I’d be lying if I said becoming a mother hasn’t taken over in all areas of my life. —at work if something comes up, my response, “well y’all just gotta figure it out” because guess what— I’m a mom first. It’s girls night and something comes up, “Sorry ladies I know we’ve been planning this forever, but I gotta cancel”—- I’m a mom first. I find myself reiterating the fact being a mom is number one when it comes to many areas of my life, and in most areas I’m finding that people won’t always be happy with you prioritizing being a mother first. *kanye shrug*
Not my problem.
Becoming a mom has simultaneously thrown me into like bionic woman mode, which I’m finding works with everyone but your partner. I wake up with a to-do list, I gotta do this and this and this and this today, I go to bed with a list reminding myself I gotta do this and this and this tomorrow and guess who usually doesn’t make the cut, one of the most important people… my man. It’s no secret that relationships change after having a baby , most times you hear about them changing for the worst.
My mom has warned me far before I even thought about having children that men show their true colors after having a baby— a warning I am now convinced is some bitter black women’s old wives tale. (For the record I’m not calling my mom a bitter black woman)
Do men get the same warning about women changing ? —- because maybe they should.
I am not the same woman I was before becoming a mother. My partner fell in love with the carefree, whimsical, happy, adventurous, sex in random places down for anything Ashley. Since becoming a mother I am 1/6, no doubt I have changed hell, I realized I have changed so I can only imagine what it’s like for him.
Babies can strengthen the connection or they can make you lose it, suddenly it’s all about the baby and we sometimes forget about the life we had with our partners before. Writing this for me is therapeutic because I have forgot about what life was like before Carter, I forgot about how important making his dad happy was for me and I’m now seeing the toll it’s taken on us.
TMI coming right up but, there was a time I’d go home on my lunch break just to squeeze in a quickie. It was important to keep it fun, and fresh… now I get home and sometimes I’d rather choose sleep over intimacy.—- shame on me. Shame on me for making it seem like being a mom gives me an excuse when it comes to nourishing my relationship and making sure I’m listening to my man and his needs. (Now don’t go reading this honey and think you can tie me up tonight cuz it’s not happening, I have a bad back now).
After many nights of him chastising me for what I have not been doing we finally began to communicate! He began to ask what could he do to help ease the burden, what could he do to help me after my long day so I could relax. The importance of communication amongst partners cannot be stressed enough, it’s so easy for us as mothers to come home after a long day get into our evening routine, all the while we are burnt the hell out and not once will we ask for help. It’s not uncommon for men as partners to see their spouse in their routine , and not speak up out of fear they may be imposing ( if y’all didn’t know women run the show, happy wife happy life) most men stay quiet when it comes to running the house.
And night after night you and your partner go to bed with so many underlying feelings that could be fixed with a conversation and a little compassion. —- it’s hard, tell me about it.
a “guide” more people should read, and I realized I’m not a mind reader and neither is he… I may not be affectionate but I know he is. There is so much give and take that’s goes into relationships, and they fail when people don’t understand that. My give, is bouncing on more D when Carter goes to bed (might have to visit a sex shop or two to brush up on the old skills), and vocalizing just how appreciated my spouse is and how I recognize all that he does although I don’t always say it. My take is being more open to help, and suggestions…understanding there is no such thing as a bionic woman and if there is I can imagine she is probably single.
Without question I am still a work in progress, a mom just trying to figure it out, but one thing is for certain my goal is to build with my partner and not break in the process … we have broken MANY times before and *whew chilay*
I hope this helps any other moms struggling to find a balance after such a huge adjustment, as for those who have been blessed enough to have it figured out what are some things that have helped keep your relationship strong even after becoming parents?
On a scale from 1-10 how relaxed are you? Because me, I’m like a -7.
Since we’ve had our baby, I have been in overdrive! I have watched you day in and day out work just like me, interact with our child/children just like me and it still doesn’t feel like enough at times.
Truth be told, I am envious of you. Sometimes my envy actually translates to dislike… I honestly dislike you at times.— damn it felt good saying that.
I wake up in the morning after more often than not a late night with the kids and trying to squeeze a little “mommy time” in to do it all over, the next day and the day after that.
You wake up each morning looking quite refreshed, after I’ve went to bed with one eye open listening for a cry and thinking about all the shit I have to do tomorrow … can you relate? I have work brain and mommy brain on damn near everyday, planning and prioritizing for us… yes you read it right us. Hell, “Head of household” should honestly come with an extra bonus just for us working moms.
