Since it is National Breastfeeding week I thought I should talk about boobs so brace yourself.

And if the word “boobs” or just breastfeeding in general freaks you out then I only have one thing to say to you:

Calm your tits.

Give those breasts a rest.

Your honkers need to stop going bonkers.

And don’t have a calamity in your mammaries.

They are just boobs. In fact there are more nipples in the world than people if you think about it.

To be completely honest, I wish breastfeeding is something that everyone in the world has to experience because there is so much to it. Kind of like gym class in high school. I love it, I hate it, I want to do it forever, I want to stop this second, and I feel as though no one truly understands.

The thing about being a mom is that everyone feels the right to have a say in what you are doing. I am five months in of exclusively breastfeeding my little one and I have heard it all from family to friends to people online that I have never meant before.

“Why are you so against formula?”, “Are you going to be one of those people who like breastfeeds till they are like seven years old?”, “I feel so uncomfortable when I see people with their boobs just hanging out”, “She looks pretty tiny, maybe you should start giving her some formula to bulk her up”, “Isn’t it kind of selfish that you are always feeding her and not letting others bond with her too?”, and my personal favorite “I would never breastfeed because of what my boobs would look like after”.

Yup. These are real life, real people saying real stupid stuff to someone whose hormones are still on the fritz from bring a life into this real crazy world.

At first, after hearing all of these things I thought “wow I am wondering where all of these people found the time to go and get their medical degrees because they seem to know an awful lot about raising babies”.

Just because someone breastfeeds does not mean they are against formula. My son had formula from five weeks to one year old and he is perfectly fine and healthy. I tried breastfeeding with my son and it wasn’t in the cards for us and that was completely fine. Fed is best not breast is best.

Just because someone breastfeeds does not mean they like their boobs hanging out. I personally can’t even make eye contact when I am getting measured by that lady at Victoria Secret so if you honestly think I enjoy feeding my baby in public so people can see my boobs, you are mistaken. I am actually chanting “chug chug chug” frat party style to her so she eats faster and people can stop staring at me.

Just because someone breastfeeds does not make them selfish and not want to share their baby. I would love if my husband’s nipples produced liquid gold like mine do. I would cry tears of joy if in the middle of the night instead of me walking up to feed our daughter, he rolled over, whispered to me “don’t worry babe I got this” and whipped out a magic milk producing boob and fed our daughter, but that day has yet to come.

Just because someone breastfeeds does not mean their body is ruined. It is actually the full course of motherhood that does a number on your body and you can’t give all the credit to just breastfeeding.

Pregnancy stretches your body in directions that only you, God, and your OBGYN know about. My belly has been through the ringer with my two little bundles of joy that at five months since the great escape with baby number two, my stomach is like a personal awning for my lady parts.

My hair now does this crazy thing since becoming a mom where it is actually turning grey around my ears. Pretty crazy since I’m only in my twenties but it’s like natures personal mom highlights.

My boobs can also do this pretty cool trick of making me go from a DD Pamela Anderson size to president of the Itty Bitty Titty Committee in just one feeding.

The human body is such a crazy and just plain freaking awesome thing that we shouldn’t feel uncomfortable and embarrassed about it. We can literally grow people and nourish them in our bodies for nine months- or a whole forty-two weeks if you are like me and have the warmest womb ever. Why is it so not accepted that we are amazing enough to nourish our little homegrown humans outside the womb too?

So the next time you see someone breastfeeding, don’t judge. Give them a coffee because chances are their husband’s boobs can’t do the same thing that theirs can do at 2am and give them some credit.

And just Hakuna your tatas.

Its just boobs.






My son had his first meeting at his new preschool that he will start in the fall. Well, it starts the Thursday before labor day which is August 30th. Which is only 42 days away. So it’s basically tomorrow he’s going to be going to the town grade school and I am one thousand percent not ready.


I feel like you were just seven pounds two ounces yesterday?

I honestly never had such a hard time with accepting growing up till it was my own offspring that was partaking in it. My whole life I wanted to grow up faster than the universe planned and now I want the universe to just cut the crap and freeze for a minute.

I want time to stand still so bad that I lied to my toddler the other day. Yup. I flat out lied to his cute little face and I am not sorry about it. Ok maybe just a little bit, but deep down I had my reasons.

This wasn’t a lie like my usual “you’ll get arrested if you don’t have pants on in public” or “no honey, I would love to give you a bite, but you have to be atleast fourteen to eat this adult ice cream”. This was one that struck me to the core.

We were in Target looking for new shoes for him because the kid unluckily got his fathers feet which basically means I will be taking out a second mortage to keep up with buying him giant shoes. I found some nice Lightning McQueen ones that were velcrow and he says to me “Mommy, I want ones with laces. Can you teach me how to tie my shoes?”.

For those of you who don’t have kids, you are probably sitting at the edge of your seat waiting for the climax of the story. For you moms out there, you probably felt your heart crumble a little bit too. It hurt like a straight toddler elbow to the boob.

Like how could this little human want to keep being so independent? I just taught you how to use a fork. I just taught you how to wipe your own butt. I just taught you how to freaking roll over like two minutes ago. Just let me keep the shoe tieing please. PLEASE. Give me that one sense of being needed and wanted and to nurture you. Just let me tie your damn shoes a little bit longer.

I lied to him.

I told him that you have to be atleast four feet tall to tie your own shoes. He jokingly said “well I am almost as tall as you Mommy”. He talks a lot of smack for someone who can’t tie his own shoes, but I love him. Every ounce of him- even though he’s a lot more than seven pounds two ounces now. That’s why I lied.

Moving into new seasons is hard on the heart, embracing those seasons can be even harder.

That little bald head of his is now filled with bushy curls.

Those little coos and squeaks turned into fullblown, nonstop- and I mean nonstop- hours of actual conversation. The boy is a Chatty Kathy, Babbling Bertha, Talking Tracy now.

Those tiny onsies with the animals on the bum turned into little muscle shirts with monster trucks on them.

So hold the moments and the babies as long as possible because pretty soon they’re going to be too cool for Lightning McQueen velcrow shoes and old enough to eat your adult ice cream.


luke 3

The Journey Begins

I honestly love to write and am really excited to start this whole blog journey with whomever wants to join along; moms or not. Basically, I want to just take a minute to enjoy my stories and the memories they bring when smooshed together.

My plan is to stop and smell the roses every once in a while and take some time to gather some words together to help paint a picture of the current chaos that life hands us and celebrate the craziness as the days go by.

So heres to sharing thoughts, dreams, and moments lived all put into words by a mom who is just trying her best one day at a time.

– Em


Good company in a journey makes the way seem shorter. — Izaak Walton