In a household with the last name Bacon, it’s no surprise that we’ve got funny bacon knick-knacks scattered about; a plush doll, some bacon mints, heck even a bacon
When I was approached by the company Bacon Needs Bacon to review their onesies, I jumped at the opportunity. Because, well, besides the obvious reasons mentioned above, I always feel so humbled to be able to help other small business owners grow. I’ve been approached before by companies to work together, and I’ve politely declined; I want to stay true to myself, and not review/receive sponsorship from anyone for a quick buck. But this was one company I could get behind.
(Here’s an example of their infant onesie.)
To the Mom of a child who bites, I see you.
To the Mom of a child who pushes, I see you.
To the Mom of a child who pinches, I see you.
To the Mom of a child who snatches, I see you.
To the Mom of a child having an epic meltdown, I see you.
To the designers who make childrens’ swimsuits –
Look. I get it. Your main concern is making cute prints, frilly skirts and adorable suits that change colors when they get wet. And boy do you excel at it. I can’t even walk by the bathing suits at Target without stopping to drool.
But can we just talk about functionality for a second here?
Why are there no buttons on the crotch?!
As if going to the beach or pool with kids isn’t enough of a hassle, the moment that makes any parents heart sink will inevitably happen – “Mommy! I have to go to the bathroom.” – 😑
Now I’m not above telling my kid to piss in the ocean, but unfortunately that’s frowned upon at the pool or splash pad. Or, you know, if they have to poop.
Why are there no frickin’ buttons, like on a baby onesie?! Do you think these designers even have kids?
There’s two ways this could go. And there is nothing more annoying than trying to pull a wet, sandy bathing suit down a wiggly, loud kid. Not to mention a lot of bathrooms at the beach are Rent-A-John’s or hot, smelly and small bathrooms. Hell, just thinking about this makes my inner bitch face come out.
Your second option is the pull and pray. Pull that sucker to the side and pray. If you’re lucky, you’ll only get peed on. 😏 If you get pooped on, well, shit happens. Curse the bathing suit Gods and go on your way.
In closing, y’all need to get your act together and add those snaps to bathing suits for kids – oh, let’s say – ages 5 and below.
Please and thank you.
This morning was a quiet morning. Which isn’t normally how it goes, is it?
Usually we’re all rushing around making breakfast, getting dressed, and bribing the children to eat. We’re drinking cold coffee in a feeble attempt to not feel like we only got the little sleep that we did the night before. One child on one hip, another one cries because they don’t like the shirt they picked out the night before.
I turned 29 on May 5th! Whoop whoop. And Ken surprised me with an overnight trip to Myrtle Beach sans kids; it was frickin’ glorious.
We packed up this morning, and I took a basic bitch mirror picture on the way out. 😂
I almost didn’t share it, because it shows Teddy, and I’m 29 with a security object from childhood. But ya know what? I decided to say fuck it and share anyways.
He was there when both my kids were born, on all our trips, on weekend sleepovers with friends, through my awkward middle school years, cruises with my family, during awful hangovers in college.
When did we become so concerned about our kids and them having security objects for too long? Is this a new thing? I mean, I get being worried about pacifier use/bottle use for the teeth reason. But I don’t ever remember my parents saying I needed to give Teddy away, or not letting me take him places (and yes, he’s a he 😜). Or them being concerned I wouldn’t be well adjusted if I relied on an object for security.
I never intended for it to, but this picture reminds me not to overthink things. To just let my kids be.
New life mantra: Whatever’s Clever.
Happy Sunday, y’all!
I’m sure you’ve read similar blog posts as this one may or may not end up playing out; about how moms need to move in front of the camera instead of behind it. How you’ll look back and treasure being in the pictures.
That’s the kind of post I intended when I started. But at this point, I’m actually not sure where this is going to go. I’m just writing.
We were out of town last weekend, so of course when we got home Sunday afternoon we had so much to do; clean the sheets, vacuum, dishes, laundry, prep some food, blah blah blah.
I remember being in college and thinking there wasn’t enough time in the day to do everything that needed to be done, but boy was I mistaken — being a parent and doing everything you’d like is next to impossible. And I’m saying this with two young kids — I cannot imagine how much more busy we’ll be once they get involved in school activities.