Hey TIME Magazine, suck on this.

By now, we’ve all seen the latest TIME Magazine cover with the picture of the calm, collected, svelte mom (that alone makes me wonder if this bitch is for real) breast-feeding her 3-year-old son.  Aw, sweet, right?

Look at that kids face. To me that is the look of a confused child that would rather be anywhere else but in a studio surrounded by a bunch of strangers, spending endless hours on his feet, snapping countless pictures while his mom presses his head onto her tit at a moment when he’s not very hungry, thank you very much.

Or is it just me? This poor child would rather be in the comfort of his own living room, eating Oreos, coloring on walls and crapping his pants while watching SpongeBob SquarePants. After 2 kids, I get what being a toddler is all about.

So after reading the million miles of media coverage that resulted from this cover, I got pissed, and decided to express my opinion on the whole issue as a Facebook status. HOLY CRAP! I was never expecting the amount of passionate, complex, opinioned, thought-provoking comments that would follow. It took on a life of it’s own. And now I feel the need to share. I couldn’t make this shit up if I tried.

Instead of cutting and pasting the entire post here, check it out for yourself.

So what’s your opinion? Let’s continue the never-ending conversation… 

My Own Private Idaho

Warning: I will shamelessly namedrop in this blog, so deal with it.

Funny how things happen, just as they were meant to be.

Last Thursday sucked big time. Nothing was going right. My kids sucked, my hubby sucked, everyone was on the wrong side of right, writer’s block was killing me and it seemed that life in general was kicking me square in the taco. I eventually found myself sinking into a hole of complete depression, the point where I eventually decided to give up and go to bed unusually early, praying that tomorrow will be a fresh start.

Well holy crap! Someone was listening…

So I wake up on Friday morning and lazily peruse facebook while lying in bed, as usual, when I see Scary Mommy’s post about being in town for a book signing that same night. I about peed my PJ’s because I had no idea! I knew she was on a book tour, but not coming to a bookstore in my backyard. I’ve been in love with Jill’s work for years, she’s been a big influence on my own writing. This broad is my own personal Dalai Lama, so I had to meet her in person while she was here.  I text my sister to babysit and call the book store to reserve a book and place in line. I’m about in tears because this is really going to happen. Buddha bless the heavens above!

Oh but it gets better.

So I text my friend Nikki (yes, THE Nicole Knepper of Moms Who Drink and Swear), who I already knew was going and tell her I’ll be there as well. Nikki texts back all excited, then tells me she’s going out with Jill for drinks afterwards, would I like to join them?

SHUT THE FRONT DOOR! Are you friggin’ kidding me?!

Hello, longtime dream? Put your big girl panties and hooker heels on, because you’re about to come true. The following pics tell the rest of the story.

My girl Nikki. I love this broad more than Merlot. 

Hello! How’s this for inspiration?!

Finally. A boobie squeeze with Jill.

Sharing a cocktail. I’m in love.

A mommy blogger trifecta. Nikki, me and Jill. A once-in-a-lifetime event. 

The Unexpected Inevitable

Seems like once you become a mom, there are certain things that are to be expected, like endless diaper changes, midnight feedings, temper tantrums and ruthless demands of our time, temper and soul.

And that’s just on a Monday.

So after spending the past decade of my life being a full time parent to two amazing children, I now feel qualified to give some advice to the newbie parents that might refute a few facts. For instance;

*If a child comes to you and tells you they feel like they’re going to puke, move quickly! 9 times out of 10 they will do so, within seconds of warning you. All over your brand new Banana Republic pajamas.

*As soon as you put on a fresh diaper, they will shit. That’s a given. So be prepared for those “are you kidding me?” moments. Pack extra everything. You will thank me later.

*If you don’t satisfy their every wish and demand before you leave the garage, they will scream the entire car ride. Guaranteed. So prepare your departure well, as in lots of toys, snacks, sippy cups and DVD movies. Then pray for your sanity. Amen.

*They will try to convince you that McDonald’s cheeseburgers are a necessary food group. Stick you ground and do your best to educate them that they are better off eating a paper bag smeared with dog shit. Harsh, but true.

*Yes means no. No means yes. Up means down and down means up. They will speak in a completely different language that will take you years to figure out. And when you don’t comply, be prepared for a barrage of Matchbox cars and Cheerios to be flung your way in a violent rage. The phrase “what the hell is going on here?!” will leave our mouth multiple times. You’re beginning to learn that the term PTSD takes on a whole different meaning.

