Holy Water Phobia and Mimosa-less Brunch

My partner is Catholic. Whether he say so or not he is devout catholic.He is Team Pontiff all the way. With that being said I woke everyone up at 6am in the morning to make it to early morning  Easter Mass. I had carefully picked out my and my son’s outfit. My partner wanted to where his Comic Book T-shirt, with a pair of frayed jeans, and pair of flip flops. Now in his defense, while at the VA someone launched chair in across the room that landed on his foot. However this didn’t explain the t-shirt. We were running late. This meant I had to compromise on his outfit. At the end of the day he is his own person. Whom am I to say how he is dressing? He kept the jeans and changed into plum dress shirt I purchased (with his money) for him sometime back. So picture it… Shower shoes, torn up jeans, and nice plum dress shirt. Also the jeans are too big for him.

I think I mention in a previous that my partner is frequently buying clothes and giving them away. Since we started dating this is the longest he has kept a group of jeans. So he then decides to take his belt and pull as tight as he can above his navel. He walks in to the nursery and says, ” What do you think?” Ladies and Gentlemen, we were down to the wire. 15 minutes left before we had to leave, and I didn’t have time to persuade to wear something else. I told him to pull the shirt out and said lets go.

We were late. I crept in but the Cathedral was fuller than I expected. Anyways I was trying to keep cool like I didn’t just walk into Easter Mass late. After about 15 minutes I found myself so dizzy. In Catholic Mass there is a lot of sitting, standing, and kneeling. My head was spinning. I was hot. So hear this, I had completely forgot that I was being weened off a medication they put me on for postpartum issues. I was going through a full withdrawal right in the church. I imagine when people talk about harlots in church that this is what I felt like.

As I am standing up for the thousandth time, my son started squealing in excitement. Now I am nauseous and embarrassed. My partner grabbed our son to walk him outside. So now it’s time for blessing and taking of the Eucharist. So I knew my partner was going to rush in because this our son’s first Easter Mass. So they brought out the Aspergillum (the holy water sprinkler). I didn’t want anyone to see me but I start positioning myself like soccer players do during a free kick just so I can catch maybe a sprinkle. All of a sudden I hear this lady talking about her jacket. She was freaking out over the holy water hitting her jacket!

Now don’t get me wrong. The jacket was pretty color, but it wasn’t something to get caught up over a little water. My hair is straight up 4 shades of purple. If water hits my hair, at this point, there will be purple dye all over everyone. Needless to say everyone froze in the in ear shot. My partner whispered, ” She should be glad that she did that in this day in age. Some woman would have stabbed her in the Dark Ages just to get some holy water.” Her excuse was that she was old, she really cares about her clothes, and she isn’t catholic. I really care about my clothes. I spend good money on my clothes. I spend good money on vintage clothing. I spend a good 200+ dollars on shoes per year. At the end of the day it’s water, whether you are catholic or not.

After the Eucharist, I stumbled out all the way to the car when I notice that I hadn’t bought pancake syrup or champagne for brunch. I kept asking my partner all over and over,” Can you buy alcohol on Sundays in Houston?”  I ran into a grocery with partner complaining about how he hates pancakes, and really doesn’t like syrup. I make it to the check outline to find out I was right; You can’t buy alcohol on a Sunday. Later that day I found out my



Something I didn’t mention earlier this week is that if you need to cry…go ahead. This week has been super hard and busy for me. I did some volunteering so that I could beef up my résumé, my partner has been having psychological issues, 2 tires blew out on me, and the toilet in the apartment flooded!

Tuesday Morning, like in a war film, I fell to my knees and had a deep, loud, ugly cry. I don’t feel bad about it either. I deserved that cry. I earned it. The other thing is that it was totally cathartic. I work in an a “boys club industry” where woman have to walk the thin line of being screwably feminine and Bro style masculinity. Men don’t like when they cry let alone when a woman cries, so crying isn’t allowed. I would say I could count on my hands in the last 5 years the times I had a good cry. I have only had one occasion where people have seen me cry that I didn’t have a close relationship. Needless to say crying is hard for me.

