It’s funny that in this age of constant “communication” (picture those like sarcastic air-quotes, by the way) and constant updates on our friends’ whereabouts, mood, food choices and musical interludes that we probably actually know very little about what’s really going on in each other’s lives. Possibly it’s the nature of my job (basically all I do is try to make people look good to the public), but I’m not one to openly air my garbage. And I’m sure it’s not just me who feels this way (although I do have a few friends who appear to feel exactly the opposite). Most of us choose the best pictures, funniest moments and most endearing things to share on our social media profiles. I’m not saying my posts are lies, but I often omit the whole truth, and I think I want to come clean…

There are very few people reading this who probably know where it’s going already. Some of you may be shocked, and for that I apologize. I have so many people in my life that I consider to be truly great friends but I just don’t see them very often. I love facebook for keeping me in touch with all of those people. I love reading about what’s going on in everyone’s lives and it’s awesome to see kids grow, share in accomplishments and feel like even if we’re thousands of miles apart, I still have really great people in my life.

If nothing else, I hope I’m not alone in appearing to live an amazingly happy and successful life as far as facebook sees it. And I hope that by finally sharing some of my crap, I can maybe help a few others feel slightly less pressured to appear so perfect on the outside.

So, what is this big dark secret? My marriage is over. My husband and I have separated and are going to be getting a divorce. It’s painful and it’s sad but in the end it will all be better for everyone. It all looks so happy on the computer screen, right?  All I can say that we are two great people who created an amazingly incredible little girl but we just don’t work well together. There is no blame, there is no one cause, it just doesn’t work. It’s a hard thing to admit in this world of profiles, updates and relationship statuses. I suppose there will come a monumental day when the “official” change of status is made and then it will all be out in the open. But I need baby steps. If you’ve happened upon this post (I have no plans to promote this one to the world) and I’ve not told you this in person, it’s only because it isn’t in my nature to blast my sad news.

I’m scared of the changes ahead, for me and for our gorgeous, sweet little girl. But in the end, she’ll be better off with parents who are happy, even if being happy means they have to be apart. All I can hope for now is that we’re able to put aside hurt feelings and egos and get along for her sake. I will always appreciate the great gift of my precious baby and I only have her dad to thank for that. I couldn’t ask for a better man to help me raise this child. I wish him nothing but happiness.

Today was one of those days where I missed my dad… a lot. I had a doctor’s appointment where I discussed some minor health issues and some big hopes for the future, and wanted to call him to tell him all about it. We used to talk several times a day—granted, a good chunk of it was bickering—but he was still always in the loop about my life. In fact, he was the first one I’d call throughout my pregnancy after every check up. He had nicknamed my son Nicholas “Ocho” (Spanish for “eight”) because he looked like the number eight on an early ultrasound. It’s crazy to think that the growing baby in my belly that I updated my dad on constantly just had his second birthday. My dad wasn’t there for his first.

I’m one of the many parents out there parenting without any input from their own moms and dads. My mom passed away on December 13, 2008; just a few short months after I graduated college and got married. She was only 50 and died from liver failure due to a lifelong battle with alcoholism. Because of her addiction, I kept my distance the last few years of her life, but made amends before she passed. I watched her take her last breath; and a couple of days before she told me how she regretted not being there for me enough and didn’t really want to die—she wanted a house of her own, a dog, and for me to be her best friend. I told her to not worry; that I turned out okay. I asked her if she thought I’d be a good mom (she did). I wasn’t so sure that I had turned out okay or that I’d be a good mom, but I believed both as much as I could.

My dad passed away nearly two years to the day later on December 15, 2010. He was 70 and died of kidney failure, heart issues, liver issues, and a myriad of other conditions. He and my mom had divorced when I was younger than my son is now, so I grew up with him partially in Arizona (where I was), partially in Colorado, and partially in his own world. Any addictions he may have had were gone by the time I was born (he and my mom were nearly 20 years apart), but he was a hard man; loving and hurtful all at once. Nevertheless, we talked daily—often fighting—but I felt more of a connection to him as I got older. He made it to my college graduation, wasn’t able to see me get married, but perhaps, most important of all, he met my son. He moved to Arizona a few months before he passed and turned my life upside down (caring for an infant and an ailing parent is a whole other topic altogether), but, looking back, I’m so grateful at least one of my parents got to meet Nicholas—the love of my life, my mini-me.

As you can probably tell, Nicholas was born between both parents passing. My life seemed to go “death, life, death.” Add in graduating college, getting married, buying our first home, first “real jobs,” and more, and my (poor, patient, awesome) husband and I have been through more in the past few years than I care to recall. But—I digress. Parenting with no parents; that’s what this is about.