Meanwhile you go to work, and I’m almost sure daddy mode goes right out the damn window… are you thinking about what you’re going to cook for dinner when you get home ? Or how much of a fight bedtime is going to be… or better yet did you have your alarm going off at work today reminding you it’s time to pump? Better yet.. when’s the last time you did laundry for the house? Because believe me there’s a lot of it!
For goodness sakes, I’ve turned into a mommy for everyone. I cook, clean and still bend over when you want me to (most times let me tell you I’d prefer to sleep). And what am I getting in return?
Ahhh the joys of being a mom!
The time you spend with the kids isn’t like the time I spend… my time is draining and when I signed up for this partnership I thought it would be just that 50/50. You pick up when I fall short, and it just seems like as soon as I became momma, I simultaneously turned into Superwoman too.
I’m convinced woman take so long to get ready because it’s the only time we get to ourselves, sitting on the toilet long after I’ve already finished has turned into a little peace of heaven for me.—- sad
Once in a while I’d love to hear honey, take a day off … like literally a full day! No you, no kids… just me ! I probably wouldn’t know what to do but just hearing you say go take some you time would mean THE WORLD.
I expected more, and saying this out loud may sound ungrateful. I’m appreciative of all that you do, I just wish I didn’t have to do so much at times… becoming resentful of you was never a part of the plan.
With the weather finally breaking, I’m starting to feel flooded with working mom guilt all over. Working 2 jobs has always made me feel like I just don’t spend enough time with my son. Unfortunately God didn’t feel it was necessary to bless me with a rich husband, he probably figured, ‘no way… she would be out here wildin’ And rightfully so Lord…
-because I would.
Last weekend I packed my mom and Carter up and headed to the zoo and I can’t help but think about all the fun things I want to do with him this Spring/Summer, when I’m not working.
part of me constantly feels the need to push myself into entrepreneurship, so I can have more time with my almost 2 year old and future babies, but then I think about the trials and tribulations that could come with that and feel maybe it’s a risk I’m not willing to take.
Moms? Have you guys experienced working mom guilt, and how have you been able to cope?
For any stay at home moms on the other side of the things I’m anxious to hear how that’s been for you as well!
In wake of the passing of Ermias Joseph Asghedom better known as “Nipsey Hussle”, it has us all questioning our place in the world. “How did something like this happen to such a good man”? Has constantly been questioned by many since the rapper was gunned down outside his own damn store on March 31, at 3:25 pm
How brazen can someone be? But shit like this happens to black men all the time … so what’s new ?
Over the past 4 days we’ve heard from the conspiracy theorist, the streets, and the police… all of whom have their own takes on why such a senseless act of violence happened, and still nothing changes the fact it happened. Whether the government sent this informant, Eric Holder to kill Hussle because of fear that he may cause an uprising in the community through education or whether an altercation ensued over a “snitch” being outside his store… he died.
The death of a black man in modern day America is more than likely at the hands of either the fellow black man, or sadly enough the police. I’d actually be lying by saying “modern-day” because black men have been dying like this since forever.
Ask me if I’m shocked about what happened no, I’m not … ask me if I’m shocked about who it happened to, no… I’m not. Look at Malcom X, Dr. Martin Luther King, Medgar Evers, Sam Cooke the list goes on. Reputable black men envoking change killed, details of their muderes allegedly “known” but still leaving many with speculation.
Homocide is the #1 cause of death in black men ages 15-34. An article was published in the Washington Post, “America’s big issue is ‘Black Africans’ killing eachother
Donald Trump went on to tweet in November of 2015:
First off look at the picture used…how sad secondly these numbers are so incorrect, which comes as no surprise with the deranged President’s report of fake news. One fact we do know is know is as of 2015, 86% of black men are killed by gun violence Read more
The Atlantic published an article last year Read more confirming Black men ages 15-34 are 9-16x more likely to be killed by police (something we already knew) it’s just so heartbreaking to actually read it. Nipsey Hussle was no different than the everyday black man, he may have wanted different for the world, he may have given more to his community …to his kids, he may have loved his woman more… but he was no different from any other black man unfortunately , and it’s sad.
Our hearts have gone out to Lauren London, meanwhile this has been the reality for many black women, many black mothers since forever.
