Cockblocker

Is there sex after children? Hell Yes! Not only is there sex after children, [well not immediately after children I'm told (since our Space Invader didn't rip my lady parts up I can't speak from experience)], there can still be great sex after children.  As long as you and your spouse are prepared for the occasional interruption, or "cock blocking" as we like to call it.

Our home before the lovely one we live in now (thanks to the Sarg) was a two bedroom two bathroom apartment with the SI's bathroom right next to our bedroom door. ....After a long day of teasing each other, when we got home from our outing we quickly got her in the shower so we could commence with indulging into our adult cravings.  Just as we were getting ready to begin..uh hm...the space invader began in with her loudest most jazzy version of the ABC's we had ever heard. The very defeated Sarg hung his head and shook it laughing to himself how she is his favorite cock blocker.

Luckily we have gotten smart about locking our door when we awake from some early morning weekend lovin. Because there have been many a time during mid quickie making that have been interrupted by the non stop knocking and asking to come in.

SI: *Knock* *Knock* *Knock* x100 (sometimes I think we let her watch too much Big Bang Theory)
Us: What do you want?
SI: Can I come in?
Us: No
SI: Tries to turn door nob anyway.. with no luck
Us: What do you  need?
SI: I want to watch cartoons! Oh, and... Can you make me pancakes? Now?
Us: *sigh* We'll be out in a minute..... *sigh*

Guess we are not always quick enough.. :-)

The Fear

                As a Not The Mama, I have changed many wet pull ups, washed wet (and dry) sheets, had countless visits by the Space Invader while I am going to the bathroom, spent an innumerable Friday movies nights snuggled on the couch, endured vegetable tantrums of epic proportions, wiped countless tears, kissed countless booboos, taught life skills, helped with nightly homework, done every Disney princess hair do possible, counted to three so many times I can't count, given countless hugs, countless kisses, and even occasionally broken down into inconsolable tears at completely inappropriate times because I miss my little SI and it has only been a day since I have seen her.

Lately this NTM has been walking around constantly full of anxiety and "The Fear". The Fear that the SI's selfish and wishy washy mother will play pretend nice until the Sergeant is deployed, then swoop in, take the SI away from me and demand more money because she has her "full time". Because no matter my marital status to the Sarg, no matter how much I love the SI and take damn good care of her, I have no right as a mother. And if I am lucky, she can grant me visitation rights.

Everyone Poops

I just read a pretty good post on I like beer and babies about pooping, and I was inspired to tell a couple of my own pooping stories.

Anyone with a child who is able to walk around on their own knows they are likely to disrupt your potty sessions. Because if you leave the bathroom door closed and locked they will wreak havoc, thus you are forced to leave it open for them to share in your experience.

 The first deuce dropping experience I got to share with the space invader was when she was four.  We got home from a long day of errand running, and this Not the Mama can't poop just anywhere, so I REALLY had to go. I rushed to the back bathroom, dropped drawer and sat down to enjoy the comfort of my own throne..... maybe ten seconds later I was surprised by the SI opening the unlocked door, with my phone in her hand. She seemed to have given no thought to the fact I was on the pot, and held it up and said "your mom is calling".

My two other favorite poo stories are ones of when the Space Invader was trying to poo:

It was later in the evening and the Space Invader had been pumped full of ooey gooey mac n cheese and decided she needed to unload. She was back in the bathroom while the Sarg, his bro in law, and myself were enjoying some TV, when all of the sudden there was a blood curdling hair curling scream from the bathroom like nothing I had heard before, she came flying out of the bathroom screaming and crying, pants and undies still around her ankles (and no wiping had been done yet either) and straight into my lap. Between upset sobs she said there was a spider on her leg when she was going potty. The Sarg got up to check it out... no spider. The SI REFUSED to return to finish her business unaccompanied in case the "spider" returned. After finishing up her supervised poop, she revealed that she didn't think it was a spider after all, but some hair that had fallen on her lap......

My last poo story, which more like a recurring incident: the child likes to wait until it is 0628 (we leave the house by 0630 to be on time) to decide she has to poop....




