When you can’t cut the cheese. 

I could live off of wine and cheese. Charcuterie trays, creamy and crumbly cheese, topped of by a flight of bold, chewy red wine is what my dreams are made of.  As a mom though, I will settle for a cheese stick and a can of rose. It’s totes the same. 

8 years ago, I gave up gluten. We had a great 30 year run, but apparently we needed to break up. My stomach and alopecialess head were grateful. My soul however was crushed, and I cried for all the beer I could no longer have. With those tasty hops now off limits, I found a new love for my magical “mommy juice”.  

Growing E for nine months meant giving up my mommy juice. Charcuterie trays were also not on my approved pregnancy menu, either. I suppose one could nuke their tray, but the amount of barf that was already happening sans nuked charcuterie was enough for this mama. So instead, I demolished the weight of a small city in mozzarella cheese sticks. 

We welcomed E a little over 4 months ago.  I was so excited to have an outside baby, that I made my brother-in-law bring a bottle of rosè to the hospital. Sushi and rosè have never tasted so damn good.  

So yeah, E-man is a champion eater.  He loves his milk, and every two hours he demands to be fed.  Like,loves his milkies. 

Oh the irony. 

You know what he doesn’t love?  Dairy. 


Please, shed a tear for me now.  Little man apparently cannot stomach(see what I did there) when his mama eats dairy.  

When this little dude entered the world, I gave up dairy to try and prevent reflux in him.  Big sis had it, and it sucked. This time around I researched some more to see if we could prevent it. Dairy seemed to be a common trigger. So I said goodbye to my beloved cheese. My wine would just need to be consumed without it. It’s a sacrifice I know, but one I was willing to take. 

Yeah, it didn’t work. My kid still puked everywhere and cried if he wasn’t being held. Sleeping was a joke. At his 2 month check up, his doc put him on Zantac. That stuff is magical. For real, he was like a new baby. Well, one that still puked everywhere, but at least he’s happy doing it. Doc also said I could resume eating all the cheesy goodness. Woohoo! So I stuffed my face with some cheese. 

E was still all smiles. Mama was happy, too. Milk and cereal had never tasted so good.

That’s when the smell came. The clear the room type of smell. 

Yeah, dairy and E still don’t get along. Who knew that a 8 week old could clear a room.  Pungent would probably be too nice of a description. 

So let’s all shed a tear for my palette, and rejoice for the fact that my kid’s butt no longer smells like something crawled in his diaper and died. 

And let me know if one ever finds the unicorn of pizza: a vegan, gluten-free pizza that doesn’t taste or smell like cardboard and broken dreams. 

Cheese, I will see you again next year, my friend. 

Multitasking Mania

In my twenties, I used to think I was really busy.  Like super busy.  Sundays were for sleeping in, and brunching after noon. It was a hard life.

In my thirties, I met my now husband.  Fitting in two sides of friends is like a sport.  It was exhausting, but for the greater good we both managed it. 

Then we had kids. 

Are you laughing at us yet?  I am.  I mean,  I need to go to work to get a break these days. 

So, I am the queen of multitasking.  If you were second guessing my title, let me just point out that I am typing this from my phone while baby boy snoozes in my arms. 

Apparently, in someone’s arms is the only place this dude will sleep.  Then I have to creep ever so slowly to his bassinet and set him down.  Then I pray to all the gods that his eyes stay shut. 

Any way, to survive parenthood with at least some of my sanity I multitask a lot.  Did you know that you can drive and pump at the same time?  Even better, you can nurse your baby and hold your toddler firmly on that gross public toilet seat at the same time.  Eating while nursing the baby is child’s play these days. 

Seriously, I would not be able to survive without a few essential pieces in my mama aresenal. 

Like this one:
Baby-wearing is a must when you have two littles.  This is the only way I eat when I have them both.  Plus, I can nurse while wearing baby boy.  When in super mom mode, I can nurse and wipe big sister’s butt simultaneously.

The Ergo is my friend.  This one here is the Ergo 360.  It’s my go-to these days.  I also wore a sling quite a bit in the beginning, but E is insanely strong and stands up in it.  So we’ve been rocking our Ergo ever since.  Bonus, V likes to baby wear, too.  She’s so on trend.  Her go to carrier is this Ergo Baby Doll Carrier.

I’ve mentioned before that I have a love-hate relationship with my pump.  I love that it helps me catch all my liquid gold, but I hate being attached to it like a cow.  My job is in outside sales, and means I don’t get a lactation room to pump in.  When I work from home I have a cute little corner set up.  The car…well that’s a whole other story.   In it, I rotate between using my Freemie Collection Cups and a combo hands free pumping/nursing bra.   This one by Rosie Pope is my go to lately.  It’s cute and doesn’t scream, “I’m for holding the milk-makers only.”

Dresses are my go to for work and when I can’t wear yoga pant’s weekends.  Finding a cute dress that is nursing friendly AND CUTE, is insanely hard.  I stumbled upon Harper and Bay recently, and my nursing mama dreams came true.  They have the cutest dresses with zippers built in so you can be cute and nurse without a boob fully exposed, and they don’t look like potato sacks with stretched out necklines. 

See, what I mean:

Now picture this dress, my lacy black bra, and my freemies singing Free Bird down the highway.  True story.  A multitasking dream, right!?! 

So, yeah, I like to think I’m a master multitasker.  We mamas are really good at it.  See, I even wrote a tiny little novel right here on it.  I’ll save the rest of my musings until later.  I’m now off to a 1st birthday party where I can eat, nurse, and drop food on my baby’s head all at the same time. 

Why Buy the Cow…

Let’s talk about breastfeeding or pumping…or breastfeeding and pumping.

I have a love-hate relationship with breastfeeding.  I know.  I can hear the sanctomommies gasping already.  I love my kids.  I love the milk drunk expressions on there face after a good pull at the teet.  It means built in cuddles with my spawn.

I despise feeling like I’m tethered to my milk.  I’m 38 years old and have spent the majority of my adult life living it the way I want.  No one could really dictate a plan to me.  Breastfeeding and pumping means I’m on someone else’s schedule at all times.  Even when I’m not with my spawn, I’m still on their schedule.

The sanctomommies are still clutching their pearls in horror right about now.

I’ve spent 77.5 weeks growing babies and 69 weeks nourishing my babies so far.  Holy hell, it’s a lot of work.  I long for my body to be my own.  I dread the sound of my pump. I know I could give them formula, and be done with it.

Instead, I will plug along and continue to nurse my son. Those tiny moments where he’s milk drunk or places his tiny hand upon my chest will make me swoon, and ultimately remind me why I chose breastfeeding to feed my children.

In the end, all those weeks of letting my children dictate my schedule will just be a blip in the timeline of their life.   I’ve heard the saying “The days are long, but the years are fast.” from multiple people recently.  Nine words could not ring truer.

Plus, I really plan to go Office Space on my pump when we finish this journey.  When milk drunk faces can’t get me through, the thought of beating my pump to oblivion certainly will.