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. 

If you’re reading this, send wine.

Potty training is hell. Potty training a tiny diva terrorist is it own special kind of evil.

About a month ago, I was boasting about my potty trained princess. Miss thing had fully moved to her big girl princess underwear (damn you Disney). She thought she was so cool to be wearing them. And, I mean, you can’t get princesses wet with pee so this meant numerous bathroom trips to keep those fabulous cartoons dry. 

The universe clearly thought that was too easy. Because no one’s got time for laundry (and my single lady days of sending it out are long gone) and littles don’t always wake up when it’s time to pee, we’ve been using pull ups at nap and bedtime. 

Yeah, you already see where this is going don’t you? 

Miss V has taken to holding her pee for an insanely long time. We can carry her kicking and screaming to the bathroom, strip her butt naked, and place her on the toilet. Behold, the bladder of steel. That thing still doesn’t get emptied. 

Our nanny needed a sick day on Tuesday, so I stayed home with the kids. After a full morning with a trip to the park and lunch, it was time for home and bed. 

I successfully tuck her into bed, and descend the stairs with my almost sleeping little man. Winning!

I haven’t hit the bottom step before I hear the cries.  

“Mommy, mommy!”

Panic sets in as I realize I forgot the pull up. Why is this a big deal, you say? Oh well, Miss V likes those princesses better, and holds her pee just to share it with them. Sofia can hold an impressive amount of pee.  She can be so full she might fall off on her own, but Miss V cannot let her princess go. 

Witness the Sofialess and now pee soaked toddler. She and her big girl princesses are wet. The world is ending. 

You can bet Mommy hasn’t forgotten the pull up the rest of this week. 

Hey Disney, if you’re reading this, your princesses need to pee, too. Plaster a big,old white throne on that screen where said princess can pop a squat. I’m thoroughly impressed with Sofia’s magical bladder, but can we lob a little parental potty training assist this way? I mean, if Sofia does it, it has to be cool, right?

Even better, package some wine with those pull ups. 


Parenting is a tricky beast.  It has this nifty little trick where it makes you think you’ve got it all figured out. And then surprise! Your sweet little children hit a new mastery level in manipulation.  Last week you were skilled at getting them to follow directions, and suddenly this week your bribing them with lint covered chocolate from the bottom of the diaper bag to eat their dinner. 

Mac+cheese with a side of fruit snacks four nights in a row is totally winning, right?

Parenting is hard, yo. It’s survival of the fittest out here.

Sadly, I’m not the one to come to for sage parenting advice (reference the lint covered chocolate above).  However, my SIL, Urban Ohana is good at that stuff.  She’s got some helpful hints here for surviving the newborn stage.  Me, well I’ve already blacked that stage out.  I mean, don’t all fresh from their mama babes only smell delicious and just want to cuddle? Eh, E is not quite four months, but he doesn’t eat green beans off the floor or talk back.  That totally makes him my current favorite.

This girl. Ooof. We have entered a whole new world. This image is of a full blown threenager. The mastery of manipulation on display is one to behold. The Terrible Twos have nothing on this(note this is being written by the mother of an almost three year old that will probably be laughing at herself in a year). 

Threenagers truly get the art of the deal.  I’m spectacularly impressed by the numerous glasses of water and bathroom trips one tiny human needs at bedtime.  There must also be an unspoken rule that poop cannot happen until 30 minutes after “goodnight”.  These are some seriously crafty humans. 

I once asked my mother if my three siblings and I were like this as children. Her response, “I don’t know.”

Guess blacking out runs in the family. 

Well, until I am no longer out-manipulated, at least there is Rosè.