momlife, Salty Mama Lists, They Said WHAT?, Why We're Salty

Things That Make Us Saltier Than They Should

Yes, sometimes as Mom’s we’re way too excited about the little things. Like an extra piece of chicken or getting a good cart at the grocery store. But on the flip side? We’re sometimes overly salty – and I’m not talking about being salty in the good way like McDonald’s fries. I’m talking about the fact that we’re chronically exhausted and under-caffeinated no matter how hard we try to drink all the Cokes  and coffees, and sometimes that makes us go from zero to salty in 2 shakes.

  1. When people order a plain old Coca Cola from a Coke Freestyle machine (we’re looking at you, Michael).  You’ve got allllll the choices in the world, and you choose to be boring. I can’t. It’s just such a waste of a Cherry-coke-esque opportunity. See Also: people who order vanilla cupcakes with vanilla frosting at bakeries that pride themselves on having a million flavors (I’m looking at you, Nicole).
  2. People who try to “cut” in line while merging onto the freeway. And I know I’m not alone in this. But I think it’s the teacher in me that simply cannot stomach someone breaking kindergarten rules. I’m assuming you’ve know said rule for at LEAST 11 years if you’re driving a car, and you STILL don’t know not to break it? So. Rude.
  3. People on NextDoor who are like, “Does Anyone Have a Brand New Fridge They Want to Give Away?” Or similar.   I get that there’s technically no harm in asking, and I also get that you just MIGHT find someone who feels like being a good neighbor. But I once saw requests for a new toilet, an astronomy book, and someone who would let a stranger crash on their couch for the night (!) in the same day. I know I shouldn’t be THIS annoyed by it, but I JUST AM.
  4. When my coupons won’t load at a Fast Food Place. I once refused to pay at a Taco Bell because they couldn’t scan my gift card, because I wouldn’t have gone there if I’d known their scanner was down (I feel like this is information that should have been stated upfront).  I was like, “no thanks, keep my burritos,” but ended up just getting them free instead. So I guess I’m not THAT salty about this one.
  5. Stupid questions. I hate to break it to every teacher I ever had, but there ARE stupid questions. Like my husband asking where the pajamas are. In the exact same place they’ve been since the day our child was born. You KNOW this. I know you do. Just think my love! And then I won’t LOSE.MY.MIND. For the love of God just help me out here.
  6. Places that don’t serve our preferred soda. It doesn’t matter if you’re team Coke or team Pepsi – because you’re going to be pissed half the time either way. And sometimes, it can feel like they’ve selected your soda nemesis just to spite you. They didn’t, but still. Tell that to a tired Mom that just wants her Coke. Or Pepsi.
  7. When I can’t get a spot for the kids at the YMCA. I actually feel especially bad about this one, because I’m getting a SCREAMING deal on the amount of money I spend in relation to the amount of hours I use their facilities. But still. If I really want to get in on Wednesday morning and I call Wednesday morning even though it’s totally on me and I should have called Monday? I die a little inside when they’re all filled up.
  8. Crappy creamer. It’s off in the distance – a big, beautiful carafe of free coffee, and then you get closer and there’s just a jug of that powdered stuff. Look, I’m not saying I need some soy organic lavender infused vanilla bean creamer. Hell, I don’t even need a flavored creamer. But something – anything – liquid please?
  9. Waking up at 6:17 even when the kids aren’t home. Like this morning. When the kids are at Grammy’s but they’ve trained me so good I’m up at dawn. How I miss the days when I was able to just sleep in and enjoy a lazy morning!! But at least I’ll drink my coffee while it’s hot today…

We know you all MUST have some Super-Salty-Pet-Peeves of your own.  We’d love to hear them in the comment section!

(And yes we DO know these are all first world problems, thank you very much. We also get salty about important things too, but let’s be honest, we’re not laughing about those, and neither would you. So this list is gonna have to do for now.)

 

#momlife #salty #momhumor
If the Daddy’s ask us where the pajamas are one more time we’ll lose it! Check out the 8 other things that make us super salty!

 

 

Caffeine, Mama Mojo, They Said WHAT?

Is There Such a Thing as Too Much Coffee?

