DIZMOMMY > October 2014


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October 30, 2014

Answering the Tough Questions

I have this very special friend, her name is Tamara (Like Camera). She's my dream girl! And I'm not just saying that because we have the same personality type (INFP). This is my second round of #AAF with girlfriend so in case you're wondering, her kids are still way too adorable, she still takes whimsical photos, her husband makes pumpkin stew IN A HOLLOWED PUMPKIN (seriously) and I love her even more. Make sure you read how she responded to my questions on her blog, here!

What is #AskAwayFriday? Well…
#AskAwayFriday was created by the amazing Penny from Real Housewife of Caroline County as a place for us to connect with other bloggers by asking them ten questions to really get to know them. The sky is the limit with the questions you ask! Meeting other bloggers and making new friends is one of the best parts of this online world!

Tamara from Tamara Like Camera,
Tiffany from Mrs. Tee Love Life Laughter,
Christy from Uplifting Families,
Stacey from This Momma’s Ramblings
Amber from Bold Fit Mom
And Co-host for the next 2 weeks: The Singapore Writing Homemaker.


1. It's Halloween today! Are you dressing up? Is Dylan dressing up? What are your weekend Halloween plans? 

The plan was
Dylan=Peter Pan
Dad=Captain Hook
Mom=Tinkerbell (because I never want Peter to grow up!) 
But I didn't get my costume in time (fail), dad wouldn't have dressed up anyway (it's like pulling teeth), and now Dylan is the only one sticking to the plan. On Halloween I'll go to work with blood smeared all over my face, enter my Diz-Demo[lition] Monster Truck mini-pumpkin our annual mini-pumpkin decorating contest, then the fam head over to my sister-in-law's house for trick-or-treating with the cousins and a Halloween bash! 

2. What's something that amazes you? 

Early childhood amazes me. When I look back on my own childhood, little things like sending poetry to publishers at 8, wanting to learn how to meditate at 10, and rushing to do any project that involved writing a story, were all just "things" I was doing at the time. But now, I see that those "things" are who I really am and have always been. I was most myself as a kid and I feel like I'm only just now building back that connection. 

Just look at me, celebrating like a boss from the start!
3. When was the last time you really pushed yourself to your physical limits? 

I'm pretty freakin' lazy, yo. Honestly. Last Saturday, Zepeda and I rearranged our entire room and I consider that pushing my physical limits. lol I'm so lazy that I block out anything involving physical activity. I'm still [emotionally] hurting from a day of snowboarding 4 years ago! 

4. What's a dream vacation you can't wait to take with your family? 

Right off the bat I want to say HAWAII!!! But let's dream a little bigger and go with GERMANY! It's where my mom is from and I desperately want to take everyone in the world there, especially Zepeda and Dylan, to show them this magical place where chocolate and candy falls from the sky and pretzels are bigger than 1 year olds. 

This photo sucks (because I took it). 
5. What blog post were you most afraid to publish, but did anyway?

EVERY ONE OF THEM! Though I can't imagine a life where I'm not writing, knowing that it will be read makes me feel exposed. I'm just waiting for the "WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?" comment to crush me. Please be nice, I'm sensitive under all this sass. This one made me very nervous for backlash.

6. Will you be going to any blog conferences in 2015??? What are your next plans for your wonderful blog? 

I'm going wherever you're going! I'm considering BlogHer, but really I'm just waiting for you to lay out our itinerary. As far as plans for my blog, monetize, monetize, monetize. In order for me to feel like I've achieved my life's dream and goal of being a successful writer, I need to make millions of dollars. And in order to make millions of dollars, I need to publish a book...I'm working on it.

7. I know you asked me something similar to this, but what is something hilarious that Dylan has said or done lately? 

Uhm...well Dylan doesn't speak in complete sentences AT ALL. He's still asking for things with a single word, "aqua?" But!! This morning I was sitting in bed with him and he looked over at me and said way too clearly, "Shubah shubashuba let's get on the bus." WTF! Maybe we've watched too much of this. Considering all things, I thought it was hilarious. 

8. As you know, I just read and reviewed "My Other Ex." If you could restore one broken relationship, which would it be? 

This is tough because I'm fiercely loyal. So once something terrible happens that forces an "ex" relationship, I have zero interest in considering restoration. I honestly cannot think of a single relationship I'd like to restore. Nope, not Kenny. Nope, not Shanda. And definitely not you, Michelle.

9. When did you immediately click with someone you had just met? What was the long term result? Are you close with anyone now that you really disliked at first? 

