Scary Mommy http://www.scarymommy.com A parenting community for imperfect parents. Fri, 31 Oct 2014 07:14:30 +0000 en-US hourly 1 http://wordpress.org/?v=4.0 Stop Asking Me if I’m Going to Try For a Girlhttp://www.scarymommy.com/going-to-try-for-a-girl/ http://www.scarymommy.com/going-to-try-for-a-girl/#respond Fri, 31 Oct 2014 06:22:22 +0000 http://www.scarymommy.com/?p=57998 Image via Shutterstock I have two sons. Two happy, healthy, bright, beautiful sons. And nearly every day someone asks me if I’m going to try for a girl. It is such a rude, wrong, offensive, presumptuous and mean question. So, stop it. Seriously, when did this become a thing? When did people decide they could […]

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I have two sons. Two happy, healthy, bright, beautiful sons. And nearly every day someone asks me if I’m going to try for a girl. It is such a rude, wrong, offensive, presumptuous and mean question. So, stop it.

Seriously, when did this become a thing? When did people decide they could just ask strangers if they were satisfied with their children? When my second son was three weeks old, we took him and my older son to a restaurant. Looking at my blue-clad newborn, the first thing the server said to us was, “So, you’re going to try for the girl next?” Three weeks old. I still looked pregnant and the server asked when I was going to try for another baby. Not just any other baby, though: a girl.

The truth is that yeah, I did want a girl. I mean, I really wanted a girl. I even wrote an article about it. And every time someone asks me if I’m “going for the girl,” it’s another gut punch reminding me that I don’t have a girl. That I won’t be able to braid my daughter’s hair, teach her about feminist icons or help pick out her wedding dress (if and when she chose to get married). Every day or two I get to smile cheerfully, shake my head and mourn the daughter I always thought I would have. So, thanks for that, strangers.

You know what else is awesome? When my son hears this crap. Nearly five, what must he think when someone asks me if I’m going to try for a girl? That he’s not good enough because he’s not a girl? I always respond by saying how wonderful my boys are, but at what point will he start to internalize the message that babies are only worth having if they’re girls?

I’m luckier than most to have two children. During my older son’s emergency c-section, I discovered that I have a uterine anomaly — I only have half of a functional uterus; in fact, the entire left side of my reproductive system is nonfunctional. I was lucky to get pregnant twice, even more so to carry to term twice. Even when I’m having a really hard time with them, I try to remain cognizant that my children truly are something of a miracle; often, my anomaly can render women infertile. So do I want to try for a girl? I don’t even know if I could get pregnant again even if I wanted a third child.

But what if I did want a third child and couldn’t get pregnant? I didn’t have to explore fertility options prior to my pregnancies, but what about the women who did? What about women who have had miscarriages or abortions? Do they want to be reminded about the babies they never had? And worse, what about women who have lost a child? I can’t even imagine how devastating it would be fielding these comments day and day out, had I lost a little girl.

Lastly, my reproductive choices are no one’s business. I’m a pretty open person. After all, I write personal essays about my life and share them on the internet. You can’t get much more open than that. But even I don’t want to talk about my reproductive choices with a stranger. I don’t want to have to laugh off something that is a real, serious, and sensitive issue. I don’t want to justify my sons’ gender or my choice to not have a third child.

So, the next time you see a parent at the playground, find something innocuous to ask about. Do not ask parents of boys if they want a girl. Do not ask parents of girls if they want a boy. Do not ask parents of one child when they’re going to have another. Do not ask parents of multiple children why they have so many. There’s no reason for it. It’s none of your business. And you have no idea what the family has gone through, child-wise.

So stop it.

Related post: 10 Things Never to Say to a Mom Expecting Another Boy

this piece first ran on bluntmoms.com

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The Days They’ll Rememberhttp://www.scarymommy.com/the-days-theyll-remember/ http://www.scarymommy.com/the-days-theyll-remember/#comments Thu, 30 Oct 2014 22:47:02 +0000 http://www.scarymommy.com/?p=41317 snow
On the best days I patiently, creatively ward off Monsters. I am able to convince my children that we have magic Monster-proof paint on our house, or that the Monster is actually very tiny and wearing a tutu and singing Puff the Magic Dragon.

On the worst days, I get horribly, loudly frustrated when my child comes upstairs for the fiftieth time, "Just go to freaking bed, already!" is the last thing they hear from me before they go to sleep.

On the best days, everyone is groomed, including me. Clean, sweet-smelling children. Nails clipped, hair combed and braided, faces free of food or boogers or whatever that brown stuff is.