Hi, my name is Jaymi, and I am addicted to caffeine.

I first discovered my problem a few months ago. We ditched the kids and went away to a wedding, and had the best time ever. We were surrounded by people we’ve been friends with for decades, and it was absolutely amazing to get to do all the adult things I wanted, whenever I wanted to. Tops on my list? Hot coffee. And lots of it. Isn’t that every mom’s dream? We meandered down to this adorable little bakery and I told the lady, as I am apt to do, that I wanted a hot coffee the size of my head. And she gave me the biggest cup, and pointed me in the direction of the self-serve, and I emptied that sucker into my cup. Like, literally emptied it. And then I ate my delicious pastry, and refilled it. And refilled it one more time. And emptied the giant coffee dispenser again. And thought nothing of it, because I’m a mom, and everyone knows moms drink all the coffee. Except then my friends started giving me endless shit. And they’re like, damn girl, that’s some coffee consumption. And I laugh it off, and I’m like, “You guys drink coffee too!” And they tell me, “Lady, we did not empty those two giant carafes. You did.”

“But!” I tell myself. “But their kids are older! They are getting more sleep than I am! I shall ask my mommy friends, the ones with two or three kids under five. THEY know my struggle.” After all, we talk about coffee non-effing-stop. So I know they’re with me.

Not so, my friends.

I make a quick survey asking my momsquad to give it to me in ounces, their daily intake.
“One twelve ounce cup in the mornings.”

“Sometimes a latte in the afternoon.”

“Once in a while I drink two cups in the morning, but usually one.”

What. The. Hell.

On average, those coffee-obsessed broads are drinking between 12 and 20 ounces a day. While I’m putting away 50. But because I hear about coffee nonstop, and I’m not that vocal about it, I always assumed whatever I was doing was normal. Coffee isn’t even “My Thing.” It’s our cousin Daniel’s, who we sometimes call “coffeecoffeecoffee,” or my friend Courtney’s, who posts about coffee on her Facebook page about once a week. The ones who are constantly waxing poetic about their daily joe.

There are millions of memes, images, dialogues about coffee. There are shirts emblazoned with “All I Need is Mascara and Caffeine,” and mugs saying, “Heart, Hustle, and Coffee” (okay, that’s my mug, and I made it. But still). We’re smack dab in the middle of a culture that has us celebrating coffee, glorifying coffee, and making it a primary topic of conversation in mom circles everywhere. It’s a thing now. Moms. Love. Coffee. So when my one cup became two became three became five, I honest to God went full-teenaged, “Well everyone is doing it.”

Again. Not so, my friends.

So now here I am, wondering whether I should take this newfound knowledge, own it, and celebrate it. Give zero effs. Maybe post a few more coffee cup selfies here and there so the world can I see that I drink that coffee without shame. Maybe I scale down my use a bit, see how it goes, in a moderation-is-everything approach? Or do I take this new information and use it to find a program, and get myself some help? I feel like it’s gonna take a bit more than the Serenity Prayer to get me through a day with these little monsters, but hey, it’s worth a shot.

Of espresso, that is. Obviously.

We live in a coffee culture. But how much are people REALLY drinking? And how do you know when to say enough is enough? thesaltymamas.com

 

Effing Four Year Olds, momlife, parenting, The Salties, They Said WHAT?

A Teacher Gift You Should Start on NOW

For many of us, school is just getting started.  End of year teacher gifts are FAR off of our radar. We are miles away from Teacher Appreciation Week (thank goodness. It has turned into such a circus, but that’s a post for another day.) The last days of school? Please. Let’s just get through Back to School Night first, am I right?

My teacher has a voice like a buffalo

Except then I had the CUTEST idea. On the first day of school, when I asked Lila how her day was, she said “I need three popsicles. And a nap.” The second day, she said, “When Mrs. D gets mad, she sounds like a buffalo. It’s AWESOME!” And it made me think about all the funny/silly/sweet things my students must have told their parents about me and my classroom, and I desperately wished I could have heard what those things were (I mean, the nice things, of course. I’m not a glutton for punishment. I don’t want to hear about how the kid said I’m a monster, obviously).  

