Little Ears, Big Fears -- Watch Your Mouth Around My Kid, And I'm Not Talking About Swearing

I'm the least publicly opinionated person -- well about religion, politics and such -- ever. I will keep my mouth shut to avoid looking stupid about anything I don't feel fully educated on. Apparently this isn't a common trend.

I try to never judge another parent because as someone who has gone through some serious shit in my parental, personal and household life, you just never know what anyone is carrying so don't speak on it. What I do know is I have every right to not have my kid around those parents, families and children who have shown me that the way they run their household and raise they're children is so very different from my parenting goals that it may deter my child from being her awesome self.

There is one particular little girl in my daughter's aftercare and summer program that I would call an instigator, to put it kindly. To be fair, this kid has not had ideal circumstances for her life, as far as my understanding, so I take it all with patience and grace, or try. However, her mom said something so weird, and it was relayed to me by my kiddo, and although her statement technically isn't false, I just felt it should be better explained and more succinctly communicated.

My daughter said this little girl's mom said, "Sunscreen is poison for your skin." I asked my daughter to repeat and clarify. She said that the other girl's mom said the sunscreen we had was poison for your skin. Her friend corroborated. It was one of those moments where I literally hadn't the words so I said, "Well sunburn is bad for your skin too, we'll talk about this later."

Look, we live in a time where everything is bad for you, everything causes cancer and healthcare is more expensive than a mortgage payment sometimes. There is serious information overload. You WebMD and cough and wait for "cancer" to just appear and be diagnosed. This mother isn't wrong necessarily, I mean I see her point. There are some kinds of sunscreens and lotions that can have bad effects on the skin, but I'm raising an Irish redhead in Florida; she needs to have sunscreen to be allowed outside ever. I get sunburned walking from my car into the grocery store. So making this kind of statement into impressionable 6 year old ears, seems super...unthinking to me. There needs to be more tact.

In a perfect world I would have hoped this mother said, "Oh I read that that sunscreen isn't the best for your skin, you should tell your mommy to try a different brand." Or maybe even, "Sunscreen can be bad for your skin but sun burn can too so it's important to choose certain kinds and learn more." Kids over-react to EVERYTHING, so I think it needed to be more carefully explained.

It's like that scene from Little Miss Sunshine where the dad is giving his daughter the harsh truth about how ice cream has fat that can turn into fat on your body, which doesn't make beauty queens. He said it in such an asshole way, you hated him. All little kids should enjoy ice cream while they can. However, he's not wrong! There is just a better way to explain it. And that's our job as parents.

My daughter went on a 10 minute rant about Monsters being real or not last night, basically asking me if bad guys in movies and cartoons were real. She had a lot of ideas about this. I kind of leveled with her and said, most of the evil and bad stuff was pretend and didn't end up hurting anyone in the story, so she doesn't have to worry. It was funny though because she was telling me how real unicorns and My Little Pony characters are, and Disney monsters, like from Monster's Inc, those protect her, but other yucky monsters were pretend. I mean I told her that sounded okay to me. And NO ONE should correct her.

See, kids are so fantastical, that they over-dramatize everything so you have to watch those little ears and help them navigate their big fears. When she was 4 we went into the ocean on this perfect day and my daughter said, "Are there sharks in the ocean?" I said, "Yes, but not near where we are. They are way out there, not in this part of the ocean." My cousin said, "Nice lie, mom." If I told my daughter that shark attacks have happened in waist deep water in the gulf, she'd never go in. This is why my husband never tells me if he sees snakes near the house, I'd demand to move to Iceland or Hawaii.

Every parent is going to raise their children differently. Maybe some people are done with the Santa thing, but don't tell my kid Santa isn't real. Seriously I will throat punch any adult that ruins Santa for my daughter. You don't have to believe in unicorns, but we do. You can say that Disney Characters are pretend but she has pictures with most of them. And leave me in the Wizard World of Harry Potter for a day, I'll come back full wizard!

The swear words stuff doesn't bother me because she will learn to use them in her vocabulary as intended and everyone hears those words everywhere. Just a few weeks ago she said, "Mom freak is the 'F' word and we don't use it, right?" I said, "We do not use that word, no." Without a beat she said, "The other 'F' word is 'Fuck.'" My jaw dropped and I went to scold her but she calmly said, "Mom I'm not SAYING that word I'm just telling you what the other 'F' word is! I didn't actually SAY it." She had a solid point.