Parenting with no parents… there’s books on the topic. On the darker side, it’s lonely. I can’t text photos of my son to my mom; I can’t call my dad when he does something new. As he grows, his grandparents will be my husband’s parents… mine will be “oh, my mom’s parents died before I was born/when I was a baby.” The part that complicates it is that my mom was an alcoholic; I’m not 100% sure how much she would have been involved anyways. My dad was in poor health and had way different parenting philosophies; he wouldn’t have been hands-on either. But, now that they’re both gone, what’s the point of maybes? I hope to keep their memory alive through photos; pictures of my mom as young and healthy. Pictures of my dad holding him as a baby. I’ll tell him that his grandpa nicknamed him “Ocho” and that his grandma believed in me and would have loved how he looks just like me. I’ll also warn him about my family’s history of addiction; and that he needs to be both responsible and smart. The gorier details? Not needed; at least not in my mind. (Also, how to explain death to a curious kid? Not sure on that one either!)

On the brighter side, parenting with no parents (or siblings for that matter; I’m an only child) gives me an opportunity to learn to accept love on behalf of myself and my son. My in-laws are amazing grandparents and live within walking distance. His G-Ma (my mom-in-law) watches him several times a week and his G-Pa (my dad-in-law) and he are weekend warrior buddies, tagging along with my husband to conquer the children’s museum and local playplace. My aunt (my mom’s sister) said that he could call her grandma when he was just weeks old; she was there when he was born too. He also has an aunt (my husband’s sister) who is excited to take him on his first trip to Disneyland and countless honorary aunts and uncles who love and spoil him too. I may not be able to text a parent photos of him; but my patient family members and friends get daily photos of his every move! And the first person I call for parenting advice? His G-Ma.

Overall, lots of kids grow up without one grandparent, or a set of grandparents. He’ll grow up with it as his normal. Grandma and grandpa are my husband’s parents. Mimi (my aunt) lives in Mesa with all of his cousins. The hard part I believe is for me and accepting what is my normal as well. Like all parenting experiences, it’s about accepting the darker parts and being grateful for the blessings in disguise.

Will my dad ever go fishing with him? No. But, he left him a blue kid’s fishing pole I intend to dust off when the time is right. There’s a pink one too… because, well, you never know what the future holds.

I am still breastfeeding my 4 month old, who gets a bottle when I can’t be with him. Part of me wants to try all the tricks and crazy advice I’ve been getting to keep him on the boob (he’s starting to prefer the bottle), but part of me also wants to quit pumping (it makes me feel like a cow).

Not to mention all the anxiety that I had when I started breastfeeding is still lingering. “Will I get thrown out of a restaurant or store if I need to feed my baby like one of those poor women who end up on the news? Will everyone gawk at me or get grossed out?” The real question is why do I even have to feel this way?!

But, I do. I wear a nursing cover and one time my baby stuck his hand out and moved it and it mortified me. Dumb. Dumb. Dumb.

So why the rant? Beyonce was front page news today for breastfeeding her baby in public and social media is going crazy about why a front page story like this exists. To answer this burning question, it exists because of people like me, and I believe there are a lot of us. A lot of us who just want to enjoy breastfeeding despite how freaking hard it can be sometimes without ignorance making it harder.

PS Here’s the link to the hilarious beanie boobie on Etsy.

Anyway, the point is I personally think he should know he has a penis.

Of course, this lead to another discussion when he asked about my penis. I had to tell him that boys and girls have different parts… boys have a penis and girls have a vagina. Yes, I taught him the word vagina too and now that he’s such a know-it-all in this department he openly talks about these things, sometimes in public. A little uncomfortable, yes, but it is what it is. He’s two and we’re still working on censoring.

The point is, now that Tavin is going around saying these things, other little kids have no idea what he’s talking about and I’m realizing maybe other parents decided to go with the less abrasive and more general peepee or similar word for their kids? I know this might be a little personal, but how did you handle the penis/vagina versus peepee talk? Have your toddlers even asked or wanted to know yet?

PS- That pic is of my son this July! Gosh he’s getting big…

My son was ornery this morning to say the least. My breaking point occurred not when he jumped around in a fit when I had to get ready for work, or when he clenched his teeth and squeezed my arm in frustration, or when he told ME to go to time out, or when he wouldn’t put his clothes on, but when I accidently mixed up the dog’s pills. The dog who should have gotten bladder meds got allergy meds and vise versa. Already late, I had to call the vet to confirm I wasn’t going to kill anyone before heading out for the day. Not that big of a deal in itself, but messing up something I could control really pissed me off.

Of course Tavin wouldn’t corporate getting in his carseat because he didn’t want his rain boots to fall off (yes I live in Arizona and it’s August, but you did hear the part about him being two, right?) so I have to lift him up over my big, huge pregnant belly and get him strapped in. Of course I then start crying and my 5 minute makeup job is also a complete bust.

