Goodbye 30's, you suck!

My list of 40 things to do on my 40th

When I turned 30, I cried for weeks leading up to my birthday.

Now I am 40 and I can't wait for the rest of my life.

Strange, I never thought I would be so happy about getting older.

Maybe because coming out of my 30's was like coming off the battle field. Don't get me wrong, many great things happened in my 30's, one being the miracle of having my two kids, but it wasn't all easy street for me.

Turning 30 brought on so many insecurities such as: was I on the right career path, would I ever find a baby daddy and even then, would I be able to even have kids. Especially since I was told in my early 30's that I would never be able to have my own children due to premature ovarian failure.

And once those insecurities were gone,  an insecurity tsunami struck when I became a mother. Top off being a new mother along with being thousands of miles away from the people I loved most and who loved me, I was Insecurity Queen!

For me it was an unknown territory, I had never been so unsure before in my life. I was far away from home and my support network. It was so hard. Every day was a struggle. But my saving grace was that at the end of every day my babies were healthy and happy. They didn't sleep much but they were happy.

However, there were days when I thought I wouldn't make it from all the sleep deprivation and exhaustion. I couldn't just call up my mom or my best friend to come over and give me relief. I had to solider on and looking back, i'm not sure how I made it physically.

Also in those 10 years I lost who I was. I didn't have time for anything ME and inside my mind I had to put my dreams on hold. I didn't have the energy to take care of myself. After having two kids in two years my body had transformed into some animal form, a cow or hog.

It was so bad, I didn't like to look into the mirror most days to be reminded of this person I had become. I didn't know her anyway. I didn't want to know her. I was ashamed.

My life only revolved around surviving. And I did.

I don't know why but about 3 months ago something clicked inside of me. Maybe my brain cells started cranking up again because I was getting more sleep. I don't know, and I don't care how it happened but it did: I decided it was time to stop surviving and start living. I was about to be 40 and fabulous!

So I crawled off the 30's battlefield, scarred but full of life experiences that no one could take away from me. I finally had the time and most importantly the energy to find me again. With both kids now in school, I started working full-time again, which really got those brain cells a buzzin'!

My confidence grew with each passing day and the motivation to start thinking about me snow-balled until I joined a gym, started eating healthier and realized it was ok to stand up straight again.

I was not that person I was at 30, but thank God! I suddenly realized that I survived these tough times because somewhere deep inside I was a strong person. Maybe I didn't brush my hair most days and I could only fit into yoga pants, but underneath it all, I was in there, fighting to the end and I made it! Finally, I was a butterfly crawling out of my cocoon.

And I couldn't wait to turn 40, for me it was the starting point for the best part of my life. I really have everything now: my two babies, my dreams and my self-respect back.

Like I said, it wasn't all negative, I have amazing memories with my kids. But now the memories will include the real me: a confident mother who, at 40 is following her dreams and living instead of surviving.

Maybe my 30's would have been different had I lived in my native America, who knows, I don't, but it doesn't matter now anyway. What matters for me now is living, being 40 and fabulous! This is awesome people!

Why the world should stop worrying about Zwarte Piet and see what's happening in Dutch McDonald's

Are you wondering what in the world could be more important than ending one of the most anticipated Dutch traditions for millions of non-racist children? 

Well take a look, canines are taking over the Dutch McDonalds.

This is an outrage! Call the UN! Someone needs to put a stop to this while we can. 

And to top it off, the McDonalds staff are feeding the dogs, welcoming them with McTreats! 

I am sure the McDonald brothers are rolling in their graves.  I am sure when they opened the first McDonald's restaurant they never imagined such a thing! 

Besides, the staff don't hand feed me McNuggets when I come to eat. It's discrimination people, I'm telling you before you know it our kind (human) won't be welcomed anymore.

What is next with these Dutch people? 

Mama, do you like your butt?

Mama, do you like your butt? My daughter asked me last night.