To me it's worse to fill my kid with info they can't quite process like the sunscreen shenanigans, than for me to accidentally swear around her. While that little girl's mom was probably crazy well-intentioned, I would just hope that other moms I know would over-explain things to get the kid to fully understand the scope, rather than just throw out commentary based on a Dateline NBC update or Today Show special. We have close friends whose children have certain gluten and lactose sensitivities. Rather than just say they are allergic to stuff, I've had many conversations with my daughter about how all little tummies process differently and while you can drink milk all day, for your friends it makes them sickie. This is so my kid can be sensitive to others, or so I hope.

If that mom doesn't like sunscreen, good for her, but I just wish people were more gentle, considerate and careful with little ears and big fears. During the election my friend's son heard about Trump's immigration stance, and he didn't understand what immigrant was fully, so he thought that just mean someone from another place or that lives in a place you weren't born. He heard his friend's parents talking about sending immigrants back where they belong, and he came home in full panic convinced his family would be separated and he would be left in Florida alone because he was the only one actually born in Florida, his parents were born in like Maryland and Ohio and his brother was born in Ohio or some such. That is what he thought it all meant! My wonderful mom friend spent the night explaining the whole thing for her 8 year old after these friend's parents had some heated political debate in front of kiddos. TACT PEOPLE! Little ears!

That's about enough for today's diatribe but it was about time, no?

The Florida Move - Who, What, When, Where...Maybe Even Why?

We're inching closer to a full decade as Floridians and my husband also has reminded me, I've officially lived in Florida longer than I did in Oregon and I'm 3 years shy of beating out my 13 years in Pennsylvania. The Florida move was a big one for my husband but less so for me, and 10 years later I figure I can better explain the move now, as opposed to before.

When I was all of 7 years old and obsessed with Father of The Bride with Steve Martin, I decided I was going to get married in my dad's church, have the reception at our house, that I loved so much, of course stay close by to family and raise my kids right there, right? Why would you ever leave "home?" That's how it worked right?

By 13 my mom was consistently out of the picture and my dad, having moved to Pennsylvania for my mom and her family more than anything else, was growing tired of being where he no longer seemingly had a reason to solidify his roots. My dad attempted to find us a secondary space in North Carolina, our version of a summer home he bought for him and my mom. When the shit hit the fan, he lost the house, and all his future plans, so he started devise a decision on what he wanted in terms of a new life alone.

He decided on Oregon. My mom ended up in Delray Beach, Florida for her first solid year of stability. I came down for summer camp and visits and much like the opposite of Frozen's Elsa, "The heat never bothered me anyway." I fell in love easily with Florida. My grandparents were just an hour north of her in Port St. Lucie too and I was just in awe of all things Florida.

I loved the palm trees, the big changing signs along I-95, the malls, and it was bright and sunny so that you could go to the beach or the pool year round. I loved the big houses almost as I loved the little key west style one-floor ranchers and loved that it was WARM!

When I was vying for having a mother figure back and my dad was itching for distance, he said he was going to go back to Oregon when I was 16 and I had zero interest in following. I wanted to live with my mom in Delray. So, I finished my sophomore year of high school living with my Aunt in Pennsylvania and then was shipped to Delray Beach.

I landed in Ft. Lauderdale, and did my junior year in Delray Beach and literally lasted a year to the day, before my dad packed up all my stuff and dragged me across the country with him to Oregon to finish high school and then go to college. My mom and I were not fit to share a roof. Unfortunately this still stands and has been recently proven. 

After moving to two high schools in 2 years, moving didn't bother me. I could be a nomad, whatever. In fact for the next 7 years, I moved once a year. My dad rented a place on Hilyard in South Eugene for High School. After that we moved to West Eugene to an apartment for my first year at community College. Then I was on 11th with my first roommate, then I lived by myself on High Street, then to Bailey Hill in a little townhouse with a roommate, moved in the same complex but a one bedroom with my then boyfriend, now husband, and then with my Aunt back in South Eugene, whilst I planned my graduation and Oregon escape.

My sights were originally set on San Francisco, or New York. I always dreamed that being poor in a big city was more romantic than being rich in the suburbs. But, after another bad situation with my mom derailed me, and I had a year of pretty intense depression and anxiety, I gave into the idea that maybe I was the type that could settle down and have a family, and my adolescent Carrie Bradshaw dreams were just the stuff of immaturity.

My husband had never really lived anywhere. Just Oregon; Medford and then Eugene. When he met me, we visited Pennsylvania often, he saw the Jersey Shore and even Delray Beach, Florida. When I mentioned possibly leaving for a new place, he was all in. But then I was like, well if we're moving 3,000 miles together, if we were to get married we'd do that before we left right? Because I'd never be that person to get married on a beach. 

