Post Partum Glam


I’ve had a couple people ask me why I haven’t blogged since Benedict has been born or how life has changed. 

I’m flattered I’ve been missed and thought I’d update on my current state in motherhood… 

My nipples are raw. And bleeding. And possibly about to fall off. 

I smell like breastmilk, my hair is greasy and I haven’t showered in 3 days. 

I spent some serious quality time with my recently purchased sitz bath. (If you don’t know what that is, count your lucky stars.  I assure you it’s no spa trip.)

I’m waking every two hours to feed a baby or to change my drenched with sweat pajamas. (Another beautiful side effect of hormones going back to normal post partum.). After that, I lay in bed unable to fall back asleep without elbowing ku’ualoha to stop dreaming, I mean snoring, so loudly next to me.

I’m knee deep in shitty diapers and I may have been shot in the mouth last week with pee. 

There’s also been an addition of laundry to my workload. It’s amazing how one tiny person weighing less than 10 pounds can make so much of a mess. 

I’m still doing preschool runs but now with three kids, rain or shine. I have to lug them out of the car, walk a quarter of a mile to the door, deal with the middle kid rolling on the sidewalk tantruming in front of God and everyone or carelessly hauling ass into the middle of the street all while baby wearing.  I’m ready to risk a ticket and leave said middle kid in the car… With the keys in the ignition… And maybe the engine running. 

My hair is 70% dyed brown. 25% natural silverish gray and 5% yesterday’s peanut butter and jelly.  

I spend a lot of time trying on clothes to find something, anything, that doesn’t look terrible. The in between stage of maternity clothes and regular is a rough road so yoga pants it is, again.

Aside from the elegance listed above, I’ve been snuggling and cuddling with a tasty sack of sugar that I absolutely adore.  While I may not look my best, our house is filled with so much love and energy.  He’s simply the cutest and loveliest little gift in all our lives. I may be ready to pull my hair out, living off coffee, tired as hell and smell like funky cheese but I know this phase will pass and I’ll look back and think “Damn, that went by too fast.”  It’s really a sick little game we moms play with ourselves.  Well, off I go. It’s feeding time at my zoo. 


Benedict Francis was born April 13, 2015 weighing 8.5 lbs. He is the third boy added to this crazy brood and already fits right in. 

Pregnancy Glow


This next entry is dedicated to all pregnant women like me. If that’s not you, then I hope this little ditty just inspires a smile or a giggle. 


Whether you’re having a baby or not, thanks to social media, we’ve all seen the photos.  It’s always miraculous too. Stunning. Breath taking. There she is. This glowing mother to be just blossoming before our own eyes. Maybe her photo shoot is by crystal clear, blue water and she’s wearing a gorgeous, flowing dress that’s blowing in the sea breeze while the sun radiates her elegantly flowing hair. Maybe she has flowers surrounding her and she’s frolicking with grace in a field of green. Maybe she’s floating in some type of bubbly water with candles lit all around her relaxing and looking lovely portraying a sense of peace and purity. These idyllic women are what the rest of us strive to resemble when it’s our turn. Who doesn’t want the glow?  Who doesn’t want that beauty?  These photos, these women, are literally miraculous and awing. 

And then there’s my maternity shoot.
We just don’t all have ‘the glow’ I suppose.🙂

Outta This World


This kid… Asked me out on a date with him to outter space. 

He said, “Just you and me.  Well, baby too.  We should wait until he’s born probably. Maybe we can go this summer. I know!  In August for your birthday. We’ll go Mommy and I’ll show you Jupiter.”

Who could say no to all that!?!?

Happy Birthday


    Today this guy is 5 years old. I don’t know where the time has gone. In some ways I feel the same as I did the day he was born… In awe, clumsy, nervous, excited and utterly in love. 5 years is a decent amount of time that I’ve been doing this mom thing and out of the classroom.  In these years, people have asked me if I miss working, teaching, but I am still working. I am still teaching.  And I still get paid. Only I’m teaching my own children, my work goes every where with me and now I get paid in kisses, I love you’s, snuggles, and all the finger painted pictures a mom can dream.  In rare instances I’ve gotten the ‘Oh, you’re just a mom.’  But here’s the thing… I am not JUST a mom. I’m HIS mom. This spectacular, dinosaur loving, gentle, loving soul’s mom and there is no job anywhere else I’d rather be doing. I have the greatest job on earth for me and the best employers. This boy who’s only been in my world for a short time turns 5 today and my mom life turns 5 too. There’s no journey I’d rather be on and no other company id rather have and in some ways I never really knew myself until I met him. So, Happy 5th Birthday to my August Joseph, who has brought nothing but love and light in to my world.  


