Monday, April 25, 2011

Boys, Socks, and Why I Need a Baby Girl

So I just discovered I gave birth to a boy.

I realize that just now discovering the baby I had roughly a year and a week ago, is a boy is a bit inconvenient, but I have my reasons.

When you have your first baby you are just excited to finally hold your child.  Yes, you make the distinction of if the little one is a boy or a girl by the choice of his or her name.

But honestly, it’s a baby.

Point in case; think back to when you talked about your baby after he or she was first born. I am pretty sure it went kind of like this.

“You won’t believe what my baby did today!”

“My baby is cutting teeth!”

“The little one kept me up all night.”

I could go on forever. But you get the gist. Your baby is just that “a baby.” You never consider significance of your child being a boy or a girl…

Until their personalities start peaking through their all their pudgy babiness. 

And you discover that not only are you living with two males, but two that have the same sense of humor despite the twenty-four year age gap.

Point in case. 

Two weeks ago, we were packing for a trip to Milwaukee. The hubby was folding socks (something that never happens often in our house) and Darren is in his playpen to keep him from getting into everything. I am in standard packing panic mode, speed-racing around the house trying to fill two suitcases with more stuff that we need for a four day-trip.

Peals of baby laughter and man giggles are coming from the living room.

“Baby! Baby! Come here,” hubby gasps between giggles. “Watch!”

I walk into the room as he launches a pair of rolled socks in his son’s direction. Darren is sitting in the furthest corner of the playpen gurgling with laughter.

Cute, it does make me smile; but why they find is so hilarious is really beyond me.

This is when if felt the first inkling of being out numbered.

Then this past Saturday rolled around. I had a pretty relaxing morning with Darren. He was well behaved and cheerful.

Then daddy came home. 

And my cheerful well-behaved boy woke up from his nap and realized that his partner in crime had magically appeared while he was asleep.

By supper time I was ready to pull my hair out. Two and a half hours of constant yelling, grunting, protesting being told no, and etc.

And the little man wasn’t done. He was loudly stating his disgruntlement at how long his mama was taking to fix his plate. 

The hubby finally noticing my frayed ends and gives me a hug, while still hugging me he’s creates an impromptu game of peek-a-boo with Darren, swinging our bodies back and forth so that only one of us can look at Darren at a time.

Darren finds this terribly amusing.

I find in it extremely dizzying.

My frustration is about to boil over.

“Baby, just chill out,” the hubby says to try to get me to relax.

“But you two are such…….BOYS!” I sputter indignantly.

Man giggles is all I get in response. 

Boys, I can’t live with them, so I think it’s time we try to have a baby.

Hopefully it will be a girl or I am in a world of trouble.

Sunday, April 24, 2011

My Baby's 1st Birthday

 I could write an epic story on how Darren's 1st Birthday went...

But the pictures make the experience priceless.

(Yes, he took the cake in the face like a champ. Though he looks surprised he still wanted more frosting. What a boy!)

Friday, April 22, 2011

Sick is not Sexy

Hey everyone. 

I am finally back from the land of sick and contagious. And while the only linger affects I have from my harrowing bout of chills, double ear infections and a sinus infection, are a scratchy throat and a semi runny nose, let me tell you.

Sick is not sexy.

I know you’re thinking to yourself ‘Yeah duh, what’s sexy about puffy watery eyes, a hackers cough, unlimited amounts of mucus, no make-up and feeling like your head is so full of cotton that is gives a whole new meaning to cotton mouth.’

Let me tell you.

When your hubby promised to love you through thick and thin, sickness and through health…
He wasn’t kiddin’ darlin’.

Perfect example is my hubby dearest when I was sick. His trophy line was:

“Babe, I know I won’t get none when you’re sick.”


I love my hubby. He’s amazing. While I was fighting my way back to health he did the unthinkable.
He washed eighty-five percent of the dirty clothes in our house.


But that’s not all.

He kept the whole kitchen/dining rooms spotless for days at a time. That means cleaning dishes putting up food, etc.

All while accepting there would be no booty calls until I was feeling up to the task.

Did I mention I was sick for two weeks?

Now, you’re thinking: ‘Ok, miss-story-teller-thang. You just want to throw it in our faces that your man perfect. That he can go without and do household chores at the same time.’

Well ladies, that didn’t me he wasn’t adverse to making out with me.

Yeah. I protested. I pointed out that at any moment green mucus could come rocketing out of my nose, or that I my lips were all dry and crusty from having to breathe through my mouth 24/7.


Didn’t phase him.

His second trophy line was: “Babe I love you any way you are.  I just miss my baby.” (If you want to include soulful pleading eyes to add dramatic effect, feel free to do so.)

Now ladies, sick is not sexy. 


But how can you argue or have any woman logic when he says something like that? Even when you’re sick.
So I will admit; I was charmed into giving him a few contaminated smooches for being such a good sport. I mean the man was convincing.

Please don’t hold it against me.

Wednesday, April 6, 2011

Reconstructing the Truth

Lately I have been missing in action in the world bloggerdom. For good reason though; after three months of typing under the blogger name of HipHop Mommy and three additional months of living this thing we call life, I have to make a confession.

I am not as hip hop as I thought was.

For this I am truly sorry. 

No I am not. I just realized that my former title really didn’t fit in line with what I was writing about. Dirty Laundry Diving, Working Mommy Woes, She Beats Me, Mischievous Crawler, Mommy Half Days…
None of which particularly sound culture forward or hiphopish for that matter, so I have changed the name of my blog and my persona. 

I am Super Mom!

Ok, that is a bit extreme. 

I am not even close to super mom. Actually, I am trying to get a degree in that major and with the one year anniversary of me starting classes looming on the horizon, all I have to show for it is a loving husband (a bit messy though) and a adorable little boy (a screaming beast at times) who I have recently nicknamed Bubba and a whole lotta drama that comes from being a married baby momma.

I love it though.

I really do.

If I didn’t I would be here the regal you all with the hilarious and truthful moments of being a full time mother, wife, and worker. 

Yep, I am pretty crazy. 

But then I do love being crazy.

But sometimes I love being sane for more than an hour.

Or so I told myself. 

Then I went and started my own business.


The True Stories of Motherhood and Wifedom.
I swear to tell the truth and nothing but the truth.