So, in the midst of planning a cross country trek and new life, we snuck in a wedding that turned into an epic send off and I was ready. I had studied for about 4 months in Europe in 2007 and it was just the best time ever. I LOVED to travel. It didn't  matter if it involved road trips or flying anywhere new, I was in. My husband was just kind of starting to embrace new horizons. Moreover for me, I wanted a place that was just ours.

My mom almost successfully ruined our relocation, but I refused to let her take away one more thing from my life. Originally I wanted to go back to Delray, but my husband had an Aunt in Tampa and I had had cousins move from Pennsylvania to St. Petersburg, Florida about 2 or so years prior. We visited once and very much liked it so we just changed the location a bit.

I was so ready for a clean slate, a warm new place that didn't even know anything about us. In Oregon, everyone knew my husband and I as this entity of "us," which was great and fine, but I just wanted our own real place.  I also didn't want to get stuck doing everything that everyone around us in Oregon was doing, but rather to find my own way.

Finding my footing was tough at first, but after about 2 job changes I found a place to thrive. After I left Pennsylvania "home" became a fluid concept anyway. It wasn't a place but more, a feeling of comfort in who I was with. My husband was home. The apartment didn't matter, only that we were in it together. 

For career reasons, I knew that Oregon couldn't support what I wanted to do for writing. I was in for a rude awakening that nowhere really could, especially in my married life, and also that our lives couldn't support endless internships or relocation for such things. Therefore, I just found my way with jobs to pay the bills.

In truth, with a broken heart from family life, and a guy next to me saying he wanted to go with and love me, why stay put? I wasn't immediately ready to settle down and have a family, but I liked knowing I didn't have to be alone. I wanted to just live a bit. 

Maybe my husband's reasons are completely different and I won't speculate but for me, the "who" was my husband and I, the "what" was, "moved to Florida," or as my sister said, "You can't move any further away." The "when" ended up being June-July of 2009 because we took our time getting down here. The "where" changed from Delray to Tampa Bay and the never ending "Why," would be best answered as, because we deserved a chance to have something that was our own.

Of course a decade later with a dog and a child, and even a house purchase in, boy did nothing go as I'd imagined. Expectations have been shattered and things have been harder than I could have ever thought, but I don't regret leaving. I asked my husband the same thing last year and he agreed.

Don't get me wrong, I love Oregon. I miss it. But I cannot handle the cold. The cold makes me so very physically uncomfortable and depressive. I'm much better here in the Sunshine State.

The why is complicated, I'll admit. I also think as I get older and one can only hope, wiser, it may become more succinct but I just wanted something that was completely and utterly ours. In Oregon I would have had babies immediately with everyone else, got a job I hated for no pay and struggled through the seasons to find what I was even looking for, and I didn't feel like that was where I should be. Luckily, I had a co-pilot who wanted to come with. 

Ironically now I have zero desire to leave Safety Harbor. My daughter jokes about having a different house and I'm like, "Uh, no, this is the forever house." I've had what I've built threatened to disintegrate often, and this is the first time I'm not like, "Sure we'll just move along elsewhere," but rather I'm like, "I refuse to give up what I've worked hard for."

It took me 8 years to land a job that even kind of used my degree, not to mention a job that actually was friendly to my anxiety and personal struggles. It took me 8 years to find a place I would want to stay and right now I'm having to rebuild some massive personal destruction and I won't let anyone tell me I shouldn't be spending my time to be a better mom and human. When I had my daughter there were a few times when I wished family was closer, but even when we go visit, I'm constantly reminded at how hard it is there for us, or at least for me.

Florida may not be forever but at least I can see the first hints of calm. I love this "colorful, lawless swamp" that I call home and why even? Because it is my home. And home is where the heart is right? I think we can end on that cliche for a Monday!

Take It Down A Notch

I'm unsure as if it has to do with my being short and sassy, but I'm also naturally loud. It has gotten me in trouble on more than one occasion, especially in earlier years of cell phone usage. Sometimes I feel like my inner anxiety is even loud, like SHOUTING, and I just have to breathe and take it down a notch. At 34 I'm still "using my inside voice" in more ways than one!

Above is Ross doing his "quiet down thing," and I feel like I bring this out this reaction in most people. Learning to reign it in mentally, has been a battle all on it's own. I now understand that those moments where my anxiety spins me out of control are kind of like relapses, but as I get better with maintenance, the relapses get less bad in change.

