You guys. I have been quiet around here because I feel like as SOON as I put this into legitimate word writings, it will disappear. Like when Britney was all “Slave 4 U” in her matching denim outfits with Justin in public…. POOF Justin’s all, “what comes around goes around”. Whatever, you get it.

Ok I’m going to say it.

Hold your breath.

Ready?

RUBY IS NAPPING.

Wait, I need to say it again. And better.

RUBY IS NAPPING FOR A LONG TIME.

EVERY DAY.

Guys, I did it. And guess what? NO CRYING INVOLVED.

And LOOK how happy we are about it

Ok I know you’re dying to know. Remember when I wrote this post about G’s napping and how I figured it all out? And 2 years later with baby #2 I write this post saying how that post was bullshit because it didn’t work and I hate myself? Well NOW I’m writing this post saying that the last post was wrong and the post before that was right so this is a post saying how I was wrong about saying that I was wrong and I’m really right.

I mean.

yeah.

Let’s back up.

On my toddlercation, it was my MISSION to get Ruby to sleep. I tried paci, I tried no paci, I tried 2 hours of awake time, I tried 1.5 hours of awake time. I tried nursing to sleep. I tried not nursing to sleep. I tried putting her in her crib awake. I tried putting her in passed out. Nothing was working. We were on 25 minute cat naps every day.

I skyped with my sleep lady.

She’s like: Ok what’s going on?

Me: ican’tdoitanymore! Rubyneversleepsandi’mgoingtodieandGhatesmeandi’msotiredandihavetocookallthethingsandshe’sovertiredandjusttellmewhattodo?!

SL: Um

Me: TELLMEWHATTODOLADY!

And then we went over for hours and hours what could work and what may not work. And here’s the thing guys, I just wanted her to be like, do this and this and put her to bed at this time and bam, sleep. But it’s not like that. Because it’s so shitty but really? Every baby is different. I KNOW IT’S SO CRUEL. They all come from the baby store with no instructions, which is rude enough on it’s own. But now it’s like grab bag of babies. You have to figure it out. Regardless, sleep lady gave me a plan to try. But she was clear that naps are a bitch whore and that whore is nasty and just wants to be paid. Or something.

But this time? It didn’t work. It STILL DIDN’T WORK. Her plan was to try a shorter period of awake time and a long soothing period to calm her down. Sounds good but didn’t work.

So I stopped everything. I cleared my head. I reminded myself that in every major mom problem that I’ve faced, I trusted my gut. And it’s usually worked. My gut was telling me that it wasn’t how she was being put to sleep it was when. And then I remembered the G post. The first G post. I tried it again.

The idea of what worked with G was stretching his awake time. It goes against all logic and every sleep book. But I tried it.

Morning nap we did 3 hours of awake time.  We were at 2. And you know what? That child slept for an hour. I got mildly excited but didn’t believe anything anymore.

Afternoon nap I did another 3 hours of awake time. SHE SLEPT FOR 2 HOURS.

Because of all the sleep we skipped the 3rd nap and she went to sleep at normal bed time. I should remind you all that we have a few night wake ups still. And if she doesn’t wake up, I set my alarm to feed her. We have some feeding issues that I’ll talk to you about another time.

But guys, this was huge.

Next day, same thing.

NEXT day SAME THING

We were now officially dropping the 3rd nap, extending awake time and she was sleeping like a champ.

The one thing the sleep lady taught me was that when a kid wakes up from a nap, after 30 minutes or really any time. They are usually up. It’s very difficult for them to go back to sleep. And she was right. So I knew this child needed to be tired enough to get through that 30 minute arousal.

Here is our routine broken down for you so you can try it. Don’t ass slap me if it doesn’t work. It didn’t work for us 2 months ago. I think she just had to be a little older. So for the record RUBY IS 6 MONTHS OLD.

Morning wake up 630-730 First nap 10/1030- Around 10:15 change diaper, get in our Baby Merlin’s Magic Sleepsuit
(LOVE that thing…it’s a swaddle transitioner), turn down lights, nurse in our chair until very sleepy. Give paci and ghosty (literally the perfect lovey. G has one too and it’s the perfect size).

Wake up around 11- Sleep lady says don’t wake them but I’ve had to for various G outings and it’s been fine.

Second nap 2/230- Same exact routine as first nap.

Wakes 330-4 (!!!!)

Bed time 730/8. Routine is the same but with a bath thrown in the mix and NO paci. I know it seems counter intuitive. But the way their baby brains process night and day sleep is different. She doesn’t wake up 200 times crying for the paci anymore at night because it’s not there to begin with.

And that my friends is our success story.

Please slice my face open when I come back in a week and say it doesn’t work anymore and I’m kicking myself for putting this on the internet. But I know that lots of you are in the same boat. So if you have a 6 month old +, try it.

I’ll be sitting here without any kids for 30 more minutes. Because they are sleeping. THEY ARE SLEEEEEEPING

ASKDF;ALKDJSF;ALKDSJF;KALSJF;KASJDF’J

xoxo

MODG

B and others who know me in real life say that I overshare.

Duh B and others.

Hi, I write MODGblog.

But I posted this on facebook Sunday:

“Today I cried a little as my best boy got on an airplane and left mommy for a week. Then I pooped by myself for the first time in 5 months and got over it.”