“There’s falling in love, and then there’s falling in love with a black man”. We can’t fault Nipsey for being from the hood and staying in the hood… how dare we say that? That’s what’s you’re supposed to do, hell we’d fault him for getting put on and leaving the hood behind. We need to stop pointing fingers at everyone else and take a real look at our peers and the people around us. All these black lives matter movements meanwhile black men are out here killing their own, we don’t even need the police’s help if you want to be technical.
In the midst of one of my usual 7-14 day breakdowns, I was driving into work this morning wondering, “Is this really it”? It sounds so depressing when I say it outloud but it’s the truth. “Is this really it”? Is this all I was put here to do?
I don’t know about y’all but the younger me pictured a fabulous- ass life , I did. I pictured being this ‘ghetto-socialite’ with a fine husband who worked a great job and over contributed at 11% to his 401k. I pictured being proposed to with a modest 2 -carat emerald cut halo diamond ring at the tender age of 25, with no rush on marriage. In my head, this almost- perfect man would go on to buy me the perfect house, in the best neighborhood… I’d give him 3 kids and we’d have a dog.
Unfortunately for me, I was running around the projects in my early 20’s chasing drop outs who couldn’t distinguish between they’re and their.
Looking back, I constantly wonder “girl, where were you meeting this Mr. Wonderful”? … as the saying goes we attract what we exude.
Fast forward to present day, I am 27 just a few months shy of 28, I have a 19 month old and I am somebodies’… (dare I say it) ‘baby momma’. Luckily I didn’t attract what I exuded because my sons father is very smart, much smarter than me. Also, no shade to the baby mommas out there but I said that sarcastically, I just wanted to put emphasis on the fact I am not a married woman and yes I have a child. — I ain’t no damn baby momma tho.
I wake up everyday usually later than normal rushing to get out the house and make it work 5 minutes late… it’s like no matter how hard I try, how many pep talks I give myself; I just can’t seem to get out the damn house on time. Throw in a couple of temper tantrums courtesy of Carter and by the time I get to work, it’s the famous “if anyone was looking for me, I was in the bathroom”. Pet peeve #71 why the f*** am I never on time? Why do I always feel so rushed to do the same bullshit I did yesterday?
Some days I feel like quitting my job, moving to Cost Rica and having Carter and his dad sell their handmade goods in the beaches. — I’m not even kidding anything’s gotta be better than this, at least we’d have good weather.
Here I am, rushing to work my semi-stressful ok paying job, to get off work and rush to pick up my son from daycare to get home and prepare for our nightly routine all to do it again the next day, and the day after that and the day after that… don’t get me wrong my nights are occasionally broken up by impromptu date nights or the regular “Netflix and Chill” with my ‘baby daddy’ (who I hope reads this and cringes and realizes that term should change).But the routine has me dare I say it… bored.
I don’t want my honesty to be mistaken for being ungrateful because I am grateful, not everyone has a job, not everyone has a car, not everyone has a home to go to after a long day, but since I’ve become a mother I’ve been bored.
Is that normal?
Some nights I wonder, “What the hell am I going to do with my life because there’s no way in hell I was put on this earth to work a 9-5 for the next 40 years”. I complain to my mom and she chalks it up to being a millennial. Since I’ve become a mom, it seems life choices have weighed on me heavy… I’ve learned that life comes at you FAST , and it’s too short to be spent unhappy. I feel so pressured to live up to these imaginary expectations. In my head my 19 month old wants this awesome mom who does it all, when reality he loves me no matter what. Hell, I want to be this awesome mom who does it all … is that asking for too much?
People always say, “You can’t have it all” and the older I get I just wonder if whoever came up with that saying just gave up trying. Who say’s you can’t have it all, and why?
Eventually I think the boredom almost always turns into resentment, we stop doing the things that once made us feel alive maybe because of the husband or the kids, or we just got older and realized there was some unwritten rule that we should stop doing the things we once loved when we were younger?
I don’t know about y’all but I’m not feeling that, a happy me is the best me and I got a lot of years left on this Earth (god willing) to be wasting them being anything but happy. Call me passionate or call me crazy but the older we get shouldn’t mean losing our zest for life…. how many other people have felt bored and what have you guys done to curb it?
Because at this point I’m about to sign up for Zumba, I heard, “it’s the ‘exciting mom thing to do’
With enticing raspberry aromas and sweet cherry flavors, Sutter Home White Merlot makes the perfect pairing for spicy chicken tacos, smoked cheeses, sweet and sour pork, lamb gyros, spicy steak and veggie kebabs, fig and goat cheese pizza, shrimp and pepper alfredo, mandarin chicken salad, and yogurt parfaits.
