Mommy Needs a Martini

Broken Heart and Empty Arms: An Adoption Story

noreply@blogger.com (Mommy Needs A Martini) — Fri, 07 Nov 2014 12:00:00 +0000

I moved to Georgia from Indiana by myself in December 2001. By February 2002, I started dating Peter. I felt so alone in a new place and Peter gave me all the attention in the world. It felt like a wonderful adventure in a new phase of my life. I felt free.

In week three of our relationship, he moved into my one bedroom apartment, he begged me to quit my job and he wouldn't allow me to call my friends or family. But Peter continued to show me the attention that no one else was showing me, so I obliged. At least I wasn't alone, I convinced myself.

By the end of the month, my bank account was empty because Peter always knew which horse to pick at the track and God forbid he used his own money. My rent was late, neither of us had a job, and I was getting yelled at, at minimum, twice a day. I felt so trapped, like I had nowhere to run. But I wasn’t alone. So I stayed.

On my 21st birthday, 5 weeks into our relationship, Peter barely acknowledged that I was alive. I had to do his laundry in the sink because I wasn’t allowed to leave the house. When I cried, no matter how silently, he threw something at me so I would stop. For dinner, we went to the track where he spent all of my birthday and rent money on bets. I wasn’t allowed to eat in public but was made to watch him sloppily devour his salmon and wild rice.

Three days later, after losing more of my money at the track and just before finishing a bottle of whiskey, Peter, unprovoked, put a gun to my head and said words that, to this day, I still have nightmares about: “If I ever find out you’re pregnant with my child, I will kill you dead right after I kill the bastard child inside you.” Then he swiftly backhanded me.

It was then that the grave reality of my situation finally hit me. Quite literally.

I threw whatever I could reach in Peter’s direction. I grabbed his keys to take back my house and car keys. I took his wallet to take back my ATM card and the little money he had left. Then I told him to get out of my house and never come back. He was so startled that I stood up to him that he just left; no questions asked. But I knew I wouldn't be safe for long.

I packed up my apartment in less than two hours. I gave my landlord all the money I could spare and promised him that more would be sent in a few days (and it was). Without looking back, I got in my car and drove from Georgia to Indiana in less than two days. I was so afraid I was being followed that I only stopped to use the restroom and get gas.

I moved home in late March 2002. I tried to get back in the swing of things but it was close to impossible. Peter found me and he called all the time but would only breathe on the other end. He never said a word. I didn’t feel safe in my own house and it wasn’t fair to involve my Dad in a mess I allowed to happen. I had to leave.

In June 2002, I moved to the East Coast to live with my grandmother, I changed my phone number, closed my bank account, cancelled my credit cards and started over. I got a job, registered for school and eventually made some friends. Everything was fine. I was healthy and I was starting to feel human again. Peter had no idea where I was now. I was safe. Or so I thought.

In July 2002, I woke up doubled over in pain. I couldn’t eat, I couldn’t drink, and I could barely breathe. I went to my doctor and she immediately did an ultrasound on my kidneys and liver. She was certain I had a kidney infection. Four days later, the doctor called and said, “Congratulations! You’re twenty-two weeks pregnant. Please come in for a consult as soon as possible. Goodbye.”

Pregnant. With Peter's child. The one he threatened to kill before I ran away.

I have never been more terrified. I didn’t know who to call, what to say when I did call someone, or how to feel. My thoughts were racing at unimaginable speeds:

I'll have to run again because, surely, Peter will find out.

No, I can't run. I have nowhere to run TO.

I need to tell someone.

No, I can't tell anyone. What if they tell someone?

Abortion. That's it. I'll go immediately.

No, I can't do that. I could never live with myself.

Dad. I need to call my Dad.

No, I can't call him. He'll be so disappointed.

Benny! My good friend, Benny. That's it. I'll call him.

So I did.

I used to babysit for Benny's children before I moved to Georgia. He was also a close friend of my Dad after working together for years. I knew I could trust him. He let me cry, even when he couldn't understand me, and he listened to me for what felt like hours. He convinced me to sit tight, take a deep breath and call my Dad.

My Dad has always been my biggest supporter in everything I have ever done. I have never disappointed him. Until the day I told him I was pregnant. Albeit disappointed, he promised to support me however he could.

I found a doctor who was able to see me right away. We learned that although I had been unaware of the pregnancy for the first five months, the little person growing inside of me was healthy. As I watched the heartbeat flutter on the screen next to my head, the vicious and cold-hearted threat from Peter rang in my ear. I knew I had to find a way to hide this baby, to protect it, in any way possible.

After considering moving away to hide, I ultimately decided to pursue adoption. Benny, and his wife Katie, called to check on me a week after my desperate cry for help. When I told them I was going to check into adoption agencies, I could almost see their eyes light up through the phone. They explained that they were considering adoption for some time and would love to talk more about it with me. In an instant, with one sentence, I could feel the weight of the world lifted right off my shoulders. It was almost as if adoption was choosing me; not the other way around.

Over the next few months, we found out the baby was a boy. Katie and I talked a couple times a week. Benny would check in now and then. My Dad and Grandmother helped take care of me. Lawyers were talked to. Plans were made. It was all happening around me and I never shed a tear. Nothing was sinking in. All I knew was that I agreed to give away my first born because of an evil man that scared me.

For the last few weeks of the pregnancy, I moved back to Indiana where Benny and Katie lived. I went to meetings with lawyers, I saw a new doctor, and I got to know Katie much better. We went to lunch, we went shopping, we talked and, ultimately, we became friends.

On November 5, 2002, with Katie by my side, the doctor decided it would be best to schedule an induction. We chose November 7th and then it happened: Reality. Two days. I had two days to prepare to make the biggest and most final decision of my life. Of his life. Of their lives. It was all on me. Granted, I was confident in my decision and I knew it was the best choice; not for me, necessarily, but for my son. Yet, I was still very unsure. What if I could do this? He hasn't contacted me in months!

The morning of November 7th, Katie drove me to the hospital. After twelve hours of very comfortable labor, the doctor told me I wasn’t progressing as fast as he would like and we should consider a cesarean section. We were sure everything would turn out as planned so we decided to wait. I should have known that nothing happens as it’s planned.

Around 11:00pm on the evening of November 7th, the doctor came in to see how I was. Within two minutes of his exam, I was prepped for a C-section. The baby’s heart beat was irregular because his head was stuck on top of my pelvic bone. I was given enough time to say goodbye to my Dad and Benny before Katie and I were off to the operating room. By 11:55pm, my beautiful baby boy was born. My perfect, healthy, blue-eyed baby boy was here. They swept him away to clean him up and check his vitals and at 12:15am, I held him for the very first time. What an indescribable feeling that moment was.

The next four days in the hospital were a blur. I was so heavily medicated that I can barely remember leaving the operating room. All I remember is holding my baby as much as I possibly could. MY baby. He was still mine.

Katie stayed with us and bonded with him in the most perfect and instantaneous way. That’s when I saw it. That’s when I knew. He wasn’t mine anymore. He was ours. We discussed names for our boy but I loved the name she chose the second I heard it: Jared Scott.

On November 11, Jared and I were discharged from the hospital together. It wasn’t until that evening, when I said goodbye to him, that the reality and weight of the situation became apparent to me. He wasn't mine anymore. He wasn’t ours anymore. He was their baby. My boy was her boy.

The next morning, Katie and Benny picked me up for our appointment at the courthouse. The more I tried to prepare myself, the harder it became. So I decided to shut everything off and speak when spoken to and sign where I was told to sign. And that's just what I did. For nine days, I tuned out the world around me. The sweet boy that was going home with his new family every night never took my last name and he could never be traced back to me. Eventually the birth certificate with me on it would be replaced. It was as though it never even happened.

He was free.

Today, that sweet baby boy is a handsome young man. He’s athletic and smart. He’s friendly and caring. He’s funny and charming. Above all else, he’s safe, happy and loved so deeply by his family. I have never once, nor will I ever, regret the decision I made to protect my son; even now, as I raise two children of my own. I may still remain with a broken heart and empty arms, but I know he was never mine; he was meant to be theirs.