Another One of These!?!?


I haven’t posted in so long because I’ve been suffering from PSS (Pregnancy Shock Syndrome). While that isn’t an official medical term, I’m attributing it to my 33 week absence.  I think it took me that long to really adjust to the news that I’m having a third baby. A third baby. A third baby… boy!  I can honestly say that I am so excited to meet this next little man and am counting down the days until I snuggle him in the crook of my neck, breathe in his sweet newborn scent, introduce him to my other boys and start experiencing all his firsts. 

”We’re expecting another pair of BLUE genes in our family!”  (This is how we formally announced the news to family and friends.)

In these past months, I’ve also started thinking about how Mother Nature is truly so smart.  I think she must make the last trimester so uncomfortable for us mothers so that we actually look forward to the delivery process and are ready to take on new the responsibility of a precious baby. If pregnancy was so comfortable, we’d all dread birth and want to stay pregnant past our 40 weeks and maybe indefinitely. Really though, who isn’t nice to pregnant women? 

So with that said, here are 8 things that Mother Nature is making me emphatically aware of that I WILL NOT miss post partum. 

This is how I told my besties. 

1- Root canals- Root canals you ask?  Yes. Mutha fackin’ root canals. I’ve read about this happening in my baby books and always skipped over that section but this pregnancy I’ve had the misfortune of experiencing my fetus stealing my oral nutrients. I’ve always maintained good oral hygiene.  Ok, I’m lying. I have always maintained good oral hygiene until I had kids but even then I have always brushed twice a day, flossed and mouth washed.  I just skipped the dentist part.  Never again. I vow to see my dentist every 6 months for the rest of my life. Here’s why.  I’ve had two root canals and three cavities in the past 33 weeks. One procedure was so painful I cried about how unfair my life was because I couldn’t drink alcohol, no pain meds, and now I couldn’t even eat??? No food for a preggo is cruel and unusual punishment. Take my wine, take my meds but don’t take my food!!!!!  I will cut you.  (And by cut you, I mean crawl up in as much of a ball as is pregnancy possible and cry until scrambled, salty eggs magically appear bedside… Cue ku’u’aloha, my hubs.)  

My first bump photo. I mean, it was really bloat but still notable. 

2- Gas- Can’t there be a free pass that pregnant women get to carry to excuse their flatulence?  Can’t we all just encourage pregnant women to “toot” (as my mom says) if it gives them relief?  Maybe we could all start using spirit hands if a fellow, future moms accidentally lets one rip, I mean lets one slip.  I think I could really appreciate some spirit hands as friendly encouragement over feeling ashamed at how good I’ve become at eloquently crop dusting. 

3- Shaving- Bending over obviously with a watermelon crunched in between is not ideal but add lack of vision in some well needing vision areas. If you already have toddlers like me, they’ll remind you of every cactus patch on your leg saying, “Ouch mommy!” until you shave again. 

Noodle number 3!

4- Insomnia- if you’re a first time mom, then chances are you’re probably blissfully unaware of how bad it’s going to get. Like, “Oh, I’ll get some sleep again once this baby gets here. Few more months. I’m almost there.”

SPOILER ALERT- skip this next part if you are enjoying your blissful state of mind. 
You. Will. Never. Sleep. As. Soundly. As. You. Did. Before. Giving. Birth. Take a minute to breathe that in, get a tissue, cry it out if you have to. I know  how that realization sucks. I’ve been there. Every time I’m almost sleeping remotely soundly on a daily basis again post partum, BAM!  I’m pregnant, again. Rest assured, (pun intended) your significant other will snuggle their pillow comfortably and you will curse their snoring and their easy breezy, pleasant wake up for the rest of your life. I shit you not. 

Those feet though!  Gahhh!
5- Constant indigestion- Acid. Reflux. It just comes up the esophagus at any ol’ time if not sitting at approximately 90 degrees.  Around 30 weeks it started to wake me up between the carpel tunnel numbed hands and midnight potty trips, so, now I sleep sitting up and with tums right next to me. Or should I say, I cat nap sitting up with tums right to me. (See insomnia.)