But I did it. I had an unapologetic cry. That type of cry that hurts your face and throat. I did it right in front of my son who watched in amazement.

I cried a good half and hour. After, I went to the store bought some Lysol and mopped my floors. It didn’t stop me from doing my parent duties. In fact I think it helped me clear my mind. This isn’t work where you have to hide in bathroom or your favorite smoking spot. Just do it! 

I think we as parents under estimate the power of a good cry session.


Mommy Fatigue

My eyelids hurt. I am not one to complain, but my eyelids hurt. I knew being a mother was tough but I need sleep. On top of pre-existing conditions and medication, sleep has become my god.

I have successfully put my little one on schedule which he has been staying to with the exception of nap time. So today I write this blog with one eye open.

As I have mentioned before my partner suffers from PTSD(post traumatic stress disorder) along with other disorders. Often times it’s just me and my son because my partner has to check out ever so often. This is what I have learned from having one of these experience more than once.

Be nice to yourself!!!-I have mentioned time and time again that being a mommy doesn’t mean sacrificing everything. I had an aunt who passed over a year ago and at her funeral I found out something awesome about her views on motherhood. Supposedly she told the mother of one of my cousin’s (as she is no longer married to his father) to always have your nails and your hair done. I strongly believe in this. I use to walk out without my face made up when my son was first born.  I told myself now to never let anyone see at my best possible. I didn’t say my best, but my best possible. This means doing your best with what you have.

Work it out – I have never worked out to achieve thinness. I came from a family of large chested and tall amazons. The idea of being a model wafe is a thing of the past. With that being said working out has always helped me with fatigue. My son loves when I lay him on my belly and do crunches or when I do sit-ups over him. I like to think of me and Booba (which is what I call my son) time. He also loves seeing the ducks at the park so I also can add a little cardio.

Schedule everything- I said previously that I have my 6 month old on schedule. I have always been one to write down my every move. This was habit I picked up from childhood while cleaning my room. Write down what you want to do, what you are going to do, and what you need to do. You will be amazed at how this will save you time. I am not saying you need crazy organization skills. Just take out your phone make a list. Don’t be upset if you don’t get it all done. You are amazing regardless.

Call in reinforcements- You are not a bad mother for asking for help. I have to tell myself this often. I constantly think I shrugging off the responsibility of being a mommy when call someone to take my son for a couple hours. Sometimes you can’t help Mom (in-law), Sister (in-law), Brother (in-law), or that friend who has already popped out two of her own. I will most likely do this today as the past couple of days have been hectic for me. I am also one those people who desperately needs a nap.

Don’t feel bad for taking care of yourself. So what you this is your second time you and your husband order out for the week. Desperate times call for desperate measures. Trust me, there is nothing more desperate that a tired mommy.

Mommy Bod

I knew when I got pregnant that there was a possibility that there would be complication. I was mostly worried about pre-eclampsia. I had the right to. I have an autoimmune disorder, and many women suffer from high blood pressure during their pregnancies. I monitored my weight with precision, but I ate whatever I wanted. Sometimes I could go through 3 boxes of store bought mac and cheese in a day. I only gained 30 pounds for most of my pregnancy. I was excited because this meant I could regain my body after I gave birth. About 2 weeks before my due date I started having issues with pre-eclampsia. Within a week my weight soared to 60 pounds. On top of that the doctor had injected me with steroids because my body tried to reject the fetus at 28 weeks. Shortly after, my tiny little baby bump grew to a huge monster. As a result I gave birth to healthy baby boy. My body on the other hand has taken awhile to recover.

My stomach still has a pooch from the pregnancy; It is also covered in stretch marks. I really want to wear a bikini this summer and probably won’t be able too. My boobs are humongous. I have a Marc Jacobs dress that I can fit past my stomach but not my basket ball sized breast. My feet swelled during last trimester to the point I couldn’t wear any of my sandals. Now the skin on my feet look like gator skinned handbag. What is funny thing is I don’t really care.