Not a question I expected after reading her a Curious George bedtime story. Where in the hell did this question come from?

Honestly, I had not thought about in a while. Did I like my butt? Well, I thought a lot about how big it had grown and how I wished it would fit in a pair of normal jeans, or how I wished it wouldn't hang out when I bent over. I tried for years to make it smaller, but of course, since having kids, I decided to give up.

But she asked me about now, at that moment, did I like my butt?

Then it dawned on me. “Yes, Charly I do like my butt.”

“Why do you like your butt Mama?”

Good question, why did I like my butt? Hmmmm…

“Well Charly, I like it because it’s mine, it’s a part of me and I like me.”

“But why do you like IT?” she persisted. I was in trouble; she wasn't falling for superficial answers. I had to be honest.

Then “Baby Got Back” started playing over and over in my head.

“Because it’s round and juicy, like a bubble”, I blurted out.

“Mama, you are silly, what does that mean.”

I thought about it again. Yes, my booty was round and juicy and would make Kim Kardashian's derriere look like a Pancake Butt. But I did like it. Yes, matter of fact I loved it!

“Charly, I like it because it doesn't look like anyone else’s butt. It’s not perfect and it barely fits in a pair of pants, but I love the way it feels like a cushion when I sit. It is very strong, it helps me lift you guys up and if I fall it helps protect my bones.”

Little did she know, that her Mama, almost age 40 was finally learning to love the goods God gave her.  I was far from perfect and why in the world would I want to be? Just because it was what society pumped into our heads from the time we were born as little girls? 

No, I was a real woman and my daughter needed to see that being a real woman was something to be proud of, something to love. I wanted to give my daughter a chance. I knew I couldn't protect her from what she saw in the media and heard from friends, but I wanted to be a role model for her. I wanted to be her base. I wanted her to see a healthy and happy person who loves herself, flaws and everything. I wanted her to be proud of her junk in the trunk!

This was the best gift I could ever give her and I decided from that point on, I would love myself, bubble butt, saggy boobs, muffin top belly and all. And for the first time in my life I meant it, thanks to my four year old daughter.

"I like your butt too Mama, it's soft and snuggle-buggle."

Tears in my eyes, I hugged my baby girl. "Charly, you are so right! Mama's got back!"

Why I think my son is the next van Gogh

I know, it oozes talent

Am I the only mother who could stare at something their child created for an hour?

God, I hope not. I hope I am not the only mother mesmerized by some drawing or clay figure their child has made.

No lie, when my five year old draws and colors one of his pictures of a shark eating a fish, I swipe it up from him like an original Monet and just marvel at his talent until the screams of “Mommy give it back” bring me back to reality.

When I look at his pictures I see nothing but brilliance. I see a story, his imagination spread out on a sheet of paper. My heart becomes all warm and fuzzy and I can feel the tears well-up in my eyes.

Now granted, if you or some other random person saw this picture then you would probably see a round blob with sharp teeth chasing other round blobs.

But I see a great white shark with his enormous killing power chasing a school of tuna through the raging sea. God my son is a genius!

Nothing you can say about these scribbles could ever change my mind…Nothing…ever…

And the thing that intrigues me the most is that I created this little person. I grew him in my belly, he came out looking like an alien and the alien grew into a little boy who is able to create such treasures.

I think that’s also why I collect every single drawing he has ever made.  I can’t even imagine throwing one away in the bin. It would be like throwing a little piece of him away, like an arm or a leg.

Ok, I am beginning to sound a bit Psycho-child-obsessed-Mom. And maybe I am, or maybe I am just so in love with my kids and hope that one day they believe in themselves the way I believe them.

Either way, I am just gonna keep on snitching these drawings from my son and plastering them all over my workspace. And I’m dying for my daughter to start creating masterpieces…the laundry will never get done then!

Why I compare my kids to other kids

The Golden Rule of Parenting: never compare yourself to other parents and never compare your kids to other kids.

