tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4084281308073993072024-02-08T06:53:49.665-08:00Unicorn Mom/'yoonəˌ kôrn /mäm/ - noun
Deehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07995774857599699621noreply@blogger.comBlogger1125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-408428130807399307.post-72165976158528798862016-11-23T21:05:00.002-08:002016-11-23T21:40:24.586-08:006 months back (a trip down poopy memory lane) <div style="color: #222222; font-family: "Josefin Sans"; font-size: 20px; line-height: 1.3em; margin: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">Ain't no shame momma.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">Today was one of those mornings. I woke up to a shrill little "YEAAAAAAAAAKKKKKGURGLE" in my ear. LO (little one) was wedged between the beds and trying to wake up/ poop in the process. I rescue her, give her a kiss and give her to Hubby till I get her food ready. By food, I mean rice, veg, fruits in various mushy pulps that pleases my little 6 month princess-warrior's tastebuds of course. The morning hour ends with me bathing her, feeding her and dressing her to ultimately get to the daycare. I<span class="apple-converted-space"><i> </i></span><i>then</i><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>iron my clothes, get my shit together (laptop, wallet, food), head out to the car, pick her up to place her in the car seat and...<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt;">SPLAT.</span></b><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">She vomits on the black t-shirt I'm wearing. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">I lose it a little.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">I hand her back to my mom and go inside to change. The tshirt I pick next shows off my post-motherhood tummy too well. It also makes my butt superiorly large. I'm neither living in LA or<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><a href="http://www.eonline.com/eol_images/Entire_Site/20151130/rs_500x281-151230150411-khloe-butt-gif-2.gif" style="color: #4f96a0; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Khloe Kadarshian<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></a>to be uber proud of it; so inside I go to strip yet again. Finally, I come out in yesterday's (OK I lie... it's from day before) jeans and one of hubby's (favourite) t-shirts in black and I am... frankly in super ARGH-mode. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">I PROMISED myself I wouldn't let myself go. I swear, I was one of those people told myself I'm never going to go down that road where I'll look literally looked like something the cat dragged in. Nope - not doing that.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">I mean, the first month of being a mom was such a shocker... I found myself going out to get some<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><a href="http://i.imgur.com/7wlzD.gif" style="color: #4f96a0; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">threading done</a><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>after being a female version of Gollem (I holed myself up for a few weeks) post-birth. I literally smelt of milk and something indescribably 'baby'. In fact, baby cologne was my go-to perfume, comfy harem pants paired with large shapeless t-shirts were the best. My hair, which is going grey needed salon strength help, big time.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">But hey, let's talk about today. Luckily, work allows any type of attire but I TRY to keep it a little professional without looking like a bum off the street. So therefore, hubby's tee with ye olde jeans and hacked sandals again. Le Sigh. At least some eyeliner and gloss applied at work helped a little. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif , serif; font-size: 12pt;">It's hard you know. 99.9999% of the world isn't Gisele Bundchen post-birth. 99.9999% of the world can't afford to "hide" until their bodies (and minds - more on that later) are back on "track" again... Hey, 99.9999% don't have to depend on their body to make money either (percentages are totally made up)...the point is...I think its OKAY to let go SOMEtimes. No one knows how hard being pregnant and carrying all that extra weight feels, until you already do. Or maybe strap a bowling ball to your mid-section and try walking around with it all day...so WEAR those fugly flowy goddamn pants already. Yeesh.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif , serif; font-size: 12pt;">Also, no one actually knows how much work goes into making a kid LOOK respectable and society-ready until you've had that experience. Yeah, kids CAN be stinky, sticky, gooey, smelly - they can't help it can they though, heh. That fresh-dewy-baby smell? The parents help, believe me :D Bwahahah. </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">What's the point of this post? I don't know. I wore old jeans, bad sandals and one of hubby's tshirts to work today. I feel super comfy and super fat. That's ok. I forgive myself. It's one of those days. And you know... please forgive that tired looking mom... I'm sure there's a hellava LOT going on right now! Do something nice for her, its the least you can do- and believe me, it's going to make her feel abso-freaking-great. :D</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">(Also, this is for my Mom. Thanks, ILY)</span></span><br />
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Deehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07995774857599699621noreply@blogger.com0