World’s Okayest Mom

If someone asked me if I thought I was a good mom, I would answer “eh,  I’m alright I guess”.   I mean, my kids seems to be into me but they’re only one and four, so what do they know?   I was never one of those girls who grew up dreaming of a family and just wanting so badly to be a mother, but I always knew I would have kids at some point.  My husband is hot so I may as well procreate with him, right?  

When I had Olivia, I really cared about being the World’s Most Amazing Mother!  Buuuttt that lasted until about five minutes after we got home from the hospital and our new baby just stared at us for what felt like hours. She was fed, she was burped, she was changed, and now she should have been going to sleep.  She did not.  That little nugget just laid there in her Boppy, waiting for one of us to make a move

“Do we pick her up”

“How should I know?  She’s not crying!

That’s how parenting went for us, and we still don’t know what we’re doing.  And just in case you were wondering, Olivia stayed in her Boppy all night just staring, waiting for us to feed her, change her, etc.  That little bitch (sorry mom!) was needy and refused to let us get a good nights sleep.

When we had the energy, Rich and I would take Olivia out to places, like Target or a restaurant.  She was maybe a few days old, it was freezing cold in January (that’s like 50 degrees in Florida weather), and we took her out to dinner with friends for my birthday.  The looks we got for allowing a newborn out of the house were like daggers.  Apparently that’s frowned upon, but luckily the couple next to us who were horrified left before our waiter dropped a plate with a knife on it on Olivia.  She was so bundled up that she didn’t even feel it.  And it was just a butter knife.

Brooke was so much easier.  Neither Rich nor I gave a shit about being the best parents ever and decided that keeping them breathing and fed was the best they were gonna get.  How liberating not to care about being perfect!  It’s ok to sometimes just be ok and as everywhere we moms turn, we are being mommy-shamed about every little thing.  You didn’t breastfeed long enough, you’re breastfeeding too long, you had C-sections, you let your three year old babysit your three week old, etc.  We all judge, but we are all great at something, and motherhood is not my God-given talent.  In fact, I’m not even sure I have a God-given talent and that’s totally ok too.  My kids think I’m awesome and that’s all that matters (maybe because I give them fruit snacks for breakfast and get Olivia a toy every time we go to Target.  When you’re just an ok mom you have to make it up in other ways).

Every once in a while (often) I post questionable pictures of my kids on social media. “Greatparents probably wouldn’t do this, but this is the best part of being an “ok” mom.  This week I was mommy-shamed on Instagram over one of these “questionable” pics.  I’ve been mommy-shamed before, but that’s usually just my mom yelling at me about my Facebook posts.  My mother has every right to call me out for my sometimes questionable judgment, and in most cases, she has a point, but being mommy-shamed by a stranger on social media kinda pisses me off.  Now, I make fun of my kids publically.  I post embarrassing pictures of them.  I also make fun of myself and post my own embarrassing pictures (as long as the picture shows off my good side).  I am very open about my life and the fun, sweet, disturbing, challenging, and cringe-worthy parts about being a mother.  One of the hardest times I had was potty training Olivia.  It was about two years of suck and I am heading towards this challenge again with Brooke.  I decided to get her a new training potty the other day so she could at least start getting used it.  It’s the Minnie Mouse one with the handle that goes “yay” when you flush, just like we had for Olivia, and that led me to think that I would like a round of applause when I flush my own toilet.  Anyway,  I took her into the bathroom, pulled down her pants, and sat her down on it, fully diapered.  She was so cute and made some silly faces, so I took some pictures, of course.  Then we flushed the handle and clapped, and I really have no idea if Brooke even knew what was going on

I then posted this picture to Instagram on my @thegirlmommy account (follow me!):


I’m sorry, but that face is priceless.  However, not everyone thought so.  Here is the mommy-shaming comment and my reply:


Let’s go through this step by step, shall we?  First, don’t say that you “hate to be this person”.  Clearly you don’t or you wouldn’t be posting this comment.  If you truly hated to be this person, you could have private messaged me.  Second, any photo we post of our children violates their privacy. If you are offended by a picture of my fully clothed child making a cute face who just so happens to be sitting on the shitter, please, report me. I will then look at your profile, find a picture of one of your kids making a funny face, comment that your kid will hate you in 15 years, then unfollow back. Because I am that petty.  We as parents have to use our judgement when it comes to social media, and although my judgement is shoddy at best because I’m really just an ok mom, Bubba was fully clothed and could have been sitting on anything.  Also, I plan to instill a sense of humor in my children.  Like I replied back to her, if my mom had a picture of me like that, I would totally embrace it.  Lastly, don’t tell me you are unfollowing me.  I know people say that as a dig and that it should hurt my feelings, but it doesn’t.  I am not everyone’s cup of tea, and you don’t have to like me.  In fact, there a probably going to be a lot of people who have a problem with me after this post (or any other post), and that’s ok too

Speaking of mommy-shaming, I really have had my fair share.  I was booted out of a very popular Facebook breastfeeding group because I gave Olivia both breastmilk and formula.  Man, some of those die-hard breastfeeding women can be bitches!  I had many issues that contributed to my decision to stop breastfeeding both my children before the one month mark and some women made me feel like a pariah. And in truth, my reasons why I stopped breastfeeding are no one’s business (50% medical, 50% sleep – judge away breastfeeding truthers!).  Just look at my kids.  Both are off the charts in growth and Brooke is super fat.  Them kids are getting fed.

However long a mother decides to breastfeed is a deeply personal decision in which many factors come into play, but since we’re on the topic, breastfeeding a first grader is fucking weird. The argument that mothers in other countries breastfeed their 6 year olds is just not valid. Sure there are some, like maybe 1% in Namibia, but they are the anomaly. Will I judge you?  Yes. Do I think it’s wrong?  That’s not for me to decide. Would I be friends with someone who breastfed their 8 year old?  No, but just because we probably wouldn’t have much to talk about.

My husband was in Spain when I gave birth to number two.  He came home a week later then left again for five weeks about two weeks later (does that make sense?  Basically he was gone the whole time).  Although I had a lot of help due to amazing family and friends, it was hard as hell taking care of a newborn and an almost three year old all on my own, especially when said almost three year old was very pissed off that I destroyed her world by bringing home a baby who would try to take all of my time away from her.  I had to remind Olivia that we did this for her, that we wanted her to have a playmate, and that having a second child would make our lives so much easier when Brooke was old enough to play with Olivia and Rich and I could just lay on the couch and binge-watch Vanderpump Rules.  Anyway,  I am often on my own with the girls for weeks at a time, and I know many mothers have to do this as well, and no matter what kind of mom they are, we have one thing in common and that is we are badass moms.  All moms who love and care for their children are badass moms.  Sometimes I might swear when I yell at my kids, I feed them ice cream for dinner every once in a while, I let them watch Game of Thrones, and Brooke’s lullabye is “Low” by Flo Rida.  This is probably what makes me the World’s Okayest Mom, but more than anything, I know that I’m a totally badass mom, and I would rather be that then be Mother of the Year any day.




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