So I decided that I would keep track of the little things Lila reported about at school on a  cute little paper somewhere, and then at the end of the school year, we could gift Mrs. D with a collection of the sweet, crazy, funny little moments that stood out most for Lila. Along with a fat gift card to Target. Because TARGET.

And I can’t just keep something like an adorable printable to myself, so we’ll go ahead and share it with our friends (aka YOU!).  Download the free printable HERE and put it in a safe place where you can add to it throughout the year, and we’ll check back in with you in the Spring to see how it’s going.  Follow the blog to make sure you don’t miss out on the update! End of Year Teacher Gift- Quotes Page

 

Want to make your printable even cuter? Click the link below to purchase a custom copy that includes the student and teacher names of your choice.

Custom Quotes Printable

This custom printable will take your gift to the next level! Simply click through to purchase, and you will be contacted for the names you would like included. We are also willing to make changes to the months and questions for no additional fee.

$2.00

Do you have a kiddo in school? We’d love to hear the funniest thing your child has said about their classroom or teacher in the comments below.

Wow your child's teacher with this easy, printable gift idea from thesaltymamas.com

 

 

Kids' Activities, momlife, parenting, They Said WHAT?, Why We're Salty

Haters at the Beach

Why do there have to be so many haters?!?

Okay, so I was going to take my kids to the beach. I live in a beach city, so it’s not the ordeal you might imagine. We were going for an hour and a half. My friends were going. I had packed everything and we were in the car and ready to go.

And DANG you would think I announced I was going to take my kids to fight tigers.

My husband says to me, “If you think it’s safe to take both kids, then go ahead.”

Oh hi, passive aggression. As in, “if somebody dies, remember, it’s on YOU.”

My mom says to me, when I call to complain about my husband’s lack of confidence, “No, no, of COURSE you can do this. (Is someone else going to help you? Do you have the ergo? Do you have puddlejumpers for both of them? Do you have sunscreen?)”

Cause clearly, I forgot all the beach stuff. You know, for the beach.

Even the effing lifeguard was like, “Ma’am, I know she has a puddlejumper on, but do you really want to let her play in the water by herself? Not the smartest move.”

Dear teenaged sir, I do not consider her going hip-high in water while I stand ten feet away to be in the water by herself. But since you are technically in charge here, I’m gonna have to act all concerned like I didn’t see the error of my ways until just now, and pretend that you didn’t just call me dumb to my face.

I mean, good grief. Give me a BREAK, y’all. It’s the beach- NAY, it’s the BAY- there aren’t even any waves! I keep these kids alive on the regular. I think I can handle two hours on the beach.

Triple Selfie at the Beach

I mean, yes, Abram did drink some salt water, and Lila got a little sunburned, and I got scolded by a lifeguard. But did anybody die? No, thank you very much. So that’s gotta count for something.

And next time, I’m not telling any of you people that I’m even going to the beach. So don’t expect an invite. You ain’t coming.

Except the lifeguard, I guess. But hopefully the next one can mind his own darn business and let me and my kids get our beach on in peace.

Kids at the beach

Everyone's got something to say, from the husband to the lifeguard. Our experience with haters at the beach, and how to overcome them!
Bouncing Babies, koefoe party of 5, Mama Mojo, Married with Children, momlife, Momsquad, The Daddys, They Said WHAT?, vacation, Why We're Salty

Mama’s Going Out of Town: Reactions From a Concerned Community

When I was three years and three kids into Motherhood, I embarked on one of my most exciting journeys. A trip the HELL out of dodge. Without my husband. Without my kids. Just me, a cruise ship, the open ocean, and 9 of my best Mamas.

I was excited and apprehensive and happy and nervous and all the emotions. To be honest, I love to WATCH a Mom vacation a la Real Housewives of Every Single Franchise Ever, but there was always a part of me that was like, “why do they want to go out of town without their families so often???”

Now, I know.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. Because unlike the Real Housewives of Everywhere, the drama surrounding my trip happened entirely before we set sail. Basically, the moment I told anyone I was going somewhere. If I had a dollar for every time someone asked me, “Who’s watching the children?,” I could probably have paid for the entire trip. If I got another dollar every time someone had to pick their jaw up off the floor when I answered, “Uh….their father,” I could have covered my bar tab. Which, for the record, ended up being a very significant total. But I digress.

