A Rant Most Of You Millenial Moms Might Get

Hello, my Gals,

It’s been a hot minute. I thought I’d do something different.

There’s a lot of Mom/Parenting parodies of songs out there, and more often than not I cringe at them, unless they’re done really well and I personally find them #relatable

I’ve been thinking about the Bennet Brauer rants that Chris Farley (God rest his soul) did way back in the day when Saturday Night Live was really a thing, and a good one at that.

Most of you might not get what I’m talking about. Truthfully, I barely remember it, myself. But it’s one of his most Iconic roles, and always one that is highlighted when people remember him.

And to be honest, the videos already almost #relatable in their original form.

Just so you’ll get the gist of what I’m saying below, at least watch the first one. Or both, if you want to (Or neither, I can’t tell you what to do, I’m not your Mom). Farley’s performances are hilarious!

Part 1 (Skip to 1:45)

Part 2

Part 3 (This particular rant is the most referenced, and yet I can only find the written quote for it online! But you may have seen this one in passing if you’ve seen a Chris Farley tribute)

Ok well, without further ado, here’s my Mom parody of the Iconic Bennet Brauer rants:


Part 1

That’s right, ya grrl, m3lz here with a parody.

Not quite what you’re used to, perhaps (or maybe you know it all too well)?

Not a tidy picture, is it?

I guess in today’s filtered society, apparently Jane Q. Reader is only comfortable getting her opinions from a Barbie Doll.

Well, maybe I’m not an “Insta Model,” or a “MILF.” Maybe my house isn’t “Aesthetic,” or even “Presentable.” Maybe my home decor isn’t, “Pleasing to the eye.”

Maybe I’m not “Witty” without a heart-attack-inducing amount of caffeine. I have no “Charm” or “Appeal.” My Mom Brain as made me not “Smart” or even “Average.”

My toddler doesn’t “Pee in the potty (yet).”

I’m not always “Clean.” I don’t always “Smell good.” My nails aren’t “Polished,” or “Clipped.”

I have nothing “Interesting to say (outside of what Vinny said the other day and how Mikey smiled again for the 5000th time and it’s still not geting old and never will).”

I guess I don’t “Play the game.” (Btw you all just lost The Game)

When my toddler eats, he doesn’t always “Use silverware” or “Wipe his own face.” I don’t always “Wash the table or his eating station afterwards,” or even “The next day.”

So, I guess I just don’t “Fit the mold.” And if that’s the case, I’ll just step back and I’m sure John and Jane Doe can go back to enjoying the endless parade of parenting bloggers who don’t “Make people cringe.”

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Thanks, that’s all for now, Kevin.

Part 2

That’s right, ya grrl m3lz, back with another parody.

Thought you’d seen the last of old Scrunchymomz, perhaps? Thought the internet algorithm would have sent me and my “Low like and view ratios” on a slow Uber to Portland?

^Other Mom Bloggers/Vloggers/Influencers…

…&& ya grrl. #nofilter

Well, maybe I don’t “Look the part.” I’m not “Svelte.” I don’t “Look comfortable on camera.” I’m not “Savvy.” I don’t “Understand what’s going on in the News.”

I’m not “Likeable.” I don’t “Get along with people.” When I go to Aldi, I don’t “make eye contact.”

I guess I don’t “Fit the mold.” I don’t “Wear the latest clothes,” or even ones that don’t “Reek like sour cream and onion.” I don’t “Change my bra.”

I’m not “Slim Thicc.” I don’t have “Nice bobs.” I don’t “Exercise.” And when I do sweat (From chasing my toddler around and trying to pick up in his wake whilst attending to a newborn), I don’t always “Shower.”

My house is not “Sparkling,” I don’t “Clean the area between the fridge and counter.”

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We’re supposed to clean walls now??? Who has time for that??? #aintnobody

But, for the time being, I guess the “Algorithm” is opting for my approach until Jane Reader tells them she’d rather get her two cents from Mom bloggers who haven’t “Made babies cry,” or “Drink Trader Joe’s moscato straight from the bottle,” or, “Leave old dried up deodorant cakes under their arm for weeks at a time…”

*The part where Chris Farley is lifted by wires*

I’m crying! I’m crying, holy Schnikes!

I have a weight/body image problem, can’t they fix me??

Back to you, Kevin!!!1!!11!!

Part 3

That’s right, m3lz again with yet another parody!

