What my Girls are Teaching me About Self Image. (RealTalk)

Haley has been kind of a pain in the ass about getting dressed lately, specifically when it comes to what fits her. She’s teeny and although she turned 4 in July, she still fits into some 3t things (especially her pants). Her closet is mostly 4t stuff except for  few pairs of jeans and a shirt of two which made the “it still fits her” cut when we packed away summer clothes and stuff she grew out of. (there’s a point to this)

A while back, she asked me about why her clothes are only 3 and why her sister is 12, even though sissy is smaller. Later, when I had to pack away one of her favorite shirts because it didn’t fit anymore, I told her that she was 4 and that meant that she got to wear 4t things. (I’m getting there…)

Yesterday, I was packing away the last of the clothes (you know, those few things that slip through because they were in the wash when you packed stuff away?) and I asked her if a pair of sweatpants still fit her or if they were too short (her waist fits into a lit of 3t, but they are to short on her) and she immediately just asked me what size the pants were. Now, the pants were a size 3t, and I knew that, but I knew she wore them, since they were in the wash. What got me was that she never even looked at the pants to see what I was asking her about, only for the size. Had I told her they were a 3, she would have said they were too small and packed them away, but instead, I asked responded with “I didn’t ask you what size they were, I asked you if they were too short.” And she responded with “no” (she later tried them on and they fit her fine)

This got me thinking: What is it about us that makes up focus so much on the size of our pants? It couldn’t possibly be drilled into her head that she’s got to fit into “her” size already, could it? Surely not. Her response really drove home the emphasis that even I put on my pants size. I’m sure this is just a phase or something I’m making a mountain out of, but it really got me thinking.

At what age do girls start feeling pressure to look a certain way or fit into a certain size? I highly doubt Haley didn’t want to keep 3t sweats because she was going to be made fun of for wearing them, but what if she did? When will she? I know that body image and confidence are sensitive subjects, and I know that she is old enough to hear someone call her fat and get upset by it, but is she old enough to care about what the scale or tag say?

Why do we have such an infatuation with numbers? Why can’t most people just go by how they feel? That’s something that I have been asking myself for the last day or so since I had this epiphany (the pink pants epiphany). If anyone is interested in weighing in, feel free.

Also, with the weekend closing in, I just want to remind everyone that my giveaway ends Monday at midnight!


Happy Birthday Haley!


Somehow, my big girl turned 4 on July 31. I say somehow because 1) I can’t believe she’s 4 already and 2) I can’t believe she’s survived this long.

Last weekend, we had a mermaid themed party for her in the backyard. (side note: backyard parties are still not “cheap” for anyone trying to avoid dropping a few hundred on party crap for their kid) I did order everything, except for the cake pan which they were out of, from http://www.partycity.com/ and got all of it for under $100.00 ((including shipping and tax!) for 32 people! I made an Ariel cake (mistake!) and we bought some fruit and brownies. It was strange though, because this is the first year that there were actually a lot of kids at her party instead of a bunch of adults fighting over who gets to hold Haley on their lap.

My cake was sort of a cake-tastrophe, though I was assured that it was not nearly as bad as I thought it was. Simple yellow cake with hot pink dye, vanilla frosting, Wilton gel dyes, and this cake pan made up the wonder that was what I refer to as “the plus-size Ariel cake”.

So I’m no artist, but this definitely could have come out worse.

Haley and everyone else had a blast though, so it was, as always, worth it.

So, HAPPY 4TH BIRTHDAY, Princess! Mommy loves you, even when bring me to making a pros and cons chart on breathing 😀

It’s That Time Again…

Funny Haley things!

I made impossible pie the other night (I just posted the recipe, here it is!). Not only do I love it, but it’s a good way to sneak some veggies into the table, usually.

I served it up all hot and fresh and yummy. Harper dove right in and loved it. Haley grabbed the fork and went for it! I was so excited, I thought I was out of the woods and was going to win the veggie war for the day when all of a sudden, she grabbed the fork and, with precision accuracy, carefully extracted a piece of broccoli from the mix, holding it up like a mom who just pound a Playboy under her son’s (or husband’s) bed. I knew I was done for…

Haley: “Mom, what is this?”
Me: “It’s impossible pie, baby. Isn’t it awesome?!”
Haley: “Yeah, but… is this broccoli?!”
Me: “Yeah, Hal. It’s good, just eat it.”
Haley: “Mommy, it’s impossible for me to eat this.”

Why, God? Why me? I can’t even with this kid…. how am I supposed to make her eat her vegetables when she is hysterical about it?! IT’S SO DAMN HARD TO BE MAD! What do you even do?!

Oy vey….

My Kid Wants Me Dead.

I swear it.

She tried to get me killed today.


Here’s the situation.

Date: 18, April, 2013
Time: 1815 hours 
Location: Grocery store parking lot.
Incident: While putting children into vehicle in
preparation for our departure, 3 male subjects 
approached our vehicle. One subject turned his 
attention to Haley, who noted the attention and 
responded with a quick "What are you looking at?!", 
then turned to me and reiterated, 
"That guy was looking at me!". 
Male subject noted the reaction, shot me a dirty 
look, then continued to an unknown destination. 
Response: Terror, fear, pride, amusement, then 
relief after the fact. 
Lesson: My daughter is not only JUST LIKE ME, 
but also is trying to get me killed.

Shenanigans in Philadelphia.