The people around me were VERY concerned with me going on this trip. Offers to assist Chad flew in from every corner of my universe. I could leave confident that no one would go hungry, because the neighborhood was going to band together and bring a collection of casseroles and baked goods. His arms would never ache because the biddies at church all volunteered to come over and “just hold the baby” while he tended to the other children. Other people got fancy with their plans. “I’ll take Evie, we can do something fun! Then see if your Mom can take the baby, that way Chad can just hang out with Cole! Guy time!”

Basically the message was this: If Mommy was irresponsible enough to just go and LEAVE her children with a practical stranger their Father, then my village was going to step in and provide backup.

Perhaps this leaves a questionable perception of my husband. By all accounts, he’s a pretty hands on Dad in every day life. He changes diapers, he plays and reads, he knows his way around a onesie.

But I get it. Three days is a lot of time with the kids. He isn’t as used to doing everything day after day after day. Alone. Let’s be real, three days would be a lot for anyone.

Know how I know that?

BECAUSE MY HUSBAND HAS TO TRAVEL FOR WORK AND I DO THIS ALL THE FREAKING TIME.

When he went to Wichita for three days, where was my casserole???

When he went to Utah for a week, who was coming over to hold my baby???

When he left to Connecticut for two days when our third baby was TWO WEEKS OLD who the EFF took the reigns and doled out my other children so I could focus on the tiny ball of NEED???

Yeah, crickets.

So I stood there, patiently listening to all the concerned voices and when they felt like they’d said their piece, I told them all the same thing, “Thank you, that’s very generous, but he’ll be fine.”

And guess what?

He was.

With a little help from my Mom 😉

Mamas going on vacation
Bouncing Babies, momlife, They Said WHAT?

YOU are Best

YOU Are Best

This week is World Breastfeeding Week, and as the Salty Mama that’s still attached to a person several times a day, I figured it was my civic duty to weigh in.

I’m almost 10 months into breastfeeding Izzie, and on paper I’m a Gold Star Breastfeeder. She feeds on demand and often, has never had formula and never taken a bottle (except for one weekend when she finally gave in, but that’s a story for another day). Basically I’m waiting for La Leche League to give me some sort of trophy.

The community that has been built around positive breastfeeding messaging in America recently is an awesome and powerful one. Once, when Evie was nearing a year, I was sitting at the kid’s swim lesson feeding her. A Mom sat down next to me with her child and struck up a conversation. She also began to nurse her baby and we exchanged baby stats. Evie was a big healthy baby, and this woman immediately started in on how it was all due to my hearty breastmilk. Our strong bond due to our physical connection through nursing. Basically all of my child’s positive attributes existed because of the way I chose to feed her. As a person currently breastfeeding a baby, those statements were a booster shot to the heart telling you you’re doing a great thing. What an ego boost! Hell yeah, my body not just created a person but is now basically making her super-human! If she gets good grades? My breast milk made her a genius. If she excels in sports? Literal Muscle Milk! I was basically raising an Olympic bound future Harvard graduate.

But there’s a flip side to this messaging.

One that I lived through with my son. My firstborn was almost 9 ½ pounds when he was born. And he was HUNGRY. And I tried, oh how I tried, to feed him. The first few days went well. He latched like a natural in the hospital and seemed to be happy. I left with all the confidence that I was going to do everything right. But when we got home it all went to hell. No amount of “help” actually helped. I had a lactation consultant berate me for “doing it wrong” while offering nothing constructive and better ones that told me I just had to keep trying, my milk would come in. By day 4 or 5 he was unhappy and hungry all the time, so I started pumping. For weeks, I was either trying to feed him or pumping around the clock. I spent so much time pumping and trying to make sure he had enough food that I feel like I actually missed some of his first days. I was exhausted – far beyond what I experienced with my daughters, who were by all measures “worse” sleepers and bigger criers – and felt like I couldn’t function. I watched other people feeding him the bottles that I worked so incredibly hard for.