I’m not sure what’s overshare-y about that. Poop is poop and it comes out of everyone’s butts. But it’s time to talk about what that post was really about.

I AM TODDLER-LESS FOR THE WEEK. Let that sink in a little.

For those of you who have a toddler and a baby…especially an active toddler with an affinity for construction equipment and destruction, you know what I’m saying.

I am here with Ruby and no G. This is the first time I’ve been away from him since our babymoon to Miami and the 2nd time total ever. I didn’t really know what that meant until he left. It means a lot of things. It means that I miss him dearly. Let’s get that out of the way. But it also means these things. These things that I now can do and some that I can’t do now that the 2 year old has peaced.

• I can walk into the kitchen, open up all the cabinets, open the drawer full of knives and walk away. I can even yell at the top of my lungs THE DRAWER OF KNIVES IS OPEN AND NO ONE IS WATCHING! SHARP THINGS ARE EVERYWHERE!
• I can freely eat cookies at 11am, 1pm, 4pm, and 8pm without sharing. Also without hiding. Also in my bed. Also on the toilet.
• I can shower. Like during waking hours. And then if I feel like it, I can put eyeshadow on without someone seriously trying to convince me that it’s actually not eyeshadow, but paint for coloring books and maybe the wall.
• I can pull into my driveway and open my garage for easy house access and walk directly into my house immediately upon arrival. The opposing scenario is this: TOYS MOMMYMOMMYMOMMY PLAY TOYS. TOYS TOYS. NO INSIDE. TOYS. NO LUNCH. NO FEED RUBY. TOYS.  (the damn toys are in the garage in case you didn’t put that together)
• I can go to the mall as I please during waking hours and not Jim’s Bouncy Run Around Be Crazy Play Land to get out energy, ensuring long toddler naps. In fact, I can just stare at the wall and not move at all.
• OR I CAN JUST SLEEP.
• I can walk up and down the stairs, holding things in my hands. I do not in fact need any free baby gate opening or closing hands. BECAUSE I DON’T NEED BABY GATES. Swing wide, sweet baby gates. Swing wide and free.
• I can choose an outfit based on pure style and awesomeness and not based on how easily ketchup and yogurt stains will be removed from the fabric.
• I can take 56 minutes deciding on that outfit if I so choose to.
• I can watch TV during waking hours. That TV program can include vampires, nudity, and the words shit and asshole. And I have no idea what project Bob the Builder is building.
• Similarly I do not have to watch on tv any cats in hats or any mentally disturbed men in yellow who regularly talk to monkeys.
• I can bring a purse with me that isn’t the size of New Mexico and waterproof. I don’t have anyone digging through it for snacks. I can put it on the floor if I want. I can put makeup in it. I do not have 5 trucks and a train in it.
• There are currently no sticks or rocks in my car.
• And yes, I can poop in private.

PRIVATE. I CAN DO ANYTHING I WANT IN PRIVATE.

I want to be clear about something, I haven’t been able to do any of these things in 2 years. G is a wonderful nut of a child and was a very colicky baby. I couldn’t put him down for a second. I was overwhelmed as a new mom and freaked out. Ruby is chill and goes with the flow. And for that reason, I’m relaxed. I literally feel like I’m on vacation.

I remember blogging about how hard motherhood was when I had G. I remember a specific comment that said “dude, what are you complaining about? You have 1 child.” But now that I have Ruby? I’d like to say F you to that commenter. ALL BABIES ARE NOT CREATED EQUAL. Yes 1 baby in general is pretty easy. But 1 G equals 7 regular babies. I really didn’t fully know how stressed I was until this very moment.

Moms, if you have a toddler and a baby, I fully recommend a toddler vacation. Get the kid to the grandparents for a week. It will change you.

Moms, stand on your couch and hold your cookie high. Shout to the world FREEDOM. I AM FREE.

If you need me, I’ll be watching Vampire Diaries on really loud while sharpening my knives.

xoxo

MODG

____________

In honor of mom freedom, this post is brought to you by Laura Prell Massage Therapy. This one is for my local moms. If you’re toddler isn’t going anywhere anytime soon, get your ass to get a massage. It’s sort of weird getting a massage at a place you don’t know about for the first time. You don’t know where those hands have been and you are not so sure about being naked around them. I’m here to give you a solid thumbs up for Laura. She’s local to downtown Phoenixville, PA and is super affordable. Highly recommend.

Now go get a massage. Bring the cookie.

Maybe I should always include a giveaway in my controversial posts. Maybe I should also specifically instruct everyone to not be an asshole in the comments regularly. I say this because ALL 328 comments left on the last post were supportive, positive and encouraging. Thank you for that.

Let’s get something clear people, whether a mom formula feeds, breast feeds, co-sleeps, cries it out, feeds solids at 4 months or 14 months, every one of those moms really thinks they are doing the best thing for their kid. And not like, sort of best thing for their kid but secretly good for mom too. No really like, best thing for their kid.