I feel like life has been so busy for a lot of people the past few weeks including myself, and when I feel like I’m getting too busy for my own good I try to take a moment to reflect, whether it’s hiding from Carter (which I’m kind of doing right now because yes he’s in bed, no he’s not commmpllleettllyyy sleep **oops) or getting a pedicure complete with a mini foot massage that never goes long enough, but you guys get it. It’s necessary to take time for ourselves.
In the midst of my attempt to give up stress for lent (as described above) I’ve been trying to figure out how I can stop “running myself so thin”. Trying to dedicate time to this and time to that without either clashing.
Shit can get stressful.
I’ve also thought about how sometimes we can not only spread ourselves thin with things but also with people. Often times when we are under stress, stress can lead to venting. Venting to the wrong people can eventually lead you to spreading yourself to thin.
We’ve all been there , venting to your girl or family member abour your occasionally f**k boy- Ish husband or boyfriend, venting to one co-worker about the next… or even venting to different friends about a problem you may have been having with another friend.
Most times a listening ear will get tired of listening.
We have all been there on both sides, fed up hearing about a friends problems because they aren’t doing anything about the problem themselves . At first we’re compassionate, we side with them… hell we usually love them so of course we have their back . Then it’s, “How dare they do that, or Better yet how dare they continue to do that”? Finally, Eventually all that shit turns into, “why would they put up with that”? It sucks because that can take a toll on our relationships, it can turn people we love into people we question if we still like…
Once you’ve been on both sides you see it, And there’s growth in it. Understanding just because you forgive them doesn’t mean they have to as well. A lot of times we as people shoot ourselves in the foot, that spur of the moment venting can be therapeutic but enough venting often times can be detrimental.
we all go through it, and the wisdom usually comes with age, then sometimes we realize when it’s too late. Eventually comes the time to mend. -that’s the most stressful part. Whether you and your reformed f*** boy finally got it together, or an office meeting was finally called and all is well at the trap, or better yet you finally forgave that friend that was referred to as “unforgivable”.
It’s hard to repay that unpaid therapist. Maintaining severed relationships can become a job. A job that will wear you down worse than any 9-5 and sometimes you have to realize you can only do so much. Part of my plan to “give up” stress for lent is making amends, and I don’t necessarily mean with people, I mean with situations.
We we don’t always want to believe it but sometimes Broken ties with family and friends can’t always be restored, so why kill yourself trying? I’ve always been a firm believer in if two people want to work something out they will. I’ve had countless fallings outs with friends and family , and my real friends and family always make sure we get back no matter how long it takes… we make sure.
Timon and Pumbaa has it right in 94’
a.k.a stop stressing.
I’m learning to let people and relationships be whether I played a part in the failure or not, make amends and move on, but also remember to make better choices in the future
like next time,
Paying someone to vent… they won’t hold it against you I promise.
Honestly, I loved it, well let me rephrase… I liked it a lot. Saying I loved it would mean I had nothing negative to say about it and I do. For those who haven’t gotten a chance to see it, “Workin’ moms” is about four very different thirty-something year old working mothers and friends who try to balance their jobs, family life and love life in Toronto, Canada. This concept for such a relatable show was actually created by husband and wife.
PR exec Kate and her longtime friend, no-nonsense psychiatrist Anne, attend a judgmental mom’s group, where they meet timid IT tech Jenny and struggling but optimistic real estate agent Frankie. The four form an unlikely friendship, sharing struggles of “urban” motherhood filled with the chaos of toddlers, careers, and identity crises, all while trying to achieve one goal, a sense of self. The ensemble comedy is largely drawn from the personal experiences of star/co-creator Catherine Reitman (“Blackish,” “It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia”).
The timid IT Tech Jenny, also happens to be almost completely uninterested in being a mother, let alone a wife and cheats on her husband. Her husband is a struggling screenwriter/ stay at home dad.
Outspoken psychiatrist Anne finds out she’s pregnant in the beginning of the season with her 3rd baby (who she refers to as a virus) after just having given birth months ago and she is less than thrilled. She already has a pretty hard time connecting with her 9 year old daughter as both of their attitudes tend to clash so there’s no question as to why she probably doesn’t want to welcome anymore children. —- she’s my favorite.