After engaging in this battle for what felt like a lifetime, but was really about eight weeks, my husband finally intervened. “This is ridiculous. I’m getting formula. You’re both miserable.” In the moment, it was a stab in the heart. I was not ready to admit defeat. But I had to admit that he was right. We were miserable. On the one hand the idea of just enjoying my baby was such an intoxicating one. I could know that he was getting enough food. I could relax and snuggle with him without him straining against me trying to eat and being devastated when it didn’t work. I could be happy. But in the not so back of my head I heard the chorus of people that aren’t just pro-breastfeeding, but anti-anything else. “Formula is poison.” “You’ll never bond with your baby.” And of course, “Breast is Best.” But I was desperate. Anything was worth a try.

Four years later I so appreciate my husband stepping in and taking the reins. My son is so happy and healthy and beyond bonded to me, and if anything, formula saved us. Because breastfeeding just. Wasn’t. Working. And that’s okay. It doesn’t make me a bad Mother. It doesn’t mean I don’t want the best for my kids. It sure as hell doesn’t mean I don’t love my kids. And the people that want to insinuate that in the name of Breastfeeding Awareness need to try to take a walk in the shoes of those of us that tried and failed.

Because as I roam around my Mommy-sphere of the internet, I can’t help but see over and over and over again that mantra “Breast is Best.” While this phrase may be full of empowerment to those that are breastfeeding, it can also be a soul crushing phrase to those who – for whatever reason – made the decision, or had the decision made for them, to not breastfeed.

I know it was for me.

So I guess what I want to contribute to Breastfeeding Awareness Week is this: Be aware of all the absolutely wonderful reasons to breastfeed. Be aware of all the reasons that some people may not be able to breastfeed. Be aware of all the completely valid reasons someone may choose to not breastfeed. And then support each other. Because at the end of the day, YOU are best for your kid. YOU are what keeps them healthy and happy and all the wonderful things we strive so hard for.

Bouncing Babies, koefoe party of 5, momlife, parenting, They Said WHAT?, vacation, Why We're Salty

Panic at Panera

Road trips are always a huge endeavor, especially when you’re traveling with a bunch of little ones. You spend more time prepping for the trip than you’ll probably spend at your final  destination, making sure you have everything you could possibly need for every possible scenario: illness, peed pants, owies of all shapes and sizes, snacks – OH GOD THE SNACKS. Every possible book that will be required to get the kids to sleep at the end of the night and every toy that might be needed to get someone to stop crying/fighting/fussing/etc. I started getting ready on a Friday and a year and a half later we were packed, loaded and on the road.

Later that day, we found ourselves in the middle of what we thought was a seven hour drive – which ended up being over eleven hours – and were all in pretty good spirits. My husband and Dad were in the front row, chatting away, seemingly oblivious to the chaos of the back two rows. The kids were mostly singing songs from the major motion picture Moana and playing games they made up like “Guess the Animal,” where Evie gave charming clues like, “The animal I’m thinking of is a mouse.” It was cute, but freaking A man, was it LOUD.  We had strategically positioned the carseats so that no one could touch each other, so at least there was that. But even cute wears off after a few hours.

Then something happens and cute is a distant memory.

And when you’re trapped in the third row of a Ford Explorer with your very talkative20503897_10214160697637757_1520894625_n three year old sitting right next to you and your very hungry 7 month old screaming as she stares you down from her second row spot, the Panera off the highway might just look a little like heaven.

The second we parked the car I started yelling to the Daddies in the front row, “Please, please get the kids out so I can get out of the car, PLEASE!!” I scrambled over seats and literally fell into the parking lot, the black pavement scalding hot, but I was on LAND. And there was going to be food.

We went in, ordered and that’s when the fun began.

If you know anything about eating with kids, it’s that seat selection can make or break your meal. When in doubt DO NOT SIT NEXT TO THE NICE LOOKING OLD LADIES IN PANERA. This may have been a one off,  but just in case. Heed this warning.

We all sat down and started to eat. The baby – a staunch refuser of all things pureed – was sitting in her high chair enjoying one of a baby’s major food groups: the Mum Mum. Yes, it looks like I’m feeding my baby a bird treat but she loves it, so I’ll keep ripping open package after package as long as she likes. Being a baby though, she drops food. All the time. In quick succession she dropped not one, but TWO of the coveted Mum Mums. I chastised her playfully saying, “Silly baby, you’ve got to stop dropping your food!”

