Two Down For The Count

Today was one of those days that my oldest son could get on my nerves so much that I felt like screaming and locking him in his room so he can leave me alone.  I don’t know if it’s my hormones or my extreme tiredness, but my oldest son was pressing every button I had and I was about to explode.  Every time I tell him to do something, e.g. stop touching things in the cooking area in the kitchen, or turn around in his chair, or stay in his chair, he would do the opposite.  Or I would tell him to get this or put on that and I would have to repeat myself over and over again.  Once I raise my voice, then he would smile like I said something funny.  I felt like slapping the smile of his face but I kept my cool.  I made him do what I wanted him to do because I’m the parent and he’s the child.  This all happen this morning!  I’m in for along day.

After going to the park and taking a forty-five minute walk, I made my son a veggie burger for lunch.  He picked at it only eating the bread and barely touched the burger.  He couldn’t keep still and wanted to move around to play with his trucks and asking to feed his little brother.  I figure from the park and the walk he should be tired and not have so much energy. I would tell him to sit in his chair and he would roll his eyes every time. I’m thinking to myself ‘If I thought year two was bad, I’m in for it at year three.’  But I notice although he rolled his eyes, he kept bobbing his head back like he was, should I say “tired”.  At first I was contemplating on walking the dog after lunch but my son was getting antsy again so I was like, ‘Forget the walk; I’m going to try to have him take his nap during quiet time.  If he naps that’s fine.  If he doesn’t then that’s an hour of quiet for me until the next around.’

So we started our quiet time around two. Baby boy wanted to sleep and this is usually his nap time and I nursed him to sleep.  I was looking at the baby monitor to see what my oldest son was doing.  He was snacking on some cashew nuts and playing with his toys.  About fifteen minutes into quiet time, baby boy was asleep in my arms but my oldest wasn’t going down without a fight.  Then I notice in the monitor that my son was going back and forth to his bed.  I said to myself, ‘Yes, that’s right.  Lie down and take and nap.’  But he would get back up again and I was like, ‘No! Go to sleep!’ I felt like I was watching a football game where the quarter back throws deep and the receiver is down field but he missed the catch.  It was heart stopping.  I saw my oldest son bobbing his head again and I was praying that he would fall asleep.  He had thirty minutes left of quiet time, then twenty nine, then twenty eight.  I have to face it.  He’s not going to nap.  A few minutes later, I didn’t hear anything in the monitor.  I looked at the monitor while baby boy was still in my arms.  Could it be that my oldest son fell asleep?  Yes he did! Touchdown!  He lay on the floor asleep.  I learned long ago not to wake him and move him to the bed otherwise, it’ll wake him up.  The floor has a rug so he’ll be fine. 

I was so excited that I almost forgot that I didn’t put baby boy down in his crib.  So I had to slowly put him down hoping not to wake him.  He didn’t wake up.  What a miracle.  I got my boys to sleep around thirty minutes apart.  This never happens to me.  I just didn’t know what to do with myself.  Should I take a nap?  Should I write my blog?  Should I do this or that? I went into my bedroom, laid down and rest.  I couldn’t sleep because I knew baby boy wouldn’t sleep for long.  About thirty minutes later, baby boy woke up; he slept for an hour.  My oldest son on the other hand, slept for almost two hours.  Now if I can get both of them to sleep at the same time and sleep for two hours that would be great.  Yeah I know I’m dreaming but those thirty minutes felt so good.  Getting both kids to sleep is it’s like trying to win the million dollar lottery and your odds are one in twelve five million.  Well today, I won that million dollar lottery and it felt good.


Don’t look into his eyes

Babies are the most lovable, beautiful, and cuddly creatures on the planet in my opinion.  May be because I have dealt with two of them; which are my own.  The most captivating aspect to me are their eyes; especially if the baby has bright eyes that twinkle like stars in the sky.  You can get sucked in by them and those eyes will control your every emotion. You will melt in those beautiful eyes and automatically those eyes will bring a smile to your face. You will become helpless and do anything the baby desires.    Hypnotic, their eyes can put a spell on you. For example when their eyes are happy you’re happy and when their eyes are sad and crying you are sad and ready to cry too and you try to make things better for them.  Although babies’ eyes are captivating they are also dangerous as well especially when you’re trying to put them to sleep.

My six month old son has the most beautiful wide brown eyes you’ve ever seen.  From the moment he was born, the doctors commented on his big brown eyes.  When I walk with him down the street, the first thing people notice about baby boy is his big brown eyes.

