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If anyone needs me, I’ll be over here signing my toddler up for Match.com.

I’ve always been a safety first kind of person, for better or worse. I think it drove my husband nuts, that is until we had a kid. Now, hopefully, he appreciates that quality as he knows that Francis always comes first.

I worry about her safety constantly and I do everything in my power to keep her safe.

Or do I?

Recently I started researching schools. The plan is to have her in an early pre-school program by the time she turns two this fall.

What started as an innocent private school vs. public school research project, turned into something alarming. Admittedly, I fell down the Internet rabbit hole while reading the pros and cons of private schooling… but at any rate,  I stumbled upon this HuffPo piece about children’s personal information being collected by the company that owns Match.com and OKCupid and Tinder.

SERIOUSLY, WTF?!

While my daughter isn’t anywhere near the age of needing SAT prep yet, this still has me VERY concerned. It seems pretty problematic to me that an “educational” service can collect personal information from children prepping for SAT testing. How can we trust that the student data isn’t being transferred straight into another of the company’s websites which again are dating sites. As a parent, I don’t trust that my kid’s personal info would be safeguarded. My hell, I’m a marketer, I know what happens with personal data.

I do everything in my power to keep my daughter safe… to my knowledge that is. I cannot imagine how angry I would be if I were in the group of parents realizing that Match.com (legally?) owns personal information about my child.

This brings so many questions to mind…

How do I safeguard my daughter’s personal information?

Does this mean I have to research every single company I do business with on her behalf?

I suppose that’s the safest course of action, but seriously who has that kind of time? I’m busy watching EVERY SINGLE THING my toddler does in order to keep her safe. Shouldn’t it be up to companies to have at least a little decency and ethical behavior when it comes to children?!

A Year Later…

How did an entire year go by in a mere moment? Was it the lack of sleep or maybe the massive amount of love I developed for my daughter? All I know is this happened way too fast and I need time to slow down ASAP.
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Mama Guilt

Guilt has always been a motivating factor in my life. Seriously.

For example, let’s say I want to skip a family event… I don’t have to question whether or not I’ll feel guilty because I so, so will. I have to ask myself how long will I feel guilty. I’m OK with anything less than 48 hours of guilt. Anything higher means I can’t skip the hypothetical family event.

Enter mama guilt.

When I’m at work, I feel guilty I’m not home with Franny. When I’m home with her, I feel guilty I’m not at work. Don’t get me started on the guilt I feel over the pugs not getting as much attention as they deserve. Don’t worry, they still run the show but just with less walks.

Does it get better or at least a little bit easier?

Because ohhhmyyygoddd people, there’s nothing stronger. I wish I could bottle it up and get my loved ones drunk off mama guilt. WAIT, forget my loved ones. I’d open a fucking club and make billions.

Six Month Update

My tiny human, Franny, is six months old, which means I’ve been a mom for half a year… talk about a holy shit moment.

I had high hopes of blogging my experiences, but then life happened. My beloved brother died in January. I went back to work full-time in February, and suddenly here we are and it’s the end of April… and I’m like “Oh yeah, I have a blog.”

Oops.

Having a baby and working full-time means I don’t have a lot of free time. And truthfully, free time is the last thing I want. I want more time with my daughter.  Can you blame me? Look at this little pile of love.

Six Month Old Franny

I knew I’d enjoy motherhood on some level, but I wasn’t prepared for just how much. This kiddo is rocking my world and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

So as for an update. I’m surviving. Franny is surviving. The pugs and husband are, too, surviving. I managed to get through a family tragedy, post pregnancy hormones and a colicky infant all at once.

With that behind me, I’m just enjoying every single day with my family. More to come…

58 Days

My due date is 58 days away. I’m so ready for this to be over; pregnancy is definitely not my favorite stage in life.

That said, I’m incredibly excited to meet our daughter. Our daughter. OUR DAUGHTER. I have to keep repeating that, because it just doesn’t feel real. Sure, I can feel her kick… um, constantly. Yet, my mind is having trouble grasping that this is a human and not just some freak medical condition that will just magically go away and not produce a human.

You guys, a daughter!

I am going to be in charge of raising another human being. The universe allowed that. MIND. BLOWN.

Love is Weird

Saturday afternoon, Chris and I were driving home after grabbing lunch. In an attempt to make idle conversation Chris asked, “What will you do someday when I die?” Because I’m SUCH a romantic, I didn’t skip a beat and said,”Kill myself, obviously. What will you do when I die?” He looked at me, as if in deep thought and said, “Probably build something.”

Um, WTF, build something? I guess that’s fine, as long as it’s a shrine to me.

Baby Names

Today someone asked me if we had a name for the baby. Silly question, since I have named basically every inanimate object I’ve ever owned.

“Of course we have a name! Right now I’m calling her Goddamn Fetus, but we are thinking of changing it in time for her birth.”

At that moment I realized I am a monster and shouldn’t be allowed to procreate, but at least I’m a funny monster to some. Just not the person I was speaking to at the moment. But oh well, you can’t win over everyone.

Things Your Asshole Friends Don’t Tell You About Pregnancy Symptoms

In an attempt to get our house ready for a tiny human that will be arriving in October, I took a couple much needed days off work. At 19 weeks pregnant, I have the energy to get shit done and wanted to take advantage before that disappears along with my waistline.

A few hours into my de-junking project I got bored and ran to the grocery store to get that task out of the way. I raced through Harmons throwing basically anything vegetarian with protein into my cart and headed to the check-out line. Normally the cashiers are uber friendly, so it was really odd that the cashier barely spoke to me. The only time she looked up at me, she stared at me like she’d seen a ghost.

When I reached my car I checked the mirror to get apply Chapstick to my badly chapped lips, and noticed something absolutely disgusting. My entire mouth was covered in blood. I’m talking nasty vampire scene of blood dripping from my teeth.

SO FUCKING GROSS.

Yeah, so bleeding gums are apparently yet another pregnancy symptom no one bothered to tell me about. This baby girl had better be worth it. OR ELSE.

Procreation, It Happens

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Pregnancy is so goddamn weird. And I’m not even talking about the weirdness that is happening to my body, but rather how people react.

The most common reaction comes from my family to my husband. “Chris, we are just SO VERY proud of you.” Um, proud of him… for what exactly? Jizzing in their daughter/sister/granddaughter?

Maybe it’s normal to tell an expectant father you’re proud of him, but to me it sounds so odd. How about being proud of me? I’m the one actually growing our daughter, and I’d like a parade… or at least a trophy.

If that happens will someone please wake me up, because I may possibly nap through it.

The Sleeping Habits (or lack thereof) of Rosie Finlinson (aka Asshole Puppy)

Saturday night Chris and I went to a friend’s house for the evening, where he regaled us with Rosie Finlinson stories.

She’s absolutely the worst dog at night; if she’s on the floor she wants in bed with us. If she’s in bed with us, she wants us awake and does everything she can to make it happen.

In hopes of getting our friends to truly understand what we deal with each night, we act out the scene.

You really have to watch this video to feel our pain.