Forty & Published

Ever since my book, What It Means To Be a Mom, came out in April I’ve been feeling all the feels: excited, nervous, hopeful, proud, you know, the emotions a new mom normally experiences after welcoming her baby into the world. But I haven’t sat down to fully process those feelings until now because who has time to sit? Moms certainly don’t! (See below)

My first official book came out and a week later I turned 40!

FORTY!

What in the actual WHAT?

I must’ve pinched myself a million times between the book and my birthday. At least the excitement over the book took the sting out of turning the big 4-0.

Two momentous occasions came together to make this a truly unforgettable year for me. It’s been thrilling to share my book with my family, especially my girls, and to revel in the attention for doing something other than the dishes and the laundry. I’m proud and grateful to have had the opportunity to put my words into print and be a part of this series of adorable books, but along with that comes the pressure of hoping readers will embrace it which explains why I’ve distracted myself with momming instead of writing, blogging, and promoting my book baby.

Following the book release I was busy getting the word out on social media through the help of friends and fellow writers. I’m forever indebted to them for their support. In addition to those platforms, I hosted a virtual event through a local bookstore, something I was absolutely terrified to do, but mommed up and got it done. There was a nerve-wracking radio interview in there too but I must’ve blown it because I never heard if it aired or not. Which is probably part of the reason why I checked out after checking those things off my to-do list. I told myself I deserved a break and I took one…for six months.

I let life get busy with playdates, activities, camping trips, and now school and sports schedules and I moved the book to the back burner. I expected things to slow down enough for me to find time to devote to the book but time had other ideas and now it’s almost the holiday season. Ugh with a capital U. That makes me want to go into hibernation for another six months. But I won’t hide because that’s all part of the “chaos” of motherhood that I lovingly include in my book and will one day look back on and miss.

So, if you’re looking for a gift for a special mom you know will appreciate a dose of humor and heart at one of the most stressful times of the year then look no further and order my book here. It’s the perfect stocking stuffer size, not to mention, she’ll love reading it in her new robe while the kids litter the living room floor with wrapping paper and boxes.

Mom Tips & More

Motherhood is full of advice whether you ask for it or not.

We all know the worst kind of advice is unsolicited especially when you’re hanging on by a thread in the middle of the grocery store with a tantrum-ing child. Those are the moments that make us say, “Not today, Edna!”

Then there are the mom tips that are actually helpful and make us say, “I wish I’d known that from the beginning.” Like this one from my upcoming book, What It Means To Be a Mom.

What It Means To Be a Mom is full of funny pro tips that might actually come in handy, and if they don’t, at least they made you laugh! (Because we all need to laugh more than ever these days!)

In addition to pro tips, I’ve included some undeniable facts of #momlife and many encouraging words to support moms at every stage of motherhood. These are just a few reasons why my book is the ultimate gift for Mother’s Day, not to mention it’s adorable as all get out!

Pre-order your copies for all the moms and mom friends in your life today at Amazon or Barnes and Noble

What It Means To Be a Mom

Being a mom is a little bit of everything–all at once–every single day–on repeat–forever.

That’s what it feels like to be a mom. What it means to be a mom is a little more complicated to explain. Sure, it can be a carousel of crazy at times, but it’s also the most amazing, extraordinary, inexplicable experience to put into words. That’s where What It Means To Be a Mom comes in!

My humorous and heartwarming book of quotes will be just the laugh you need when you can’t remember the last good night’s sleep you got…

And it’ll be the encouraging voice that reminds you that you’re a momboss and you can handle anything that motherhood throws at you…

Between the “You know you’re a mom when” moments and the straight-up “Mom Facts” in this book, every mom in the world will yell, “I FEEL SEEN!” after reading them.