It was at this point that Lil Biddy #1 decided to mumble, “Of course she’s dropping it, it’s WAY too big for a baby….how can she possibly eat it….ugh….grumble grumble.” Uh, excuse me? I shot over a look, equal parts, “I’m sure I just heard you wrong” and “Nosy bitch says what??” Okay,  maybe not quite equal parts.

Resume meal.

At some point, Izzie ran out of Mum Mums and it was time to bust out the canister of Puffs. Both food AND fine motor skill enhancer, Puffs are pretty much the perfect food for a baby on the go. Sure, she can spill them EVERYWHERE, but the cleanup is pretty easy. What could someone not like about PUFFS????

Enter Lil Biddy stage left! This pushed her straight over the edge. “That’s it. I can’t stay here and watch this anymore. Those are too small! That baby is going to choke and die and it’s all that Mother’s fault!!!”

She, no joke, STORMED OUT OF PANERA. Lil Biddy #2 chased behind her crying, “I mean, I think those are actually made for babies….” but it was too late. She was dust.

In the moment, I actually thought it was funny. Me, feeding my baby food, that was made for a baby, was such terrible parenting that it drove two ladies from a restaurant. Are we in the twilight zone? It was honest to God laughable. In fact, my whole table laughed. But the more I thought about it, the more it chapped my ass. Who do these people think they are that it’s okay to just comment on every parent that comes in their wake? Because make no mistake. This was not unique to that day, to that Panera. Chad thought it was funny as well, and commented on how random it was which is when I realized that it doesn’t happen to him. It happens to the Moms. Our jobs are open to feedback and criticism and judgement, from anyone, anywhere.

Whether you’re in the grocery store, or an amusement park, or Panera.

And it’s BS.

So we won’t even get started on what happened at the next rest stop where….but Evie looked like this. So use your imagination…18697898_10213434533244101_1156915492_o

momlife, parenting, The Daddys, They Said WHAT?, Why We're Salty

No, Husband, I Did Not Poop in the Tub

My husband comes out of the bathroom, fresh from a shower, still with dripping wet hair, and looks at me with utter disdain.

“Babe. Did you seriously poop in the shower?”

I mean, I’m not sure how I’m supposed to respond to this, because clearly, I did not. Like, I’m not sure how to even justify this with an answer. We live with a four year old and a one year old. How, of all the Torrezes, is the 31 year old devoted wife and mother nominated as Most Likely to Poop in the Shower?!?
Me: “No! I didn’t poop in the shower!”

Mike: “Well you were the last one in there, and there was a little poop nugget in the drain”

Me: “WHY WOULD I EVER EVEN DO THAT?!?”

Mike: “I don’t know, why do you do anything you do?”
Me: Head explodes.

As EVERYONE ELSE BUT MY HUSBAND has probably already figured out, a few hours earlier, our one year old did, in fact, poop in the tub. Because that’s kind of a thing for Torrez babies, apparently. And I did my best to clean it up, evacuating both kids from the tub, scooping up the poop (well, most of it anyways I guess), and spraying the whole thing down with Lysol. And I did all this without even sending out a Spousal SOS, for which I probably deserve some kind of medal. At the least, gratitude. But certainly not accusations of some form of shit-related vandalism.

And that got me to thinking about some other “reminders” my husband has given me.

Me: Oh shoot, I just threw out some balsamic vinegar this morning and now I need it for this recipe.

Mike: Don’t dig it out of there, it’s too late.

Me: …

Like, obviously, hon. I’m not gonna use trash-vinegar on this salad I was planning to serve to company. CLEARLY.

 

My Husband: Standing Next to My Child, who is sitting precariously in a bike seat attached to a grown-up-sized bike, “You’ve got to watch him when he’s in there, Jaymes. You can’t walk away and just leave him in there.”

WELL YEAH I KNOW, BOO. I didn’t intend to leave my wibbly, wobbly one year old strapped into a fifty-pound piece of metal by himself. Who do you think I am?!?

The baby’s graham cracker falls in the dog’s water bowl.