The mom who feeds their kids solids early may think that their kid will sleep better and be a happier  healthier baby who will meet milestones faster. The mom who feeds formula may have a baby who gets eczema and diarrhea from breast milk and they just want their baby better. And the mom who cries it out probably just wants their baby to sleep better and this solution was the last straw. NOT the first option. I’m guessing that mom, me included, rocked their baby 4 thousand times, replaced paci’s 7070 times, co-slept and straight up held the child for hours on end. But something had to give. Because maybe that mom has a toddler too who needs their mom. And that baby just needs to sleep.

Do I sound extra explainy? I know. That’s because I got a lot of flack for the last post. Not from you guys who read, and know me. I’ll just leave it at that. But it was brutal and not fair.

So this is another PSA to remind us all (myself included) to NOT JUDGE MOMS. I’m looking at you hippies.

There is a new breed of hippie out there. Not the peace and love ones but one I’ll call the hippie snob. The hippie who turns up their nose at formula moms or cry it out moms and say things like…oh this makes my heart hurt (or much much worse). Because they think the rest of us just don’t know any better. And it reeks of judgey.

As a card carrying scoby growing, kombucha drinking, muscle tested hippie, I’m ashamed of this group. It’s giving us all a bad name. Because you can be a hippie mom and have to make tough choices. And this is ok. Because every single one of us IS TRYING TO DO THE BEST THING FOR OUR KIDS. So worry about you and your kids and not mine and not hers or hers or HERS.

With that being said, here’s what’s been going on in the MODG house.

Night 1: Nursed Ruby to very very sleepy, put her in the crib without paci. She cried. A lot. I went in at 5 minutes “it’s ok Ruby, I’m here in the next room, you’re doing so great. I’m so proud of you. Close your eyes and rest. I love you”. Then again in 5 minutes. Then again in 10 minutes. And then she was asleep.

Naps the next day we didn’t do any crying. My sleep lady and I didn’t think it was fair to throw her all in at once and we wanted her to be well rested for the sleep learning at night. So I rocked, and paci’d and nursed.  All crap naps all day.

**This is when I got the flack for my last post and as MUCH as I wanted to brush it off. It stuck with me. Because no mom who ever hears their child cry thinks “this is awesome!”. No, it’s hard. But change in general is hard. So when people are telling me I’m a horrible mother, it’s creeping in. And for that reason…night 2 happened.

Night 2: Nursed to drowsy, put her in the crib. She cries. I gave her the paci. I caved with the criticism ringing in my ears. She went to sleep. Now you may think: well all that matters is that she’s sleeping right? No the point is for her to learn to self soothe. And when that paci falls out, who is going to be there at 1am 2am 3am 4am 5am 6am to put it back? You? Oh ok, cool.

Naps the next day status quo. Crap.

Night 3: I got a virtual kick in the ass from my sleep lady who told me the WORST thing I can do is not send a consistent message. It’s confusing to a baby why sometimes they get the paci and sometimes they don’t. She’s totally right and I want this to be as easy on her as possible. No paci. Checked in 5 minutes, another 5. Asleep.

Naps still a bitch

Night 4: Nursed, no paci and NO CRYING. SHE IS HAPPY IN HER CRIB. SHE IS BABBLING. SHE IS ASLEEP IN 5 MINUTES. SHE SELF SOOTHED. You guys, she did it.

I want to point out that I included 2 dream feeds throughout each night and if she woke up any more times, I went in and nursed her. The purpose of the crying was just to get her to learn how to sleep on her own. Ruby’s weight hasn’t been where is should be so it’s important that she gets lots of night milk too, which I’m sort of whatever fine with.

But that my friends, is what cry it out can look like. It’s not always putting baby in a room and walking away. In my opinion, it’s the most gentle way of teaching a baby about sleep.

Next we need to tackle naps. We are still cat nappers. And it’s GD torture. And the poor little thing is so tired by the end of the day.

So let’s recap people.

Don’t judge a mom by her cover. Judge her by her mom jeans.

Just kidding.

sort of.

_____________________

And the winner of the super duper mother’s day necklace from Adorn 512 is from a commenter who was so supportive and so positive and so thoughtful in her comment, that it really helped me through a difficult week. And for that reason, she is the winner of the necklace. She is more than deserving. Jaime, email me at modgblog at gmail dot com.

Jaime May 4, 2013 at 2:41 pm
It seems like you might need some encouragement from someone who has a bit of distance from this issue, because that is all I have to offer, but I can’t give you any sleep back.
My kids are 14 (boy) and 16 (girl). They are right this minute on a “bro-date” going to lunch and comic book stores for free comic day while I am home sick. They hang out all the time and set aside time for each other on purpose. I have been down the road you are on and I have to tell you to stick with it.
It doesn’t seem like it right this minute, but what you are trying to teach your kids is to be self-reliant. This is the very beginning of that journey. Get your kid to learn she won’t die if she goes to sleep by herself. The other thing that happens completely by accident at the exact same time is: you learn your kid can sleep by herself without you and no one will die.
These kinds of things are going to keep coming up and you’ll have to keep deciding when the right time is. When my daughter turned 16 she wasn’t quite ready to drive our car, which is a stick shift, alone. We talked. We agreed. We kept working at it. Then one day, I handed her the keys and asked her to use all she has learned and do her best to be safe and responsible. She wasn’t all the way ready – she never will be – and neither will I, but there is a day you have to say you’ve gotten everything I can show you and now it is time.
My daughter is going to college in a year. While a part of me thinks that I’d love for her to be useless without me so I could always be there for everything, what I really want to do is send a confident, smart, lovely girl into the world and hope she can rely on herself because I showed her that she can.
So, ditch the pacifier, bungee your boobs down if you have to, get earplugs and get started. You have to commit and not look back and remember the goal is about her. She will only cry louder and longer if you cave in. This isn’t about convenience or cruelty and everyone will benefit from it. Keep up the good fight.