Writing this book during such a strange year was a great reminder that being a mom is a celebration of love, dedication, and patience. Patience with our kids, yes, but patience with ourselves more because motherhood is a long journey and from time to time we look at how far we’ve come but we also see how far we have to go. In those moments, I remember this lesson: Motherhood takes a lot of skills, bravery, unconditional love, and many leaps of faith. It’s true, we sacrifice a lot along the way, but what we get in return is worth everything we give up or put on pause. From the moment I became a mom I searched for the balance between taking it seriously and not too seriously which this book captures perfectly. What It Means To Be a Mom comes out in April 2021, but if you’re ready to preorder now, click here—>Barnes & Noble

Looking Back

The light at the end of the 2020 tunnel is in sight!

If there was any indication of what 2020 had in store for our family, the fact that my 8-year-old had chickenpox on New Year’s Eve should’ve been a warning that the upcoming year would be anything but normal.

In February, we went to Disneyland. We ate all the things and had all the fun. We didn’t understand at the time that this would be our last family trip until much later in the year and in a very different world.

In March, quarantine hit, and school shut down, so we distracted ourselves by starting a garden, hiking, baking treats, and then stress-eating said treats in between reading, writing, and some arithmetic-ing. I took my new role of teacher seriously, busting out my clipboard and threatening detention left and right. Totally kidding! I only threatened to put myself in detention when I needed a break (which was quite often). Eventually, we figured out a schedule that worked for us, but boy was I happy and counting down the days till summer break. Something I never thought I’d say in my life! The meme below perfectly sums up my homeschooling experience:

In between “teaching” my kids, disinfecting groceries, and trying not to have daily panic attacks, I wrote a book!

What It Means To Be a Mom comes out in April of 2021 (just in time for my birthday and then for Mother’s Day) and to say I’m excited would be a major understatement!

What It Means To Be a Mom is a humorous and heartfelt book of quotes to help us laugh and to keep us inspired when things don’t go as planned, which hellllooo, was all of 2020! It was so helpful for me to work on this project especially during such a trying time in my own motherhood journey of pandemic parenting. Focusing on the bond that I have with my girls and celebrating being their mom has reminded me what matters most. I can’t wait for the arrival of this book and to share it with the world!

Summer was a blur of one hot sweaty day after another but we survived with popsicles and trips to the beach. We were able to go on our annual camping trip to Big Sur which we look forward to the most of any trip. We were happy to wear our masks if it meant we could tube down the river and hike to waterfalls. School remained on zoom until November when we got approval for shortened days which made all of us ecstatic! We welcomed two kittens to the family (yet another thing I never thought I’d agree to, but this year has done crazy things to all of us!) and they’re keeping us all thoroughly entertained.

We’ve all made the most of an uncertain year. My girls have handled canceled plans, paused traditions, and missing their friends and family members with grace and understanding. We’re hanging in there, navigating this new world, and doing our part to ensure that one day we’ll be back to doing what we love and visiting all the places that make our spirits happy. While we wait, we snuggle close and learn the true meaning of gratitude and resilience. As I worry that my kids are falling behind academically, I realize that these lessons are just as important as memorizing their times tables or state capitals, and maybe even more so. That’s how I know that this isn’t a wasted year after all. It’s actually taught us more than any other, and for that, I’m truly grateful.

Here’s looking ahead to 2021!

xo

OFM

Sorry/Not Sorry

 

Imagine the 80’s.

Now imagine 80’s hair, bangs to be exact. Nope, EVEN bigger with EVEN more hairspray.

Now imagine 8-year-old me sitting on the edge of the bathtub in our powder blue bathroom as my mom brushes, fluffs, and sprays my bangs into what can only be described as The Feathered Poodle.

There was whining about how much longer I had to wait, complaining that she was hurting me, and endless fidgeting while she tried to finish up as quickly as possible. I know I wasn’t the most agreeable client, heaving exasperated sighs in my mom’s face and ignoring all of her pleas to just sit still. When she accidentally pulled my hair as a result of my inability to follow directions and remain motionless, she had to have felt some smug satisfaction. This is exactly how sorry/not sorry became a thing. Sure, she was sorry, but not as sorry as she said. She did try to warn me after all. I admit I’ve been guilty of this a time or two since having kids, so I know my mom had to feel this way also.

