mom

I went to the premiere of Bad Moms last week. I might have peed my pants during the movie and it took about two days until my face stopped hurting. I don’t remember the last time I laughed so hard. (Okay, fine. There’s no “might have.” I did pee my pants. So what?)

CN: mention of postpartum depression/suicidality. Generally, in my experience, people often get so excited about a new baby, that they forget that postpartum women need doting on, too.

I’ll be the first to admit that a large part of my twenties was spent in a euphoric haze brought on by fairly regular pot smoking. I loved the stuff — and it certainly loved me. I don't feel I ever had a “problem” with it, but I did feel a strong pull to have it in my life.

“Don’t talk to strangers. Unless they resemble George Clooney and have a steady job at Microsoft. In that case, give them Mommy’s number, or just walk them straight home with you.”

With bottle feeding, you are able to fill the bottle with a very specific amount of formula or breast milk and are able to physically see how much Baby is taking at each feeding. With breastfeeding, that isn’t quite as easy. We know that they are eating, but we aren’t able to tell exactly how much — until now.

Being a work-from-home-mom, I used to kind of loathe summer because it meant balancing activities and still trying to get all my stuff done, but this year is different. I’m allowing myself to take it slow (probably because I have no choice, being 32 weeks pregnant) and enjoy being a mama this summer.

There is actually no way to prepare for parenthood.

I’m not going to lie or sugarcoat my feelings right now — I’m nervous about going from a mom of one to a mom of two. My son is seven, so he, my husband, and I have had seven years of time as “just the three of us.”