Sleepy baby love,

MODG

F balls you guys. F balls.

I have unwillingly found myself in cryitoutsville. Alone. Well, G is here. But he’s pitiful at emotional support.

I know you’re asking, how on earth are you unwillingly doing cry it out with a baby? Babies are not smart. They can’t run shit.

Meet Ruby.

Running shit.

So here’s what’s going on. My life for the past 5 months with this one and sleep has been her waking up after 30 minutes of sleep and me or B (when he’s not with his girlfriend) running in with the paci. If after 3 paci re-inserts she is still screaming, I nurse her again or rock her until she falls into deeper sleep. It’s f-ing awful. The interesting part is that she does better with B re-plugging because he has milkless boobs (I think). So she knows that it’s paci or a mouth full of hairy nothing.

But here I am, home alone without the milkless boobs. And queen R is NOT ok with me paci-ing her. So I rock her, I nurse her, I oh so ever gently and gingerly place her into her crib and sneak out.

AAAAAAAHMOMYOULEFTMEYOUWEREHOLDINGMEANDNOWYOUAREGONEHOLYSHITMYSKINISON

FIRECOMEGETMERIGHTNOW!!!!!

over.

andover.

andover.

Finally I had no choice. The child has to cry. I can’t do it anymore. I’m home alone with a toddler and bag of scream. So she cries. And then eventually she sleeps.

And then I’m like…well, she just sort of put herself to sleep. I have to work with this. She’s learning and I can’t turn back. I have to go with it. So I’m here on day 4 of CIO. Now to the fellow hippies in this piece, I’m going in her room every few minutes with the “It’s ok, I’m here, you’re doing a good job” nonsense. I don’t want her to think I abandoned her. Because you know, babies know about paci’s, Sophie the giraffae and child abandonment.

We did a gentle CIO with G back in the day and I needed B here to tell me to keep going, it’s ok. He’s learning. blahblahblah. But I’m doing this on my own people. ONMYOWN. I’m knee deep in the red wine just trying to remember to change my underwear for the day. And also hoping that my child will not resent me for this and write Taylor Swift complainy songs about her ambigous mother who let her cry as a baby.

I am working with a super awesome sleep lady who writes a blog that I have read more than once by the blue nightlight of the nursing chair at 4am. I’m going to write some posts for her and she’s going to help Ruby act right. Thank the jesus for her because B is busy with his girlfriend and G is busy with his 55 digger trucks. At least someone is my rock. You know, people on the internet. My only friends.

I wish I could end this post for you by saying….and then it all worked and yay all is well in the MODG house.

But I’m dead smack in the middle of this nightmare. I hate it. Ruby hates it. But I want the child to get better, more restorative sleep than 20  minutes per nap and need 5 paci inserts and 3 nursing sessions to sleep. It’s not fair to her to not have good sleep, it’s not fair to B to have to run in that room 5 times a night and it’s not fair to the beast next door who was the prize winner of at 14.99 box fan to drown out Ruby’s crying. Poor thing don’t me he doesn’t like Ruby Crying at night. He also told me he doesn’t like kiwis. So we’ll work with that information.

Keep us in your thoughts. Whether you cried it out in your house or you held your baby for ever nap until they were 15, we’re all trying to do the best we can for our babies. Even when we eat cookies crouched behind a couch so we don’t have to share with any toddlers. IT’S THE BEST WE CAN DO.

xoxo

sleepyMODG

___________________

I informed B that it’s Mother’s Day shortly and that he needs to remember that I am a hard ass working mother. You are too. I know because I read your comments. This is what you want for mother’s day. Trust. Adorn512 sent me a rose gold one with an R and a G and I’m obsessed. I wear it every single day. I’m obsessed with rose gold right now. I was going to take a picture and post it but I literally can’t move after the day I’ve had. I love Dana who runs the store as well. See here

But even better, she is giving away one of these heart necklaces to a lucky commenter…

I will pick a winner from the comments of this post. I usually just use the randomizer. Usually. So leave regular comments and not asshole ones. Always.

Love and Lust.

MODG

You know how when your kid is acting a fool and you’re like at a real low point. Like the kid is eating toilet paper daily (you know who you are). Or the kid is hitting your face because you won’t let him run across the highway with a butcher knife. Or maybe you’re like most of us and your kid JUST.WON’T.SLEEP.

So you google. Because that’s the answer to sleep questions, medical questions and time travel questions. Guess what? You don’t want to find the answer. Well, you sort of do. What you really want to find is a billion other people who are in just as much misery as you and have your level 98 dark circles. And if you do find someone who has it figured out? You want to sort of throat punch them. Especially after you tried all of their smart shit and your kid still farts in the wind at your white noise machine and your “schedule” and your anything that makes sense at all.