My mom would never have hurt me intentionally, I mean, other than making me look like a circus poodle. She was (and still is) the sweetest, most patient person I’ve ever met, but some tiny part of me knows that she couldn’t help but smirk at my momentary discomfort. I’m sure I had it coming anyway. Despite my adorable appearance (HA!) I could be quite bratty, but only to my mom. That old saying that we hurt the ones we love the most proving true.

My mom liked doing my hair, probably because she was good at it, and maybe that’s why I can’t be bothered. My hair skills are meh at best. She’d spend time separating my stick-straight hair into sections, wrapping it around spongy pink rollers that I’d sleep in, just so I could wake up and have curly hair which would then be a nightmare to brush out. Sometimes she’d braid it in one tight braid at the top of my head and I’d swing it around like a helicopter. While I loved the outcome, I didn’t love the process.

Now that I have two daughters I know what a pain doing their hair can be. Simply hearing the word, “snarls,” gives me PTSD, and must be why I keep it as simple as possible. Their options are: up in a ponytail or down. That’s it. I can’t imagine curling bangs, elaborate braids, or anything else that requires more than two minutes.

I love these moments in parenthood when we get glimpses into what it must have been like for our own parents, the realization that they were human beings, trying their best with kids who made remaining calm and patient impossible at times. Doing my girls’ hair now and having this understanding of what my mom must have felt helps me realize that one day I’ll look back and remember only the happy memories too, like feeling my little one’s silky golden strands between my fingers or her big sister’s perfect curls, pulling them down just to watch them spring back up. I won’t remember the rushed mornings of battling tangled bed-head as we run out the door, and hopefully they won’t either.

In the end, even if my mom was genuinely sorry for accidentally pulling my hair, that feathered poodle look makes me think she got away with the ultimate revenge. Well- played, mom. Well-played.

 

 

What Was I Thinking?

My 7yo daughter is at that stage where she needs to be constantly busy and entertained, surely a side effect from when she was a baby and we didn’t put her down for the first six months of her life. Hashtag first kid problems. So the weekends bring a fresh level of what-am-I-going-to-do-with-these-kids-hell. And that’s where our story begins.

We loaded up into the car to drive to the craft store so they could pick out a craft that would hopefully keep them quiet and occupied while I was free to do mom stuff. They oohed and aahed up and down every aisle. When my daughter saw the pom pom kitties, she was done. She squealed, grabbed the box, and that was that. I didn’t even look at what it was, other than it had things to glue to make a cat, or so I thought! She was ecstatic so I blindly agreed. Such a rookie mom move.

 

Make Your Own Cute Cats At Your Own Risk

 

With one child being super happy, of course the other child had to be super unhappy because that’s how kids roll. My 5yo daughter was moping because she couldn’t find the mermaid craft she had seen on a previous trip. Against my better judgment and to cheer her up, I convinced her to get a clay set to make her own charms. Something told me I was going to regret these decisions, but at the same time, they were happy so I felt like things were going to be okay.

Checking out, the cashier said there was a free slime project in the craft room if the girls wanted to participate. Of course they wanted to, so I agreed, feeling like the world’s best mom because I not only let them get a craft, but now they were allowed to make the most dreaded thing in the world: slime!

 

Slime Heaven!

 

As we drove home, they held onto their projects, anxious to get started while I happy danced on the inside like, “You’re such an awesome mom. Look at you getting crafty, being all nice and shit.” But then we got home and I opened the pom pom kitty box and it was like, “Uh oh. WTF did I get myself into?”