Happy 12^th Birthday, sweet boy, from your Birthmother.

*All names and locations have been changed to respect the privacy of the parties involved.

*I am sharing my story in honor of National Adoption Month.

*If you or someone you know is a victim of Domestic Violence, there are resources to help. It's never too late: http://www.thehotline.org/

To My Hero, on his Birthday

noreply@blogger.com (Mommy Needs A Martini) — Sun, 26 Oct 2014 11:30:00 +0000

In a job interview recently, I was asked, "Who do you consider to be your hero and why?" I realized that over the years, my answer has always been the same. It was never an athlete or a superhero. It wasn’t my favorite person of the moment. I never thought twice about my answer growing up.

As a child, my answer was playful: "My Daddy is my hero because he gives me piggy back rides and plays games with me."

As a teenager, my answer was a little less, well, childlike: "My Dad is my hero because he's strong and helps me when I don't know the answer on my homework."

As a young adult, my maturity began to show as I said, "My Pops is my hero because he's in the military and he loves his children and his country even when it doesn't seem like they love him back."

As an adult, when asked who I consider to be my hero, my answer was different. This time, my heart was swollen with pride and I had to choke back the tears before I could confidently give my answer. Because this time, I’m a parent. So this time I get it.

I get what it feels like to love a little person so deeply that you ache.

I get what it means to sacrifice so much of yourself so that your family is cared for.

I get how hard it is to see your child hurt or sick or sad without being able to fix it.

I get how it feels when your child says they hate you for the first time. But I’ll never forget the day I heard “I love you” for the first timer, either.

I get how much work it takes to make sure your kids have what they need without them ever knowing how much work it takes for you to give them everything they need.

I get the struggle of long nights and early mornings with endless work days and no breaks in between.

I get that it is totally and completely worth it; every whine, every tantrum, every diaper, every fever, every hug, every kiss, every smile.

I get that everything I do, I do for them.

I get that everything he did, he did for us.

So, who is my hero?

My father is my hero. He always has been and he always will be. He is the only person that I can trust my heart and soul with. He is the only person I can depend on to take away my fear and doubt before they take me away. He is the first man who ever loved me without question. Beyond putting his own needs aside for my brother and me, he has proudly and honorably served his country for almost 35 years and has sacrificed more for our safety, freedom and daily livelihoods than Hollywood could ever try to portray in a two hour feature film. He is a compassionate and strong man that has taught me morals and values that are surpassed only by his faith. He has made me who I am today and he is who I can only hope to be like in the future.

Thank you, Dad. Truly, thank you. Not only for being my hero, but for teaching me how to be the same for my kids. We couldn't ask for a better Dad, Father-in-law or Grandpa!

Happy Birthday!

Stay Connected and WIN with myCharge!

noreply@blogger.com (Mommy Needs A Martini) — Mon, 15 Sep 2014 12:34:00 +0000

The kids are back to school, but Moms know that's only the beginning! Now that the school year is in full swing, there's no slowing down. In fact, things can start getting pretty hectic this time of year between your work and your kid's homework, after-school clubs and sports, music lessons and carpools, birthday parties and play dates...the list goes on and on!

Even the most organized Mom will tell you things can change at the last minute, and Moms of all people can't afford to run out of power...we mean for your phone or tablet, of course! myCharge knows how important it is for you to stay charged and connected all day - and all school year - long, so they're giving the gift of portable power so you're never left in the red!

To keep you charged and connected myCharge is giving 3 lucky winners each an iPad mini with a myCharge HUB 6000 portable charger! The amazingly compact Hub 6000 features built-in cables and connectors for smartphones, tablets, e-readers and more. Get up to 27 hours of additional talk time for your devices, as well as integrated, quick-charge wall prongs. The Hub series is commonly known as the “Swiss Army Knife of portable power devices.”

Additionally, 40 (FORTY!!) winners will each receive an Energy Shot compact portable charger for their smartphones that delivers an additional boost when you need it most. They come in a variety of styles and can give you up to 10 hours of talk time! (Please note, smart phone not included in giveaway).

So Moms, stay out of the red this school year! myCharge is here to keep you charged and connected! For more information on products visit the myCharge website or follow them on Facebook. You can find myCharge products available at retailers such as Target and Kohl's.

Fill out the entry form below September 15, 2014 - October 15, 2014 for your chance to be one of 40 winners to receive an Energy Shot Charger (10 winners randomly selected each week) and one of 3 grand prize winners randomly selected on October 15, 2014 to receive one iPad Mini with a myCharge HUB 6000 portable charger. Entrants must be at least 18 years of age or older, must live in the United States and have a valid shipping address. See giveaway form for complete list of rules and details.

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This is a sponsored post from myCharge. Mommy Needs A Martini is not responsible for prize distribution.

Another AMAZING Giveaway from Boogie Wipes!

noreply@blogger.com (Mommy Needs A Martini) — Thu, 14 Aug 2014 11:00:00 +0000

In celebration of Great Grape Boogie Wipes being sold at Walmart, I'm teaming up with Boogie Wipes to offer the Great Grape Summer Giveaway!

One winner will be drawn each week for the next three weeks and will receive a $50 Walmart gift card and a Boogie Wipes prize pack.

How to Enter

From following some of our favorite bloggers on social media to instagramming a picture of your Great Grape purchase at Walmart, there are dozens of ways to enter - and a few ways to enter every single day.

Check back throughout the next three weeks to enter again and see if you won!

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Want to have more fun this summer?

Visit the Boogie Wipes blog for all sorts of summer fun ideas - including Sidewalk Chalk Recipes, Crafts and Games to Play with Pool Noodles and DIY Board Games (for when it rains).

Good luck!

Giveaway is live Tuesday, July 8, 2014 until midnight on Tuesday, September 2, 2014. US and Canada residents only. One winner will be chosen each week and will be notified via email. Mommy Needs A Martini received no compensation for sponsoring this event, and is not responsible for the delivery of the prize. Prize delivery is the sole responsibility of Boogie Wipes.

Back to School! Back to School!

noreply@blogger.com (Mommy Needs A Martini) — Fri, 08 Aug 2014 17:45:00 +0000

Slowly but surely, the "Back to School" posts are popping up on social media - parents everywhere, REJOICE! My oldest daughter starts Pre-K this year, which isn't exactly school since it's still at our daycare, but she is excited just the same! And I'm a little weepy. Oh, shush...

Of course, with a new school year comes new germs. So, I'm teaming up with Boogie Wipes to offer an awesome Back-to-School Giveaway for kids AND moms!

Three lucky winners will receive a backpack stocked with school supplies (and Boogie Wipes) and a Mommy Clutch - full of everything moms needs (including gift cards!)

How to Enter

From following Boogie Wipes on social media to instagramming a picture of your favorite Boogie Wipes products, there are dozens of ways to enter - and a few ways to enter every single day!

Complete the form below to get started.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Looking for Great Back-to-School Ideas?

Visit the Boogie Wipes blog for six back-to-school ideas for parents, plus a coupon to save on your favorite Boogie Wipes products.

Good luck!

Giveaway is live Tuesday, August 5, 2014 until midnight on August 22, 2014. US and Canada residents only (excluding Quebec). Three winners will be randomly chosen and notified via email. Mommy Needs A Martini received no compensation for sponsoring this event, and is not responsible for the delivery of the prize. Prize delivery is the sole responsibility of Boogie Wipes.

It's Time To Try Something Different

noreply@blogger.com (Mommy Needs A Martini) — Tue, 22 Jul 2014 11:30:00 +0000

As a mom of two young toddlers, taking them in public often feels daunting. I will almost always opt for quick take-out as opposed to sitting in a restaurant. If I’m given the option to grocery shop alone, I take it. There’s a sitter available during my appointment? Sold.

Don’t get me wrong; I love being with my kids and I’m not trying to pawn them off. It’s just HARD. It’s hard to keep them entertained, occupied, calm, engaged and behaved in a public setting. Not because they’re bad or unruly kids, but because everyone else thinks they are. Correction: I think everyone else thinks they are. Therein lies the problem, you see. It’s not my kids; it’s my own parenting insecurity.