I know this because I googled.

And the first result was this…You know the result that you should really click on because it will most likely be the answer to all of your prayers

Right. I wrote that.

SHIT.

This happened in the day dark of my daughter’s room as I rocked her for the 93rd time in one nap. Dudes, we are so F’d. This child defies all of my genius that I figured out with G. Now, to my own super important ego credit, I did say  in that post that my smart shit probably won’t work for you because I googled the F out of the internet to figure it all out.

Ruby is currently screaming in her room as I write this because I can not run up the stairs one more time to put her pacifier in. Or nurse her. Or rock her. ONE.MORE.TIME. And we’re talking about in the time span of an hour. She pulls that 20 minute shit. Where she wakes up after getting JUUUUST enough sleep to pop her little baby eyes open and screeeeam to say MOMMYI’MUUUUUUUP. And you know she needs more sleep. Because you need to do some GD stuff too without a baby hooked onto your hip.

But here’s the thing you guys. Ruby is sweet. She is the sweetest little girl in the USA. G was a dick baby. I love him dearly, but he was a dick baby. He hated life. And he was juuust enough of a dick that it was warranted to get him out of our bed and into his crib. But hearing Ruby cry is hard. Don’t get me wrong, hearing G cry was hard too. And don’t you dare leave me comments saying that I’m a bad mother to G or to my cats or to my plants, because I will seriously cut you open. But with Ruby it’s just different.

Maybe it’s because she’s a girl. And I know that there is everything on earth wrong with that sentence. But I just can’t bare to let that little girl cry up there. But my brain knows that she has to learn to put herself to sleep. I have really never even given her the chance to learn. And part of that is because I DARE not wake the beast who is napping in the room next door. The other part is that B has been traveling like  crazy and I can’t do all the sleep teaching alone. It’s emotionally awful. You also don’t sleep for days.

(I just gave in and ran upstairs to rock her AGAIN)

So my all learned up brain knows that to have a good sleeper they have to learn how to put themselves to sleep. Every hippie I know has a bad sleeping kid (self admittedly). And this is because they never taught their kid how to self soothe. There is a window for this and it’s I think between 5-7 months. So we just entered it. I’m not looking to night wean the child. But I am looking for her to sleep longer than 30 minute stretches. I’m looking for her to not open her eyes and scream bloody murder because my boob isn’t in her face. These are simple requests BABIES.

I know that as a parent it’s my job to teach her this. G, as a 2 year old is no longer a dick sleeper. He’s a FANTASTIC sleeper. And he says to me “mommy I tired” or he says “more crib”. He loves to sleep and I love him 4 times more for it.

But Ruuuuuuby. Oh little Ruby who smiles all the day long. Who never cries. Who is the sweetest little cupcake to ever cup or cake. How do I do this with her? How do I teach her?

I tried this:

Ruby it’s time to sleep. You have to sleep now. Ok, sleep little girl. I’ll buy you a new dress if you sleep? Sleeping is so great!

That didn’t work.

I tried stretching her schedule so she’s awake longer. She just woke up angrier.

I tried putting her to sleep earlier. She bit me. And stayed awake.

So there you have it internet. If you read my nap post where I have it aaaalllll figured out, this is your reward and this is your punch in the throat to me.

And with that, Ruby’s nap is over.

Who do you think won?

_______________

And that post was brought to you by the fine folks at Designstiles Nurseries. Dudes, the fact that she wanted to advertise here is like an honor to me. I’m embarrassed that she has even seen my own handiwork because she is THAT good of an interior designer. I love the new direction that lots of interior designers are going towards with e-decorating. Her prices are super reasonable. You just send dimensions, fill out a questionnaire and she does the work for you. She also does hourly consulting. And dudes, I WISH I knew about her when I was doing my house. She doesn’t only do nurseries. I know this because I’m currently drooling over THIS that she did.

ugh. I know. Want it. All.

Seriously. Check out Irene. Tell her I sent you. And Irene, help me too. Please.

With all this business of single-ish parenting, not eating anything that wasn’t blessed by britney fairies and tantrums about apples and socks, I haven’t even had a chance to tell you about the best thing ever.

And that my friends, is dressing up a little girl baby.

Oh I know. Duh. But really, it’s amazing.

When you were little did you love dressing up your Jem and the Hologram dolls in your Barbie clothes and vice versa? You never actually played with the dolls,  you just dressed them in their sportswear, brushed their hair and then dressed them for their wedding. Having a girl is like that except super-er.

It’s super-er because she smiles and makes goo sounds and poses. Those dumb Barbies just sat there all rigamortis. I’m here to tell you friends, it’s better than I imagined.

And and AAAANd. Like all of Ruby’s clothes are handmedowns. I can’t even imagine the greatness of shopping and dressing a little girl. Well, handmedowns EXCEPT for her signature head piece.

Now you all may remember that I take a firm stance against giant hair flowers on babies. It’s just too New Jersey Housewives for me. When I dress Ruby, I try to dress her like I’d dress me except mini. I mean to a degree I guess. I don’t have 90 pairs of leggings in every shade of chartreuse. I wish.

Back to Ruby’s signature headpieces. So I found these on Etsy and when they came, I knew I had a winner. As a friend of mine put it, she looks like a 1950′s housewife. YES. That’s exactly how I want my baby to look. So I ordered more.