There were bundles of yarn with some plastic thingymajigs, pipe cleaners, plastic eyes, a comb, and a tiny bottle of glue. Where the hell were the cat heads and bodies? I have to what? Make them? Out of yarn? But first I have to do math to figure out how much yarn I need? With a child next to me whining/pleading/asking when her cat will be ready? Oh hell no!

Let’s just say my mood went from birds chirping in the sunshine to storm clouds gathering. I cursed myself over the next 2 1/2 hours. I think an hour of that was just figuring out the math. I wanted to give up, throw the yarn across the table, and stomp out of the house, but we kept going. I worked through an injury sustained while “grooming” the cat, and even paused production to watch a youtube video for additional help.

 

When you (also) realize someone is documenting your descent into madness

 

Slowly, the pom pom kitty came together, through my frustration, irritation, and grumbling. After only 2 hours and 22 minutes, we finally made it to the part where my daughter could help (8 years old and up, my ass! More like 28 years old and up!). She glued on the details, gave her cat a collar, and voila, Fluff Ball was born. The look on my daughter’s face at our creation and her newest companion was priceless.

While I felt like a failure in the process, realizing I’m no Martha Stewart, I learned that the cat didn’t have to be perfect because my daughter would love it no matter if its head was bigger than its body, or its eyes were wonky, or the feet were jacked up, but that she would love it because we made it together.

 

One Happy Customer

In conclusion, my review of the pom pom kitty project is 0 out of 5, do not recommend, at least for those who are not great at math and measuring and patience-having, but if you ask my daughter, she gives it a 5 out of 5 and wants to make 1,000 more.

 

 

 

 

My Christmas Story

 

When I was little, Christmas was marshmallowy moments of pure happiness sprinkled with glittery anticipation. It was thrilling like nothing else. I’d count down the days as soon as Thanksgiving hit, growing more and more excited with each X on the calendar. I’m sure it drove my mom crazy since now my daughters constantly ask if Christmas is here yet, thus making me totally insane.

My daughter has picked up where I left off

 

We all remember at least one Christmas that blew our minds and made us scream with pure joy. For me, it was when Santa left $3 in my stocking. I couldn’t believe how rich Santa was to leave me three. whole. dollars. Who knows what I even did with all that cash…probably blew it on candy. And to think those three dollars were probably a last minute idea on my father’s part when he felt like the piles and piles of presents he already got us weren’t enough. I totally get that now.

Then I got older, Christmas turned into something else, and the only thing that has brought back any kind of happiness to it, is my children. Now it’s simply about making Christmas as special for them as possible. I struggle with wanting to give them everything their little hearts desire, and not giving them too much, fearing it’ll make them greedy little jerks…

More than all the toys, I hope we’re giving them magic, the kind they unwrap and keep in their hearts, the kind that will always bring them happiness. I want them to feel the wonder of a holiday that’s about so much more than the things they asked Santa for. Christmas is going to change for them as the years keep coming, but I always want them to feel that certain spark of excitement because I realize we don’t get enough of those as we get older.

Unadulterated Joy

 

It’s a…Book!

I’ve given birth for the third time!

It doesn’t have ten fingers and ten toes, or a perfect button nose. It’s not a boy or a girl…it’s a BOOK! And to get it out into the world was nothing short of a miracle.

I’m thrilled to announce the birth of my first book,

One Funny Mummy Defines Parenthood (in 140 Characters or Less)

I’m not claiming to be a parenting expert, but I’m sort of an expert when it comes to delivering babies and punchlines. I much prefer to deliver the latter even though it’s not easier, and sometimes it’s just as painful, but it’s rewarding in very similar ways.

While I normally feel bad for babies born in the month of December, I’m super happy that my baby is just in time for Christmas. Just in time to be stuffed into every stocking you come across. Because who doesn’t want to wake up on Christmas morning and laugh about parenthood?