There are two extremes here because on the one hand, I'm very clickable. I am extremely empathetic and can relate to anyone, plus I genuinely and generally care, so people are comfortable with me quite quickly and I learn a lot about them. But I don't click with others as easily. It takes me a long time to feel like I really click with someone. Actually, I typically dislike the people I end up clicking with. For instance my husband, I couldn't stand him. Who did he think he was, anyway? lol 

Didn't see THIS coming!
10. I want a funny Halloween memory. WITH photos. Or any Halloween memories with photos.

All my favorite memories of Halloween are the same: rushing from house to house to collect the most candy, filling up a pillowcase, going home, dumping it out, counting/sorting and then trading with my four sisters. The best part about having 4 sisters on Halloween was having 4 people to trade candy with. Especially the younger ones. "I'll give you 20 Smarties for 5 Twix." I mean, who takes quantity of quality? Little sisters. And here are some Halloween photos!!

Thank you Tamara! Your questions blew my mind. Don't forget to send me our conference schedule! 

October 29, 2014

I Don't Want to Dream.

I had an entirely different post scheduled for today. But then something happened. You see, I’ve always experienced very vivid and memorable dreams. It’s great when I dream of eating my way out of a chocolate bar but disappointing when I wake up without one. And then there are times like this morning, when I woke up at 3am with tears pouring down my face because I had dreamt of escaping a violent man at a crappy motel in a bad part of town during a business trip. The dream ultimately resulted in my husband and son going back to the motel to find me, forcing me to rush back and retrieve them, only for the man to reappear, kill my husband with one blow to the head, while I attempted to frantically re-escape with Dylan in my arms. Seriously brain? Where do you get this stuff?! 

So of course, in my 3am grog, I swore someone was breaking into the house. And not just “someone,” but a reader of this here blog that I don’t know of but sits behind the screen, obsessing over my life. Seriously brain? SERIOUSLY? And there’s no talking me off the ledge! I sat up and listened for commotion but heard nothing- because hello, it was a dream

Regardless, it terrified me. I’m irrational like that. I mean, I sleep with a knife under my pillow if my husband is out of town. And when I’m the only one home, I play a game called, “Where’s your weapon?” which consists of identifying objects within reaching distance that can be used to stab someone’s eye…or chest…or whatever. But quasi-violence isn’t the only crazy fantasy I buy into. When I wake up from a husband-cheating-on-me dream, I grumpily roll over and ask him if he has anything he would like to tell me. Because “You were kissing so and so, RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME.” He laughs, so I give him frost bite with my eyes. 

Am I crazy? Are other people affected by their dreams like this? I have a few reoccurring classics too- like one where I watch my body fall off a cliff in the desert and land smack on the ground. And like a shitty movie, I see my lifeless body from a birds’ eye view as the shot pans out further and further away. I’m dead way before I wake up. SERIOUSLY BRAIN!? 

I can’t take it! Please, someone, save me from my imagination! This dream business is too much! So assuming I get a good night’s sleep, regular DIZMOMMY programming will resume tomorrow. Think cute stories of toddler life and sweet California sunshine- or anything other than being hunted down by a freak stalker. Thanks guys!

October 23, 2014

Moms In Da Club

Mommy Club fringe benefits are legit. Running late? Blame the kid. Don’t wanna go? Blame the kid. And my favorite: I broke it…so I blame the kid. (Gotta milk it while he’s still too young to throw me under the bus!) I knew I’d enjoy my Mom Club membership! But what I didn’t know, and what I’m just learning, is that sometimes, the mom club is really like a club. I’m talkin’ bottle service, VIP booth, stimulant-spillover, full blown CLUBBY CLUB CLUB. 

It all started when I was doing post-dinner dishes and the kitchen lights suddenly went out. What the? I turned around and saw a proud Dylan against the wall with his head contorted in my direction and one hand hovering over the light switch. Good news? The world isn’t over, Dylan just figured out how to turn the lights off. Bad news? He can only reach high enough to turn them off…so turning them back is on me. I walked over and restored light. Within seconds, he restored darkness. Despite my pleas, we went back and forth several times. Did I mention Doodlebops were on T.V.? With all the flickers, the running to and fro, the high pitched squeals from the speakers, we were basically tripping on acid in the club. You know, mom life. Always trippin’ on something. 

When the strobe show was over aka I finished dishes in the dark, I embarked on my next gig: bottle girl. Super glamorous, I know. I popped a bottle (Yes- he still gets a bottle at night. Pathetic? Maybe.) And promptly escorted Dylan to the VIP booth, otherwise known as my room. I lingered a bit just so he’d know I was available for any further requests (within reason, buddy. You don’t own me.). And when the bottle was empty, it was time to call it a night. I took him to his room and laid him in his crib, hoping he’d be a big tipper, but all I got a measly wave goodbye. Another ungrateful patron, I thought as I smiled and shut the door. 