I loved them so much that I emailed her asking if she’d consider being a sponsor of the Modgblog. I NEVER do that. But I felt like you guys would eat these bad boys up. And I wanted to post a billion pictures of Ruby in them for you. Winners all around.

So I present to you Little Hipsqueaks. She also makes baby hats and blankets, but these headbands in my opinion are the answer for those of you who don’t want a giant flower on your baby’s head. They also come in toddler size.

Every morning it takes me a good 20 minutes to dress this child. With G it was a tshirt and jeans and bam, ice cream stains and poop smears and we’re out the door. This is another story.

B: (from downstairs) ARE YOU READY YET?

Me: YES I AM.

B: Then let’s go!

Me: We’re not ready yet!

B: You JUST said you were ready!

Me: I AM READY

B: What on earth are you talking about?

Me: RUBY ISN’T READY YET.

B: Oh jesus.

Me: Don’t be rude, it’s really hard when a girl can’t figure out her outfit.

B: …..

Me: She felt you roll your eyes. You’re making her feel bad. We’ll be in the bathroom fixing our hair.

B: I can’t deal with this.

So yes friends, having a girl is everything I dreamed about and more. I’m told I have like 2-3 more years of deciding outfits for her and then she’ll drive to Victoria’s Secret and buy thongs and padded bras with the money she earned from selling the clothes I bought for her on Poshmark from her iPhone. Yeah.

So I’ll enjoy this while I can. Deal with it B.

xoxo

MODG and Ruby.

And Ruby’s head pieces.

Guys, I survived. Well, I survived week 1 of single parenting. I have another week coming up followed by another 2 weeks alone. Dudes, I don’t care if you’re like the toughest baddest ass on the block. You WILL FEAR the week alone. Oh yes, you’ll fear it.

Because now? I fear nothing more in my life. Well, I’m pretty scared of also facing a day where there is nothing “planned” for G. Because when I don’t have either paintbrushes and rocks and shit laid out for some sort of “project”, it’s all over. Or maybe jesus took the wheel that day and delivered some sort of large box from Amazon that can be turned into a rocket ship or a house for an hour. Then, we’re good. But no plan? Holy shit, just go and hide your valuables and sanity because they are both about to go out the window.

And that was my challenge with the double kid solo week. What the hell are we going to do? I mean I’ve done every BS activity on Pinterest including the damn baking soda dropper food coloring nonsense. I did the sensory bins of stupid. I did the jars of crap that you hold and then break and then ruin the carpet. So I scheduled us. I scheduled the shit out of us.

I sent a desperate email to pretty much everyone I knew. It went like this.

Hi friend,

How are you doing? How is that thing you are working on? How is that person we talked about? Great! Now I really need you to help me give kids baths and take G to your house for an hour. Please help me with that if you care about me or my children at all. Thank you. Peacebewithyou. 

Desperate in Phoenixville,

Amanda

And because I have awesome friends, I had someone here every single night helping me with baths and bedtime. Because bathing an infant with a toddler running around with a bucket on his head and a sword in his hand, is difficult. One night I even had one of my “cool” friends here to help. The “cool” friends are the ones without kids yet. However she confirmed for me after her night with us that it will be quite some time before she becomes uncool like me. Thanks kids.

You see, G is special. Real freaking special. And by special I mean, he’s 2 and a half and drama out the ass. I am walking on egg shells with this kid.

Me: G, I made your favorite lunch!

G: I no hungy.

Me: Ok, you can let me know when you want to eat.

G: I HUNGY!

MeL Ok great, let’s eat now.

G: NO I NO HUNGY!!

Me: Ok, you see how this could be confusing for me Gavin.

G: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!! fire candle birthday cuppycake fire.

Me: Oh, I see. Right. I don’t know why I didn’t think about that first.

And then there is Ruby. Poor little Ruby is getting her 2nd tooth in a month. And she’s only 4 months old. She wants to be happy so bad but she is just mis. It’s a little like this.

Hi Ruby Lee!

You are so happy!

Oh, don’t be sad. Let’s sing a song.

Yay!

Oh sorry, ok more song.

(G screams: MOMMY PLAY TOYS)

A;LDKSF;AKLDFJ;LKJ

And then there’s the bullshit of cleaning the cat shit box, doing laundry, doing diaper laundry, doing dishes, cooking meals, emptying trash, taking out trash, getting mail, sending mail… You know, regular people stuff who can do stuff who have 2 working arms available. People like B. People who are IN CALIFORNIA VISITING THEIR GIRLFRIEND.

So B is home. But like not really. I mean he still goes to work every day and I still am home with the kids. And yes, it’s hard and yes I complain. I would complain about a rainbow of sunshine free J.crew clothes. But dudes, it’s not a one man job. And for those of you in this situation permanently? Call the cops. Someone needs to be arrested for putting you in that situation. At least get a lawyer. Call me, I’ll be your lawyer.

Day by day people. Day by day.

xoxo

Queen of the dark circle.

I’m here. Sort of. I’m here in a fuzzy, I can kind of see through  my frizzy bangs and dirt halo sort of way.

I’m going to say this. Military wives are my heros. They deserve badges and buckets of gold and honors and things like that.