The book is a best-of collection of my funny-because-they’re-true tweets that perfectly sum up parenthood. Get yourself a giant cup of coffee, (or a giant mimosa) settle into the couch that’s covered in shredded wrapping paper and plastic packaging, and read the whole thing while the kids play with their new toys.

It’s the perfect gift for anyone who likes to laugh or needs to laugh, but doesn’t have a lot of time to read anything longer than a sentence (ahem, that’s everybody these days)! You’ll feel great knowing you did your part to spread a little holiday cheer this season, not to mention, you’ll be my favorite person ever.

Plus, if you don’t buy my book it’s like saying my baby is ugly…and you don’t want to be that person.

 

 

One or the Other

There are few things more stressful than getting kids ready for school in the morning. I’ve even compared it to diffusing a bomb because if one little thing goes wrong, it could blow up the entire day.

From the moment we wake up, the timer on the time bomb starts ticking down until the final minute when we have to be ready with lunches packed, backpacks ready, and out the door. Oh! And then there are the minor details of the kids being fully clothed, fed, and cleaned up too!

The stressful part isn’t all the simple tasks that need to be done, it’s repeating the simple tasks over and over to children who don’t listen. If my kids actually listened maybe it’d be a different story. But no, they wait until I turn from this:

pillar of patience

into this:

death monster spewing rage

You can’t have a good morning and be on time, it just doesn’t work that way. You must decide which is more important. For me, being on time is important and is the reason why I turn into a lunatic in the last couple minutes before we leave the house. I’m always hopeful that they know I don’t mean the things I say in these last two minutes. They’re not listening anyway, so I think I’m okay.

My good morning starts as soon as I drop them off at school and drive away. That’s when life gets easier for a few short hours, at least, easier in the sense that I’m not breaking up fights, serving snacks left and right, or looking for an obscure toy they haven’t played with in months.

Maybe we have a “good” morning every now and then where everything goes pretty smoothly and we still make it to school on time, but it takes a boatload of effort, not to mention a boatload of coffee. It also takes a lot of biting my tongue and grumbling my string of obscenities walking from one side of the car around to the other while the kids are inside deaf to my cursing. In other words, the stars have to be aligned, not to mention all the socks, shoes, and sweaters too, preferably right by the front door for ease of grabbing as the final countdown hits.

 

Caring is Hard

But I care. A lot.

Like most parents, I want the best for my children. But to give them the best means putting my own wants and needs on hold which can be very hard to do. It means putting my phone down, turning my distracted mind off, and interacting with them. It means reading books together when I’d rather not, going for walks when I’d rather not, playing games when I’d rather not. It’s fighting this feeling of not doing anything worthwhile. It’s reminding myself that these are the things that are actually worthwhile. These are the ways to create a fulfilled child. (You know, the whole reason we bring these little people into the world in the first place.)

Just the other day my husband and I received the highest compliment you can get as parents of young kids. A woman sitting near us in a restaurant said that we had lovely children who were so well-behaved. Granted, she might’ve had a little too much vino and we had only been there about 20 minutes before she left, so she saw them in their prime–while the crayons were still keeping them busy and the sugar from their chocolate milks hadn’t kicked in yet. Nonetheless, I stood up to accept my parent of the year award and to make a heartfelt speech about sacrifice and selflessness to our fellow diners. Kidding. We thanked her and then snickered that boy had we fooled her.

Why should I care what this complete stranger thought when I know my kids are well-behaved? I’m well aware of what it’s taken to make them this way–most of my sanity and all of my patience. At least in that moment it felt like my hard work had paid off. I guess that’s what I was thanking her for…for noticing.

I have so much I want to accomplish, yet by the time I’m done trying to mold my mini-mes into self-sufficient decent human beings who feel loved and understood, I’m just too mentally and physically exhausted to do anything but zone out to the world and keep ignoring everything I’ve put on the back burner. So I remind myself that this time in their lives where they actually want me to be a part of everything they do is short-lived and that my time is better spent sharing life with them even if it costs me my own.