My Husband: “Don’t give that back to him.”

Good idea, buddy! Thank God you said that, cause I was just about to hand this soggy, dog-water cracker back to our precious fifteen month old. I mean, if it was an apple slice or something I would, but a graham cracker?? Just think of what a mess he would make with it.

On second thought, maybe I get why he thinks I need this kind of advice now. But pooping in the shower?? That just goes too far.

Tub

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They Said WHAT?, Why We're Salty

High Comedy at the Post Office

I am not good at being sick. I am terrible at taking time to recover. So I’m that nutjob in Labor & Delivery asking if I can leave early. Which is how I was checked out of the hospital 23 hours after our third baby was born. All that sitting around was making me ancy. I wanted to sleep in my own bed and eat my own food (or at least Chipotle’s food but in my own house) and I was sure my Target checkers were starting to worry. Basically, I had shit to do.

And so it was that a day after we were discharged, I found myself running errands with 15025161_10211442850133268_1808075476829088992_othe family. We visited my Nana, so she could meet the baby. We went to the grocery store because even though I was fine with eating ALL THE TAKEOUT my kids still wanted milk and fruit and all that “growing food” we apparently had spent too much time focusing on. Oh! And the post office, I definitely had to go to the post office! DO NOT FORGET TO GO TO THE POST OFFICE! A day before the baby had been born – SIX DAYS LATE, THANK YOU BABY #3 YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE EARLIER THAN THE OTHER TWO, but I digress – I had been selling some LuLaRoe on some Buy/Sell/Trade sites because I can’t just sit and do nothing waiting for baby’s arrival! But it wasn’t going to mail itself, so I told my husband to take me to the slightly out of the way Post Office that was never busy and has the lovely old lady that’s so friendly and works on Wednesdays.

I left Chad and the kids in the car – I may be running errands 43 hours post partem but I’m not insane! – and popped into the post office. As predicted there was only one person waiting in line. He was a cute old man, wearing a hat signifying that he was a Veteran and I warmed to him immediately because he reminded me of my Papa.

I smiled at him as he turned to me and exclaimed, “Oh! You’re having a baby! When are you due?” I took ZERO offense because, let’s face it, I DID look pregnant. I had that weird, mushy, misshapen I-just-had-a-baby belly thing happening, and if you don’t KNOW I just had a baby, expecting a baby seems like a pretty good explanation. I kindly responded, “Oh, no, I had a baby two days ago actually.” The woman now in line behind me squealed and offered congratulations, commenting on how impressive it was that I was already out and about. I smiled and thanked her and assumed that would be the end of that.

I was wrong. This is where the cute little neighborhood post office feel good story takes a turn.

My sweet, old Vet turned back to me and grumbled, “What, did they leave one or two in there???”

Uhhhhh, excuse me?? I did a double take trying to rectify this new development with the aforementioned assumption that this was my new grandfather figure. The nice lady behind me tried to take over asking the usual just-had-a-baby questions.

“Did you have a boy or a girl?”

“Girl”

“Your first?”

“My third actually.”

“Hey!” – Joy, he returns – “Did you hear there’s something in the air that keeps getting girls pregnant.”

I REALLY just want to mail my stuff and leave, but he was just as adamant that I hear the punchline of his joke, so he came up quite close, right to my face and says, “THEIR LEGS!”

At this point I was too shocked to respond with anything other than an absolutely stunned expression on my face. As I’m contemplating picking my jaw up off the floor, he sensed the disapproval from me and my companions in line and proceeds to respond the way so many offensive men do: “Oh, I’m only joking, don’t get mad.”

Because, of course, it’s MY problem that I’m insulted when someone makes uninvited comments about my weight and getting pregnant – not that he’s a douche…..

And so it was that I was reminded of how awesome it is when men think it’s appropriate to say whatever they want to women, about women. I left more than a little bit pissed off. Fired up. Sad for my daughters that will be growing up with crap like this happening in their lives. Adamant that my son be kind and respectful. Disheartened to see that douchbaggery has no age limit.

But he didn’t make me feel bad about the way I looked. Cause I had just made a person. And then gone to the post office. And that’s pretty badass.