Didn’t think the algorightm would have me back, perhaps? Thought they’d have my booty replaced by one of them Victoria’s Secret mannequins?

Well, maybe I’m not “The norm.” I’m not “Camera friendly.” I don’t “Wear (or have) clothes that fit me.” I’m not a “Heart-Eyes react.”

I haven’t had “sex with my husband in at least a good month or two.” I don’t remember “How that works.”

I don’t “Fall in line.” I’m not “Hygienic,” I don’t “Wipe down toys after every use.”

I lack “Style.” I don’t have “Self-esteem.” I have no “Charisma.” I don’t “Own a toothbrush that wasn’t purchased after 2017.”

I don’t “Let my acne scars heal.” I can’t, “Reach all parts of my body.” When I sleep I, “Sweat profusely.”

But I guess the powers that be will keep sending me emails on how to improve my site until Jane K. Reader starts to swipe left and say ‘Thank u next,’ so they can go back to Mom bloggers who don’t “Frighten children,” who don’t “Eat expired cold cuts,” who don’t, “Pop their whiteheads with a safety pin they used to wear in their sweatpants back in high school.”

Thank you, Kevin.


Yeah, so that’s it. Basically #Abigmood when it comes to my experiences in motherhood.

Obviously I’m far from perfect. Obviously, that’s true for the majority of us. And what we see from those other Moms on Instagram and YouTube or Netflix isn’t always what you get. I know without a doubt they all have their struggles, too. No matter how glamorous they appear.

I can make myself look “Glowed Up,” too!

But I do my best every day. And some days, I don’t do as well as I thought I could. But all days, it’s entirely the best thing I’ve ever done.

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#blessed.

How have your adventures in motherhood gone? Is it what you thought it would be? What would you change, if you could? How do you hope to grow in the years to come?

Thanks for reading, my gals! 😘😘

👀If you’re new here, and this content or any of my upcoming content interests you, make sure you add your email and follow so you don’t miss any updates! 😁😁 And if you’re already following, thank you and bless your heart and soul! 🙏🏼🥰🤗

📋 Upcoming Content: My (Stay-At-Home) Mom Guilt, My Son’s “Home-Nursery-School Curriculum,” and Two Vs. One: How To Survive 2 Under 2

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Trying to Avada Kadabra Self Doubt as a Mom and a Writer

Henlo, to all of my dedicated follower!

I’ve been putting this off for a long time now. It’s like I’ve been afraid of it, for some reason. And the longer I went without updating, the more afraid to post I’ve been. It’s become more than my signature procrastination at this point–I’ve been Stupefy’d with fear of failure/not being good enough.

I’ve almost been feeling like I’m losing my ability to write these days. Which is devastating, as writing has always been my primary source of expression. This is how I communicate. You would never guess if you actually had a face-to-face conversation with me that I am actually able to string words into sentences in any way.

These past few months I’ve felt like I’m no good at writing anymore. I’ve hated every single thing I’ve worked on, including this. I have a few drafts I haven’t posted for fear of whatever it is being the actual worst thing to ever be posted. I’ve been looking back on my old posts and have been cringing at the way they came out–way too long, the formatting is hard to look at, etc, so I’ve been afraid to keep going.

Basically I’ve been back on my bullshizz and I’m trying to come back.

I have Mom brain. Really bad. I can barely speak or understand my native language anymore, it seems, and I can’t look away from a task for more than two seconds before forgetting what it was that I had been doing. I leave lights on when I leave, drinks on top of cars–you name it, I’ve done it. Dory would be concerned for me.

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Grrl, same!

I’m sure this goes without saying, but once you have a child, the part of your brain reserved for memory, focus, and basic motor function is replaced with deciphering different cries, coming up with baby food recipes, and Raffi song lyrics.

Add Mom Brain to selling an apartment, buying a house, moving, and the pressure of freelancing, ghostwriting, and the subconscious desire to pursue ever-expanding personal projects with super-writer’s block/mental constipation, and that’s the equation for my semester-long silence on this blog.

I’d like for this to go somewhere. I want to believe that I have something to offer other Moms. But I know we all have to start somewhere, and we can’t improve what we give up on.

That’s why I can’t give up on this blog. Even if it’s a little incoherent now, I know it can’t get better unless I work on it. That’s why every week/bi-weekly I have to have some kind of post on here. Even if it doesn’t make sense or it, “isn’t that great.”