That’s when I heard my best customer yelling for me to return. Obviously he’s delusional, or maybe he had too much to drink. But there’s no re-entry in this club buddy! So I did what any smart bottle girl does to a non-tipping, turnt-up patron- I ignored him, walked away, and went somewhere quiet. I’m off the clock buddy. Sometimes you just gotta shut the mommy club down for a members only after party. Heck, we deserve it!

October 21, 2014

Outsmarting the Universe

I’ve come to realize that I’m pretty magical, it’s as if I have super powers! Hear me out: Almost every time I make a declaration such as, “Dylan’s never had separation anxiety.” The opposite immediately becomes true and I suddenly find myself smacked in my face by separation anxiety’s ugly hand. My ability to manipulate reality byway of a bold announcement is practically witchcraft. There are times in which I’m not mindful of the danger this type of power possesses, and will say something stupid like “he’s being so good!” when we’re at a restaurant in the middle of dinner. Bad call mom, bad call

So in an effort to milk this super phenomenon in my favor, I have a handful of assertions I’d like to throw out into the Universe: 

I won’t win the jackpot when I play the lottery.
Dylan is never going to stop hitting and yelling at me.
I’ll always forget to take meat out of the freezer before I leave for work.
I’m way too busy to have time for myself.
Dylan is constantly making a mess.
I’ll never see Kobe Bryant play in person!
My next baby is totally going to be a boy.
Dylan favors dad, case closed.
I can never find the clothes I like in my size.

Alright guys, I’ll let you know how this theory plays out. Hopefully it will result in someone (eh-ehm) being the favorite parent of a well-behaved Dylan, who rocks killer threads at a Laker game [courtside seats], with a hefty bank account, pregnant with a girl, and there will be thawed meat by the afternoon. Obviously I’m a dreamer…and a genius. 

October 17, 2014

About This Whole Parenting Thing....Coming Clean

Today I’m going to come clean. Sure, I’ve been pretty honest about the whole “new mom” experience. I’ve admitted to serial killer concerns, I’ve discussed our toxic relationship, and I’ve even shared the unruly and unpredictable behavior responsible for stripping my energy and hair pigmentation. But boy oh boy is there more to child rearing than just food on the floor and slaps to the face! Yes beloved readers, I’ve been holding back. You see, the truth is that having Dylan has made me a more interesting person. Sad. But let me explain...

I used to do the same thing every day. In other words, I hardly did anything at all because I’m a lazy homebody. It was so fun! I would come home from work and fall into the couch like an accent pillow and gel my brain out to T.V.  Plans were made on the fly, with no pressure to engage in activities I didn’t feel up for [aka most of them]. Now? I have to leave my cave home for the sake of entertaining the kid, and he’s the only one falling into the couch like an accent pillow. He’s testing gravity- he’s like a scientist! (I tell myself when he falls.) 

Instead of going wherever the wind was blowing, “kid friendly” dominates the forefront of my mind, guiding me to crazy awesome parks, tadpole beaches, and the toy aisle of grocery stores. The kid makes everything more fun! We don’t just listen to music, we experience it. We don’t just drive in the car, we hunt for trucks. And there’s no such thing as blending in these days; Dylan is either forcing me into conversations that he’s initiated with strangers, or he’s drawing attention from all directions by acting a fool. Oh, you have kids too? Instantly we’re friends. 

And as I continue to develop parenting skills, I inadvertently become a participant in extremely embarrassing public displays of parenting fails. Like when I accidentally triggered my dog’s killer instinct by running through a flock of geese, resulting in Dylan’s stroller tipping over and nearly throwing him into the lake in front of a dozen concerned strangers. Good times.

I had no idea how uninteresting and boring I was in my childless life! So yes, I may have forfeited the luxury to sleep in on weekends, and my shot nerves will surely fast track gray hairs, but if you ask me what I did last weekend- you’ll never hear me say, “Not much.” Because even when we do stay home, there’s a gravity testing scientist living there, ready to unlock a new level of fun, destruction, and crazy. I think I’ll keep him. 

October 14, 2014

Rolling the Dice

I am all about fun and common sense. Shrugging my shoulders at the foreseeably stupid with a, “That’s what you get” attitude comes easy. But now that I’m a parent and I have a duty to protect my son from his own stupidity misjudgments, I’m realizing how very little I enjoy hearing the voice of reason come from my mouth. 