*Your privacy will be invaded, multiple times a day, every day. So suck it up Buttercup! Wiping your own ass now involves 2 additional people, plus the damn dog. Bowel movements have now become an Olympic sport, where you will be judged on a sliding scale of 1-10. If you pass with a 4, feel proud.

*When grocery shopping with nothing more than 2 kids, a wallet and your iPhone, don’t ever stick said iPhone in your bra for safekeeping and mobility. Nothing is more embarrassing than accidently boob-dialing a client while screaming “Jimmy, put down that box of tampons or else you get a time-out when we get home!” Don’t ask….just trust me on that one.

I could go on, and on….and on. So what other words of wisdom would you share with new mommies? Be honest!  

Where the hell have I been?!

I’ve been a sucky blogger recently. My last post was about a million years ago, or so it feels. And for someone who prides themselves on being a rock star multi-tasker, I’ve done a shit job. I’m sure a few of my readers are feeling neglected, like that kid in gym class who gets picked last, or that cheap bottle of wine in the back of the fridge. I haven’t forgotten! Mama still loves you! She’s just been a bit…preoccupied.

2 months ago, my friend Sherril emailed me, telling me the story of her childhood friend Lori, who is currently battling her third round of ovarian cancer. After her first diagnosis, the husband left. Abandoning her and their kids, leaving them to fend for themselves. Much like cowards do. So Lori is left by herself with these 4 kids and forced to work multiple jobs just to make ends meet while undergoing treatment at the same time. Sherril wants to put together some type of fundraiser to help Lori not only pay rent and put food on the table, but perhaps have a bit set aside for the kids. A cushion. In case.

Sherril then asked me for my professional help to make this happen. After hearing Lori’s story, my jaw dropped and my heart bled. Of course I said yes. Why?

Because cancer sucks. No matter what form or fashion it chooses to show it’s ugly face, she’s the same Bitch. Breast, colon, ovarian, brain, it’s all the same. And she seems to be taking the best of all of us. I don’t think there’s not a single person on the planet that hasn’t known of someone, somewhere, somehow, suffering from this incurable disease. Be it close friend or family, casual acquaintance or the friend of a friend of a friend, it’s out there and difficult to avoid.

Because I have personal experience with The Bitch herself. In the fall of 2006, ten months into my relationship with my husband (back then just my boyfriend), he was diagnosed with testicular cancer. We were both shocked. Neither has dealt with anything like this before. He gave me the option to stay or walk out the door, no harm, no foul. But it was already too late. I was deeply in love, my soul already committed, so there was no other option. Together we would do what we needed to do and fight the good fight. We went to endless doctor’s appointments, discussing the many options available. We hugged. We kissed. We cried. We held hope high while holding our breath. We survived surgery and recovery. And sighed a deep breath when his bill of health came back clean. We eventually conceived the most amazing baby boy you could ever meet. Fuck you cancer, this is one battle you didn’t win!

Lastly, because I’m human. I have an overwhelming sense of compassion and empathy. I wear my heart on my sleeve and tend to express every single emotion I have every time I have one. So of course my knee-jerk reaction was to help in any professional way possible. Pull my strings, work my marketing magic, and put on my big-girl PR panties, all in the name of love.

I’ve never met Lori or her kids. Never kissed their cheek nor embraced them in a hug. But I feel for them, and will do everything within my professional power to help them fight The Bitch. I'm not doing this for power or glory. I'm doing this because it's the right thing to do. And a small part of me is looking forward to the challenge of facing The Bitch once again and telling her to fuck off one more time. 

So off I go on my noble steed. Care to join me for the ride?

*If you’d like to get regular updates or wish to donate to the Fight Like A Girl fundraiser please ‘Like’ the facebook page I’ve set up: http://www.facebook.com/FightLikeAGirlCancerFundraiser

The Plight of a Writer

I have a friend who doubts her abilities as a writer. She’s THISCLOSE to quitting blogging for a while, all because she received some negative comments about something she posted recently. She is a pure, kind soul with extremely delicate skin that has been chastised for what she wrote. This isn’t her first rodeo, yet this time she’s reached her breaking point. Because of this, she wants to quite writing. End of story. Thank you very much.

And this pisses me off like you would not believe!

Why?