But of course, most parents break these rules often comparing their kids to Johnny-next-door or to Cousin Cary's perfect offspring. Not me. I have been too busy beating myself up to take the time to look around.

You see, one huge disadvantage to raising children away from your network of family and friends is that you don’t have anyone around to support you or any examples to follow. 

My kids certainly didn't come with instruction manuals and I have only been a mother to a hamster and a bunny and both ended up running away.

Of course, I don’t want my kids to eventually run away, so I constantly worry about doing my job properly as a parent.

It wasn't until my daughter started school a few weeks ago that my self doubt hit its climax. I was not only stressing about going back to full-time work after five years, but also not only exposing my daughter to the world but my parenting skills, too. 

Breaking the rules
Then it all changed during a stressful school morning drop-off. It began when I was settling my daughter into her seat. And I noticed that her nails were filthy. They looked like she had used them for shovels. I was too tired the night before to force her to take a bath and that morning I was too tired to remember if she had washed her hands.

I sucked as a mother! My girl was a filthy pig!

And that’s when it happened. I decided it was time to break the Golden Rule and check out the other kids in her class. I had never done it before.  Never had I really looked at the other kids noses for crust or their mouths for left over oatmeal.

So one by one, I inspected each child sitting at my daughter's table: boy and girl, no discrimination. And that was when I realized that almost every kid had at least one dirty finger. Some even had a handful of nasty nails and nails so long they looked like claws. 

Compared to these kids, my daughter's nails were squeaky clean!

Every day after that, I began to discover imperfections in the parenting abilities of the other parents from the class. Charly was not the only little girl with hair that looked like a rat crawled and died in it. Charly was not the only child that wore her pajamas to class because I forgot to see what she had on under her coat. The room was filled with crusty noses and boogie smeared hair! 

Her class was full of failure, neglect and laziness! Yahoo... other parents sucked too! I love the Dutch culture!

After those first weeks I no longer doubted my parenting abilities as much. Either I sucked as a mother or I was just average. Either way, it didn't matter to me, at least I wasn't alone! 

Featured on Scary Mommy Travel Guide for Amsterdam

If you are a parent, you have to check out Scary Mommy's website. It's probably my most favorite place in the whole world to get a good laugh or honest dose of motherhood.

And I am so lucky to be able to contribute to the Scary Mommy travel guide by giving my top 10 things to do in Amsterdam with kiddos!

Check it out!!

Why does my 4 year old wanna dress like a hooker?

Why does my daughter insist in dressing like a hoochie mama?

It's not because I don't pick out perfectly respectable clothing for her every morning. Matter of fact, most mornings I even dress her myself.

Yet when I am locked away showering she changes her clothes and morphs into this hoochie mama 4 year old with shorts on so short you can see her My Little Pony running across her butt.

So is this why she wants to dress like a pole dancer to go to school? Or am I overreacting and actually shorts that go so far up where the sun don't shine are so comfortable?

I know what you are thinking, then why do I buy her such clothes? But I don't, she actually found an old bag of summer clothes that are size 18 months. Hello, she is 48 months! That's like 30 months too small.

For the last three weeks going to school has been a nightmare. I get out of the shower, flip my lid and she whines and begs to dress like "Daisy Duke gone wrong". I won't even mention the belly shirts she puts on from that bag.

Stupid me made the mistake of making a rule that Fridays are Kids-get-wear-whatever-they-want Day. For the last 3 Fridays my daughter looks like one of those little girls from Tots and Tiaras and I look like the world's worst mother. But she is happy and especially excited because also on Fridays she gets to go to after-school care with her "friend" Dan from class.

I'm not sure, but I am sure of one thing: I can not wait for colder weather  Maybe then my sweet little Hello Kitty wearing four year old will come back. Thank goodness I will be an old fart and half blind by the time she reaches puberty!