On the worst days, they walk around like little wild animals and the first time I see myself is in the mirror as I brush my teeth going to bed at night. I am usually a little frightened by what I see.

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On the best days I patiently, creatively ward off Monsters. I am able to convince my children that we have magic Monster-proof paint on our house, or that the Monster is actually very tiny and wearing a tutu and singing Puff the Magic Dragon.

On the worst days, I get horribly, loudly frustrated when my child comes upstairs for the fiftieth time, “Just go to freaking bed, already!” is the last thing they hear from me before they go to sleep.

On the best days, everyone is groomed, including me. Clean, sweet-smelling children. Nails clipped, hair combed and braided, faces free of food or boogers or whatever that brown stuff is.

On the worst days, they walk around like little wild animals and the first time I see myself is in the mirror as I brush my teeth going to bed at night. I am usually a little frightened by what I see.

On the best days, I look them in the eyes when they talk to me. I put the computer down. I get down on the floor. I mentally force the memory of their sweet voice saying, “Mama, Wook!” to stay with me forever.

On the worst days I say, “Oh my god, you need to stop singing that song right now before I fling myself out the window.”

On the best days, I can sit and watch without intervening as my child attempts for the thirtieth time to put their favorite, stained, disgusting t-shirt on in the right direction. I don’t reach forward to help them even once.

On the worst days, I wrestle them into their clothes. The ones that I want them to wear. They cry. Their blotchy face clashing mightily with their beautifully coordinated outfit.

On the best days, I am the memory-keeper of their lives. I am the one who will tell them that, at seven, they seemed physically unable to sit down at the dinner table or that, once, at two, after sitting on the potty they looked down and said, “Holy Shit!”

On the worst days, I say “Hurry Up!” over and over and I rush around and I look past them toward whatever I have to do next. And I forget.

On the best days, I look away from the mess; the clothes, the dishes, the floors, the bills, the whatever whatever. I say, “Do you want to go outside and go for a walk?” And everyone is so ridiculously excited about this that I feel bad for not looking away more often.

On the worst days, I let the stress of living life get to me. I talk with that Crazy Mom voice that I don’t even know that I have. It happens.

On the best days, when the homework crying inevitably appears, I slide the work aside and give them a hug because it isn’t always that important.

On the worst days, when the homework crying inevitably appears, I talk and talk until even I don’t understand what I’m saying. And I realize once again why I could never homeschool.

On the best days, I take a large dose of Chill The F*&$ Out. I take it and I do, I chill out. Life is usually not that big of a deal.

On the worst days, I push and try to control everything and ultimately fail and then feel bad and Ugh. Why.

On the best days, I sit and I read to them. I read and I read until they are ready to be done reading. I read until piles of books line the side of the chair and they look at me hopefully, “One more?”

On the worst days, I don’t have any time to read. Not even one moment to read to them.

On the best days, I think, “Please remember this.”

And on the worst, I hope they forget.

Related post: 12 Reasons Why You’re a Great Mom

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The 10 Dumbest Things I’ve Said to My Toddlershttp://www.scarymommy.com/dumbest-things-ive-said-to-my-toddlers/ http://www.scarymommy.com/dumbest-things-ive-said-to-my-toddlers/#comments Thu, 30 Oct 2014 21:25:39 +0000 http://www.scarymommy.com/?p=56464 Image via Shutterstock Since having kids, I tend to say things I’ve never said and do things I’ve never done. Being a mom has made me rattle off the dumbest questions and most pointless sentences of my life. Some so ridiculous that after I say it, I think to myself: “What does that even mean?” […]

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Since having kids, I tend to say things I’ve never said and do things I’ve never done. Being a mom has made me rattle off the dumbest questions and most pointless sentences of my life. Some so ridiculous that after I say it, I think to myself: “What does that even mean?” Here’s a few examples of things I’ve said recently:

1. “If you don’t get your shoes on I’m leaving without you.” Seriously, where am I going to go without her? Legally, I can only go in the back yard. Or the garage.

2. “Do you want me to spank you?” How many children actually answer, “yes” to this question?

3. “If you don’t clean up that mess, you’re going straight to bed.” Also, it’s two in the afternoon.

4. “If you don’t stop, I’m turning this car around and we’re going home.” This only ever happens on days when we have to be someplace like the doctor, the bank, or preschool.

5. “You have 30 seconds to get those toys cleaned up or I’m throwing them all away.” Throwing away “all those toys” is an awful lot of work. I have no desire to partake in an activity of this nature.

6. “If you don’t eat, I’m not going to give you any more dinner.” This pretty much makes no sense.

7. “I’m going to count to three and you better stop, or else.” Even I don’t know what else.