First of all, because this broad (and I use this word as a term of endearment) has more talent than most have in their left foot. For her to quit writing would be a crime. Second, the fact that she’s even gotten feedback to her post, however positive or negative, is huge! As I said in my response:

“Jenna, the way I see it, the fact that you evoked such emotion, enough to earn a response, positive or negative, means that YOU'RE DOING IT RIGHT! I usually get positive feedback, which is awesome. But when I get the rare negative feedback, it's like BOOYA! Not only did this person read my work, but I made them think and react......to me that is total winning! Don't give up girl, you have a strong voice and the balls to back it up. Like Teppi said, "F'em all."

Us bloggers understand from the beginning that what we put out there shall and will be scrutinized by a huge audience. They may or may not like what we have to say. Everyone is entitled to his or her opinion, and I respect that. If they don’t like your point of view, then they can unsubscribe, unfriend or unlike me bitch! Simple, concise, easy. BOOM! If they feel they have the balls to voice their opinion on their own platform, then bless their precious little hearts. They can start their own blog. But for heaven’s sake Jenna, don’t give up. Ever! Giving up would be allowing the negative heathens to win.

It’s impossible to please everyone nor get everyone to agree with your ideals. As a writer, that’s the double-edged sword we’ve chosen to deal with. What really matters is that we’re putting ourselves out there, on the field, playing the game each and every day. That’s more than most can say.

“It’s never enough until your heart stops beating. The deeper you get, the sweeter the pain. Don’t give up the game until your heart stops beating.”

 ~ New Order

Perfection Personified

I’m usually a very easygoing, accommodating person that gets along with almost everyone. I consider myself a good judge of character and can usually tell within minutes of meeting someone if we’re going to be great friends or not so much. Even if I don’t hit it off with someone right away, I’m willing to give them the benefit of the doubt by trying to get to know them a bit further. No one’s perfect, including myself, so there are certain ‘flaws’ I’m willing to overlook in favor of their better side.

But then there are bitches you just want to punch in the face.

I’m not sure if it’s old age, change in hormones or just a complete lack of bullshit tolerance, but there are some women out there that I don’t have the patience for anymore. For example:

1.     Women who lose even more weight after every baby ~ These are women who “magically” get thinner after every baby they poop out. They just shake their heads and try to sell you the story of “I have no idea why this is happening, teehee!” Ugh, whatever! I always try to casually ask what their secret is; weird diet? Working out 3 hours a day? Crack? Whaaaaat??? So as they’re running their skinny asses around town, I’m stuck with a shit metabolism, in a body that’s been broken down and bloated after having 2 kids that, depending on the week of the month, looks as if I’m about to deliver once again.

2.     Itty Bitty Titties ~ To my small breasted friends who can wear a bandeau top without fear of slippage or go braless under a cute summer dress and still look…cute, bless your precious little heart. You clearly live in a different world than us well-endowed ladies. While you’re seeking out the perfect padded push-up bra, we’re spending good money on minimizers that will allow our clothes to fit properly. As you are breathing a sigh of relief while taking off your bra after a long day, we are dreading the moment, which will bring uncomfortable stretching and back aches, not to mention possible eye injury to others in the room. Not sexy.

3.     Women who wear a size 2 and bitch about how they feel fat ~ Really? I haven’t fit into a size 2 since I was 10 years old, so shut the hell up. After 2 kids and endless desk jobs, I’ve gotten use to ‘The Spread’ and other random gastrointestinal issues that come with age. When those gals bloat, they get a slight belly bump. When I bloat, I could float the Titanic.

4.     The world is perfect ~ They brag up and down on facebook how they’re married to the most perfect man, have the most well-behaved kids, have the perfect home and lived the most charmed life. These ladies are either completely delusional or in total denial. Life is messy, and most things worth having have to be fought hard for. My advice would be to step off the pedestal, take a good look around and be honest with yourself and others. No one is better than anyone else and your shit still stinks. Period.

5.     High Heels ~ Now this one I can honestly say is pure envy. I love the look and allure of heels, and being only 5’2, it almost feels like a requirement. But they tear my feet apart within a minute. I’m not sure if it’s a genetic defect or just lack of coordination, but I just can’t do it. So when I see women prancing around in heels as if wearing slippers, I turn green. If I’m ever caught starting at a hot set of heels and utter the words ‘damn I hate you bitch’, take that as a compliment. 

Happy Birthday Mama!