It’s March. It’s snowing. March is a whore.

Also today I introduced coffee back into my diet. Next I’ll be introducing cocaine.

Ruby cut her first tooth.

G smacked me 98 times and is becoming the tantrum champ of the east.

Ruby thinks that 20 minutes of sleep is all that babies need. Ruby hangs out with some asshole babies.

So all of that.

I’ll update you as I can. Send nannies.

xoxo

modg

You guys.

I just got some NEWS. And not the US Weekly kind. I’m going to be alone with the kids for a full week. That means, wake ups, all meals, all baths, all NIGHT LONG wake ups and all entertainment. Me. And then? When it’s all over? I have to do it again, and again, and again. That’s a total of FOUR WEEKS ON MY OWN.

B is going out of town for non negotiable reasons (to see his girlfriend) and I don’t know what I’m going to do. Let’s be honest, I mean, I know there are many single parents out there with more kids than me and more problems than me. But I’m like a below average parent when it comes to handing them together. I struggle. I have anxiety and I just get overwhelmed with 2 kids crying or wanting attention. Or one wanting mommy to PLAY TRAINS PLAY TRAINS and the other needing to be fed. And then the one needing to be fed  HAS to be fed in a dark quiet room because she wants to watch her brother scream around like a maniac.

And the guilt, the stupid guilt. I feel terrible telling G no when all he wants to do is play with me. I hear Cats in the Cradle playing softly in my head and I cry in the corner. Ok not really, but I feel bad. But 10 minutes later I’m like WHY WON’T THIS KID PLAY BY HIMSELF EVER? And then I put the tv on so I can keep his sister alive for one more day. And then I feel bad for putting on the TV after he’s running around screaming about a cat in a hat or a damn monkey one more time.

Do we put too much pressure on ourselves as mom’s these days? I mean, I’m trying to cook meals from scratch, keep my toddler artfully entertained with wooden organic virgin fairy tear dust toys, exclusively breastfeed my infant and oh, lose all the baby weight immediately. AND have nice hair.

When I was little, I had a TV in my room at 6. It was pink. My parents were thrilled if I ate spaghetti-o’s and took me to get a happy meal when they would go to the Chinese restaurant. Granted, I’m no picture of health these days, but man alive, doing shit the “right” way is tough.

And is it just going to get harder? I mean are we going to be worried about the grassfed cow meat that possibly once ate dandelions instead of just grass because that cow could give my child early male pattern baldness? I just can’t keep up and I’m so tired.

None of us are doing this to ourselves to purposely make our lives harder, I get that. I mean it’s our kids, we want the best for them. We want them to be social and have friends but be really smart in school and study all the time and be hard workers. But also have fun and play well with others and share. And pee in the potty before they are 12. But not too soon because it has to be done in their own time and way. And and andand andandnadkfha;dkfja’lskjf’asldkjf never ever never get sick.

Yeah.

Can you tell I’m overwhelmed? G is just in full on terrible 2′s tantrum mode right now. Like god forbid we build the house with pillows and blankets with the corner sticking out on the top right instead of the top left like it was yesterday. TANTRUM. Or jesusapplesauce if G wants to hold the “big spoon” but we don’t know which big spoon in 3 tries or less. Done. G is what the hippies call “spirited”. He’s what I call a  temporary pain in my ass. I love my ass pain more than glitter rainbows, but it doesn’t make it hurt my ass any less right now. And yes, I know it’s temporary. The books promise me that. Everything is a phase. But if I can’t complain about it in a super dramatic way here, where can I?

Also as aside, I  hate winter. I have never hated winter more in my entire life than I have with 2 kids in this damn house.

I

HATE

WINTER.

Do you know who else  hates winter? Every other parent with kids. I know this because of the dinosaur “expo” I attended charging 30 thousand dollars a family for kids to look at animatronic dinosaurs for 10 minutes. Because it’s inside. In the winter. And you know what? I RAN there.

This was a big mess of complain wasn’t it? I’m sorry. We’ll get through this together. And if I don’t, I will turn this blog over to G and things will get real dramatic around here. Don’t you dare ask him to put on a sweater.

How are you surviving the indoors with kids? PLEASE for the love of sparkles, give him indoor activities for my single parenting upcoming time. Also your phone number if you want to babysit.

xoxo

MODG

PS I’m selling my clothes to buy money for anxiety meds and booz. Buy them. 

I haven’t eaten a grain in 2 months.

Let me say that again except louder so you really get it

I HAVEN’T EATEN A GRAIN IN 2 MONTHS.

These are the only creatures on earth that could get me off the wheat train. And the gummy train. And the m&m bus. 

Let me break that down for you: no rice, no wheat, no oats, no randomhippiemilletbuckweat grain, nothing. I started this with 80% intention of healing my gut and Ruby’s gut and 20% to be healthy and lose baby weight. This is the part when I tell you how awesome it is and how great I feel and how sparkly my girl parts are…or something. And …eh?

I mean, I’ve lost weight for sure. But is it worth cooking FROM SCRATCH every meal, every day during my lone 2 hours of maybe free time while kids sleep? NO. B decided to be supportive and do this with me. So together we decided to do Whole 30. This is a grain, dairy, sugar free diet that starts and ends in 30 days. It’s all fresh foods, nothing from a package. So I’m cooking for both of us. And cooking for G. Unless you can convince a 2 year old to eat cauliflower mashed potatoes and ghee. No? Right. More chicken nuggets.