8. “Are you trying to make me mad?” Silly. My toddlers don’t deliberately try to make me mad. They just ignore me until my eyes cross, and my head spins.

9. “If you don’t start listening, I’m going to stop talking.” Said the mom to the toddlers who aren’t listening.

10. “If you don’t stop playing with your food, I’m going to take it away.” Chances are if they aren’t eating; they aren’t hungry or don’t want it. Duh.

I’m going to have to step it up and change my game for when they get older and start to realize that the upper hand has pretty much always been theirs. Until then, they have 30 seconds or else…

Related post: 5 Tips For Surviving The Toddler Tantrum

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Vaginal Beautification for the Rest of Ushttp://www.scarymommy.com/vaginal-beautification/ http://www.scarymommy.com/vaginal-beautification/#comments Thu, 30 Oct 2014 21:06:53 +0000 http://www.scarymommy.com/?p=57786 Image via greatwallofvagina.co.uk We women are obsessed with our lady gardens. We want everything about them to be perfect. The insides and the outsides. The hair, the skin, the age, the vitality. We spend tons of time, money, and energy to present the most spectacular love canal possible to our partners. Depending on the vaginal […]

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We women are obsessed with our lady gardens. We want everything about them to be perfect. The insides and the outsides. The hair, the skin, the age, the vitality. We spend tons of time, money, and energy to present the most spectacular love canal possible to our partners.

Depending on the vaginal beautification procedure, it can be painful, expensive, and time consuming. But still, we INTENTIONALLY put ourselves through this money-sucking torture.

Having a vagina myself, I have a few thoughts on some the most popular ways to spruce up the lady bits:

  • Waxing: A process that uses HOT WAX on your nethers to RIP OUT your pubic hair BY THE FOLLICLES. I had a Brazilian wax job once (and only once). It was painful, expensive, and had the horrible side effect of making me look like a prepubescent girl.
  • Vajazzling: The act of GLUEING HARD ROCKS on your tantalizing triangle. Unless you’re a Vegas Showgirl, I don’t understand why you would want to stick crystals on your snatch. Do men really like this? Personally, I wouldn’t want to be rubbing naked skin against crystals. They’re scratchy and hurty. And what happens if any come loose during sex? I don’t even want to imagine the places those crystals could travel or the damage they could do.
  • Tightening creams: The idea here is to shrink the love tunnel. Sure. Shove some made-in-China chemicals up your hooha for non-scientifically-proven tightening results. That sounds like a great idea.
  • Rejuvenation: I’m not talking about medically necessary surgery. I mean the elective kind—the face lift for the vulva. Frankly, unless he’s down there with a headlamp and a magnifying glass, this is unnecessary, invasive, and risky. Also, YOU MIGHT LOSE SENSATION. I’d rather feel the good stuff.

We’re over-thinking this whole vagina business, ladies.

I mean, if you’re doing it for yourself, by all means continue. But if you’re going through all of the suffering and expense for your man, just stop. Don’t even bother. Because, let’s face it—men aren’t as picky about the appearance of our hot pockets as women think they are. Men just want access to the goods. They are less interested in curb appeal and more obsessed with getting their, uhhh, foot in the door.

In short, they want a warm, wet hole. (Yes, yes, yes. They want to love you and caress you and cherish you too, but I’m talking about the vagina right now.)

With that in mind, I have come up with the following list of beauty tips for the cheap and lazy rest of us women.

  1. Shower regularly. A clean vagina is a happy vagina. Or something like that. Especially if you’re looking for some downtown action, a freshly cleansed and clean smelling va-jay-jay is essential. Get yourself a pulsating shower head and go to town.
  2. Use a marker and draw arrows pointing to the forbidden fruit. Or any other art. If he’s even looking at your stomach (he’s not), he’ll appreciate the effort (he won’t) you took to beautify your body. Although, depending on your art ability, “beautify” may be too strong a word.
  3. Shave something fun into your pubic hair. You’re already shaving your legs and armpits, why not get fancy with your lady bits? Create a heart, a martini glass, his initials. Get creative and have fun. (It will likely enhance your mood too.)
  4. Buy a pair of sexy panties—lacy, satiny, edible, spikey. Hell, I don’t know what you’re into. Just do something new and different.
  5. Go to bed naked. There’s nothing more beautiful than naked skin.

Or screw all of this and just tell him you want sex—RIGHT NOW. Guaranteed, he won’t hesitate to give it to you. I can count on one hand the number of times my husband said, “Nah, not tonight,” after I’ve initiated a roll in the hay. Think of all the time and money you could save!