6- Uncomfortable Pooping- Not just the actual pooping part but the sitting on the toilet having to crunch the baby in your stomach part. Oh and hemroids. You don’t know about them until you do. You just don’t. My husband makes fun of me because I keep a container of tucks pads next to the most used toilet in our house for all the guests and what not to see instead of “tucked” away (no pun intended).  He has no idea the discomfort involved in big belly, pregnant tucking shit away that is used on the reg.  They can stay out for public viewing.  I don’t care. And really, by the the third kid, I’ve really already lost all dignity I may have previously had.  #noshame. 

25ish weeks 

7- Pregnancy brain- also known as being absentminded.  People don’t believe this exists until it happens specifically to them. For me, the more kids I have, the worse it gets.  I have had some real doozies these past 7/8 months.  Thankfully my husband is an understanding, loving and patient man that knows I’m not always such scatter brain. I have taken both sets of car keys with me on day trips stranding ku’u’aloha (my love) and the boys at home when they’ve had appointments or places they’ve needed to be. I’ve locked myself and my youngest out of the car at preschool drop off in 20 degree weather and hubs has had to come to the rescue with spare keys. I’ve forgotten my purse in several spots, several times, and not realized it until we pull in our driveway at home only to turn around and drive back to pick it up.  I have no idea what day of the week it is and I’ve completely forgotten the oldest’s speech sessions 3 different times. And I still have 7 weeks left of hosting this amazing little parasite. 

8- Peeing- Zombie middle of the night pee trips are a given and the not being able to fall back asleep after but also peeing in my pants. It’s truly a problem when you’re married to the world’s funniest man. Sometimes, there just aren’t enough pants. My 4 year old says it’s ok mommy. We all have accidents. 

Ready. So ready. Thanks Mother Nature.  7 weeks left.  <3
At the end of the 9 months, (really 10 months but who’s counting?) I know I will get yet another beautiful, lovely and charming little baby.  All the aches and pains will be more than worth it but don’t think that for one second I won’t remember all of this thanks to Mother Nature and remind this kid as he grows all that I have endured to make the miracle that he is.  From there, I’ll lay a smidge more mom guilt on and say, “Now, go make me proud.”  

If I Could Freeze Time


If I could freeze time forever, I’d freeze it embracing you on the day you were born and smelling your sweet, heavenly scent but then I wouldn’t be able to hear your laughter.

If I could freeze time forever, I’d freeze it listening your contagious giggles but then I wouldn’t be able to see you take your first steps.

If I could freeze time forever, I’d freeze it watching you cautiously walking but then I wouldn’t be able to someday hear you say, “I love you.”

If I could freeze time forever, I’d freeze it hearing you say, “I love you,” as there is no sweeter melody but then I wouldn’t be able to see you write your name for the first time.

If I could freeze time forever, I’d freeze it watching you carefully write your letters but then I wouldn’t be able to see you ride a bicycle.

If I could freeze time forever, I’d freeze it watching you successfully maneuver your bike but then I wouldn’t be able to see you attend the first day of kindergarten.

If I could freeze time forever, I’d freeze it watching you wave me goodbye as you enter school but then I wouldn’t be able to see you score your first soccer goal.

If I could freeze time forever, I’d freeze it watching you run down the field, scoring that first goal but then I wouldn’t be able to see you star in the school play.

If I could freeze time forever, I’d freeze it watching you confidently recite your lines for the star performance but then I wouldn’t be able to see you so elegantly dressed for the school dance.

If I could freeze time forever, I’d freeze it watching you on prom night as you exchange corsages with your date but then I wouldn’t see you graduate from college.

If I could freeze time forever, I’d freeze it watching you confidently and maturely walking to receive your college diploma but then I wouldn’t be able to see you start a career.

If I could freeze time forever, I’d freeze it watching you succeed in the real world by working and paying your own way but then I’d miss the day you exchanged rings and said, “I do.”

If I could freeze time forever, I’d freeze it watching you say, “I do,” to the someone that holds your heart but then I wouldn’t be able to see you hold your own tiny miracle.

If I could freeze time forever, I’d freeze it watching you embrace your own little one, inhaling their sweet heavenly scent and I’d be overcome, as I always have been, with pride, joy and nostalgia in the person you’ve become.

Botox vs. Diamonds


I woke up today, 35 years to the day of my birth. Maybe if I write the number, it won’t sound so old. Thirty five. Nope, it still sounds old.

