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Month: June, 2015

Wine Is Way Better Than Jogging

Every time I consider giving up drinking wine I casually reminisce about the week I’ve had and all the retarded things my kids have done.  Then I reconsider and go to the Liquor Store.

There’s rarely a problem that wine can’t fix.

And YOU.  Stop fucking judging me, because 10 million other mommies out there feel the same way.  Don’t get me wrong.  I’m not an alcoholic or anything. At least I don’t think so.  I have usually 2 glasses with or after supper.  It doesn’t affect my ability to parent or do my job. I rarely ( if ever) drink to excess. I’m not hungover in the morning.

But the thought of giving it up sucks.

It’s kind of like asking someone to give up jogging.  They jog every day.  They’re not sore after.  It takes their stress away.  It makes them feel happy. Jogging doesn’t interfere with their life, but they look forward to it every day.  If they accidentally jogged too much one day, they would pay for it the next day.  Everything has it’s price.

But you know what?  Wine is way better than jogging.  And some days, a shot of tequila is really nice too.  Like on Sundays, when Bestie is here and both kids are finally in bed.

So you can jog or do yoga or whatever, and I’m gonna do shots of tequila on Sunday night because last week the Destroyer climbed a tree and caught a fucking bird.

You read that right.  She’s playing in my parent’s backyard when I hear this horrible screeching sound.  I look over and my almost 4 year old has climbed a tree and is slowly crushing a crow to death with her bare hands.

“LOOK!  I think he likes me!”

Jesus Christ.  Some wine would’ve been nice right then.

I drink wine because my Buddy is going through this cute phase where he tries relentlessly to murder himself.  While playing in traffic is his number one priority, he’ s also into drowning and throwing himself off tall objects.  Almost two year old boys are complete fucking maniacs.  Maybe he should do the jogging, and burn off some of the crazy.

And in all fairness, it’s not just my children’s fault.

Having a job is nice because I can afford to buy all the wine I need.  But the irony is that people are dicks too.  Not as much as toddlers, who are outright assholes most of the time, but they are full of drama and stupid behavior.   Sometimes having to deal with people who are over 5 feet tall is a real pain in the ass.

And you know what?  I am WAY wittier after a glass of wine, which makes making fun of people that irritate me that much easier.  Can jogging so that?  I don’t fucking think so.

So yeah.  I’d rather do my heart a favor in the liquid form.  And yeah  I guess I could have both, but I’m not a greedy person.  I take only what I need.

Bottoms up, Bitches.

I Don’t Think Jesus Loves Children As Much As He Claims



Do you remember that time I took both offspring to a Folk Mass service and potluck dinner?

Yeah.  It was yesterday.  The eating part was ok.  I managed to get a couple of meatballs and tomatoes into them before they were too distracted by all the things they could try and break.  And all the places they could escape to, because if there’s a door, it should be opened, right?  If there’s stairs, they should be climbed or fallen down, right?

It’s impossible to go anywhere with an almost two year old and almost four year old without people staring at you.  Because toddlers are little assholes.

I’m not sure why Jesus loves children so much because you know what?  They act like total dicks in church.

So much that we had to leave early.  Somebody missed his nap and just couldn’t keep it together til the very end.  So I packed up and we went to leave.

And that’s when Jesus got his revenge.

It was pretty humid all day and the sky was looking questionably grey. It was just starting to rain, and as we walked down the stairs on our way to the car, He literally opened up the Heavens and the skies and all the things that make you wet and unleashed a torrent of rain. It was like someone dumped the biggest bucket of water in the history of ever over our heads.

Destroyer:  ” I don’t like to be wet!”

Me:  “Then you better run faster.”

And you what else?  Fuck carseats.  Fuck them right to hell where they actually belong.

Because the run to the car was only about 30 seconds.  And while I got my children sheltered into the car, I had to buckle them into those fucking seats while God punished me for my children’s ill behavior.  Next time I go to church with my children I’m wearing a bathing suit.

Thanks a lot Buddy.  Can’t take you anywhere without it being a total circus.

Sexy Is A State Of Mind

So here we are.  Summer.  Hot sun, cool breezes and 3 months away from my students.

It’s also the time of year where we either start shedding the layers of clothes or risk dying of heat exhaustion.  No more leggings under a dress.  No more sweaters to wrap around myself in case a muffin top is escaping over my pants.

No more hiding anything, Bitches.  It’s summer time, where we are exposed.

And you know what?  I think I am past giving a fuck.   Nobody else seems to care if my legs are squishy and I have that never leaving belly flap called ” I had two fucking babies, the last one was 9 pounds”

Could I diet and shrink a little?  I suppose.  But then there wouldn’t be any wine at night.  And THAT, my friends, is a non-negotiable part of mommy life.  It’s like my reward at the end of the day for not dying or selling one of the children.  Also, fuck that.

I try to consciously eat healthy foods.  I avoid using the term “fattening” in front of my kids.  I tell them that eating apples and avocados keep the doctor away and give you energy.  So you can go to gymnastics. Or beat each other up all day.  Or run randomly into traffic with me screaming at you to stop.

See?  I exercise.  And also I hope you are understanding why the wine cannot stop.

Anyway the point is that sexy is a state of mind.  You know how some days you feel really good about your appearance and some days you just want to hide?  It’s all in your head.  You look pretty much the same every single day.  So whatever.

