pregnant?
And starving.
That explains a lot.
Goodnight, playas.
How much more annoying and cliche can this blog get?
Don't challenge me.
I am just waiting for that turning point in my life when all the lessons I have learned, and all the wisdom I have blogged, and all the knowledge I have spit come together in a way that is conducive to real life. Yeah. I have said, "Money doesn't matter," but I sure as hell don't believe it. I have said, "Looks don't matter," but I still know the only reason I am such a successful stay-at-home pregnant writer wannabe (I want to be a writer; I actually am pregnant) is because I am so damn attractive (My sarcasm and ridiculous displays of confidence are just defense mechanisms. I don't need them because I am so perfect in every sense of the word, but I use them to make my blog more relateable.)
Today I am feeling heavy. Mainly because the baby inside my belly has to weigh at least 20 pounds at this point. I am also feeling heavy in the emotional sense, though, because.... well I am having a baby (did I mention I'm having a baby?) and that shit is real.... but also because I know big changes are about, and I feel all the past mistakes and decisions and lessons and blog musings are very present in my life now but I cannot yet put them into action. Everything is a big blob right now... a big leaky, awkward smelling, waddling blob of baby goo, and maybe when this baby thing is actually real then this blob phase will finally make sense. If not, I have gotten pretty good at squatting down to pick things up as a blob of baby goo and my glutes are pretty fantastic....so things really aren't that bad. Maybe that's the point of all this. All these life lessons culminate into amazing glutes.
I find such joy in simple moments, but somehow cannot resist making them more complicated. Today at the park I was so enjoying watching the dogs play and the poor people try to have fun without money, but soon I started putting pressure on myself to write and be productive on this "day off" (whatever that means.) Then I started worrying about if I am wasting time and life and if this baby blob will prevent me from accomplishing my goals. Then I started telling myself to shut the "f" up you crazy pregnant whore face (I'm very hard on my my whore face). Then I tried to be all Taoist and Zen and calm myself. And then I got hungry so I ate an orange and didn't know what to do with the orange peels so I put them in my shoe. Then I didn't have a shoe to wear to bring the orange peel to the trash can.
In the end, though, all my craziness allows me to blog about my craziness and spread the craziness and I can feel good about that.
The longer I am out of college, the worse my grammar and syntax and diction and all those other thingy things get.
Did I mention I am friggin pregnant?
And starving.
That explains a lot.
Goodnight, playas.
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