Baby Boy’s Big Brown Eyes (6 months old)

My son also has an intense glare; very vampire like that kind of says ‘Got you.  You’re mine now. Now come and give me some breast milk.’ 

Most of the time when I put my second son down to sleep, his eyes are closed.  But there are some days when I put him down that his eyes would be close but then it would shoot right open; similar to a horror movie.  He’s eyes would pop open and he would give me this intense stare like his saying, ‘Look at me. Did I say put me down? Pick me up right now!’  I have to keep myself from looking at him because if I do he will start to fuss or cry.  So from the corner of my eye I see his eyes open and I silently tell myself, ‘Don’t look into his eyes.  Don’t look into his eyes.’  Then I slowly turn my head and look at him and he starts to cry.  “Damn it!”  I say to myself.  No matter if I turn my head away again or put my hand on him and rock his body back and forth in his crib, I would have to pick him up and rock or nurse him back to sleep.

There was another time when baby boy fell asleep in his high chair.  I came downstairs from tucking my oldest son in and found him knock out in his high chair.  My husband was telling me to pick him up quickly and put him in his crib. In order for me to get him out of the chair, I had to pull down the back of his chair slowly so I wouldn’t wake him.  As I was lifting him out and looking at his adorable face, his eyes shot open. I only looked into his eyes for a couple of second and turn my head slightly.  I said to my husband,

“Uh Oh, he’s waking up!”

“Hurry and put him on your shoulder and rock him to sleep. He’ll go back to sleep.” 

But it was too late.  He fussed a little and now was wide awake looking around.

So I realize that if I want my baby boy to go back to sleep when I put him down or if he drifts off to sleep or if he wants to stay up in the middle of the night wanting to play, I have to remind myself not to look into his eyes.  But how can I not?  I was thinking of Screamin’ Jay Hawkins song “I put a spell on you.” and I think of it every time he captures me with his eyes and their telling me… ‘I put a spell on you.  Because you’re MINE!’  Yes indeed I am.

Baby boy big brown eyes from 2days old until now

The Not So Great Escape

Last Saturday, I took a “me day” with my mother in law to the spa for an hour massage and an hour facial treatment.  It was a beautiful day; sunny and a little breezy, it was the perfect spring weather to be out and about…without the kids.  My great escape. My husband had the kids and I was so happy to finally get a break.  I really need a day off. 

So my day off started about one fifteen when my mother in law came to get me so we can walk to the train for our three o’clock spa appointment.  I just put the baby down an hour prior and was expecting him to wake up any minute.  I made lunch for my oldest son and my husband before I left.  I was expecting the kids would follow the same routine that they do with me as far as them being awake so I knew my husband would surely experience what I go through with the kid’s everyday.  I’m sure he would be exhausted like I am and he would finally understand that staying at home with the kids isn’t a luxury as he think it would be.

My mother in law and I arrived at the spa about fifteen minutes early.  Although I was looking forward to my massage and facial, I was still thinking about the kids.  Not worrying about them because I know my husband knows how to take care of them, but do I dare say that I…miss them.  How dare I miss those little monsters that drive me up the wall?  How dare they enter my thoughts while I’m trying to relax? All I did when I got the massage about half way through, I was talking to the massage therapist about my kids.  I couldn’t enjoy my massage at all.  When I got my facial, all I did was you guess it, talk about my kids.  The point of getting a massage and facial was to not think about the kids.  I felt more tired after having the massage and facial than being with the kids.  What is wrong with me?

After the two hours at the spa, I received a text from my husband that said that the baby slept again at two and didn’t wake up until five thirty.  Also my oldest son took a nap around the same time but woke up about four thirty.  I was like “Whaaaaaaaat!” My husband had an easy day with the kids.  Why don’t they sleep with me like that?  Now my husband going to think that it’s a piece of cake to take care of the kids.  All through dinner I was thinking, “What did my husband do to get them to sleep so easily?”  I need to know how to do that so I can get a break too. When I asked my husband via text, he won’t tell me how he did it.  It’s he’s little ace up his sleeve. 

I arrived home about quarter to ten, I was exhausted and my breasts were full and need to be pumped. I felt like I’m coming in to start my overnight shift.  My husband comes downstairs to tell me what an easy day he had with the kids and the only “major” thing that happened was the baby spit up a lot from acid reflux and he had to change his clothes and the baby when back to sleep by himself.  It was also easy to put the baby down at night. My oldest son can put himself to sleep. My husband was more relaxed than I was.  What was the point in going out if I couldn’t relax?  My husband left the baby monitor on the table as he got some snacks that his mother brought him and retired to his cave.  He’s shift was done. As tired as I was, I rinsed the dishes, loaded the dish washer, and let it run.  I went upstairs in the baby’s room to get the breast pump and pumped ten ounce of milk so my breast have some relief.  I whined down with watching a show that I don’t remember the name of and felt to sleep.  This was one exhausting day. Why did I go out again? Next time when I need a break, I’m staying home and I’m kicking the hubby and kids out.