Don’t get me wrong. I care about my health. I am really worried about how the excess weight will affect me. I workout because of this, but I am in no hurry to have my dream body. I will still probably wear a bikini now that I am thinking about it. There is an old wives tale that tanning helps with stretch marks. Maybe I will sunbath just a little this summer. My weight has little to do with my success or me being a good mother.

Not Really A Sacrifice

Becoming a mother has caused me to make a lot of sacrifices… like shorter showers, lack of sleep, my weight etc. I came to the decision that there are certain things you don’t have to sacrifice everything. My number 1 “me” priority is my closet right now.

After being unstable the past couple of months, I haven’t had my full wardrobe for the whole year. I also gave a lot of my clothing and belongings (that don’t fit) to charity. Then I came up with this amazing idea. I am trying to reduce my wardrobe to 10 high end outfits for each season.

I got the idea from my partner who gets rid of his whole wardrobe every couple months.”I gave those slacks away a couple weeks ago,” is usually what I hear when I am suggesting a outfit for him.Another reason why I chose to slim down my closet is that I watched a documentary on textile waste called “Thread,” that deals with textile waste.

I use to get feverish about someone seeing me in the same outfit twice. In an equally feverish manner I would skim through racks of low cost places clothing stores with not so well made clothing. I would go over in my head needlessly over this outfit and that outfit. Now I with a baby and managing my home I don’t have time to think about outfits. I also think it would be best as a near 30 year old woman to have real clothing. Not a 15 dollar crop top. Don’t get me wrong… I still want a bargain. I love thrift store and sales.I will pick up pieces here and there while donating my smaller pieces.  I will probably make this habit even if this experiment doesn’t work.

I also came up with this idea because of all the moving I have had to do for work. I have already down graded what are my most important furniture pieces. Although I have the money for a proper move, it is still hard to move ALL your belongings from one state to the next. Down sizing my closet will be a big help for when if I decide to move to back east or back west.

I still have some work to do. I have another box of clothing and shoes. I plan keep a couple of my comfortable deck  shoes to dress down my jeans, dresses and even some of my slacks. I will keep everyone posted on the progress.

Never A Doubt

So my kid caught his first cold after sleeping over at his Yaya’s house. Right now he nestled in the crook of my partner’s arm. He is sleep. What I find odd is that my partner constantly doubts himself as father. All night my son has been tossing, turning, whining, even straight out screaming. The only time he stops his when his dad stops for a second to picking him up in arms, lifting him 6 feet off the ground, and takes him outside.

However, even tonight my partner doubted if he was a good father. “How am I different to him than his stuff panda bear,” he would smirk in almost defeated manner. This doesn’t just surprise me because of how much my son loves my partner but that when we started dating he told me how much he wanted to have kids.

Maybe in this age of Neo-feminism, men are more drawn to procreate while women shy away to keep up with other dreams and aspirations. I was one of those Feminist. My partner (the marine) wanted a normal nuclear family. I figured when I got pregnant that I would be the nervous wreck.  Constantly, I would be worried if changed the kid’s diaper enough or fed him. I was sure my partner would be the confident one. What was I thinking?

This is the same guy doubts he did good clearing a road from 5 years ago in Afghanistan. A guy who thinks because he was injured in the line of duty that he failed his platoon.

But if you could see my son when he notices his dad walks into the room. My son literally will see my partner talking to me and will coo at him like the two of them are talking. The kid rubs my face when I pick him up while he is sleeping so he knows whether I am daddy or not. I don’t get jealous because I know that I am mommy. I am the one that isn’t scared of baby poo, who plays the music he likes, and who has the heartbeat he recognizes. I have no problem with my partner being the fun parent as most dads are. I just wish he knew how much our son (who can’t verbalize it yet) needs him.