I look in the mirror. I see a woman. A woman who needs her roots dyed, her brows waxed, even a manicure wouldn’t hurt. 

Oh my, and the forehead wrinkles and those laugh lines. 

Damn all those lines. 

I’ve dreaded this day since my 34th (thirty four, nope, still looks old) birthday.

35 is not like 40 or 50. 

I mean, you can’t find the ’35 milestone’ in Hallmark or anything but to a woman, this woman, it feels… Old.

It’s advanced maternal age for god’s sake. As far as I’m concerned ‘advanced’ and ‘age’ being used in combination to describe how many years I’ve been walking this world leaves me feeling, well, advanced in age. 

If I live another 35 years, I’ll be 70. 70 years old! I’m sweating just thinking about it. Or maybe it’s a heat flash. They start around 35 (thirty five) right? Or is it 40? Cripes! Now I’m forgetting things. 

I thought last year about what I wanted for the big three-five. “Botox,” I said. “I want Botox for my 35th year of life.”

I spent the better part of six months thinking that’s what I was going to treat myself to because, “I am going to defy time. 

I am not going to get old. Hell, maybe I’ll save for a tummy tuck or breast augmentation. 

Yeah. Yeah. Then everyone won’t believe how old I am. 

My boys will grow up wondering how in the world their beautiful mother defied time. She was always ageless and it was effortless.”

I started thinking about that message though and somehow it bothered me. I couldn’t figure out why. 

Don’t I want my boys to be proud of me? Don’t I want them to think I’m beautiful?

Yes, of course I do. So, Botox it is. 

No. No. Why is this weighing on me?

What is NOT feeling right about this?

I want my husband to think I’m as beautiful as the day he met me too. I’m getting Botox. 

Hmmm, I kind of want diamonds too. Diamonds? Why do I want diamonds?

You want Botox. Hide those lines Lady. 

Hide. Them. 

Botox it is.

A few months pass. The boys are in the tub playing with their toys. I’m looking in the mirror at my face lines as they splash around laughingly. 

Damn those lines. 

I put on a mud mask. My oldest smiles at me, as my face is greener than the Hulk. I’m ready for him to say something silly, maybe even a smidge insulting. 

He says, “Booty-full Mommy!”

My paranoia and fear leave me wondering whether he’s actually thinking I’m beautiful or that I have a big booty. I went with beauty. 

That night I can’t stop thinking about it. My 4 year old (four year old, yep, even written out, that still sounds young) thinks I’m beautiful.

Even with a face of green. Even with my wrinkles. My age lines. My gray hair. 

He doesn’t know I’m nearing 35. 

He doesn’t care. 

I’m his mom and he loves me because I wipe his butt after he poops. Because I chase the night monsters away. Because I kiss boo boo’s when he falls. Because I’m his best playmate. Because I snuggle him when he’s sad. Because I’m his teacher.

Furthermore, as his teacher, what am I teaching him in my efforts and attempts to defy time?

What message am I delivering to him about women and the aging process?

What expectations am I modeling in regards to his future wife or mother of his children?

Do I want him to think that I should be ashamed of my laugh lines that I gained giggling during some of the greatest memories in my life? 

Is getting older something to be ashamed about? And if so, why? It’s a natural part of life. It’s unavoidable no matter the Botox or cosmetic surgery. 

Botox or not, I’ll still be 35. I’ll still be beautiful in the eyes of all those that truly matter because of who I am and the relationship we have, not because of my (lack of) wrinkles. 

Don’t get me wrong, I’ll still go to the salon and get my hair done.

I’ll wear uncomfortable high heels because they look better than my flats.

I’ll wear make up, get my eyebrows waxed and I’ll still get manicures and pedicures. 

Heck, I’m even gonna try out one of those body wraps a friend gave me to hide cellulite but no needles. 

No overly expensive procedures to make me something I’m not. 

I wouldn’t be tricking anyone. 

I’m not defying time. 

I’d only be kidding myself. Myself. 

So, today, my 35th birthday, as I look into the mirror at my aging lines, I’m saying, “Leave Vanity and don’t come back. Take your friend Fear with you. You’re not welcome here today or any other day for that matter. Both of you, stay away from me and my boys. I will not let you dictate my life. I am beautiful the way I am. Wrinkles, green mud masked face, and diamond earrings.” 

Yes. Diamond earrings. 

They are the timeless, beautiful gift that my dear husband gave me today.

And one day I’ll be passing them down to my boys.