Mama has a Vagina

When my oldest son was about five months old during a diaper change, he discovered that he had something between his legs that mama would clean every time he peed.  I guess curiosity got the best of him because he slowly reached his hand down to his penis and grabbed it.  I wasn’t shocked and try to ignore what he did.  I didn’t use a cutesy word for it like calling it his “pee pee.”  I said what it really was.  I said to him when he grabs it, “THAT’S YOUR PENIS!”  Yes, I said it that excitedly too.  Ever since then, my oldest son refers to his penis as a penis.  I know some parents are a little embarrass about saying their child’s “private” part by its correct name but in my opinion children have a right to know the correct terminology of the “private” parts.  There’s shouldn’t be any shame in it. 

When my oldest son started walking and learned to follow me into the bathroom, he notices that mama’s anatomy below was different from his and daddy’s.  He would say, “Mama has a penis” I would correct him and say, “No, Mama has a vagina.”  Then he would repeat the word “vagina” as ga-gina. I know some moms wouldn’t even dare tell their son that they have a vagina.  Well ma’am, I do have a vagina and I don’t think it’s anything wrong with tell my son that I have one.

Fast forward to two weeks ago, when my oldest comes into the bath he’s trying to see where my pee is coming from. He’ll say, “Mama’s peeing from her butt!”  I tell him, “No, I’m peeing from my vagina.”  Then he would repeat the word “vagina”.  I had a bright idea.  I will tell him the difference between boys and girls.  I said to him, “Boys have penises.  Girls have vaginas.”  Then my son would repeat it.  “Boys have penises. Girls have vaginas.

Then I asked him, “Mama has a…”


“Your little brother has a…


“You have a…”


“Daddy has a….” 


Then my son said the funniest thing, “Daddy took his penis to work today.”

I said to my son laughing, “I hope he took his penis with him. I hope he didn’t leave it here.”

Last night, my husband had his friend’s family over.  My husband friend has two daughters.  When they went to use the bathroom my son said, “The girls went to go potty.  They’re peeing from their vaginas.”

I told him, “Yes, they are peeing from their vaginas.” 

Although, the girls and their mother didn’t hear him say that, I wonder what they would think if they did?  I guess part of me was a little embarrassed because I was thinking of what other people might think of my son knowledge of girls anatomy.  It’s not like he seen a picture of a vagina.  I think he barely see mine vagina judging how hard he tries to find it.  On that note, why should I care about what other people think? I don’t want my son to be ashamed of his body or thinking that girls have penises too.  Not only I believe teaching the correct name builds confidence in children, it gives the opportunity to teach them about good touch and bad touch and how no one should touch their penises or vaginas. If our children aren’t embarrassed about pointing out or knowing about our private parts, then we as parents shouldn’t be embarrassed to say them.


Mama’s hair looks funny

I usually wear my hair in double strand twist or braided so it would be easier for me to get up and go about my day.  A week ago, I decided to be adventurous and take out my braids and to wear my hair out.  My hair and much African American hair in its nature state tend to have a mind of its own.  It doesn’t stay or lay down like other races. It tends to be seen and announce itself to the world saying, “Look, I am hair.  I stand up straight and tall. Now, which direction will I go today?”  Once I get my hair set I’m good to go.  My favorite all out hair style is the mini Afro.  I think it’s cute and all I have to do is brush or comb or brush and comb my hair, put a band around it and I’m done. 

One day when my hair wasn’t in the mini Afro and it was just “out” my oldest son came on the couch with me and touched my hair and said, “Mama’s hair looks funny.” and then proceed to laugh.  I thought that this was strange that he came out and said that my hair looked funny.  My oldest is use to me having my hair in braids or double strain twist so maybe having my hair out was funny to him.  So almost everyday, my son looked at my hair or touched my hair and says, “Mama hair looks funny.”  So I asked him, “Why mama’s hair looks funny?”  to see what he says.  But he couldn’t answer. 

With hair out


I’m sure he noticed the different types of hair in our family.  My husband’s hair is straight, my oldest son’s hair is a mixture between my husband’s hair and mine, and his baby brother’s hair will probably be similar to his hair.  The only person’s hair is different is mama’s.  So maybe that’s why it looks “funny” to him.  I didn’t realize that my oldest son would notice these differences so soon.