Over the weekend, I brought my four year old to the store with me. Admittedly, it was just before lunch and nap, she just sat through church relatively quietly, and she was not excited about waiting in line with me. So, I let her be-bop around the displays near the line while keeping her within my reach. She would pick something up and put it back nicely. She would tell me to look at the pretty thing she found. She was behaving. But then she started to drift further away.

I called to her to stay close and she gave me that look. You know, the “I’m going to test my limits” look. I stepped closer to her, keeping one toe in line, but couldn’t reach her. I turned to the woman behind me with a smile and asked if I could jump back in line after retrieving my wandering toddler. She rolled her eyes and said, “I suppose!” as she waved me off. I could feel my face turn red as I gasped at her reply so I quickly picked up the testing toddler and continued to hold her while waiting. This, of course, only made matters worse.

In an instant, I stripped my child of her newfound independence. Not because she was misbehaving, but because a stranger made me feel like she was a bother. She started pushing herself away from me, climbing out of my arms like a scared puppy, her whines became louder and she ultimately started to cry. Full blown tantrum mode ensued. Simply because I was concerned with other people’s perception of her behavior.

On our way out, a cashier said to me loudly, “Hey, Mom! That looks like ADHD to me. My kid is 14 so I know it when I see it. You oughta’ get that kid checked out!” I pretended to half listen to her but chose not to engage the label maker she was trying to be. I needed to get my daughter to a quiet place.

We both left the store frazzled for different reasons; but upset just the same. Neither of us spoke during the drive because I was embarrassed and she was angry. When we arrived at our house, I turned to the backseat to see a frowning kid with her arms crossed staring pensively out the window. I told her we should talk about what happened and she erupted into tears saying, “Mommy! I wasn’t even naughty! I could see you! I wasn’t even touching the breaky things! Why did you have to hold me like a baby?! I’M FOUR NOW!”

Once I picked my heart up off the floor, I did my best to explain to her that she wandered too far away and I had to leave the line to pull her closer so she was safe. What I didn’t tell her was the truth: I was embarrassed by the judging eye roll of the woman behind us. But I shouldn't have been.

At that moment, I made a mental promise to myself (and to my kids) to allow them to just be kids in public. I need to allow them a little bit of freedom, within reason, in public so they learn what is and isn’t appropriate behavior. The only problem I had with this promise was I didn’t know how to make it happen. They couldn’t experience the freedom properly if I wasn’t teaching it properly.

Thankfully, I’ve been fortunate enough to discover MomAssembly recently. Co-founded by Jill Spivack and Jen Waldburger, this site has been my go to place for the tough parenting situations that nobody warned me about. With nearly 50 courses available and more being added weekly, they cover topics ranging from birth to five years, all taught by hand selected parenting experts. And for those on the go, MomAssembly is available to view from your tablet or mobile device as well, picking right up where you left off when you change devices.

After my experience at the store, I scoured the site for answers and found a course called “Raising ChildrenThat Other People Like To Be Around” taught by author and blogger Richard Greenberg. He has raised four children with his wife and recently wrote a book by the same name. His parenting theory is to be S.M.A.R.T. in raising your children. Sure, it’s not foolproof, but his theory is relatively simple to follow:

You can check out a clip of this lesson below:

If you’d like to see more of Richard’s lessons and others offered on the site, MomAssembly subscriptions are available monthly for $7.99 or you can pay annually for $3.99/month. Either way, you get unlimited access to the entire library of expert video classes.

And because I love my subscription SO much, I've partnered with MomAssembly to give TEN of my readers their first month FREE! There is no drawing or raffle for this – just be one of the first ten to sign up for your subscription HERE to receive your free month!

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some toddler taming to do!

I was compensated for this post but all experiences and opinions are true and my very own.

Ohhh, this kid...!

noreply@blogger.com (Mommy Needs A Martini) — Tue, 01 Jul 2014 20:07:00 +0000

May I present to you, my future superstar in all her glory! All lyrics were made up on the spot, she does not take singing or guitar lessons and her very calm scolding at the end was not scripted. This is my 4yo, to a tee!

A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words... and a GIVEAWAY!

noreply@blogger.com (Mommy Needs A Martini) — Wed, 09 Apr 2014 12:00:00 +0000

If you’ve followed me on Facebook for more than a day or have ever read a single post I’ve put up here, you know I love pictures – taking them, seeing them, sharing them – it really doesn’t matter. YAY PICTURES! You’ve also come to learn that I love and cherish the time spent with my Dad (remember when Grandpa went viral? Well, in his eyes, anyway.). When my Dad comes to visit, my camera goes into overdrive taking pictures of him and the grandkids! In a recent visit, I snapped this keeper:

This picture immediately became the background on my phone and was my Dad’s caller ID picture and remained as such until I discovered Jewelry Keepsakes (thanks to Jessica over at Four Plus An Angel). They specialize in cremation and photo engraved jewelry so it was a perfect way to preserve my new favorite photo.

While browsing through their products, I came across their silver rectangle keychain and HAD to have it. Since my Dad is retired military, this item reminded me of a dog tag so it was quite fitting. When I sent my e-mail with the order information, I wasn’t sure how to crop the photo (or if it needed to be cropped at all) so I sent three different versions of it along with a quote that I wanted engraved on the back of it. It really was THAT simple.

And BOOM. Perfection:

I mean, honestly, how seriously AWESOME is that?! This picture hardly does it justice – it’s shiny with a smooth finish, thick and durable with a strong key ring, zero flaws, and as you can see, the background was eliminated so only the people remain in the engraving. And the quote: The best dads get promoted to Grandpa. Amazing! I LOVE THIS.

And when I love something, I love to share it! So, I’ve partnered with Jewelry Keepsakes to give away a photo engraved item to one of my readers. The winner will be able to choose from the rectangle keychain I got or a heart-shaped pendant:

You know what’s great about that? Mother’s Day is around the corner and what mama wouldn’t love some new jewelry! You know what else is great about that? Father’s Day isn’t too far behind and what daddy wouldn’t love a new keychain! Even if you don’t win, their prices can’t be beat for the wide selection they offer!

Here’s your chance to win – enter through the rafflecopter below until Friday April 11^th. I will announce the winner on Saturday! Good luck!

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The Day I Met Jacob

noreply@blogger.com (Mommy Needs A Martini) — Mon, 31 Mar 2014 14:04:00 +0000

Recently, I was in a big box retailer picking up an online order at customer service. After the desk clerk assisted me and called the stock boy, she began talking with two other employees less than two feet away from me. It was hard not to hear them as they gossiped and made fun of other employees. When the stock boy arrived, he came right up to me. He was tall, quite thin, messy hair, mismatched clothes – but poised and professional. He said to me, loudly and nearly scripted, “Ma’am, I am here to serve you! Is this order I’ll be locating yours?” I said it was, to which he replied, “Ok, ma’am, you got it. I’ll be back quick as a lick!” and he did a military style about-face move and headed off to retrieve my order.

I smiled as he walked away, unsure if he was just being silly to get a reaction or if he was being the best he knew how to be. But I smiled because he made me smile, no matter the reason. No sooner did he leave the desk clerk exclaimed “UGHH, that kid is SO retarded!” as her two co-workers nodded and giggled in agreement. Her statement physically knocked me backwards and I noticeably gasped for air. They all turned to me and I could feel my face start to burn red. My mind was racing in the seconds following her statement. I wanted so badly to smack her right across the face but I knew that wouldn’t make her understand my shock.

I managed to say to her, through gritted teeth, “Excuse me, what did you JUST say?” Her two friends quickly scattered. I took a step closer and repeated myself, “What, exactly, did you just say?” She rolled her eyes and stepped back before saying, “Um, I said that kid was retarded. Why, do you know him?”

“No, I don’t know him. Does it matter? You don’t know me. I could be his mother, his sister, his aunt, his friend. Do YOU know him?”

“Well, he works here so –“

“What’s his name? Do you know his name? Do you know anything about him?”

“Well, um.. No.”

“I do and I’ve only been here for ten minutes. His name is Jacob. Do you know how I know that? He has a nametag that says JACOB! What is your name?”

“I’m Carol.”

