holycrapimyourmom

I am so fucking tired right now you guys. As I type this I'm sitting on my filthy couch that's covered in various kid juices and secretions, several stuffed animals, ancient cracker crumbs and a variety of hair. The baby is sitting in his vibrating chair to my left. He's cooing and smiling in between fits of whimpering because he wants to breastfeed. He's cluster feeding, which is a sweet euphemism for "sucking the life out of my once perky breasts". As I try to give him a binky, he smiles at me, which melts my heart, then projectile barfs through his baby grin onto my last clean tank top. My three year old is digging into a box of cereal that I didn't know we owned. Where did she get those chocolate peanut butter Cheerios? She is sticking her hands in and out of the box, coating them in sugary goodness, then letting the dog lick her hands. If that wasn't gross enough, after he's done sopping up all the probably-really-bad-for-dogs flavors off

I have a new segment for this blog, and also my life, that I will call The First 15 . This is a play by play of every event that has taken place during the first 15 minutes of my day. My life now, as you will discover, is a complete and utter shit show from the jump. This is not a unique experience for most mothers, but I continue to be flabbergasted by how insane it all is, all the GD time.  Enjoy. 6:43 am -I awaken to the dulcet tones of my baby screaming. He is laying right beside me in bed, because I was too tired to put him back into his sleep nest last night, so it's really f'ing loud. 6:44 am -I manage to shove my boob into his mouth so he stops crying, even though I'm fairly certain my exhausted, drained breasts have nothing more to give. I re-close my eyes, hoping to fall back asleep for a little while. But then... 6:44 am -My toddler, smelling an opportunity to rip sleep away from me, starts calling, nay, BELLOWING, my name over and over from her ro

I'm sorry it's been so damn long since I've posted anything. Truth be told I never have six seconds to myself ever. I'm not kidding.  I'm typing this while wearing Charlie, who has barfed on me twice since I opened my computer. I mean, he's cute and stuff, but holy shit can this kid puke! He's def gonna make his goal weight. Meanwhile Bo is watching Despicable Me 2  in the living room, but keeps screaming "MOMMY! HELP!" And when I run in to check on her, she says "HI!" I thought when people said it was much harder with two kids they were being silly. They weren't. More on that....soon. I hope. Anyway, I wanted to post about this fun podcast I did about moms who kill, just in time for Mothers Day! It was the only time I left the house that week. Freedom, as it turns out, tastes a lot like the two vodka sodas I slammed once I knew I would be in front of grown up's for the first time in a while and could take an Uber with n

Bo holding her little brother, Charlie, for the first time. Clearly she thinks he should be able to handle his own neck by now.   On March 26th at 4:06pm Charlie Wilder Cobb was born. He decided that his accommodations in my uterus had grown stale and that he would make an appearance three weeks early. Cheeky little fella. Since he was early no one was here to help out yet, which is why at 2:00 am that Monday morning when my water broke we made the decision that I would drive myself to the hospital. Bo was still asleep and going through the experience of waking her up out of a dead sleep would be way more painful than any labor pains I could have. It honestly seemed easier to just get myself to Cedars Sinai and figure it out later. The moment after my water broke and our new Ikea duvet cover is destroyed. While I'd like to be viewed as a total bad ass driving myself during the beginning stages of labor, the truth is it wasn't that big of a deal. See, in mo

If you're a parent I bet your days are filled to the brim with utter fear and anxiety that at any minute the world will end. It's scary enough having kids and worrying they're going to hurt themselves just by falling off their roller shoes, let alone the possibility of them walking into a Chuck E Cheese on a random Tuesday and having to duck and cover because one of the animatronics with a history of violence has beef with the day manager. (How did he get hired in the first place?!) So what are we, as parents of the future generation, supposed to do to deal with all this insanity? While there are the logical and thoughtful solutions suggested time after time like, uh, how about we don't give that dude who with a Google history exclusively on "How To Burn A Cat Alive Without Making A Mess" that AR-15, ideas like that  are clearly insane and threaten the very core of all American values of being able to own ALL THE GUNS.    It seems like the only thing we can

" Fuck, Mommy! Please, fuck, Mom! Mom, fuck, fuck! " said my two and a half year old while watching Zootopia one evening during dinner. My husband and I looked up from our food/computer and stared at each other wide eyed. Then our our expressions began to change slightly. His look became that of a quiet accusation, and mine, guilt. Our toddler is saying "fuck" over and over again, and we both know who she heard it from. It is 100% Mommy's fault , and I know it. Obviously, if you've read previous posts, it's no mystery that I am a person who swears. I swear alllllllll the time, and I always have. As I turn to avoid my husbands gaze of disapproval I flash back to my past filled to the brim with potty mouth behavior. It all started when I was about two or so. My grandpa was holding me, cooing, making me laugh. And as he came in for a snuggle I flashed a big smile and said, "Fuck bullshit shit dammit!" then let out one of those precio