What's weird for me is that I feel like in the midst of the chaos I can handle myself relatively well, but when things get calm and then I hit a speed bump, it's like a red alert. See Michael Scott:

I organize to the point of compulsiveness often, when it comes to budget, bills, scheduling, reservations for things, planning for life, play dates, routines, chores, and everything else in between. Sometimes when bigger things tend to surprise me, it is then I become unhinged. In another aspect, if I'm already struggling with one thing that I'm maintaining my energy with and you throw me another curve ball, you're likely to find me with a black eye. I'm anything but prepared.

In the wake of turning 34 and saying goodbye to my beloved boot camp I felt down a peg or two. I was personally taken down a notch. My birthday was fine, but I was stressed in general, I can't lie. We have tax stuff coming up, bills, car maintenance, and a lot going on for me personally so I was trying so hard to just push through. Yesterday was the beginning of some deep conversational type stuff for life plans and it all just really hit me.

I went from 0 to 60 in nothing flat and was over-dramatizing and just super upset. Goals and plans are important to me. What can I say? I'm extremely Monica:

  

I reached out to my tribe to get all the different sides of the main question I always ask, "Am I allowed to be upset about this?" After careful consideration and reflection, and important opinions, I had to really take it down a notch. My first instinct is always the worst, that's why I never send my first typed response for a heated question via text. My first answer is always, sassy, snarky, and rude. When I put the phone down and take a step back I can answer...the less Anxious Alison way, which is usually nicer.

Later I further investigated the scope of my anxieties and then asked the questions out loud that I needed answered and listened to each response. Active listening is no joke. It is hard! I didn't yell in response, I didn't "freak out," I didn't lose my temper, I just took it all in.

Can we call this all growth? Sometimes handling all of this makes me want to hide and color in my pillow fort. Sometimes I feel like a bad ass full time working mom ready to take on the world! Most of the time it just makes me tired.

Last night after all of this self-inflicted emotional turmoil, and knowing I had a really good weekend ahead of me, I just read Fancy Nancy with my daughter and hugged and kissed her a lot. I breathed a breath of grateful and went to bed. How's that for taking it down a notch?

Much like age has taught me to quiet my voice in every circumstance necessary, age has taught me to handle my anxiety appropriately. Well, age and therapy. I can organize and plan and over-plan or over-book but nothing really prepares you for life's crazy changes, especially when you're already overwhelmed. 

My best tool is taking it down a notch...all of it, all the time, in every avenue. Whether it's my anxiety, my anger, my attitude, my stress, if you can just take a step back, it makes all the difference. I'm seriously starting to relate to the Adam Sandler and Jack Nicholson classic, Anger Management now:

It's something that requires attention, mindfulness and it takes a lot of practice. Say Goosfraba if you must! But in all the mania of the past couple weeks, it hasn't hurt to take it down a notch! So down a notch, here I come to embrace the weekend! You all should too!

Life In Proximity To The Hospitality Industry

About a decade ago, I left my life of being a nanny and a full time student in Eugene, Oregon to come to the "beautiful, lawless swamp" that is Florida. My first job was a cashier in a medical apparel store or "Scrub Store" as we called it in the University Community Hospital right by USF main campus.

My husband, however, has always been a restaurant man and a self-taught cook, which is one of the reasons I married him, because I cannot cook, like at all. I can bake a few things but outside of Mac and Cheese, sandwiches and salads, nope.

The hubby got a job at like 19 or 20 maybe at "Pizza Pete's" Italian Kitchen in Eugene and worked his way up from the dish pit and delivery to learning the ropes in the kitchen. From there it was to the new, soon to be hot spot, "El Vaquero," which was Eugene's premier Tapas Bar, and also had one of America's top 5 bartenders, Jeffrey Morgenthaler, as the man behind the cocktails. Morgenthaler and his second in command, Scott Butler, took my hubby under their wing from time to time to show him all about craft cocktails and what real bartenders looked like.

At El Vaquero my husband went from prep to pastry chef and a little bit in between. When the owners saw that he could actually thrive in the kitchen, the sent him across town to his pride and joy, Asado. Asado was a smaller, but also intimate Mexican-type kitchen with tapas and cocktails, and it was there he found his long time friend, Jarred, who was a groomsman at our wedding. He learned how to run a kitchen and even a restaurant during his time there.