“Carol, what gives you the right to call Jacob that awful word? You don’t even know his name! How dare you. HOW DARE YOU!”

“Well, I didn’t say it to you! Or about someone you knew!”

“Carol, I need to speak to your manager. IMMEDIATELY.”

Again, I was physically knocked backwards by her ignorance. What Carol didn't know is that she was talking about someone I knew. She didn't know the struggles my daughter had gone through over the last fourteen months. The therapy sessions, the speech classes, the meltdowns, the doctors. She doesn't know.

I began shaking and, more than once, considered a physical altercation. She then pulled back her sweater to reveal her nametag: Carol, Customer Service Manager. I may have blacked out at this point as I said to her, “OHHH YOU CANNOT BE SERIOUS! You are the manager?! YOU are the one that is supposed to lead that young boy. And YOU are the one using that ugly word in front of a customer? No. Absolutely not. Give me the store manager’s number, district manager – give me the CEO’s information! I don’t care who – just so long as it’s not YOU.”

She quickly started to apologize. “Ma’am I’m extremely sorry. There is no need to make any phone calls. It won’t happen again.”

“You know what, Carol. Jacob is coming back now. I think we’re going to chat with him. And I think you owe him an apology.”

Before she could leave or say no, Jacob arrived with my item, put it right in front of me and saluted as he said, “Ma’am, here it is. Lickety splitty, just like I promised!” and he beamed with pride. “Thank you, Jacob, thank you very much.” His face lit up in that instant. He towered over me but he seemed so small and innocent as he looked down at the floor and muttered, “You know my name… Wooooow.”

I couldn’t help but choke back tears. I wondered if anyone in this wretched store had ever addressed him beyond calling for a stock boy. I turned to Carol who was pale as a ghost and I asked Jacob if he knew her name. He quickly replied, “Yes, yes I do. That is Carol the Manager. She is the boss of allllll of the people” as he waved his arm in a dramatic arc. I asked him another question, but still glared at Carol, “Jacob, is she nice to you?” He didn’t hesitate in his reply, “No, ma’am. She is not a very friendly Carol.” She quickly hung her head and sighed.

I continued, “Carol, Jacob doesn’t think you’re very friendly. What do you think about that?” I could see her face turning red and her eyes swelling with tears; I wasn’t sure if they were tears of remorse or embarrassment but I didn’t care. She softly said, “Jacob, I’m so sorry I haven’t been friendly. I will try harder.” Jacob’s eyes bulged out of his head and a smile that seemed too big for his face radiated the room. Before he could say anything, I said, “Thank you, Carol. Good evening. Jacob, are you ready to help me to my car?” He switched right back into professional mode and said, “Absolutey-tutey-lutely!”

We walked into the parking lot silently. He seemed reflective and proud. When we got to my car, I asked if I could help him lift the item into the backseat but he insisted he do it himself. After, I said, “Whoa, it fits perfectly! Thank you!” He stood at attention again and said, “Liiiike a glove!” I giggled because I knew the movie he was quoting. He noticed and said, “Do you know that’s from a movie?”

“I do! And I even know what movie it is!”

“Ok, ma’am, I’ll give you a hint: JIM CAREY, 1994, NAAAAAME THAT SHOW!”

“Ace Ventura!”

“That was AMAAAAZING…”

“I love that movie Jacob!” And I laughed with him.

“Ma’am, you’re friendly. Can I tell you a secret?”

“Sure, Jacob. What is it?”

“Well, I have high fun, I mean high fut, I mean high fluc. I mean I have Autism. But I can work and learn and stuff! I like to be goofy because it makes people happy. Then they will have a reason to laugh.”

I have no idea how I managed not to sob right there in front of him, but I just said, “You’re awesome, Jacob. You. Are. Awesome. Can I have a high five?”

His eyes got big and wide again and he stretched his arm high above his head. He smirked and said, “Jump! You can do it!” I laughed and tried but came nowhere close. He brought his hand back down to my level and said, “My mom said it’s ok to be different because that makes me special. But sometimes, I like to be normal. Let’s do a normal high five, ma’am.”

So we did. He did his about-face move again and off he went, back into the store. And never looked back.

--------------------------------------------------

You never know who is listening.

You never know the struggle someone else is dealing with.

You never know who just needs someone to talk to.

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For more information on how to support Autism Speaks in your area, please visit: http://liub.autismspeaks.org/how-to-light-it-up-blue

A Bumpy Road to Motherhood

noreply@blogger.com (Mommy Needs A Martini) — Wed, 26 Feb 2014 14:02:00 +0000

This week, I am sharing my birth story over at The Day We First Met!

____________________________________________

I was raised a military brat with very little extended family around, so small is all I knew. When my niece and nephew were born I thought, for sure, that was plenty of little ones around me; especially since I could send them home when I was done being the cool Aunt. Then I met my husband. Oy.

As the baby of seven – yes, seven natural births by the same woman – he quickly acquired a growing number of nieces and nephews, as did I in marrying him. The constant flow of children in and out of my house slowly softened my heart enough to want babies of my own.

We tried to get pregnant, nonchalantly, for about eight months. Then I started getting spastic with calendars and temperatures and ovulation kits. But still, nothing. We finally saw a doctor who told us to try a little longer before moving towards fertility treatments. So we kind of gave up. Well, what I mean is, we stopped measuring and counting and worrying and agreed if it is to be, it will be.

And then it was. Just like that. The instant we stopped carrying on, it happened.

Overall, it was an okay pregnancy. I didn’t have morning sickness beyond random nausea but GAWD was I moody. I mean like certifiably, stay out of my way, you better not blink WICKED. I didn’t know it then, but you know what they say about hindsight! I should probably apologize to a lot of people, now that I think about it. Anyway, the worst part about my pregnancy wasn’t the typical symptoms. It was the jokes about how big I was getting and the strangers touching my swollen belly and people asking how many babies I was lugging around. The. WORST.

I was due on April 19,2010 but went in for my weekly exam on the 15^th. The Dr. said everything was fine and I didn’t seem to be quite ready. So I went home, like any other day, and went straight to the bathroom because my poor bladder had no room to fill up anymore. Only this time it wasn’t justpee. IT WAS BABY TIME!! We got to the hospital around dinner time, I got hooked up to the monitors and they confirmed I was definitely staying for the long haul.

____________________________________________

To read the rest of my story, head on over to The Day We First Met: A Bumpy Road to Motherhood

Are You Ready for Some Football?!

noreply@blogger.com (Mommy Needs A Martini) — Fri, 31 Jan 2014 14:08:00 +0000

Unless you're living under a rock in America right now, you know that Super Bowl Sunday is fast approaching. We are definitely football people in my house but the two teams we follow were ousted so now we're commericial people. Because, really, that is the best part, amirite?! But if I absolutely had to pick a side, I'm going with the Seahawks. What's your pick?

Aside from the commercials, the party food is a very close second when it comes to picking favorites. Whether you're hosting a party or attending one, I have a super simple (and cheap) dip recipe for you to try. Believe it or not, it's actually healthy, too! This delicious stuff is vegetarian and gluten free.

White Bean Dip

Ingredients

3 - 15.5oz cans of white beans (I used Cannellini)
1 - 10oz can of Ro*Tel Diced Tomatoes and Green Chiles
5 Tbsp Olive Oil
5 Tbsp Water
4 Tbsp Lime Juice
3 tsp Garlic Powder
3 tsp Cilantro
1 tsp Chili Powder
1/2 tsp Salt
1/2 tsp Pepper

Directions

Drain and rinse the beans.

Combine beans with all ingredients (except the Ro*Tel) in a food processor.

Blend on low for approximately 1 minute.

Stir the contents around a bit and blend again until completely smooth. You should get a hummus type texture.

Transfer dip into a serving dish (or tupperware if you're traveling).

Smooth it out so the top is flat, then push the middle in with a spoon.

Drain the Ro*Tel.

Place the Ro*Tel (a little at a time) in the middle of the dip (where you just pushed in) and shape it into a football.

For extra flair, place about a Tbsp of the dip into a plastic baggie or piping bag and add the laces onto the tomato shaped football.

