This is reality. Frustrating, embarrassing, hilarious reality.

I neeed some ambivalence in my life. I need some stories, some people, some blogs, some books that are sharing their reality about the challenges of this parenthood thing. Since I cannot find it anywhere here are some quips from my reality. My oftentimes frustrating, embarrassing, hilarious reality.

I came home from the midwest with leftovers from the stomach flu. When I took Sean to work on monday Junia and I went to Safeway on the way home (7:30am) from the drop off. Junia was great at the store. My bowels on the other hand....I made it out of the store and nearly in the house with the baby. But then I didn't make it...I shat my pants unlocking the door to the house. A grown up: a grocery store going, house-holding, baby having grown up- pooped her pants. Junia's mood let me take a shower (praise Allah) only to discover that she had also pooped her pants, onsie, and car seat.

This is reality. Frustrating, embarrassing, hilarious reality!

Just as I emerged from the haze of the stomach flu on Monday we were awakened by a baby vomiting in her cosleeper at 3:00am on Tuesday morning. Lots of vomit. Lots of very short feedings all day long. She is still spitting up way more than usual and I smell like sour milk. Like very very sour milk. I am a cottage cheese container left in the August heat for 3 hours.

This is reality. Frustrating, embarrassing, hilarious reality!

Our bank account was running low. Well that's usually the case- but running on empty -low. I went to pick up our mail from the post office. Junia was fussy when I left. Silly me, I thought a walk would put her to sleep. I bounced TO the post office (no annoying pedestrian she isn't cold and if she is then you are implying I'm a shitty mother and I can't do anything about it anyway!). Worked up a sweat bouncing IN the post office while she cried, cried, cried cried. The look I gave the postal employee when he walked out with a large box communicated enough. Without even asking he said, "I'll just have them deliver this tomarrow." Then I walked back, with our mail, and our baby. Baby screaming; me bouncing, bouncing, bouncing I was mad, overspent, and still feeling sick. At least I didn't crap my pants.

This is reality. Frustrating, embarrassing, hilarious reality!

As a breastfeeding woman I wear and undershirt and another overshirt. So when I feed the baby I just whip out the boob over the undershirt. That way my belly isn't hanging out. Walking through the Houston airport I realize that my overshirt is still hovering up on my chest with my undershirt barely covering my boobs. Who knows if my bra was even in place. About half the time it isn't.

This is reality. Frustrating, embarrassing, hilarious reality!

I've been sitting on a bouncy ball for most of the morning trying not to go ape shit on this fussy baby. She has been bouncing with me using more calories trying to avoid going to sleep than I gave her in the 18 feeding she had last night.


  1. Hey Rachel...Thanks for the beautiful pics. When we were in Illinois for the wedding (wow that seems forever ago), Patrick and I were struck by the starkness of the land...similar to the ocean in some way.

    Just wanted to alert you to an amazing community of (mostly) women that I'm a part of online. It's an offshoot of a mommy blog written by Heather Armstrong, who is one of the most real writers I have ever come in contact with. Her website chronicles her journey into motherhood after her crippling postpartum depression...the good, the bad and the ugly. She gained so many fans that she started a community for people to ask questions (about parenting, life and whatever) and share their reality. It's a wonderful place filled with diverse, thoughtful people!


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