When Asado was sold, he moved onto The Old Pad, which was strictly "bar food" and then lastly to the Villard Street Pub near campus. He has learned every single cuisine from scratch, from Italian to Mexican, to Sushi to Coastal Cuisine and lastly, French food. In Florida he got a job at a Sushi place, a Mexican Grille, then a local bar, he helped open a new Coastal Kitchen in Westchase and designed the menu, then for the same company put together craft cocktails and American gastro-pub fare at another new restaurant that holds two locations to this day and will remain nameless. From there he did some time at a local artisan sandwich place, finally landing a high-end French fine dining establishment close to home. He's never gone to culinary school and is extremely talented in my humble opinion.

However, living the life of the wife of a chef, is anything but easy. I had my foray in the food biz about 9 and a half years ago too. We once worked at the same restaurant together, he was in the kitchen and I was front of the house. I had the personality and the energy for it, but I got burned and burned out quickly in every sense of the words. The picture above is from my favorite restaurant life movie "Waiting," which I used to watch weekly to handle the stress of that whole atmosphere.

I was good at my job too, but I had no desire to be a manager and the tipping system where I was, left a lot to be desired. I met some amazing people though, and learned a lot. My biggest takeaway is pictured below, please excuse the swear but unfortunately it is completely true:

While I am incredibly proud of my husband and ever-impressed by his culinary evolution, no one tells you that life in restaurant industry is rough as you enter the family phases. And I say this for me personally, not even just for the man working the stove! We had once talked about running a restaurant together someday, and even once had the opportunity to do so outside of Florida, but as my husband simply said, "Then you would really never see me."

When I say I never see my husband let's break it down for all you non-believers. After half a decade of struggling as parents and job-jumping and life hurdles, I have found my "forever job," that is unless they fire me. It is an 8-5, lunch at noon office type thing. It is reliable with all the benefits that work best for family life. The kid is in school and after care full tilt. My daughter and I are off full weekends and I'm home every single evening.

Hubby is not quite on the same schedule although he did score Saturdays as a routine day off, which is a restaurant life miracle, but regardless, we don't have much time together. In a realistic scope, we have Saturday from about 8:30am to 10pm at night, give or take bed times, so what is that 13ish hours? And we have Sunday mornings from say 7:30am to 1:30pm, but throw in church drumming, commuting and errands, maybe separate cars, we can call that a good 4 hours of seeing each other? And he is off all day Monday and I get home at 6pm and am always in bed by 9pm weekdays so, let's call that 3 hours? So doing the math; 13 + 4 + 3 is...20 hours a week.

I have the opportunity to see my husband for a total of 20 hours a week, at best. That is less than a full day out of 7 days each week. You may think I'm exaggerating or being dramatic, and I'd like to say I am but add in errands, or plans with other people on the nights I have back up and it's easily less than 20 hours a week. It's not an simple thing.

For the longest time, this born of was necessity. When you literally cannot afford childcare or daycare or anything like that but still can't just stay home full time, you work opposite shifts, not matter how crappy and painful. You promise yourself it will get easier as the kiddo gets older and it does in SOME ways, but the more things change, the more things stay the same.

My husband's talents are completely underrated by many; I think my dad and sisters may be his biggest fans. He usually gets irritated because of all the favorite things of his I love for him to make, all I ever want is Tacos and Pizza, which he finds unimpressive. They are so damn good though!

He's always made me insanely proud because he has brought himself up from the dish pit to a sous chef, but that's not to say the life in proximity to the hospitality industry doesn't have its sacrifices and challenges, because it very much does.

The wives that send their men to the army, or that have husbands that constantly travel for business, or their hubby runs a hotel or bar? Those are the women in my tribe who can commiserate, if not trump my whining over wine-ing. It sucks sometimes, but unfortunately I've gotten used to it.

In a perfect world we'd have family meals every evening, we'd have routine nights out and all the sporting events and extra curricular activities would rule our nights and weekends, but we are far from being able to do that. We cram a lot into Saturdays. We juggle a lot on Sunday mornings more often than not, and we just keep on keeping on.

It's hard for a lot of people to understand and sometimes I wonder if we would even know how to be around each other more, if it ever happened. Even on vacations it's like divide and conquer and we have to re-learn how to be around each other for that many hours in row. 

I'm extremely grateful to have a man who works insanely long, 12-14 hour shifts on his feet creating delicious food and still manages to cook for me, while providing for the family. Although, I will say,  life in the hospitality business is not for the faint of heart. There are a million times I wish he could have come home early from a shift to help with the sick kid, the sick dog or a sick me, but alas we continued.