Serve alongside fresh veggies or gluten free chips.

TADA! This will be your final product:

Be safe if you're traveling and most of all ENJOY!

GO 'HAWKS!

STOP Domestic Violence - In Honor of Christine Keith

noreply@blogger.com (Mommy Needs A Martini) — Thu, 12 Dec 2013 11:00:00 +0000

Something terrible has happened in our blogging community so, today, we are banning together to spread awareness and support the family of one of our own. Christine Keith, aka Adventures of a Thrifty Mama, along with her son, Isaac, were taken from this world far too soon. They were victims of domestic violence - murdered by Christine's estranged ex-husband before he took his own life.

Christine left behind three younger children and they NEED our help. We NEED to be their voice. Everyone NEEDS to hear their story. Thankfully, Lea, aka Becoming SuperMommy, has stepped up for Christine, for her children, and for so many voiceless victims of domestic violence. I implore you, if you never read another thing I post on my blog, please read Lea's post below. Read it, absorb it, read it again. If you can't make a donation or send a gift, then share this post. Shout it from the rooftops, if you have to. Be part of the solution. Please help, any way you can.

Christine and Isaac - May you both rest peacefully.

---------------------------------------------------------------

Every day in the US, three women are killed by their husbands or boyfriends.

It seems like an improbable number. Like it could never happen to you, to somebody you know.

But it has.

Christine Keith, aka Adventures of a Thrifty Mama

Last week, the blogging community lost one of its own. Chris Keith blogged about healthy living, organic eating, homeschooling... the same thing that so many mommy bloggers do. And she was good at it. She had to be. Chris was supporting four kids on her own, on a subsistence income after separating from her abusive husband.

But one week ago, her estranged husband went to her house, and killed her. He killed her oldest son, Isaac. And then he killed himself. The three youngest children had gone to their grandparents' house for the night- fortunately out of harm's way.

Chris taught Zumba. She gardened. She went on her local news channel to talk about food stamps, and how to eat healthy meals with a minimal budget. She was a good person, and a good mother. And now she's gone.

Now she's one of three women who died at the hands of their husbands or boyfriends that day.

There are things you can do to help her and her children. Her church has taken up a memorial fund- you can donate there to help provide for her children- sons aged 4 and 8, and a six year old daughter.

Memorial Fund

You can send clothes and toys. They have not been allowed back in their home, a crime scene, and it may be a long time before they are. They have nothing but what they took to Grandma's house the night their mother and brother were taken from them. You can send these gifts here:

Keith Children

Care of Ann Merrifield

1504 Wintercrest

East Lansing, MI 48823

And you can help more than that. You can spread the word that domestic violence, as endemic as it is, should not and must not be tolerated. That there are places those who are suffering can go, that there are resources available to them. That there is help out there.

There's the National Domestic Violence Hotline, where trained expert advocates are available 24/7 to talk confidentially.

There's Safe Horizon, which helps connect victims to shelters.

There's the National Resource Center on Domestic Violence, which provides access to information, and opportunities for training and education for those who want to work to end domestic violence, or intervene on behalf of somebody in their life.

Don't remain silent. Don't close your eyes to the suffering all around you. Don't make excuses, or insist it takes two to quarrel. Just listen, offer a hand, and stand strong.

And maybe, if we all shine a light on this issue, into the darkness of abuse, maybe today nobody has to die.

Mischievous Monday is BACK!

noreply@blogger.com (Mommy Needs A Martini) — Mon, 09 Dec 2013 03:02:00 +0000

Okay guys... calm down... take a deep breath and then LET IT ALL OUT!

Let's share those awesomely hilarious stories of our adorably devious little guys and gals!

That's right... it's time for Mischievous Monday!!

Don't forget to grab a button!

<div align="center"><br /><a href="http://www.southernmessmoms.com/category/mischievous-monday" title="Mischievous Mondays"></a></div><br />

Meet your Host

Southern Mess Moms

Facebook/Twitter

and your Co-Hosts:

Facebook/Twitter

My Mischievous Monday submission comes from... ME! My big, fat, ugly Elf on the Shelf FAIL is linked below but here is a picture to give you an idea about how I ruined Christmas:

Chalk gone wrong...

Do you have a story to share but you're not a blogger? Message me on Facebook by clicking HERE and submit it! I'll share it in a future post on your behalf!

An InLinkz Link-up

Elf on the Shelf... FAIL!

noreply@blogger.com (Mommy Needs A Martini) — Sat, 07 Dec 2013 22:47:00 +0000

This is our second year participating in the Elf on the Shelf madness. Until yesterday, we never did anything fancy or funny or crazy - it was hard enough to remember to move the thing, let alone be cute!

Last night, Hubs suggested that Pretty Princess (yes, that's the name of our Elf) write the kids a note on their new chalkboard. So we came up with a nice message, I drew hearts instead of dots and it was ready to go:

Then we set the Elf on the bakers rack right next to the bucket of chalk. I had the fun idea to put some chalk residue on her white gloves and leave the chalk in her arms. I thought it was a swell idea! Hubs, not so much. He said it implied a certain.. well, see for yourself:

I told him he was weird and I disagreed. And since it was the first time we did anything more than move her to a new spot, I took a picture and shared it on my personal Facebook page. Evidently, Hubs was not alone in his perversion of the Elf. Even my Nana saw "it" (much to my dismay):

Click to Enlarge

Now if that is not the most epic, unintentional Elf fail in the history of EVER, I don't know what is. Even my Dead Fairies were brought up in FAILness comparison!

I think I'll stick to moving the Elf from now on.

Merry Christmas, Martini lovers..

There is an Angel Among Us

noreply@blogger.com (Mommy Needs A Martini) — Mon, 11 Nov 2013 21:06:00 +0000

Below is a conversation I had with my 3yo daughter the morning of November 9, 2013:

3yo: Guess what mama? I had pretty dreams in my sleep!
Me: That's great! What did you dream about?
3yo: I was a beeeeeautiful ballerina and Grandpa and Kelly came to watch me dance. It was sooooo wooooonderful.
Me: Aww that sounds amazing! Were you dancing on a stage with lots of lights like that show we watched?
3yo: No we were dancing in Heaven because the angels needed us.
Me: *chokes on coffee* That's so nice, honey...
3yo: But don't tell Kelly, she'll be sad because she wasn't dancing with me. It's ok because I gave them hugs in Heaven and she just watched.
Me: You gave Kelly and Grandpa hugs? That was a good idea.
3yo: Yea and I hugged that dancing angel. She was very sparkly. Can we dance now, mama?
Me: *crying* Sure honey...

Now, what you don't know about this conversation is that a close friend of "Grandpa and Kelly" (my Dad and his wife), Dena Monroe-Miller, took her own life on the afternoon of November 7, 2013. She was an acclaimed dancer, the Artistic Director and owner of Inspire Dance Company (where Kelly is the Assistant Director and an instructor) and beloved by so many people. Dena struggled with depression and most recently with a late term miscarriage. Her husband, Doug, was by her side through it all, in addition to many friends and family members. She was on medication and in counseling but it just wasn't enough.

I shared this with my Dad the day after Dena's death:

Ecclesiastes 3:1-4
For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven: a time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted; a time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance.

My daughter did not know Dena and she did not know of her passing. She also did not know about the scripture passage. And yet, it seems as though she dreamt of Dena.

Not convinced? Let's continue.

I sent the above conversation to my Dad and Kelly. In response, my Dad sent me the following text and picture:

"When I read the convo to Kel, she immediately thought of what Dena gave her for helping her teach the first year [at Inspire]. The wings ARE sparkly!"

Still claiming this was a coincidence? Ok, then. Keep reading.

That afternoon, Doug, Kelly and my Dad had the heartbreaking task of telling the Inspire Dance kids about Dena's passing. My Dad noticed a plaque in the lobby he had never seen before. Upon closer inspection, it had this quote on it: And wherever they are, the angels will dance.

Oh, I'm not done.

After their talk with the kids, they gave the kids and parents a chance to talk and share stories or memories of Dena. One parent mentioned seeing Dena at the studio that week wearing a black jacket that no one had ever seen her wear before. Guess what was on the jacket? The back of it had sparkly angel wings on it.