Real estate agent Frankie is a lesbian who suffers from post partun depression mixed with a little bit of “who the hell knows” she’s probably the only character who isn’t in touch with reality and one might question why anyone, wife or not would have agreed to having a baby with her.
Lastly, there’s PR Exec Kate while the most seemingly put together out the bunch she battles between choosing her family over her work, work wins every time which ultimately leads her to accept a 3 month position in Montreal (a city over 6 hours away) without consulting with her husband ahead of time leaving him to deal with the responsibilities of their 1 year old son.
Relatable to the average workin’ mom? Hell No. Number one, most working moms don’t have the option of deciding whether or not to return to work. Most working moms aren’t afforded the luxury of hiring a nanny, BUT MORE IMPORATNTLY most working moms don’t drive AUDI’s and Range Rovers. This tv show to me just screamed “privilege” sure it featured many common struggles of motherhood, the feeling of “losing yourself”, breastfeeding struggles, not to mention the huge adjustment of being a mom in general but these women have a vast amount of help. Not many working moms can opt to stay late at work then get home well past dinner and bed time and apologize to their husband for getting caught up and go on about their evenings … if that’s not privileged then I don’t know what is. Forget having time to cheat, I barely have time to stop for a tea ( I’m not big on coffee) in the mornings. Most working moms if we are stuck at work the cause and effects that take place after can be dare I say it, detrimental. — hell, my sons day care charges $35 every 15 mins you’re late picking your kids up past closing. Let’s not forget the fact financially, most working moms face unspeakable struggles, literally unspeakable, because although struggling we don’t have a chance to speak about it because we are so busy assuming the responsibilities of being a mom … we just don’t have time. These four women are able to avoid interactions with their children most of the time with acception of making sure they are around to attend their “mommy group” these women aren’t workin’ moms, these women are wealthy moms.
funny as shit, but still wealthy ass privileged moms nonetheless.
Sorry to say it, but Catherine Reitman and Phillip Sternberg y’all got it wrong with the title. 6 award nominations or not these broads are a group of semi- relatable moms … not actual “working Moms”.
A real.. tired ass, occasionally broke WORKING MOM.
I love being a black woman, I do. I say that, not because it was instilled in me that I have to unless I’d be a reverse racist and I mean duh, nobody wants to be a reverse racist but because through it all —- I am still standing.
If I asked 100 white women, hell throw some Asian women in there too, if I asked them would you want to be a black woman for a day? How many do you think would say yes? I can imagine a few would just to see what it was like. Now, imagine if we asked them to switch for a week, majority would probably decline.
No lie being a black woman is HARD AS SHIT.
I think now that I’m approaching my late twenties, I realize it even more. Years ago, I wasn’t subjected to as many scenarios that leave me just wondering how much easier it must be for women of other races.
For example, a couple weeks ago I went back to work after the weekend, and I went with a “weave”. Naturally my hair is short right now; but due to my many hairstyles no one really ever knows what’s going under whatever style I have at the moment. All I can do is laugh thinking about it because it happens so often but the references that are made when it comes to black women and their hairstyles—- shocking. It’s shocking because I’ve heard it all from, “wow”, your hair grew overnight, to “is that a wig or one of those weaves” oh and this is my favorite , “how’s it attached”? On that particular day I got the “is that a weave or wig”? Having acquired a lot of patience to answer such ignorant questions I respond with the truth, “it’s extensions”, and of course, in fake ass corporate America I got the I love it, it looks so good!
Over time, I’ve noticed when white women choose to attach hair to their head in an attempt to make it longer it’s referred to as “extensions” but as soon as the conversation occurs with a woman of color suddenly “ weave” is added into their vocabulary—- too much TV I assume.
For any women reading who are of a race other than African American, if you’re guilty of the following, please stop and be sure to let your friends know as well.
When we start work we always sign the handbook recognizing sexual harassment, and hostile work environments etc, and we agree to not partake in any of it… but am I the only one that thinks there should be a special carve out when it comes to women of color? I say all this as a black girl addicted to weave … *correction “extensions” but I can only imagine what natural women deal with.
—- such a shame, and imagine if we reacted how we wanted, or said what was really on our minds… well there goes that “angry black woman” label. Such a lose lose.