Dylan’s ability to transcend the seemingly safe into the dangerous is a major contributor to the woe. My kid could be in a padded room full of down feathered pillows and still figure out the quickest way to break a bone. Do you know what that kind of talent that demands of me? Supervision. And I don’t just mean watching him like a pigeon on a telephone wire, I mean SUPER VISION. Like eyes on the top, the sides, and on the back of the head type vision. And after repeating cautionary tales and explanations as to why we don’t run in the street, climb on top of tables, or stand on objects with wheels, all I really wanna do is look the other way and say, “Didn’t I tell you to be careful?!” Because he doesn’t listen and I’m sick of being so damn bossy. 

And recently, I gifted Dylan freedom. I no longer stroller him up when we walk the dog. He loves it! But for me, it’s more work. When he isn’t running up to neighbors’ doors to bark at their barking dogs (which is hilarious), he’s waiting until I’m preoccupied with picking up our beagle’s crap to perform staircase acrobatics. He’s calculated like that. But I’m steadily becoming desensitized to all the madness that is parenting a feral child. So yesterday, when Dylan bolted ahead of me, I rolled the dice and said OH FREAKING WELL. I kept my mouth shut and watched on as Dylan jumped in the air and planted his ass flat on the sidewalk. Like, intentionally. And he did it again: ran, jumped, and slammed his butt in a sitting position on the concrete, laughing hysterically. I shrugged. I just don’t get it. Doesn’t he have a tail bone? 

Clearly the kid is made of leather and can withstand a little trauma. He thinks it’s funny! And since I’m sick of being a rule maker/common sense enforcer/future seeer/probability-statistic-computer, I’m going to revert back to my natural state of shoulder shrugs and told you so’s. My little concrete ninja wants the freedom to learn common sense the hard way, literally. And so begins a bountiful series of, “I told you! Be careful!” Pray for us guys, this new approach could go either way.


October 9, 2014

My Terrible Son - Who I Adore

My obsession with figuring out why Dylan acts the way he does is pointless. Not just because I can come up with 12 worthless situational/transitional theories attributable to his sketchy antics at any given moment, but because I don't need to. Yet there I go, chalking up his attitude problem on a case by case basis, isolating each incident of absolute fuckery from the next, when the cause is and has been clear as day: TERRIBLE TWO'S.

When it comes to Dylan growing up, there’s a theme I play into called resistance. I resisted giving up onesies, transitioning him to solid foods, giving him sippy cups, and I’ve clung to bottles, formula, and the swaddling practice as if it would add extra hours to each day. I can’t help myself!!! I pretend, deny, plant my feet into the ground and get dragged through time instead of admitting that he's getting older...too fast. LIKE SUPER FAST. Blink-an-eye-and-he's-filing-taxes, fast. So when the "uh oh, early case of terrible two's" suggestions began surfacing in response to Dylan's snubbing, screaming, and downright freaky behavior, I ruled it out. NO WAY. Terrible Two's? He's only 1. See, that’s another thing I do. When you count your child’s age in months, they get older each month. But when you count age in years, they're 1 for a good while.1 See how sophisticated and logical my denial is? 

Unfortunately, I can no longer resist the terribles…it’s gotten really bad guys. The other day, Dylan nabbed a fistful of my hair as I carried him home from the park, shrilling "NOOO!!!" in my ear, and jerked his hand back, hair and all. That's when I realized I needed a pixie cut, stat. And later, I realized that this has become my new normal. EVERYTHING cues a "no" from that boy. And not just a single "no," six or seven of them. Even the things he asks for and wants get no’d. And there’s nothing casual about it, he shrieks 'em like a nasty pre-teen girl who just got told she isn't allowed to shave her legs like all the cool girls do.2 And speaking of legs, Dylan's are weapons. He kicks, he pushes- he even shoves his feet in my eyes. 

So assuming Dylan doesn't poke my eyes out, it's time to see him in a different light. He's not a baby. He's a little human that wants to grow up like all the other mean children do to their mothers. He’s aching for independence and there’s no sense in resisting the inevitable. Plus, if I don't stop trying and carrying him everywhere, I'll be bald by next Spring. So FINE. Grow...but preferably just out of this stage. Yeah?

1 OKAY! I admit, he's 20 months now. *sniff*
2 Random analogy, I know.

October 6, 2014

Civilizing Toddlers: It Takes a Village (Don't Teach Him That)

Being a parent is a challenging gig. And child rearing in the early years is a freak show of its own because let’s face it, toddlers are outrageous. They’re practically cavemen! They express themselves freely with little (if any) reservations and as a result, anything goes. My toddler performs all kinds of crazy, he throws handfuls of food just for laughs and then screams when there’s no food left to eat; he slaps his own face when upset and then cries in shock when it hurts. But please, don’t let the antics fool you. He’s much smarter than the grunts and limited vocab let on, so trust me when I say: don’t teach him that. 