Now it’s not just about my sucky morning, but the fact that this baby in my big, huge pregnant belly is coming and I now realize there is no way I can do this! The tears turn into sobs. I can’t expect Tavin to act like he’s 25… he was having a bad day for his own reasons and his little mind can only cope with so much before acting out. The scary part is when this happens again 3 months from now there will be ANOTHER little person needing my attention and what the heck do I do when they both are freaking out at the same time?!

I realize I am being dramatic at this point so then I just start feeling sorry for myself. These stupid pregnancy hormones are making me cry off all my makeup! A two-year-old “broke” me! He is getting faster and I am getting slower so physically he now has the advantage. I’ve lost control!

As I’m crying my son breaks his silence since getting in the car and says, “Mom, it will be okay. You’ll feel better” …The same thing I tell him when he has an owie.

HOLY CRAP I can’t do this.

The days of pampered pregnancy are over… I have a two-year-old to chase around to which I also eat and sleep around his highness’s schedule. Now I’m not so worried about eating lunch meat and I’m giving into my cravings for massive amounts of chocolate…. okay and a little feta cheese.

I also convinced my doctor to let me only take one iron pill a day instead of two because it makes me feel like shit, except I can’t. And reading baby books? What baby books? I just skim the BabyCenter emails… a far cry from the reading and re-reading I did with my first pregnancy. And can you believe I drank soda the last two days in a row?! Okay, I know that’s NOT super bad, but I FEEL super bad.

I could go on a little more, but I don’t want you to think less of me! Did anyone else experience this with the second pregnancy? Oh man, I’m feeling so guilty…

My husband pointed out how different our first OB appointment was from when we went with our first son, Tavin. This time when they gave me that big purple baby bag I was sort of embarrassed by its obviousness and when we were walking out into the waiting room we were already talking about what to make for dinner and chores to finish that day… a far cry from the ear to ear grin and kissy-faced couple we were two and a half years ago.

Yes we were trying and yes we have no idea what we are getting ourselves into! Some days I think, what the heck did I do?! Other days I get all goo-goo ga-ga over the fact that my new baby has now surpassed the size of a grape and has fingers and toes!

I know this is going to change my work/life schedule and I also know that the only way to figure out what the new schedule will be is practice. I’m assuming that there will be less time for everything. Ok now I’m freaking out again!

It’s so crazy the mixed emotions I have. I’m all in love and all scared all at the same time.

I understand getting creative with how you get your child to behave because every kid is unique and what they respond to is unique. It takes time and practice to find out what works and just when you think you got it, you have to change your strategy again. Remember, discipline is supposed to help your child correct his or her behavior, but they can’t do that if all they take away from the ordeal is fear.  The goal is to get them to UNDERSTAND what they did wrong and why… not submission.

For more ideas on how to discipline, here are what the experts say. I know all of you have your child’s best interest in mind and commend you for your hard work trying to raise kids who are upright and healthy. It’s not easy, and no one said it would be. Discipline is the hardest part of parenting.

My husband, from Day One of me having Jake has been hands-on and involved in his upbringing. This wasn’t just important to me when I was sleep-deprived and emotional, but even more so as he’s grown into a walking, babbling, getting-into-everything toddler. As soon as my husband gets home, its “Jakey Time.” Not only has Jake become a Daddy’s Boy, but my husband seems to eat up the attention and fun, but short times they spend together. Every night, he is on bath duty and helps him brush his teeth, get into his PJs and reads him books before bedtime. Granted, I get the PJs and night time diaper out and tidy up the crib, but its the Daddy and Jake Show each night. Its a great bonding time for them.

On weekends, especially now that I am pregnant and more tired than usual, my husband will play with Jake so I can take naps. He feeds him, packs his bag if we are going to run errands and most importantly, (LOL) he will change poopy diapers. Even when we are out and about, my husband has no problem grabbing Jake and the diaper bag and changing him either in the bathroom or in the car.

I’ve met moms recently who carry the brunt of all the work with the baby. The husbands sit back and don’t blink an eye. They don’t step in to really do much at all and you can see the frustration and tiredness in the mother’s eyes. Recently, I even heard of a dad who admitted to work colleagues that he screwed up diaper changing with their newborn in hopes that his wife would just take over. It worked and he’s never changed a diaper since and the kid is almost six months old. He’s also never put the baby in the car seat or stroller himself. Really? Really? Come on! I really do think raising a child is a team effort of both parents. I’m glad my husband agrees and shows his agreement through his actions.

So, if you are pregnant or single and hope someday to have a supportive husband at home…really talk about and see how they react to the parenting roles. It will save you a lot of stress that you don’t need. I love you, honey! I am one lucky WAHM!