I don't know exactly what it is about me, but I've always been the type of gal that people think they can just say anything to. Perhaps they think, " She's funny! And has the bone structure of someone who doesn't get offended easily! I think I'll cover her with word vomit! " This rule of thumb didn't disappoint this pregnancy. So, for your amusement may I present the top five weirdest things people have said to me during this gestation process . Luckily, I still have about six weeks left so fingers crossed I'll be able to alter this list by then. 5. " Oh my God, are you pregnant? Oh good. I asked a woman that the other day, and she said no and got SO upset!" This was said to me by a young girl who works in the piano lab where I'm taking classes. She has seen me many times before and we've never had to venture much past "Which room would you like?" and "Great, you have an hour, thanks!" I have liked

This morning I was hanging out with my little girl. She usually watches an episode of Sesame Street while we get her ready. It's entertaining enough to keep her focus, and distracting enough for us to get her dressed without a struggle. Today though we actually had some leisure time as she wasn't going to day care and mommy was feeling lazy AF. I decided that maybe we could try something else, as it's gotten painful to re-watch Sesame Street over and over. I'm starting to become like one of those weirdo cinephile folks who can mouth word for word every line in some jaunty art film they worship. Except in my case it's not exactly high art but rather the episode where Elmo is learning how to ride his tricycle. I flipped through Amazon Prime to see if I could find anything interesting in the kids section. And interesting is exactly what I found. I stumbled across some old episodes of Mr. Rogers Neighborhood and immediately put it on. I hoped my kid would be

Recently at a store I frequent I had an interaction with the checker I always chat with. He's a nice guy, young, stoned, friendly. For a dude who's constantly baked his memory is impeccable. He always asks about my daughter, and our dog, Dave, and wants to hear about the thing I told him I was going to do the last time I saw him, etc. You get it. Just as I was about to say goodbye he asked if he could check out my engagement ring, since he was in the market and wanted some ideas! And even though I fucking hate it when other people do this, I squealed and jumped up and down a little bit. It seems it's an involuntary response. I asked about his girlfriend. Dude: "She's super cool, very chill for a Caucasian." Me: "Oh, that's good. Most white people are the worst." Dude: "She's like a hippie chick, but not a Vegan or anything." Me: "Thank God." Dude: "And she wants to have kids one day, which is awesome!

"I truly believe that you should wear things that you feel 100% great in. If you are uncomfortable all day or don't feel confident about a look, don't ever wear it again. You don't have to wear all the trends. Find what works for you. " Amen sister! Though I have grown fond of my "momiform" of sweatpants and hi-top Vans on the average day, I have also been known to pull it together when I needed to! Luckily for us moms there is stylist and social media celeb Angela Fink who is proving being a mom doesn't mean you need to frump it up!  Check out this piece on her in Refinery29 , and learn how to pull your shit together in a jiffy while still ruling the world! Also check out her Instagram here . And while you're at it, check out my Instagram here and here . 

If there is one thing I know about myself it is that I simply can't eat an ice cream sandwich with any sort of dignity. If there is a second thing I'm sure of, its that I am not emotionally healthy enough to handle the children's book The Giving Tree by Shel Silverstein. That book sends me into a sobbing fit so powerful I need my inhaler to pull me out safely. Every time I open the book I am cutting myself emotionally, and this post is a cry for help. If you're not familiar with this classic let me give you the cliff notes. It's about a boy and a tree. When the boy is young he loves the tree and hangs with it all the time, and the tree is so happy. They play and he climbs and he eats her apples and sleeps in her shade. The tree even allows the boy to carve their initials into her side that's surrounded by a heart. She loved this boy so much she allowed him to brand her permanently. Things were pretty awesome for a long time, until the boy got a

I am obsessed with make up. It's a "I have a million products and I love it and I'm not slowing down, sorry children you may not go to college but at least Mommy is gorgeous!" kind of obsession. One of the things that kind of sucks about pregnancy is that while others are obligated to say you're glowing, in reality you may just feel like a sweaty, puffy mess. At least I do! I've been thinking about adding a little beauty hack stuff into this blog. Just products I've found that make me feel beautiful that I'd like to share with my other beautiful readers! So, without further adieu, I'd like to introduce a blog segment I'm calling: "Mom, Get Your Shit Together!" I'll try to do at least weekly product and beauty hacks that I've discovered that make life easier, not harder, and really make you feel great. Because let's be real, you can't drink yourself pretty right now, might as well do something to keep you occupi

I happen to be a part of the greatest Facebook mommy group of all time. It's filled with successful, interesting, hilarious and strong women who have kept me going on many an occasion. I can reach out to them about anything parenting related, no matter how small or embarrassing, and in almost every situation I get positive responses that are encouraging and helpful. Why does this qualify as the greatest mommy group of all time, you ask? Because this mommy group is a rare gem amongst the cubic zirconia's of social media life. It's an online community of women who actually support each other rather than tear each other down. More importantly, it's other moms who have been though the shit and we all can acknowledge that we are what is lovingly referred to as a "garbage mom", and I love them so much for it! The term "garbage mom" is thrown around a ton in my mommy group, and I heard it again today as I was listening to one of my favorite podcasts