I am a little person.  Short and slightly round filling out a size 14 nicely.   Everything wiggles a little bit when I move.  My thighs have no gap.  When I sit down, my belly hangs over my pants sometimes.  I cut my bangs a little unevenly and a little too short.

But you know what else?  My body created two beautiful humans.  It has few battle scars from that.  My body is strong.  I can carry both my children at the same time if I had to.  I can walk and run with them.  My bangs will grow back quickly.

And I wear a bikini because fucking rights I do. If a girl wears one to show off how much hard work she does at the gym, I will wear one to show how much hard work I do as a mom.  And if that includes having less time to focus on a “beach perfect” body then it does.

Still smokin hot over here.

Leaving The Nest



Yesterday I sent one of my long term students off to study with someone new.  It made me really proud, and really sad all at the same time.

I always say that the best thing about being a private violin teacher is the relationships I get to build with these kids and their families.  I get to watch them grow up and turn into people.  And maybe, just maybe, I play a small part in the adults they become.

You see, not every one of them is going to aspire to become a professional musician.  In this case, he does and so he needed to graduate from me and study with someone who can take them to the next level.  They need to learn to study like a grown up so to speak.

But my hope is that their time with me is influenced in some small positive way that they will remember me years later and some of the lessons they learned.  And not about how to play a scale in tune.  Lessons about hard work.  About respect.  About dedication.  I want them to leave my studio knowing that anything can be accomplished when you put in enough effort.  That if success doesn’t happen on the first try, try it again.  And when you finally get it right, do it again.  Make sure the right things are the habits you create, and practice them to perfection.

I want them to remember the many times they failed and persevered.  I want them to remember that frustration and mistakes are ok, as long as you learn from them.

And I want them to remember me when they put their child in music lessons, and hold their teacher to the high standards I hold myself to.

I always tell my students that my real job is to make myself obsolete one day.  To bring them each to the point where they can surpass me.  Then I know I’ve succeeded.  When I can send them off to someone new, knowing that I have taken them as far as they can possibly go with me.

I’m going to have several of these moments over the next few years, as I have many kids that are near the end of their time with me. And as sad as it makes me, I am so proud to have spent their childhood with them.

Way to go, kid.

I’ll Be In Charge Of My Own Vagina, Thanks.

Natural childbirth.  C-sections.  Epidurals.  Doulas. Midwives. Home births.  Hospital births.  Pain medication.  Water births. Hypnobirthing.


What do they all have in common?  Or, what should they all have in common?

They are all choices a woman can make while delivering her baby.  They are the many ways to skin the cat, so to speak.

So, I read this article  Basically, it points to how the new thing is to shame a woman for taking advantage of modern medicine when deciding how to birth her child.  Yes, folks.  Another chapter in the mommy wars.

Here’s my take on the whole situation:  Sure, if natural birth is what you want, and it is safe for you to do so, do it.  If you are a low risk pregnancy and want to try and have your baby at home, it’s up to you.  If you want the epidural and the drugs and the whole 9 yards because the thought of a human being slipping out of your girl hole makes you want to curl up and die, do it.

It’s your vagina, after all.  And as long as you are the one making an informed consent about what is going on with your vagina, then I have no business and nothing to say about it. Make the best choice for you and your baby.

But here’s the thing:  Make an informed choice.

Arm yourself with information and don’t let anybody boss you around.

I believe natural birth advocacy is on the rise because we as woman blindly obey our doctors.  We let ourselves see birth as a medical condition that needs treatment, when all what is needed in many case is support through the process.  Medical professionals nearby in case of an emergency.  We forget that our bodies were in fact designed to birth our children.  In the words of January Harshe ” Vaginas do open.  Babies do come out.”

The problem with anything is that people become fanatical on both sides of the coin.  And now, some women use the fact that someone may have had interventions during childbirth to judge one another.

So what do I think?  I can only tell you what I experienced.

With both my children, I birthed them free of any pain medications or epidurals, with the exception of the laughing gas during transition.  I chose to have a doula to support me in my choices and process and to remind me that I could do it.  The woman who supported me through my births will always be a very special person in my life.  She was better than any drug they could have given me.  For reals.

Going into the births, I knew that c-sections are the result of 25-30% of all labours.  I knew I didn’t want that for myself.  I knew that any little intervention could lead to another, because it was interrupting my body’s work.  But I also knew that I wanted to be in a hospital so that if there was any sign of danger for my baby, they would jump in.

However, with my second, the labour was much harder.  I spent more of my labour at the hospital, and felt restricted in what I could do to manage my pain.  The worst part of the process was being strapped to monitors in bed and trying to endure the contractions.  I needed to move.  I needed water, and I needed to be left alone.  It was hard.

As it turned out, there were minor complications each baby, and although I birthed them naturally, I thank God for the medical professionals who took care of my babies immediately afterwards.

I know one girl tried like hell to have her baby naturally.  She ended up with a c-section.  Is she amazing?  Yes. She’s brave and strong for making the best choice for her child.  And for enduring the recovery from major surgery.

My other friend roared her baby out in a tub full of water at home?  Is she amazing?  Yes.  Because she did things her way, and everyone was safe and healthy.

So.  Leave each others vaginas alone.  Trade birth stories because they empower you and bond you and inspire one another.  Support one another.  Love one another.  The birth process is the magical part, let every mom have her own.  Don’t push your experience on  someone else.

Sharing your beliefs is cool.  Providing information is helpful.  Being fanatical makes it impossible for you to hear anybody elses feelings, thoughts, beliefs or experiences but your own.  Don’t be that person.

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