Boyd Meets Girl

Colic. Fussy baby. Crying all the time. Needy baby. Spoiled baby. WHATEVER you want to call it, if you have a baby who is fussy A LOT then you know how hard it is. I, with a 4 month old who has been described as all of the above, am speaking from experience here. It is not fun. But, from what I read anyway, it goes away. Hopefully by the time she is 18 years old. Lord, help me. I actually hate the term "colicky." It doesn't really tell you WHAT the problem is. Just that there is one and that is supposedly goes away. I'm a problem solver. If there is a problem, I want to solve it. (Check out my hook while the DJ revolves it)... Really, from all that I have read and heard, the best "cure" for colic is time - which is the hard part. Because let me tell you, these months have been long and frustrating, and I'm only assuming that there are more months to come. Here are some tips that I have gathered in my desperate search for relief from the colicky baby. ...

I never thought I would be that parent . That parent who yelled . Not that I have something against raising my voice, but I never thought I would be a yeller. But I am. And I am sorry. I'm sorry I yelled. I'm sorry I yelled when you fought your diaper changes. I'm sorry I yelled when you wouldn't stop crying. I'm sorry I yelled when you wouldn't go to sleep. I'm sorry I yelled when you made a mess.  I'm sorry I yelled when I couldn't get dinner on the table before you were hungry. I'm sorry I yelled because I had to get to work, and we were running late. I'm sorry I yelled when you couldn't find your shoes.  I'm sorry I yelled when you didn't want to be in your car seat. I'm sorry I yelled when you wouldn't sit in the buggy at the grocery store. I'm sorry I yelled when you whined. Incessantly. I'm sorry I yelled when you came in to "help" when I was getting your little sister t...

HUGE GINORMOUS DISCLAIMER: Please read this before you read anything else. This post wouldn't even exist if I didn't wholeheartedly believe that breast is best. So, this is not a formula vs. breastfeeding debate. Nor is it a discussion on which is better, easier, more natural, whatever. It is simply my personal manifestation on why I chose to breakup with breastfeeding. I chose the wording on this very carefully. I chose "breaking up" because, for me, breastfeeding was all about the emotions. All the feels. My self expectations on what it meant to be the best mother I could. The visions I had of lovingly nursing my little cherub(s) and knowing that their weight gain, their thriving, their BEING was all a result of ME and MY super milk. I don't think that formula is bad or else I would never give it to my children. So, here goes my story..... With my first daughter, I was bound and determined to nurse her. I had my pump rip roaring and ready to go at, like...

If you are looking for a positive spin on motherhood, you might want to stop reading right now. This post is for the mom who might have hid in the bathroom earlier today so she didn't have to share HER snack. This post is for the mom who quietly whispered "f$%^" as she heard her kid waking up at 5:30 am in the morning to start the day for the third time this week. In general, I pride myself in attempting to be a pretty positive person; I write blog posts like this one on positivity and this one on turning mommy guilt into mommy mantras . I try to extend this attitude to my parenting as well. For the most part, I think I do a pretty decent job of being a happy mom. But, dangit, some days are just hard. Some days, you feel isolated, alone, and stressed to the max. Some days, you would welcome an overnight stay at the closest looney bin because you wonder if you  really are crazy (plus it would be a night of interrupted and possibly medicated sleep- yessss!). Good ...