PS, the Sarg and I finally had our wedding, and it was GLORIOUS

What's That Smell

  That smell my friends, that smell is the smell of a tired woman who desperately needs a bottle of wine and definitely a shower. I am trying to recall if I even put on deodorant this morning as I was chasing the Space Invader out the door, late as usual.
Flash back to Sunday, there I am making cheese from scratch for lasagna, while cleaning, and putting together the mass amounts of "things" for the wedding. Just when I feel a little accomplished, I remind myself of the list 100 items long of unfinished wedding crafts and other "to do's" OR I run out of something requiring yet another trip to Wal Mart or Michaels. Flash forward from Sunday to last night, the Sarg is sawing logs in his chair while the little one's eye lids are barely open, and there I am busily measuring yards and yards of lace I will sew into table runners.

Now I lay me down to rest

The office full of wedding mess
And if I die before I wake

That's one less center piece I have to make

And the Oscar goes to

Good morning [Wifey], (because she is probably the only one who reads this darn thing and maybe the Sergeant if he remembers to look for it), anyway.... So today is one of those days where I claim to be mom of the year and deserve an Oscar plus a case of wine:

Everyone at some points in their life is either bendin over to take it, bendin over to kiss it, or being water boarded while making their face look like they just ate a lobster dinner followed by chocolate cheesecake and a case of wine; it's just a fact of life. It's not meant to sound whiney, but I think that parents of families of the mix and match variety are probably fakin it to make it a lot more than traditional families. Not just Not The Mama's are faking it, dads fake it, moms fake it, and maybe even some older children are fakin it. There have been many times I have had to suck it up and fake it in front of the Space Invader's Mother(SIM); and there will be so many to come.

So about a month and a half ago, I signed the SI up for K-Rat-A (I am always saying it spaced out and silly like Spongebob). She loves to do karate, and I love that she loves to do it! Karate is a "sport" or activity that helps children gain confidence, strength, discipline, respect, and it requires them to exercise their listening skills. And the Lord and any parent know children need their listening skills to be exercised A LOT.
Not only does the Space Invader love karate, she loves her mother too. That being said, it is incredibly heart breaking when we get home each Wednesday night and her face has gone from karate high to slack jawed hound dog because she is always so disappointed that the SIM claims she is going to go watch K-Rat-A and then fails to make her cameo. So... I swallowed a giant ostrich size pill with no water and invited her via text to please join us for karate. She said "we will be there!" (We as in her and her geriatric sugar daddy). So I get the pleasure of spending this evening in the company of SIM and Gpa, YAY! Can't you just see the delight gleaming from my cheekbones?

Hott Mess

Where has June been? She has been crazy (note talking about myself in the third person). So the Sarg asked me to marry him, and I said yes, then I laughed a lot, but I said yes. Then I decided to plan an entire wedding in only a few months, and it has turned me into a huge mess. That being said, in regards to my space invader:

Parenting is like being a manic depressive bipolar woman on her menstrual cycle who forgot to take her lithium and is riding a roller coaster. One moment you feel like your kid(s) probably hate you, you are too hard on them, not showing enough affection, and probably ruining their life; the next you feel like wonder woman, super girl, elastic-girl (AKA Mrs. Incredible), Oprah, and Martha Stewart probably spliced genes and made “the” supermom. It’s an incredibly exhilarating and taxing ride when one moment you are high on life and then next you’ve puked on your co-rider. But no matter if there are flaming words of frustration or if it is raining kisses from my mouth; in my heart I always love her.

Not Mom Enough

Are you prepared to see my serious side??

 

You know that picture on the cover of Time Magazine with the famous saying “Are You Mom Enough?” The article it’s self is based on attachment parenting, but what the pictures say is if you don’t breast feed you’re not mom enough. At least that’s how I took it.

Lately in the world of mommies breast feeding has become a big topic, but the only part of that topic I see covered on Time Magazine and all over Facebook is how the “breast is best” and anything else makes you a bad mom (and how slip’n a nip in public shouldn’t be a big deal if you’re breast feeding your child). Do you think Time or any of the fanatic mothers on Facebook ever stop to think about the moms who desperately want to breast feed their child but can’t, might feel by the plague of pro boobie propaganda being blasted in their face? Most likely not. I can’t speak for them from experience, but I can speak on their behalf from a lot of reading and research; not being able to breast feed your baby (or one that is “yours but not from you) sucks big fat monkey balls. Many mothers wrote that they felt like failures. Any parent or not the parent knows that feeling like you failed your little space invader(s) is a horrible feeling. So to make it worse for these mothers, the media and fanatic moms put BS out there on the internet to help them feel even more not mom enough.

If people want to post stuff about pro boobie, I am pro them, but they should not do it in a manner that looks down on others.

 

Sincerely riled up
-Not the Mama enough