Thoughts on Valentines Day…

Valentines Day is so different when you have been with the same man for over 12 years (married for seven). I remember the first time I went to visit him at school. We were newly dating and it happened to be Valentines Day. Oh the pressure! Do I get him a gift? Do we even acknowledge it’s Valentines Day? Is he going to get me anything? If he does, is he into this more than I am? If he doesn’t maybe he’s not into this at all?

It turned out to be the perfect Valentines Day for a new couple. We had dinner as if it was any other night, but when we got back to his apartment, he surprised me with homemade molten chocolate cakes. Um, a guy who not only cooks, but can make his own molten lava cake? I probably knew I was going to marry him right then.

I’ve always hated Valentines Day. I never had a proper Valentine. I swear I was jinxed by my 8th grade boyfriend. We will just call him asshole. Asshole dumped me the night before Vday when I was in 8th grade. And to make it even worse, my so-called best friend knew it was going to happen, went with me to buy him cards and a gift, and didn’t tell me. What a bitch! And what an asshole! Who dumps his girlfriend the night before Valentines Day? I had already picked out my outfit. It was going to be my first real Valentines Day. Of course my life was over. I couldn’t show my face at school the next day. My mom made me go anyway and I hated her for 48 hours.

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The Things We Do For Our Children…

Have you ever gone to great lengths to make you child happy? I’m talking about ridiculous, crazy lengths to give them what they so adorably ask for. Or maybe sometimes, not so adorably ask for, but so you don’t have to hear the whining or crying or screaming. I’m sure you have. I have. We are moms. It’s what we do.

My son is most definitely spoiled. It’s not his fault. He is our only one, will always be our only one, and the first grandchild on both sides. When I say spoiled, I mean he has a great wardrobe and lots of toys. My first Moncler came at age 32. His…age two. He’s not in charge. Mommy and Daddy are. He sleeps in his own bed. We don’t give in to tantrums. The bath happens whether he wants it to or not. If he doesn’t like what’s for dinner, too bad.

The toy of the moment for him is anything he can push or pull on wheels. He is obsessed with his suitcase. He wheels it around the family room and plays airplane. He grocery shops at home with his shopping cart. He mows the imaginary grass inside our house with his green turtle lawnmower. Plastic golf clubs in their carry bag aren’t for playing golf. They are for wheeling back and forth in the kitchen. You can often see him walking around the house, suitcase in one hand, lawnmower in other. If it has wheels, he loves it. He wants it. He needs to push or pull it.

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Yesterday’s Activity: Nervous Breakdown

I think I had a nervous breakdown yesterday. Some of you will think I’m a baby. That this just comes with the territory of being a parent. But I’m not like you. I’m me. I love my son, but sometimes I don’t want to be a mom. Like this is not what I signed up for. That’s my truth. This is my struggle.

Let me explain. My son is clearly getting ready to give up his afternoon nap. I’m so not on board with this. I am not ready. I look forward to those two – three hours in the afternoon. I need them. When I don’t have them, I’m bitchy. Ask my husband, he will happily tell you! Lately, my son has been napping every few days. Of course the days he naps are the days our nanny comes. Little fucker! But we do quiet time. He has to stay in his room whether he sleeps or not. If he doesn’t fall asleep, he usually hangs in his bed and looks at books. Sometimes, he gets out of bed and destroys his room. These are the afternoons I dread. Yesterday was one of those afternoons.

When I go to his room to get him after his not so quiet time, he is naked from the waist down. No pants, no pull-up. I know this going in because I could see on the monitor. What I did not see on the monitor is what he informs me of the minute I open his door. “Mommy, I poopied on the floor!” “I poopied right there. And there and there. And I peed right there.” Holy shit! No pun intended. My toddler took his pants and diaper off and shat and peed on the rug. As I enter, he is trying to pick up the poop with wipes to throw it away. Exactly what we do if our dog poops in the house. How adorable. He is at least trying to clean up. Should I be proud of his cleaning skills? He is hysterical laughing. I am trying to breathe…trying to remain composed.