Sometimes when I get questioned about my hair I want to really pour out my life story. I want to tell these bitches how I wake up at least 3 times a night because my headscarf falls off and it’s against black girl code to sleep without it. I want to tell them how I constantly have to pass up some tempting ass shower sex until wash day, or the night before my hair appointment because I can’t get my hair wet — fucking tragic I know. I want to tell them how I’ve decided between buying bundles or paying a bill just so I could look the part for the same people that ask me about the hair I damn near went broke for. I want to talk about how fellatio has often times been awkward due to the “please don’t touch my hair rule”, of course they wouldn’t understand because their Billy is at home blowing backs out as he grabs hold of his Caucasian wife’s luscious locs. Forgive me if I sound hostile—- I am. As I said being a black woman is hard as shit.
That’s only at work.
Socially, name another group of women in more competition than that of black women, and if you do I’m calling bullshit because they don’t exist. Imagine being in a competition you don’t even want to be apart of. You go to the mall- competition, you go grocery shopping- competition, you’re out at a club … whew chilay the competition. You’re judged constantly by other black women and let you be pretty with a few things going for yourself, forget about it —You’ve immediately been labeled “that bitch” and not in a good way. Saddest part is no matter how much you don’t want to be involved, how much you stay low key, and just keep to yourself as a black woman if you possess certain qualities you’re automatically competition. —- Happy Black History Month.
Lastly the only other area left.
I’d say being a black woman who loves a black man is by far the hardest job of them all. Women in general love black men, there are tons of interracial relationships that are very successful and each and every time I will say those black men who date the white and Asian women aren’t e the same black men who date black women, and they never will be. Two broken people trying to love one another while usually hurting eachother in the process. The same man who has the same battles at work, the same battles socially now tries to love an equally angry woman. —- recipe for failure. I read a quote that said, “hurt people, hurt people and whole people heal people,”. Point me in the direction of a “whole” minority….
yet another battle .
These 3 subjects don’t even skim the surface of how hard it is being a black woman.
Amazingly we are still standing, broken and bruised we still stand optimistic about the future in such a pessimistic ass world and with that being said it ain’t for the weak.
So to be fair, I can understand why many would decline of the offer to be a black woman for any amount of time…
they don’t call it “black girl magic” for nothing.
5 days 4 nights on an island about 4 hrs away via plane ride, an island so secluded but yet busy enough to make it feel semi city like. The waters were as clear as can be, the sand just slipped through your toes as you walked through it to grab a beer from the bar at the beach. Turks and Caicos was in essence almost heaven like, I was in my own euphoria…. that is in between the moments when my 18 month old toddler was not driving me up the wall.
Day 1: we boarded our flight from Boston, Gigi (that’s what Carter calls my mom) made the trip too. Our flight was at about 8am, we made it through TSA with tons of bags in tow. We brought our car seat , 2 carry on items and a stroller. Traveling with someone who can’t hold their own things… —- whew chilay. Nonetheless it’s a well needed vacation for this busy momma so I was still excited to see how things will pan out. After a surprisingly calm flight we finally land, Carter was beyond wound up after being confined for about 4 hours so he was just as anxious to get off the plan and step into paradise.
We get off the plane to sweltering heat, got our rental car and we were off! We decided Air BnB would be best fitting for our little traveling family, only problem was we couldn’t find it and my sister who booked it was an route from Washington D.C so we killed time grocery shopping until she landed.
Repeat after me grocery prices in Turks and Caicos will have you stripping just to eat, I repeat grocery prices in Turks and Caicos will have you stripping just to eat. $300 and about 3 bags later we walked out the store feeling robbed.
Ridiculous —- I know. We finally make it to the Air BnB I was pretty sure was a scam at a point after having such a hard time finding it… THANK GOD because at that point Carter projectile vomited just a few minutes earlier and I honestly wasn’t sure if I was going to cry or laugh.
We were in paradise and it’s like everything that could start to go wrong was, talk about a rocky start.
We got settled in… my nanny (my mom) took over after cooking for us and my sister and I were ready to see what the TCI nightlife was all about.
It was lit, after 2 bars (one of which being referred to as the $5 bar infamous for their very strong $5 drinks) and many drinks later we returned back to the Air BnB with a drunk optimism about the rest of our vacation.
Day 2: We are awoken to a screaming Carter at about 6am … I’m not sure why I thought mommy life on vacation would be any different from mommy life at home, Thank god for Tylenol. It was time to get up while in the process of recovering we planned for day 2 In TCI. It was time to see what the beach had to offer , but first we had to take some lit pictures for the gram of course.