Look, I get it, toddlers are cute. Their shameless, curious, and the barbaric nature is all part of their charm. Have you seen how happy boundless freedom makes a toddler? Better yet, have you seen how quickly a “no” can revert them to the dark side? A toddler’s wrath can be straight up demonic. So stopping a bratty tike doesn’t always come easy. Especially when it’s not your kid. But trust me when I say: DON’T TEACH HIM THAT! 

Please understand that I have to take the kid home with me and there’s no way he’s going to forget all the fun he had running amok on your watch. When I herald, “Dylan has someone’s phone! Whose phone is that?” I’m not only trying to protect your technology from the clumsy, chubby fingers of my little guy, I’m also protecting myself. So when you reply with, “It’s okay, it’s an old phone. He can play with it.” Uhm, no. Just look at him! Throwing it on the tile floor and laughing, smashing the screen with his hands, oh and now, he’s stomping on it. My toddler can’t tell the difference between phone models and can’t identify what’s valuable and what isn’t. But what he does know, is that he finally got a taste of the forbidden fruit and it’s time to juice it. That’s when my psychic abilities kick into overdrive and premonitions of my phone being eradicated by a giggling 1 year old flood my mind’s eye and I really can’t see anything else. 

Look, I understand. Their conduct is seemingly innocent behavior in toddler-world. But when my boy gets caught hitting your youngin’ because he wants a toy all to himself, I will intervene with a, “Dylan, no hitting. That’s not nice, say sorry.” EVERY TIME. And when he resists the apology, hits again, and you interject with, “Oh, it’s okay!” Please know that it’s not. It’s really, really not. Sure, my violent tot isn’t intentionally trying to inflict pain when he swats a child, he isn’t evil or cruel, and I realize he’s just expressing how he feels in the moment in the only way he knows how (i.e. I don’t feel like sharing, back off.). And okay- he lacks impulse control and is as feral as a scarred ally cat, but I have this mindset that prevents me from allowing him to lay the smack down; I call it parenting. 

Let me be clear: While I revere the kindness bestowed upon my little guy and the impassive demeanor towards the untamed, whirlwind of buffoonery that is toddler life is very much appreciated- I must civilize the brute. So when you see me getting all authoritative with boundaries and shit, please adhere. I don’t expect [or want] you to discipline my toddler, but please trust me when I say: Don’t teach him that. It takes a village. 

October 2, 2014

Pretending Not to Laugh

My 1 year old is a master scammer. He likes to pretend he doesn’t hear me when I tell him to “Come here.” And when I ask him a question he hates, such as, “Did you go poo-poo?”, he goes mute. But I’m not just dealing with selective hearing- I’m dealing with selective comprehension, blatant avoidance, and a twisted sense of humor. Dylan's messing with me on a daily basis and it’s hard not to laugh when he gets all defiantly clever. Just look at him! 

The kid has a pretty good sense of what a “no-no” looks like. So instead of committing them, they “accidentally” happen. His favorite non-offense includes pushing food he doesn't want to eat right off the table and straight into our dog's mouth, then looking to me with his fakest concerned face and saying, “Oh no!” Only to turn to the dog and shout, “NO, doggy, no!” Uhm, Mr. Dylan: reprimanding the dog for eating food you just gave him is as nonsensical as saying, “oh no!” for what clearly was NO accident. And still, he beams with, “MOM! CAN YOU BELIEVE THE FOOD FELL LIKE THAT? AND THAT IS ONE BAD DOG! 

And my favorite? Blatant avoidance. If I want fifteen minutes to myself, there’s a magical phrase for that: “Dylan, let’s go change your diaper!” Nothing will drive him away quicker. If there is any indication that it’s diaper time, Dylan suddenly has a million different interests to keep him occupied. He’ll pretend he’s in the middle of a great book he can't seem to put down; he'll play with a toy he hasn’t touched in weeks; he'll even lay on the floor and cuddle with a stuffed animal, as if the cuteness will change my mind. And when I finally have him cornered, "Come on, diaper time!" He dawns the largest grin and let's out a cheery, “Hiiii!” Translation: "Oh, were you saying something? I’m sorry, I’m so busy I didn’t even hear you. How can I help beautiful?" Master manipulator alert! 

Obviously, there’s a lot of pretending going on in our house these days. Dylan likes to pretend he isn’t mindful of rules by creatively manipulating me, and I like to pretend I'm not amused.