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Ode to Chick-fil-A

I’ll admit it. I had never heard of Chick-fil-A until moving south. It took me about three years of living here to even go to one. And I don’t know why because it’s awesome! And people down here love their Chick-fil-A chicken. They eat that shit for breakfast. In New York we eat bagels and cream cheese or scrambled eggs or avocado toast. Maybe a smoothie or some oatmeal pancakes and fruit. Down here? Biscuits, gravy, and chicken nuggets. And since this is the Bible Belt, they are closed on Sundays. Sunday is for church. Could you imagine a bagel shop closed on a Sunday in New York? They would go out of business! And do you know what the best form of birth control ever is? Chick-fil-A between the hours of 3pm and 4pm on a school day. It’s Mecca for moms and their screaming, starving, hyperactive, not wanting to go home and do homework complaining children. Thank God for drive-thru right? Well…

Today is Martin Luther King Day, which really means ugh, my kid doesn’t have school today. My kid doesn’t have school and my nanny doesn’t come on Mondays. What the eff am I going to do with my toddler all day? Luckily for us Jews in the South, the JCC stays open and so does the babysitting room. Since I can only workout for so long, what do I do after this? Of course. Let’s go to Chick-Fil-A! Drive-thru of course.

Have you ever been to the Chick-Fil-A drive-thru in the South at lunchtime? Cars line up all the way into the main roads. And these are adults, getting lunch for themselves. You would think that your chicken sandwich comes with a side of stripper! I should have remembered this when I had the bright idea to take my little one there today. I couldn’t even get into the drive-thru line. It was backed up from all angles. Cars trying to get in from every direction. The line was so long, they had people walking up to car windows and taking orders in person.

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Don’t Believe My Facebook/Instagram Life

We are all guilty of it. I’m guilty of it. All the time. Looking at all of your Facebook and Instagram posts (friends and celebrities included), overcome with jealousy that your life raising tiny humans looks way more glamorous and so much easier than mine. Especially when you post those family photos and definitely when you post the ones from vacation. I swear if you go by Facebook and Instagram, everyone takes these amazing, easy vacations with their little ones but me. And they all love it. Smiling, happy, with your annoying hash tags and posts: “Heaven on earth.” “No place I’d rather be.” “This is everything.” “Live for these moments.” Celebrities, maybe what we don’t see is you handing your little ones off to their nannies after the photos and videos are taken. That would make so much more sense to me.

Well guess what, we just got home from a family vacation to Aspen. Yup, that’s right Aspen. And Aspen is dripping in glamour and money and beautiful people. And all the while we are there, I’m posting videos and photos on Instagram and Facebook of how excited my tiny human is to get there and see his grandparents and snow, which we obviously don’t get to see a lot of because we live in the south. Videos from the airport, photos from the airplane of my cute little son wheeling his cute little monogrammed Pottery Barn Kids suitcase and singing, “Aspen, Aspen, let’s go to Aspen!”

And that was me checking in to the Jas Cafe at The Little Nell with all the fabulous people who live and vacation there while my little one was sleeping soundly at the hotel room with grandma and grandpa. Then, photos and videos of his excitement at going to ski school for the first time. “Mommy, I going ski school and I going to throw snow balls.” All he wants to do is throw snow balls and it really is adorable. Okay one more video of my small child in his Moncler ski outfit playing in the snow smiling ear to ear after ski school. And you will all think and maybe even be a little jealous of this amazing trip your mom friend took to Aspen. Luxury hotel, extra help from Grandma and Grandpa, great shopping, amazing restaurants, etc. But guess what, it’s complete and utter bullshit! A total lie!

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New 2016 Goal: Be Jenna Dewan Tatum

OMG! Holy fuck! You need to watch the above clip from Celebrity Lip Sync Battle where Jenna Dewan-Tatum competes against her gorgeous husband, Channing Tatum. She performs Pony, as in Channing’s beyond sexy, stripper dance routine from MAGIC MIKE XXL. Holy hotness! I think she might be hotter than him! I have a new girl crush and it’s Jenna and her abs and her moves. Um why can’t I dance like that? Don’t you think that Jenna and Tatum have the hottest, craziest sex? Well that’s what I would like to think! And if I’m being honest, I’m incredibly jealous. So my new 2016 goal? Be Jenna Dewan-Tatum! Here is a list of everything I will need to do to accomplish this goal.

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WTF, Equinox!