I don’t know why but it kept bothering me that my son thought my hair looked funny.  I know that this age (he will be three in June) that’s kids will say things that can be hurtful and they can be rude and insensitive about it too. I don’t want my son to be insensitive about a person’s look because they may look different than him.  So every time my son tells me that my hair looks funny, I tell him, “No son, my hair is just different.”  I won’t make a big deal out of it and just let it go.  I want him to learn to accept people for who they are and not make fun of them because they “look” different.  I guess there’s no better time than the present to teach him this value lesson and what better subject he can use to learn from than his mother. 

The Toy That Came To Life

It was one of those nights where I got my infant son down on one try.  I thought that I would have a good two hours before he wakes up because he peed or couldn’t get back to sleep on his own.  On this particular night I was writing my blog when I heard this noise coming underneath his crib.  I looked towards the crib when I seen something light up.  There was a toy under his bed that I thought was dead.  It was one of the Vtech toys that looks like the dashboard of a car with the steering wheel, the red, yellow, and green light signals, with music etc.  My oldest son had this toy when he was three months old and it wasn’t working that great for about a few months now.  I tried to see if my infant son could play with it because it would help him balance himself into a sitting position.  I added batteries to the damn toy and it didn’t work.  The toy was shot or so I thought.

I looked over and I hear the toy start up.  When it starts up it sounds like a car engine starting up, “Happily we drive to town, here and there, all around.  Happily we drive to town blah blah blah. blah” I could never make out the last few words that the woman said.  I was like ‘Shit!’ Then it said. “Round and round, dee dee dee dee dee”.  I stared at the toy like, ‘Shut the fuck up! Shut the fuck up!’ Then it stopped.  I was like, ‘whooh’ it didn’t wake the baby.  Then it started again, “One, two, three, let’s go!”  I wasn’t going to wait until the toy said, ‘Hi, my name is Chucky, want to play?’ If you grow up in the eighties, then you know what movie I’m referring to here. So I went over to the crib, pulled the curse it thing from under the crib and turned it off. I don’t know if it’s me walking towards the crib to turn this possessed toy off or the sound of the woman speaking that woke my son up but damn that toy to hell.  I learned one lesson though:  If a toy is isn’t working, take the batteries out and shut it off otherwise it can come on without warning and decides to wake the baby.

Every Day is NOT Mother’s Day!

I was having a conversation with my husband about my plans for Mother’s Day. I am planning to celebrate Mother’s Day with my mother, grandmother, and sister by going out and doing something to celebrate us. My husband said the most politically correct statement when it comes to Mother’s Day. He said, “Every day is Mother’s Day.” I concurred with him by saying, “Yes that’s true but we don’t get appreciation and treated like a queen everyday.” I hate when people downplay Mother’s Day by staying “Every day is Mother’s Day”.Yes, we are mother’s EVERYDAY but let me tell you if you didn’t realize it: Every day is NOT Mothers Day!

Mother’s Day is a day where we are put FIRST instead of last.  A day to show appreciation for what we do as mother’s to raise our children in the right path that they should go.  It’s a day to be treated like a queen and have our needs tended to; a day that we have a chance to be spoiled and pampered by our families. A day to be honored for the role that we play in the household and for once to receive the respect for the hard work and dedication day in and day out to our children and our families.  A day where we can get a break from our children’s cries, temper tantrums, and their smart mouths and bad attitudes. A day that we can feel special and important because there are many days out of the year that we can feel unappreciated for the work that we do in raising our children. A day where we’re not cooking for the family; for once we’re getting breakfast in bed or we’re going out so someone else can cook us brunch or dinner. It’s a day where we don’t have to run around with the kids or picking them up here or dropping them off there. A day we can rest. I don’t know about you, but I don’t get this special treatment every day do you?

Don’t take away our day and make us feel that Mother’s Day is the same as every other day because it’s not. To the mother’s who believe that every day is Mother’s Day too: take your day or even a few hours for you damn it!  It’s nothing wrong with celebrating you.  You deserve to be celebrated.  If your ungrateful family doesn’t want to celebrate you on your day, then you go out and celebrate you on your day. Don’t let anyone make you feel like Mother’s Day is any ordinary day.  It’s a special day to remind you that you need to put yourself first, that you are an important member of the family, you are appreciated, special, and a great mother. Take the time to celebrate you and remember you deserve it!

#mothersday #taketimeforyou