So lots of you are like, healing your gut? What’s that about? I’ve mentioned it here briefly, but it’s a process of eating easily digestible foods and probiotics to heal leaky intestines. Processed foods for years and years as well as antibiotics can poke tiny holes in your one-cell-thick wall of your intestine, allowing large food chunks to leak into your gut. This can cause big problems for your body. You can read more here. And this is a great NY Times article about leaky gut.

I have to say, it’s pretty awesome of B to jump on board this crazy train with me for support. He knows the nightmare I go through with food stuff while breastfeeding and he’s doing this so I don’t feel alone. And so his pants fit. But mostly to be supportive RIGHT B?  Yes, I wish I could eat whatever I want. But the hippie in me tells me that this is all to teach me something. And that something is probably to not cover my nutella in gummy penguins (every day).

So we’re on day 20. B will end in 10 days and I will keep trucking on. You may follow my Pinterest board Gut Healing, where I post recipes and the like of the crap we eat and the crap that I spend hours cooking. Dudes, if you would have told me 5 years ago that I’d be all natural hippie lady cooking foods from scratch during my only free tv watching hours of the day, I would have slapped your face off. But here we are.

Yes, it’s good to be healthy. Yes, it’s good to have normal poops. Yes, it’s good to fit into my jeans. But you know what is also good? Kraft mac and cheese. Also? smores. Also? Pizza from a grease pit Also? fruity pebbles.

And people are like…oh I don’t even crave that stuff anymore. B to the S. I’ve learned a lot about food, but I’ve learned that totally eliminating anything from your diet is asking for trouble.

Now I will say, there was a short period before I got norovirus where I cut out all sugar (including fruit). After 3 days of that, I did not crave sugar anymore. I also wasn’t hungry. Like at all. Also? I got sick. Also? my milk supply went way down. So that had to end.

But here’s what I’ll take from these months of eating whole and fresh and crap:

1) Dairy is sort of not necessary. I know I know, you’re screaming WHAT ABOUT MY CHEEEESE? In every recipe that calls for cheese, I add more salt and that includes all of my italian stuff that I make. Also, coconut milk? AMAZING and a super health food.

2) Anything that calls for flour in a recipe, or breading, or breadcrumbs you can make with almond flour. Just season it if cooking, and use it straight up if baking. Almonds are a super food and it’s a great way to cut carbs.

3) Stop cooking with olive oil or any other liquid oil. If you splurge on one thing, make it coconut oil. It’s a solid. Any time you cook over high temps to fry, use a solid oil like butter or coconut. Olive oil, canola, etc all turn unstable at high temps and zap your brain into alien juice. For real. Also coconut oil makes you LOSE weight. Swear to the bears.

4) Stevia is amazing. It’s a sweetener that actually regulates your blood sugar level, it’s natural, no chemicals, no sugar and no carbs. It’s considered a supplement. Especially when you poor it straight into your mouth. I mean…not that I know about that…

5) Eat a billion eggs a day. As many as you can fit into your face. ESPECIALLY the yolk. Don’t believe that BS about cholesterol, etc. It’s a super food. Also avocado. Make guac constantly. Get a shovel. You figure out the rest.

6) You can make a satisfying pasta out of anything. Get this GEFU Spirelli Spiral Cutter
It’s amazing. Zucchini noodles win my life.

After this nonsense is all over, there are a few recipes that I’m going to keep making. I’ll share them with you because sharing is what friends do. Especially diseases
Adapted from PB & Fruity Says “Let Us Rap” – 2010 Winner (it’s a kid’s cooking contest. Of course I like this best)

Ingredients

• 2 shredded chicken breasts
• 1 chopped green apple
• 1/4 cup chopped black or red grapes
• 2 tablespoons almond butter
• 1/2 red onion, chopped
• Boston Lettuce
Preparation
1. Boil the shit out of your chicken until it shreds, cover in salt and pepper

2. Dump chicken in with cut up fruit and onions

3. Spoon that almond butter all over everything and mix

4. Carefully (not like a savage beast) remove large lettuce leaves without breaking. Scoop spoonfulls of mixture into lettuce and roll.

5. Eat your face off.

This salmon. The avocado stuff on top makes you think you’re not eating salmon.

I’ve made this cumin pork in my slow cooker 4 times and it’s cooking right now. It’s amazing. At the end of cooking, strain the juices and pour into a pan. Turn that pan on super high and let it boil for like 10 minutes until  it makes a super thick fancy sauce. And guess what? You just made a REDUCTION. Sounds so smart and fancy. Poor your reduction back over the pork and eat it with guac.

I made these Cowboy Cookies before Whole 30. If you don’t even care about your health, make these. They are so to die, you will die and then eat more and then die more. Oh, they have avocado in them. what what?

And my MOST prized recipe. Seriously, everyone who eats this guac gets down on their knees and praises Jesus that I have come into their life to deliver them this guacamole. I seriously make it now once a week. Note: leave out the black pepper. No black pepper in mexican food ever!