Yesterday, it was Harper’s NICU follow up appointment at The Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia (which is about 2 hours from here) and Mike happened to have work. Why is that important? Well because I had to take both kids myself on a 2 hour drive for an important developmental/medical assessment for the baby. Whatev. 

The appointment was long, yet mostly uneventful. Harper is doing great on all levels, the fee for parking is still discounted if you have an appointment there, and the cafeteria food in unparallelled. Haley wow’ed the social worker and doctor with her ability to keep quiet (in public) and how well she drew and wrote her name. She IS kinda good at writing her name and drawing. At least she’s good in public. 

The drive, however, was hilarious. Here are some quick highlights, since I’m short on time:

  • Harper cried for the last 45 minutes of the drive to the hospital. After ripping my hair out I frantically asked Haley what her sister wanted. Her response: “to get punched”
  • Haley was explaining to me how she remembered when I had her sister in my tummy and it was huge, like Papou’s (my dad – sorry dad!)
  • Haley fell asleep on the ride home and woke up occasionally when I hit a bump in the road, sang Shakira for a second or two, then fell back asleep. 
  • Harper throwing all the toys she could reach at her sister. 
  • The girls having a screaming match in the back of the car – and enjoying it.
  • Haley voicing her extreme dislike of traffic. 

Things I learned: 

  • Change the CD after a while.
  • Calling an idiot an idiot while driving MIGHT come with some hefty consequences. 
  • Bottles work better when they aren’t upside-down in the car seat.
  • I STILL HATE parking garages. 

Anyway, that was our adventure. Though we had fun, it was definitely stressful taking both of them and I will be sure to give more notice next time so that Mike can either come or I can grab someone to watch Haley. 

If You Have Netflix, NEVER, EVER, EVER…..

Let your kid watch the “Bratz:babyz” movie. Never. Never effing ever. Unless, of course, you want to set the high goal of “stripper of the year” for them and you are looking to lay down some good groundwork.

To be half-fair, it’s my fault too for not watching the movie (yeah whatever, I put it on so I could get housework done. Tv IS a babysitter, get over it) BUT it’s their fault for putting it on the kids channel! That shit is NOT for little kids!

Here’s how I know:

Tonight while visiting my dad for our usual Sunday afternoon dinner, we decided to have a dance party (I have been trying to, ironically, cut down on the tv we were watching so we put Pandora on) and she starts dancing. Okay, cool. THEN she starts shaking her ass and SMACKING IT. Yeah, all this while she was BLOWING MY DAD KISSES. THEN she came up to me asking a million questions and I tell her “just…. go, Hal, go dance.” AND DO YOU KNOW WHAT SHE SAID TO ME?! “But I need dollars to dance.” In front my my dad?! Really?! Kill me now.

So of course, I’m on the warpath. I’m ready to start using torture tactics to find out who taught her this shit. I call my husband when I get home to let her say goodnight since he was working and to tell him about this whole thing. After signing, then laughing, then letting me yell about the person whose life I’m going to have to take over this, he goes “Oh, I bet it was the Bratz movie. They were doing some kind of dance thing to win money for their dog or something.” 

Ok fine. So they weren’t stripping. Thank God. BUT. They run around being little bitches to each other wearing belly shirts and short shorts, dancing all slutty-like and blowing kisses.


Just no.

DO NOT, I repeat, DO NOT let your kid watch that trash movie, again, unless you want them to be the best stripper they can be.

Am I pissed? HELL YES. Am I over-reacting? Maybe. But I made hubby make a secret-parent pact with me to never EVER let her watch that crap again. Ever.

/end rant.

Veggies: Cruel and Unusual Nourishment.

If your kid is anything like mine, dinnertime can prove itself to be…. challenging, monotonous, even.Chicken nuggets, mac and cheese, spaghetti (with butter only, of course), pizza… you know the deal. If it looks like a vegetable, smells like a vegetable, or even sounds like it could be named after a vegetable, it’s out of the question.

I don’t know about other moms, but I have found only a few ways to sneak veggies into my kid without a meltdown. I rely on Fruitables (made by Apple & Eve) and any other food/drink that has some kind of sneaky vegetable juice or something. (Shoulda had a V8! *smack*)

I recently took a stand and decided that this kid was going to eat her vegetables or she wasn’t leaving the table, because, ya know, that worked so well in the past. I made her some spaghetti with a little bit of tomato sauce that I had in the fridge, and I mixed in a bag of steamed veggies, trying to be sneaky. When (as expected) she detected the infiltrators, which was immediately, she started in with the whole “I’m not hungry” bit. When that didn’t work, she went to crying, then to yelling, then to throwing the fork. All of those things just led her to a standoff with me at the table.

I made her eat them, yeah that’s right I MADE her. I sat there with her and actually fed her those stupid vegetables for 45 minutes until they were all cold and gross. Then, when she told me she was full, I asked again, and threw the contents of the bowl out. 15 minutes later, she asked me for a snack and I said NO. She looked at me like I just killed a puppy in front of her. She went to bed that night with no snack, no nothing and I felt accomplished, crappy, but accomplished.

The next night I served chicken nuggets.

The veggie thing has really got me stopped up. I mean, it’s not like I’m strapping her down and gagging her with carrots or anything. Any ideas for getting  toddlers to eat their veggies? I’m pretty much just sticking to mac and cheese for the time being, counting potatoes and corn as veggies, and praying this just fixes itself because I am SO OVER the Guantanamo Bay of dinner tables thing.