Related post: Dear Gynecologist

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10 Ways To End A Mom Friendshiphttp://www.scarymommy.com/ways-to-end-a-mom-friendship/ http://www.scarymommy.com/ways-to-end-a-mom-friendship/#comments Thu, 30 Oct 2014 13:31:55 +0000 http://www.scarymommy.com/?p=57959 Image via Shutterstock Mom friends are really hard to come by. Once you get a mom friend, you better keep her. There’s nothing worse than making a wonderful mom-friend-unicorn in your area who you think is legitimately cool, only to lose her friendship a few months later. Your kids play well together, your husbands get […]

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Mom friends are really hard to come by. Once you get a mom friend, you better keep her. There’s nothing worse than making a wonderful mom-friend-unicorn in your area who you think is legitimately cool, only to lose her friendship a few months later. Your kids play well together, your husbands get along, you actually enjoy talking to her about non-mom things, and then BAM! You step in a landmine, and your friendship is over.

If you want to keep your mom friend, you need to be sensitive to a few hot button parenting topics. Here are 10 sure ways to offend a friend and lose her forever:

1. Schedule a playdate and then don’t show up. Flaky friends always get a black mark in my book.

2. Hover over your kid during playtime. Talk using the voice of your child and blame fights on your friend’s child. “Why won’t Aiden give you the tractor back? Is he a meanie?”

3. Comment on how your kid has hit all his milestones early. Comparing kids is the best way to lose a friend for good.

4. Ask if her child has been tested for fill-in-the-blank. “Oh, Aiden isn’t walking yet? Has he been tested for LEPROSY?”

5. Judge her parenting. Make sure that you do this with a very distasteful look on your face.

6. Ask her to judge your parenting. Ask for her opinion on co-sleeping, breast-feeding, or potty training, and then get offended at her response.

7. Share scary parenting stories that you read on the Internet. Make sure not to cite your sources.

8. Ask about her birth experience. Remember to feign interest and then compare her labor time and outcome to yours in a passive aggressive manner.

9. Gossip about her parenting with other mom friends. This is the perfect way to implode a mom group.

10. Bring up one of the Big Three parenting debates and start an argument. SAHM versus working mom, vaccination versus anti-vaxx, breast-feeding versus formula-feeding — take your pick.

Related post: 10 Tips on How to be a Good Friend

This post first appeared on Mommyish. Read more here.

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I’m Not Cut Out For This Shithttp://www.scarymommy.com/not-cut-out-for-this/ http://www.scarymommy.com/not-cut-out-for-this/#comments Thu, 30 Oct 2014 12:23:33 +0000 http://www.scarymommy.com/?p=56255 Image via Shutterstock I love my children as much as the next mother, but some days I don’t think I’m cut out for this shit. I just don’t have another argument in me about where missing shoes have gone, how it’s time to brush teeth, screen time or why it’s wrong to cheat at Candy […]

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I love my children as much as the next mother, but some days I don’t think I’m cut out for this shit.

I just don’t have another argument in me about where missing shoes have gone, how it’s time to brush teeth, screen time or why it’s wrong to cheat at Candy Land and kill bugs.

I don’t want to pack a healthy lunch and separate snack, or double check that homework has made its way to a backpack.

I don’t want to make six trips to the car with arms full of kid gear or rush off to carpool or karate lessons or the library or the grocery store for the ninth time this week.

I don’t want to pretend I know the answer to another question I don’t know the answer to.

I don’t want to separate lights from darks and scold myself when I discover there is still a finished load in the washer from last week.

I don’t want to step on one more Lego.

I don’t want to be spit up on, make or clean bottles, change a nasty-ass diaper, or dig peas or some other unidentifiable green goop out from underneath my fingernail.

I don’t want to hear fussing, whining, or crying.

I’d like to learn to say yes more than no, find more patience within myself, and stop all the yelling. I’d like to be able to hear my own thoughts over the chaos.

I know I should appreciate my children after years of battling secondary infertility. I know I should savor these moments, while they are small. I knew going in that motherhood wasn’t all sunshine and roses. I knew there would be days like these.

Most of the time, I love being a mom. I enjoy the daily tasks and grimy little faces beaming up at me with cuteness and curiosity. But not today.

I don’t want to be a mom today.

Today, I want peace and quiet, the chance to reboot, the TV remote all to myself followed by an energizing nap. I want to enjoy a shower and not worry about the 20 ways the infant crawling around my bathroom can harm herself. I want to look at myself long and hard in the mirror and say to the woman trying her best staring back at me, “You’re a good mom and this was just a tough day.”

And more than anything, I want to believe it.

Related post: I Don’t Like Being A Mother

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