I kid you not.

Finally, at church on Sunday, this was said by my pastor in his sermon: "For we never truly die. We are resurrected, reborn, into the house of the Lord where we shall forever live among angels." After church, I immediately sent a text to my Dad to tell him and he simply replied: "Same at ours!"

If you're not convinced yet, that's ok. I'm not here to push my religion or beliefs on you. I'm not here with an agenda. I'm here to share a story - a remarkable, comforting story - that will hopefully help people feel a small sense of closure.

Regardless if I've convinced you or not, I believe. I believe that Dena came to my daughter in her dream because she knew my spirited, dance-loving, kind-hearted little girl would be the right person to help spread her message through a series of unmistakable events:

She's an angel now.

_________________________________

If someone you know exhibits warning signs of suicidal thoughts, PLEASE get help. If you need help personally, do NOT be ashamed. Reach out, even anonymously, and get help as soon as possible. The National Suicide Prevention Lifeline is available 24/7, whether you are calling for yourself or for someone else. The lifeline is also available for suicide loss survivors, suicide attempt survivors and a special focus on Veterans/Military: 1-800-273-8255. Call today because you may not have a tomorrow.

For tips on how to identify Mental Health Triggers and for more mental health and suicide prevention information, please be sure to check out my friend, Cristi, at Motherhood Unadorned.

When Grandpa Means Business - Well, Sort of...

noreply@blogger.com (Mommy Needs A Martini) — Fri, 11 Oct 2013 11:00:00 +0000

This week, I found out that my 3yo will be going on a real live field trip this coming Tuesday. As in, on a bus, to a public place. Lots of kids, not a lot of adults. IN. PUBLIC.

I was all but shaking until I left her preschool that morning so I called my husband. He laughed at me and told me I was nuts. Thanks, dear. So I called my Dad. He was equally taken a back by the thought of my daughter on a bus and roaming around in public, or at least he pretended to be, but assured me she would be fine and not to worry.

THEN...

He sent the below e-mail to my husband and copied me:

----------------------------------------
Randy -

I just had a crazy-frantic, half-conversation, half-incoherent-babbling with your wife.

Just so you know, I am on board with letting Ryleigh go on her little field trip. She'll be fine. The wheels on the bus go 'round and 'round!

With that being said, I am bringing a surgically implanted tracking device when I visit this weekend that I will fit her with so Jenn doesn't worry. As an additional precaution I have instructed Jenn to Ziploc baggie one pair of sweaty pajamas of Ryleigh's so as to use if bloodhounds need to be brought in. Additionally, if necessary, I will procure a metal detector to scour the 6 acres of farm - her lodged penny should make it easy to locate her in a jiffy (Editor's Note: Yes, my daughter swallowed a penny. No it hasn't come out yet). I could also have a drone hover above the corn maze as an added precaution - I'll just need the latitude and longitude of said location.

Jenn - Take. A. Breath.
Randy - Buy. Her. Wine.

No worries,
Grand-Investigator-Pa
----------------------------------------

And THAT, my friends, is reason number eleventy billion and three that I love my Dad!

Wrapped around her finger...

**Side Note: Preschool said I can be present when the kids board the bus, follow behind the bus and chaperone the field trip if I'd like to. I have opted not to mainly because the behavior of any child is always better in proportion to the distance away from their parents and this is very, VERY true of my daughter. So, her teacher has promised to send me pictures and texts throughout the trip. Don't freak out. This is about my Dad's funny e-mail. Mmkay? Oh, and also, my daughter has been seen by and is being monitored by a doctor for the missing penny.**

My Very Own Troll Patrol

noreply@blogger.com (Mommy Needs A Martini) — Mon, 07 Oct 2013 11:00:00 +0000

Recently, I received a comment on a guest post that was both incorrect, factually speaking, and not very nice - I was called dangerous for proudly speaking about being a working mom. Out of respect for the owner of the site, I chose not to respond to this person's comment and not to call her out publicly. The owner did reply on my behalf and handled it amazingly well.

As for me, I mentioned it in jest on my Facebook page and the response was overwhelming. The outpouring of support from my followers was absolutely breathtaking! Then, a very old and dear friend of mine even addressed it in the form of a status on her personal page. That status, in and of itself, should be seen by EVERY.SINGLE.WOMAN, mother or not, in the whole entire world. So, I'm printing it here, with permission, for all to see: _________________________________________

Dear Women and Moms,

I write this status wholeheartedly. Feel free to delete me if it bothers you.

This is life. It's not a competition, marathon, or contest. It is LIFE. The fact that women feel the need to or pressure to validate themselves is sad. Why women critique another is absurd. You are not defined by your weight, color, marital status, or employment status. Your biggest influence in this world, this life, is the way you treat others and carry yourself as a human. Your house, clothes, hair, weight, job, etc., will mean nothing in the end. At your funeral, no one will talk of those things; for it won't matter. They will talk of the person you were and how you treated others.

A dear friend of mine has a blog, Mommy Needs A Martini, and was called "dangerous to moms and women." Why, you ask? Because she is a proud working mother of two. A peer, a fellow mom and blogger, believes that it is dangerous to promote a working mother's life. I am deeply disturbed that a mom would criticize another mom for working to provide for her children.

I beg of you: STOP! Do not feed into the stereotype that society has generated for you. You don't have to be the "perfect" wife, mom, friend, etc. You are enough. YOU. It doesn't matter if you are rich, poor or just getting by. It doesn't matter if you're fat, skinny or have a bubble butt. It doesn't matter if your clothes are from Prada or Target, you work or you stay at home. None of it matters.

What does matter is that you love your family and love your friends. Make beautiful memories. Be kind. Be compassionate. Leave behind a legacy to be proud of. The rest is garbage, I promise you. Your character will matter more in this life than anything else. Remember this the next time you judge a peer.

You can't buy character. You can only build it. So be kind. JUST BE KIND!

Love,

Emily

_________________________________________

As if that wasn't enough to make my heart explode, the comments starting pouring in. Moms, Dads, friends, people with and without kids, showed their support of Emily's letter and of my blog:

Charlene M. Gold Well put & I second all that or I'm sure not even the second as so many of us wld agree! Beautifully expressed & downright to a good point! XO

Victoria Silva So lemme get this straight, someone put her down because she's a mother and works? That's horrible.

Diana Molinari The only people who are dangerous are ignorant people.

Diana Molinari Ps... The only thing that makes her dangerous is that she is a mom

Tiffany Kessler St Pierre Perfect words, perfect tone, and from the heart. Someone should discover you.

Victoria Silva I agree with Diana. Now her children will grow up thinking that that kind of ignorance it ok. I swear, the future of this world scares me... especially for my kids (when I eventually have them) when I won't be around. There're a lot of parents out there with little to half a brain. I wish there was some sort of IQ test (or maybe just one on common sense) people had to take before having children.

Carolina Quatela You couldn't be more right! I agree with you 100%. Shame on the self righteous hag who called your friend a dangerous mommy for being a working mom! Unbelievable! I found it (and to this day still find it) so sad that even though we're a part of something so major - motherHOOD - women insist on judging and competing with their fellow mommys. The word "Motherhood" implies a group, a commaderie of sorts but some (most) women take it to a level of "greater than thou" competing. That's why I tend to keep to myself. I'd rather go at it alone or with my sister and a few others, than be a part of a big clique of materialistic, judging moms. Preach on sister! (You should start a blog too!) Kudos my friend. Xo

Teresa Higgs You put a tear in my eyes. Well said. FYI, Zack has "Leave behind a legacy to be proud of" tattooed on his arm with Coop's bday.

Oscar A Fajardo I think the only rule is: do what is good for you and your family, if it means you have to (or need to or want) to work it just as good as a mother (father) who stays at home

Alina Malave As always.. Well said my friend!

Anne McLeod Pelts I love this!