Carter even accompanied us to the pool until nap time. Another mental note made, “he’s the same baby he was yesterday in Massachusetts” we waited a few hours until carter was up we were all packed and off to the beach, the great thing about the island was everything was very close. The furthest it took to reach any destination was about 15 minutes which was a plus… the only negative was it took Carter about 10 minutes to get Car sick.
Yes … throw up again all over the car seat, the rental and the seat I just spent so much time scrubbing last night . Thank God we were at a beach we could just rinse everything in the water. The devil was trying to take me out. We get there, it’s beautiful… literally beautiful. We went to Sapodilla Beach which was a small beach frequented by locals but it was perfect enough for us.
I almost forgot about having to go back to the smell of puke. Hours passed it was time to go so we packed in, just hoping to make the 15 minute drive home and not even a mile down the road I hit a pot hole and blew not one… but two tires.
I laughed writing that. But wasn’t shit funny at the time. So here we are 3 Americans and a baby on the side of the road with flat tires calling the rental place for some help. —- haha.
After the many stares help finally arrived in the same baby sized car we rented so we had to move all our things out to get a ride to a new rental car and all I could do was pray they didn’t charge me any incidental fees for the tire or the second round of throw up I didn’t get a chance to clean yet.
Back on the road and ready we made it. My sister and I even went out that night with a lot less enthusiasm, I’m pretty sure she was mad at me a good portion of the night but hey shit happens. The only plus was it was ladies night at “5 dollar bar” so every slow song you’ve ever sang as if you wrote it was being played… add hookah and liquor to that I think it was the most fun I had the entire trip.
Day 3: carter wakes up screaming.. it’s 6 am. At this point it seems the rest of the house if acknowledging him to be the alarm clock that I’ve known him to be the past 18 months. —- welcome to my world. We decided it was yes another good day to explore a beach, definitely not Sapodilla Bay since clearly that beach brings bad luck.
Yes, I’m blaming the beach and not my driving.
We headed to Long Bay Beach, this beach was located in Grace Bay a very popular area especially amongst tourists. My nanny (my mother) decided to sit this adventure out. So it was just me, my sister and Carter. We made it to the beach Throw up free! Win #1. We were able to park and walk down to the beach. This beach was VERY DIFFERENT FROM THE LAST. The waves were strong the sand was heavier , just walking to the sitting area had us winded. My sister spilled my champagne along the way which left me very depressed but we had some “Bambarra” a well known Turks and Caicos Rum so all was well.
This beach got old quick, there was no bar , no water activities, no flood of people so we headed back to the house. It was our second to last night on the island so we planned a nice dinner. (Well I planned a nice dinner and prayed Carter cooperated) we got dressed and headed to Infinity Bar, located in Grace Bay, and Carter stayed sleep for the ride, the transport from the car to his stroller and all throughout dinner—- it was like God telling me I am here. — I even had a glass of champagne to celebrate such a joyous , peaceful occasion. It was great.
Surprisingly we stayed in that night.
Day 4: our last full day on the island. Our human alarm clock got us up and ready for the day, we spent a good portion by the pool which by the way was secluded the ENTIRE time we were there, we then got ready and headed to Grace Bay to do some shopping. All I could think was, “if the prices are anything like those grocery stores I won’t be getting a damn thing.” They weren’t bad tho.
In true mom fashion all I could think about was getting carter’s daycare teachers a souvenir—- who have I become?
Perfect way to wind down the chaos of Turks and Caicos
Day5: awaken by my alarm clock this time at 5 am, unlike the rest of the mornings I couldn’t get him to calm down, my baby was teething and yes I forgot the Orajel home so I had to take him for a walk. It just so happened the sun was rising and Carter thought it was play time so he ran down a parking lot having me chase him right up until a river opening. —- it was gorgeous. It was just what I needed after the past 4 days, it was peace, it was reassurance and it was with my favorite person in the world. It felt like such a sign, greater things are in store. We returned to begin packing. Finally, homeward bound and need I say it, I was full of mixed emotions . Sad to say goodbye but happy to be leaving, anxious about the stressful ass travel woes that lie ahead. We headed to the airport about 2 hours ahead of our flight just to be safe , attempting to work around carter’s nap schedule and doing so unsuccessfully, I lay packed up along with the many other travels I’m a foreign hot airport with a cranky baby. I was exhausted.