Equinox, what the fuck is with this ad? It’s fucked up. I don’t know how to say it any other way. I’m not sure what your message is. I get the tagline COMMIT TO SOMETHING. It’s a new year and you want people to join your gym and commit to their health and fitness. Fine! Or maybe you are saying, “commit to anything, just commit to something.” Great! I’m all for that too. But why the model who doesn’t even have children, breastfeeding twins who aren’t even hers? Oh and she just happens to be in an LBD looking very glamorous. What does this possibly have to do with your gym?

Are you advocating breastfeeding now? I read in the New York Post that supporters of the ad like that equinox is “normalizing breastfeeding.” I’m confused. Please explain to me what is normal about breastfeeding twins that aren’t yours in haute couture at a party. Maybe I would get it more Equinox if you used a less glamorous image. Show what it really looks like when you commit to breastfeeding. Way to go joining the ranks of mom shamers.

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I Want to Punch you in the Face!

I’m not sure how I’m feeling right now or how I should be feeling. Angry? Anxious? Guilty? Resentment? Fear? Exhausted? Yes, definitely exhausted. Maybe that is the problem when you’re a mom. The divide between how you are actually feeling and how you should be feeling or how you think you should be feeling.

For the past few nights, my almost three year-old has not only fought going to sleep, but he has woken up screaming like clockwork right around midnight. It doesn’t help that we are on vacation and he shares a tiny room with my husband and me. He sleeps in his own bed next to ours.

And who do you ask wakes up with the little one? Well, his mom of course! I actually physically wake up the minute I hear him, like I have some internal mom radar. Where is my husband you might ask? Oh, he is next to me, sleeping soundly and snoring even louder. In creeps the resentment and anger. I want to scream at him, “HOW COULD YOU SLEEP THROUGH YOUR CHILD WAKING UP CRYING???!”

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Effing Carbs and Effing Chuck E. Cheese

Well, I didn’t exactly make January 1, 2016 my bitch. But I did make something my bitch. What you might ask? Carbs! Yes, I made carbs my bitch! I didn’t mean to. I was supposed to wake up, walk 10,000 steps, fit in a yoga class to kick off the new year, and eat protein. Was there protein? Of course. Lots of protein.

There was extra crispy bacon (on top of three pancakes with maple syrup). Then there was chicken salad (on top of a warm, buttery croissant that I shared with the 3 year-old daughter of a friend). And finally there was chicken and beef (on top of hummus, accompanied by basmati rice, fresh baked pita and lentils with fried onions). Oh and don’t forget the two kinds of baklava for dessert. Oops! That’s what happens when you binge watch Narcos on Netflix for New Year’s Eve with your husband and red wine. The funny thing is, our New Year’s Eve dinner was 100% carb free and we didn’t even have dessert. WTF! So I’m great on the last day of the year but fuck up the first day of the new year.

Or maybe it was the three hours we spent at Chuck E. Cheese yesterday morning.

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A Big Welcome to the Year 2016. I’m Going to Make you my Bitch!

Happy New Year and welcome to my blog: The Medicated Mommy. I know, how cliché to launch your first blog post on January 1. And even more cliché, to actually write “new year, new me”. But it’s true. This is my year. 2016, I’m going to make you my bitch. This endeavor has been a long time in the making and I am finally sitting down to make it a reality. I have been pent up and repressed (in so many ways) for too long and this blog will be my release. My space. My safe place to write honestly about anything and everything I feel like writing about. No topic is off limits. It’s so safe that I won’t even be giving my husband the address (for now). Duh, I need to be able to write about him too! I hope you’ll come along for the ride.

A little bit of background. As the About Me page states in fewer words, I’m a 34 year-old wife and stay at home mom to an adorable and intelligent, yet bossy, strong-willed, energizer bunny-type toddler. I should also mention I’ve been married for 7 years, but with my husband for 12 and things do get monotonous as I’m sure you all know.

I’m Northern and my heart belongs to New York City, but I’ve been living in the South for quite some time and guess what: It’s booooring! And slow and did I mention that I’m booooored? And people settle for good enough and I want amazing. Oh and there is no Soul Cycle. I just want to live near a Soul Cycle. I’m in Soul Cycle denial. I have the app on my phone and wear all their gear (which I obviously have to order online), even though the closest one requires getting on an airplane. Is that too much to ask for?

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