Amanda Anderson Jeanette I always enjoy your blog after working all day and coming home and taking care of my kid and it's my time to wind down. Sounds like someone is jealous of how awesome you are for being an amazing mom, hard worker and can still find time to do something you love... You put a smile on my face daily with your blog. Keep doing what you do.. Xoxo

Charlene M. Gold I'm a working mom & currently the main provider. I have some help, but at this moment I am the glue that makes everything stick. Matter fact, I still manage to have business & pleasure & that to some may seem "dangerous", but I am responsible & ultimately the one that makes things happen. If we didn't have individuality, what more to our purpose? Some moms are stay at home moms, fortunately, but for those who have to work, I actually find it to be a privilege as well as challenge, however it pushes me & affirms that I have a strong purpose to fulfill. It is dangerous to be idle, so if the kids are in school, that's when mom cld maybe work part time or take up some classes and/or activities. What a blessing to be a mom, but we weren't put on this Earth to just be a mom. Emily, btw, love how you write as well, & love how you bring all us gals together! Love & miss you ladies. I will def subscribe to Jeannette's blog as well. Blessed day to you all!

_________________________________________

Seriously, I have no words. Love and support from my followers, friends and family have gotten me here and I couldn't be more grateful. So all I can say is THANK YOU. Thank you all so very much.

*Emily's letter was used and edited with permission and will be used in a separate post as a feature on it's own.

*All comments shown were used with permission and were not edited.

Having It All

noreply@blogger.com (Mommy Needs A Martini) — Sat, 28 Sep 2013 02:04:00 +0000

The Having It All Project began in January 2013 and features a new post each week, with each guest writer revealing what makes their lives unique and how they make life work. Each contributor is given five questions to answer:

1) Briefly describe your life and what you think makes it unique.

2) What are some of your favorite tips and strategies for coping with the chaos?

3) Please share a moment where it all broke down, and how you got through it.

4) Do you have any balance role models? Anything you try to avoid because it wouldn't work for you?

5) Think back to your 18th birthday. How is your life different from how you expected it to be then?

Want to know my answers? Head over to Busy Since Birth and check it out! Just click the image below to be taken right to my story!

#HavingItAllProject

Character Assassination Carousel: The Very Hungry Caterpillar

noreply@blogger.com (Mommy Needs A Martini) — Mon, 16 Sep 2013 11:00:00 +0000

It's my turn to take a spin on the Character Assassination Carousel by Ninja Mom aka Nicole Leigh Shaw! If you've never heard of this adventure I'm about to embark on, here's a brief explanation:

Fellow bloggers take a stab at a classic children's book and tear it down, word by grimy little word, until they're satisfied with their steamrolling. It's all in good fun, but sometimes you just have to keep it real. And by keep it real, I mean explain how much you REALLY despise reading the same story over and over and over.... again.

Stephanie from Binkies and Briefcases hopped off the carousel so I could jump on and I'll move out of the way so Erin of Woof, Tweet, Waah can take a spin.

Without further ado, I present to you:

My Victim:

I'd like to start by saying that this book, albeit mildly disturbing, was essential in helping my daughter try new foods. Because, well, if the caterpillar can eat it, then so can she! However, Eric Carle is a, um, what's the word I'm looking for... Well, he has obviously experimented (heavily) with hallucinogens.

At first, everything is ~~pretty run of the mill~~ ~~somewhat normal~~ mildly believable. A teeny little caterpillar pillages his way through a red delicious without a second thought.

Ok, fine, he's hungry. Ravenous, even. But I'm quite certain his little tummy would be satisfied with a leaf or a seed or something. Not in Mr. Carle's world! This crazy caterpillar continues, day by day, to eat through absurd amounts of fruit.

Two Pears
I don't know about you, but I can barely finish one pear...

Three Plums
I repeat, I can barely finish one!

Four Strawberries
This seems reasonable enough...

Five Oranges
Alright, now he's just being ridiculous!

At this point, if the caterpillar hasn't keeled over from the rampant diarrhea he would have surely suffered from, he should, at the very least, have a full stomach.

Nope.

This caterpillar has a serious case of the munchies and is obviously scooting through the forest screaming:

And that's just what he does. This crazy insect goes on a food bender and eats his way within inches of his own demise:

A sausage? Really, Eric?

Then something happens. The caterpillar plummets down from his crazy high he's been on and comes to his ever loving senses. He eats a green leaf.

ERMAHGAWD. Did something in this book ACTUALLY make sense?

This is where I nearly threw the book away. After a week of binge eating, how do you think you would feel? Well, Carle lays it all out there. Fat. You will feel fat and bloated.

Just like any food binging glutton, naturally, the caterpillar wants nothing more than to sleep it off. So he builds himself a cocoon and he falls into a deep, dark, ~~drug laden~~ food coma.

And he slept. Not for the night. Not even for the weekend. He slept for TWO WEEKS. Clearly, he needs an intervention. Oh, but no! No intervention needed, here. Because when the caterpillar emerges from his two week slumber, he is magically transformed into a beautiful butterfly!

The moral of this story: Bulimia makes you pretty.

To that I say, Caterpillar: Assassinated.

I Auditioned for Blogger Idol!

noreply@blogger.com (Mommy Needs A Martini) — Thu, 12 Sep 2013 13:10:00 +0000

Have you heard of Blogger Idol? It's an amazing blogging contest based on the singing reality show, American Idol. Now before you get all grumbly and groany, let’s be clear. I'm not talking about the lame, sans Simon, new American Idol. I mean the original, Simon and Paula spatting, Randy's DAWG yelling, Kelly Clarkson winning, America knew good music, ORIGINAL American Idol. So, really it couldn't be less than awesome.

Anyway, I auditioned!! EEK!!

Over the next few days, a panel of judges will be narrowing down the auditions to the Top 12 Finalists. If (read: WHEN) I make it to that point, the competition will consist of weekly writing prompts and someone being eliminated each week over the next 3-4 months. The last blogger standing is crowned the ‘Blogger Idol’ and wins the Grand Prize!

Speaking of prizes, did you happen to click on that link just now? And if you did, did you happen to notice the prize of BACON?! I can't even... MAMA LIKEY!

While I sit back and bite my nails waiting for the Top 12 to be chosen, I sure hope you will visit the official Blogger Idol Facebook and Twitter pages to stay posted on the competition. When you get there, be sure and tell them how much you love and adore me and how it is imperative that I win bacon. I mean the contest. Not just bacon. Yea, the whole kit and caboodle. Plus, bacon.

Wish me luck!!

Check out this GIVEAWAY from FreckleBox!

noreply@blogger.com (Mommy Needs A Martini) — Thu, 12 Sep 2013 03:13:00 +0000

To read Southern Mess Moms Review CLICK HERE.

Frecklebox offers personalized gifts for kids!

Enter now for your chance to win $30 at FreckleBox to get personalized gifts!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

*I have not been compensated in anyway for this post beyond a link to follow me on Twitter. Also, I have not personally reviewed this product*

What I Want My Kids to Know About 9/11

noreply@blogger.com (Mommy Needs A Martini) — Wed, 11 Sep 2013 10:30:00 +0000

The attacks on our country that took place on September 11, 2001 will forever be a part of our memories. I was a 20 year old college student working as an intern for the United States Coast Guard on that day - I saw a lot, I heard a lot and remember everything. At the time, I never thought I'd have to explain the events to my own children one day. But here I am, twelve years and two kids later, wondering what to say to them. Like every tragedy, there is surely a lesson to be learned. These are a few things I want my kids to know about 9/11/01:

"Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.” Fred Rogers

Even if just for a moment, we all put our differences aside and came together as a country. Strangers held out their hands without a second thought to those who were affected. People hugged in the streets because it’s all they could do amidst the wreckage. Hundreds upon thousands of people who couldn't help physically rushed to donate blood the next day (including myself). So remember, no matter what life brings and how awful things may seem, there will always be some good people in this world willing to help you. Make sure you thank them.

“A thing long expected takes the form of the unexpected when at last it comes.” Mark Twain

The United States Coast Guard was responsible for evacuating 500,000 people from Lower Manhattan in just nine hours immediately following the first plane crash. This heroic feat is significant in our lives because my Dad proudly served thirty plus years in the Coast Guard, retired in 2008 and continues to work for them as a civilian. He was active duty during the attacks and I worked as a civilian in his office. I’ll never, for as long as I live, forget the anguish and fear on his face as he stood next to me and we watched that tragic day unfold. The Coast Guard rarely gets recognized as part of the Armed Forces but that day it didn’t matter. They were responsible for forming a fleet of over one hundred vessels to form a boat lift which aided in this successful evacuation. Semper Paratus!