I think life is hard enough as it is, and as we grow older we just look for ways to shape things to ease the rough exteriors and make everything more palatable. I very much have to take one day at a time. I've learned that planning in advance with his career is super difficult. I've learned how to operate around the Kitchen chaos. I've learned that most of kitchen life is fluid and if you can't stand the heat, you gotta get out of the kitchen, all puns intended. 

Maybe some day schedules will align and be different but for now, we stay grateful for the food on the table, the roof over our heads and health we have to work the hours we do, especially for him. As I live this life in proximity to the Hospitality Industry I can say I've learned so much and appreciate all the lessons...and the food, but certainly wouldn't mind seeing the man behind the food more often. A girl can dream! Cheers!

If I'm Never Asked When I'm Having Another Baby, It Won't Be Soon Enough

I may have referenced this subject in ancient posts, but definitely not recently. And I think it bears repeating. I find it completely crappy and inappropriate when people ask women when they are going to have "another baby," or even "a baby," at all. And here is why:

Much like randomly touching a pregnant woman's belly or telling someone how to birth or raise their child, it's super not okay to put these weird expectations on women. Some women have no desire to have babies, some women cannot have children for various reasons, and some of us just want to live our lives as we have designed them.

"Oh, just the one?" "Really, just one?" "You don't want any more?" When I get these questions my heart begins to cry in my chest, why? You all just have no idea what being a a parent is like...FOR ME. And I stress FOR ME, because everyone has a different experience.

I've come to this place again because recently I found out that two women in my life are having babies, and both of them I thought, had no interest in having babies. And when I found out the blessed news, I felt really badly that I hadn't had a real conversation with them about motherhood and just made my own assumptions. I felt badly that I made assumptions, because similar assumptions have been made about parenthood for me.

This isn't a blog entry to "set the record straight." This is just saying we need to be more compassionate IN GENERAL, but especially in regards to parenting, parenthood, and making babies. Upon further discussion with one of these gorgeous, child-bearing women it became clear that she had kept her journey extremely private, and had an extremely difficult time becoming pregnant. This is not uncommon; I've known many women who have shared this with me, but, it's also very, very delicate.

For me, motherhood has been super tough. A lot of it had to do with working and doing the mothering thing, and a lot had to do with how we've had to arrange schedules and sacrifice to make everything work for our awesome daughter. So when you approach me about when baby number two is coming? Guess what, it's not that simple, and it's not a fair question.

I have two half sisters from my dad's first marriage but was raised in every way, as an only child. It never occurred to me in my youth to ask for a sibling, or that I would ever have one. I just lived my little life.

My daughter has started asking about a brother or sister. I always opt to buy her another dog. We treat the dog as her brother anyway. What's funny is the second child discussion isn't even a closed subject. I mean, anything COULD happen. But again, not an easy question or answer, nor a fair one.

Every single woman, family, and child is completely different and I really wish we could just quit the judgmental assumptions, and this goes for me too. Even small ones are just ridiculous. I remember a close family friend becoming pregnant with her fourth and idolizing her as this super mom that just "must love kids." She then revealed to me she really disliked infancy and infants in general, but loved having kids as a whole. It was sobering to me because I think we are often led to believe that we fall in love with these burping, pooping, milk-draining babies, and just become Martha Stewart in home life, but instead we are mombies, accepting each stage and falling in and out of love with certain aspects of mom life daily. 

The snarky, cynical and mean side of me has not-so-nice responses to that ugly question of "when is the next one," from time to time. But it wasn't until recently that I discovered how much that question negatively affects me. And mostly, my answer just all goes back to that Taylor Swift chorus in her infinite wisdom of, "You don't know, what you don't know."

I feel like in the continuous trend of empowering women, and as I'm raising a fierce little woman, we really need to change our attitude and view of what "should be" part of life in general, and what women "should do." Excuse me but we are laboring under some bullshit expectations, pun intended. 

There was an old episode of Sex and The City that suggested we need to stop "should-ing" all over ourselves. This is still relevant. Sex and The City was actually a series that also handled some of the facets of women and their drive to have kids, or lack there-of, and the complications of all aspects of child-bearing. We need to support each other as people, but especially as women to just do what is right for YOU. 

As Amy Poehler said, "Good for them, but not for me." Make it your mantra! And I think it is every woman's right to design her life as shes fit, share what she wants to, and to not have to answer insensitive questions like, "When are you having a baby, your second baby or your 15th?" Let's take it easy on each other, starting now! On your mark, get set, go!