After flying to New York and missing our connecting flight to land in Boston. I really laughed.
nothing ever goes as planned.
I went from 80 degree weather to return home to 32 degrees and I couldn’t have been happier.
This vacation has taught me many things, no matter the preparation, you are never prepared, you never know what’s in store and you can make whatever you want look good but that doesn’t mean it is.
I thought I was prepared , Speaking in the sense of materialistic things—- I was, mentally HELL NO. nothing could have prepared me for car sickness, or screaming on a 3 hour flight … the list goes on. I was so in a rush for months to get away , leave where I was at and go on vacation and look what I went to a new set of problems. On the plus side the problems were in paradise and not the snow so they didn’t seem as bad, but there were still problems. this trip to TCI has taught me to appreciate just where I was because you never know what lies ahead. If you look any of my social media’s I didn’t talk about any of this, all you see is “perfect pictures” and comments about how envious people were that I was away, See how easily people can be fooled.
I needed Twerks and Caicos not only for the family time, but for the sun, the laughs, the realizations… hell the revelations.
I don’t know if we will be taking any family trips any time soon, but I can’t wait for the next.
It’s “Wine Wednesday” and I’m semi tipsy. I was just looking at Valentine’s Day cards on Etsy (yes, I’m that corny) and I was wondering why I’m so happy about Cheesy ass Valentine’s Day this year, I don’t have plans and my Valentine doesn’t even know he’s my Valentine.— I digress.
I really like this Gallo Family Chardonnay, it’s a medium bodied wine but there is still hints of sweet and citrus and it’s alcohol content is 13% . Talk about Yesssssss.
Good matches: Chardonnay is perfect with light and delicate food such as raw and lightly cooked shellfish like crab and prawns, steamed or grilled fish, fish pâtés, fish, chicken or vegetable terrines and pasta or risotto with spring vegetables. They also go well with creamy vegetable soups.
It was a whopping $5 at my local grocery store. So, men I wouldn’t encourage you to bring this over to “Netflix and chill” because it’s cheap… buy a better brand.
—- my cheap ass likes it tho.
I had to actually look up Valentine’s Day tonight, I really thought to myself like I don’t even know the origin of this so-called “holiday”.
According to history.com, it was said that, at least three different saints named Valentine or Valentinus, all of whom were martyred. One legend contends that Valentine was a priest who served during the third century in Rome. When Emperor Claudius II decided that single men made better soldiers than those with wives and families, he outlawed marriage for young men. Valentine, realizing the injustice of the decree, defied Claudius and continued to perform marriages for young lovers in secret.
I was like shit, Talk about romantic right?
So in honor of my guy Valentine and the upcoming day I want to play a game tonight, “Never have I ever” —- Valentine’s Day edition. It’s pretty much everyday that the craziest things happen to me and I always wonder if not the same but similar crazy things happen to other people as often as they do me. I’m going to throw out some scenarios , 5 to be exact, 3 of them are true and 2 are false that may or may not have happened to me on past Valentine’s Days.
Never have I ever …
1. Went on 2 dates to the same restaurant with 2 different guys on Valentine’s Day and ended up with the same waiter
2. Never have I ever been “Came to as a woman” while I was pregnant on Valentine’s Day.
3. Never have I ever been stuck tied to a bed until the next morning February 15th.
4 . Never have I ever been stood up then texted the next day and to go to lunch to receive a new bag and cash.
5. Never have I ever got “flewed out” for Valentine’s Day.
The fact 3 of those scenarios are even true , really REALLY has me wondering why I still consider Valentine’s Day to be one of my favorite holidays. I’ve had some almost perfect Valentine’s Days but most have been nothing short of crazy. I can laugh about it now, but at the time it wasn’t so funny . We have so many fantasized romances, with the perfect guy/ or girl, the perfect date that most of us will never get because perfect doesn’t exist. I’m pretty sure guys don’t give a shit about Valentine’s Day whether in a relationship or single so ladies — WE can all keep wondering and waiting. Maybe we are hoping one of Saint Valentine’s long lost relatives is somewhere out in Dorchester ready to play matchmaker, either way I Hope everyone’s Valentine’s Day Is that and then some.
The explanation and stories for each will follow … eventually . Comment your guess below or on social media *Ig @thewinedrinkingmom.
I cant waaaiitttt to hear some of you guys’ to remind myself crazy shit doesn’t only happen to me …right?