Always strive to be someone’s hero.

When most people were running out of the burning buildings in Manhattan and Washington, there were others who were running into them to rescue the victims. Those people are true heroes, by definition: people of distinguished courage or ability, admired for their brave deeds and noble qualities. I’m not saying you have to run into a burning building, but live bravely and act courageously no matter how big or small your deed. Most importantly, do it with integrity, even if no one is watching.

Don’t be afraid to take a chance.

The fourth plane hijacked that day did not make it to its destination. Instead it crashed into a field in a remote area of Pennsylvania thanks to several passengers and crewmembers that bravely fought back against the hijackers. United Airlines Flight 93 was delayed on takeoff that morning and the hijackers’ agenda was thrown off track. Heading West to San Francisco, the flight was forty minutes underway before the takeover began. Huddled together in the back of the plane, passengers and crew discussed fighting back. Some made phone calls home and just before their siege, passenger Todd Beamer was heard over an open line saying, "Are you guys ready? Let's roll.” And he meant it. They attacked with boiling water and a valiant fight but the hijackers took the plane down before they could regain control.

“Human nature is not of itself vicious.” Thomas Paine

9/11 changed the way Americans looked at America. Before, we felt bulletproof. We were the country that couldn’t be touched. As children, we grew up running around our neighborhoods, taking candy from strangers, saying hi to everyone we passed and we lived freely. Since 9/11, not so much. Everyone always seems on guard and ready to strike at the next person that glares at them. That’s no way to live. We can be vigilant and still be kind. We can respect our country without defaming others. We can also walk through a door with the expectation that we’ll turn around to leave at some point without worrying about what might happen while we’re in there. Fear breeds fear. Don’t be afraid.

Live as though you’re invincible but just know: You’re not.

It’s okay to break down. It’s okay to cry. It’s ok to remember sad or scary things. It’s ok to worry. You don't have to hold it together every second of every day. You don’t have to pretend you’re ok if you’re not. But I beg you to tell someone about it. Be sure not to live with your heart in a steel box but don’t hang it on your sleeve, either. Find a place in the middle that makes you comfortable and be sure you tell people how you feel. So many people were lost that day without saying what needed to be said; so many will never have closure. Say what you mean and mean what you say.

In a word, there are three things that last forever: faith, hope, and love; but the greatest of them all is love.

Have faith that if God brings you to it, God will bring you through it. Believe in yourself and all that you are capable of. Hold out hope that the world is not all evil and distorted. There are good people with good hearts and when the moment arises, the good will shine through. When you love someone, love them completely and truly. Don’t use love as a bartering tool and never take for granted the love someone gives you. Above all else, know that YOU are loved.

It's my FIRST Blogiversary!

noreply@blogger.com (Mommy Needs A Martini) — Thu, 05 Sep 2013 11:00:00 +0000

Exactly one year ago today, I posted my very first blog post and started my corresponding Facebook page. My intention was to share my experiences as a working Mom, to make people laugh and to have a place to run to when my brain started overflowing. Eventually, that small intent grew into a Twitter and Instagram account. Then Pinterest. Then Bloglovin. Then Google+. Then World Domination - MWAAAHAHA! Ok, that last part is a lie.

I have learned so much in a year and I have come so far from the first month of blogging. When I first shared my Facebook page with my friends and family, I literally sat at the computer and cheered with every single like. I was checking the Insights page constantly and I would FREAK out if I lost a like. By the end of the first month, I was still under 100 likes on Facebook and my blog was getting no action. I was discouraged and close to throwing in the towel.

Until I found the Honest Voices Link Up. Suddenly, people were reading my blog and I was finding blogs I didn't know existed and I found other link ups in the process and OHMYGAWD it was like a waterfall of bloggy goodness falling at my feet. I started using Twitter more often, commenting on HUGE blogs and getting noticed and I got into a groove.

Six months into my blogging venture, I shared a post on Twitter and tagged a bigger named blogger in it. Because, it's Twitter. I mean, I'm BFF's with Justin Timberlake on there so why can't I tag a blogger?! Anyway, she loved my post and ran it over at CraftFail and, y'all, it happened. My Fairy Jar Fake-Out post that Robyn at Hollow Tree Ventures picked up and ran with has accounted for a little less than HALF of my total pageviews on my blog - 9,500! (Thanks, Robyn!)

Around eight months into it, I was invited to join a private blogging group thanks to linking up with Honest Voices. Let me tell you, if not for this group.. these ladies.. the support without question.. the awesomesauceness of everything about it.. I would be lost. I would have honestly and truly lost my marbles. But they didn't let me. They kept me grounded through a rough patch, they listened when my daughter was sick, they helped when I had newbie questions, they shared my stuff, they commented on my posts and they asked their fans to do the same. I was encouraged to pitch to Scary Mommy and got a spot on her blog, I was given multiple guest post opportunities through members of the group, and when the internet trolls came crawling around, we had our very own Troll Patrol come to the rescue. My people, y'all. They are my tribe.

My readership isn't enormous. My social media following isn't overwhelming. But do you know what IS enormous and overwhelming? The hearts of my fans. I have become friends with my readers. Like actual friends. Not just limited to a fan base. But actual friends with some of my fans. That's what it's all about right there. Reaching people. Personally. They make what I do totally worth it.

So, at the end of my first year in this crazy bloggy world, do I call it mission accomplished?

Well, if accomplishments are measured by huge numbers and a paycheck and sponsors, then no.

But if they are measured by new friends, an invaluable support system and countless comments and messages from fans thanking me for my words, then you betcha. Mission accomplished.

Thank you, beyond words, for a year of support and cheers to another year!

Birth Story Celebration: Mommy Needs a Martini

noreply@blogger.com (Mommy Needs A Martini) — Mon, 26 Aug 2013 02:49:00 +0000

This is an excerpt from my feature post on Domestic Pirate's Birth Story Celebration series!

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Motherhood seemed so foreign to me as a young adult. I was completely content being an Aunt and Godmother and I couldn’t imagine ever being responsible enough to raise a little human of my own.

Until one day I did. It just sort of hit me.

My husband and I were married in 2006 and never even discussed having kids until after the first year. Even then it was only in passing. It wasn’t until two years into our marriage that we really started thinking about it. So in 2008, we decided it was time. As it turned out, time is all we’d have for a while.

We tried to get pregnant, nonchalantly, for about eight months. Then I started getting spastic with calendars and temperatures and ovulation kits. But still, nothing. We finally saw a doctor who told us to try a little longer before moving towards fertility treatments. So we kind of gave up. Well, what I mean is, we stopped measuring and counting and worrying and agreed if it is to be, it will be.

And then it was. Just like that. The instant we stopped carrying on, it happened.

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To read the rest of this story, please check out my featured post on The Domestic Pirate!

Having a Second Kid – After the First Was NOT Easy

noreply@blogger.com (Mommy Needs A Martini) — Mon, 26 Aug 2013 02:42:00 +0000

This is an excerpt from my debut post as an Honest Mom Contributor!

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Never in 400 million years did I ever think I’d have one kid, let alone two. I was raised a military brat with very little extended family around, so small is all I knew. When my niece and nephew were born I thought, for sure, that was plenty of little ones around me; especially since I could send them home when I was done being the cool Aunt.

Then I met my husband. Oy.

As the baby of seven – yes, seven natural births by the same woman – he quickly acquired a growing number of nieces and nephews, as did I in marrying him. The constant flow of children in and out of my house slowly softened my heart enough to want babies of my own.

It took nearly two years to conceive our first daughter with more obstacles than expected, but she was born healthy.

And VERY unhappy.

Her birth was traumatic for me, with medical complications, which led to mild postpartum depression. I felt like I was thrown to the wolves when they discharged me with this little person that I was suddenly responsible for.

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To read the rest of this story, please check out my featured post on Honest Mom!