I’ve been so afraid and unsure of myself, comparing myself to other mom bloggers with bigger (actual) followings that I’ve allowed myself to be self-deprecating and self-sabatoging. It’s so easy to do as a Mom to compare yourself to others, and as a result feel completely incompetent and like every single thing you’re doing is wrong.

I’ve come to realize that if I give up on this, I’m partially giving up on myself, and I can’t allow that for a second. I have to set an example for my son. Of course it’s only natural and human to have doubts in everything, including ourselves, but we have to overcome them. I want my son to believe in himself, and in order for him to understand how, I have to model that for him.

I’m going to be working on updating the aesthetic of this blog and possibly getting my own domain name so maybe that will help with the performance anxiety a bit. So stay tuned on that!

Thank you for bearing with me. I know I keep promising that repurposing formula scoops/tins post. It’s coming, I swear!

Some updates for you:

We moved!

Recently we said goodbye to our old two bedroom, 650 sq ft apartment in favor of a townhouse twice the size and there’s so much more room for activities now! We are also right next to my SIL at Becoming Rivera! Vinny will be right next door to his baby cousin! ❤ ❤ ❤

We anticipate doing several renovations to the house, but all aesthetic! I’ve never lived in a space this large, so it’s a little overwhelming. But we’re going to make it our own, even if we end up making it #nailedit experience.

Vinny

Vinny is ten months old as of June 12th! He’s already somewhat walking, and as always is completely ravenous all the time! He continues to grow like a weed! He’s been going through growth spurts, teething, and developmental leaps so he’s been having good days and really not so good days. Overall, he’s an amazing baby, and I look forward to seeing what comes next!

Here’s some pictures to bring you up to speed!

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No smiles on his 10 month bday…that was a rough day. ):

Thanks for hanging in there with me! This really is the toughest job there is, but we got this! Thanks for reading, my gals (and d00ds). Till next time!

Don’t Leave Home Without It! 💩💩💩

(I know I said I’d post about reusing formula tins and scoops, but I’m sickly, tired, and I need to vent about this. It may not be very coherent, but I present to you my horror story)

My Gals.

Today was a day.

So it started out okay, went to the doctor for a good old Pap smear and blood test, and found out I have a virus making its way through me. 😷 Nothing a little vitamin c and rest won’t fix, tho.

Except there ain’t no rest for the momkind. Not even when we close our eyes for good, because we all know we’re gonna be hovering over our kids as ghosts just to make sure they’re taking their centrum and brushing their dentures.

But I digress.

So I’m running around feeling sick as a dog, getting my doctor stuff done, getting a phone interview done, running to the bank to get some cash for OfferUp Baby Supplies purchases I had lined up and fixing my debit card, and then I had to pick up my son who was at my mother’s so I could bring him to his 6 month checkup.

Well everything was running relatively smoothly, albeit tight. When what do my new super mom-ears should hear, but my darling son grunting and pushing into his rear.

Okay, so he’s pooping. I think to myself as I approach the halfway point between my mother’s and my family practice. I can just change him real quick at the doctor’s.

Except, oh wait, no I can’t…left the damn diaper bag at Mom’s for the sake of saving a good two minutes. Didn’t think I’d need it in the one hour and change I would be out.

Big. Mistake. 🤦🏻‍♀️

I pull into the country store on the way to the doctor and take my boi out and point out a grinning bulldog for him to reciprocate the sanguine gesture to. Then we wander around the tiny shop in search of a pack of overpriced diapers and a 10 pack of wipes.

Well, quite the assortment of condoms, but no baby amenities…

I hastily made a hand sanitizer purchase and made my way out, having my son wave bye-bye to the smiling doggie. As I went to put him in his car seat, I felt something drip down my wrist.

I looked down in hopes of seeing drool, but no such luck…

This was a big one.

In a viral, mind-hazed panic, I raced to the CVS down the street from my Doctor’s office. We wandered around looking for the smallest pack of diapers and wipes to get us by in this emergency situation, but I swear the price tag of every item read, “Arm, Leg, and Kidney.” In desperation I grabbed a 28 pack of size four diapers and a to-go pallet of store-brand wipes.

After I gave the convenience store clerk the down payment on a Ferrari in exchange for some infant essentials, I made our way to the bathroom, awkwardly dodging yet to be stocked inventory and pulling the plastic bag out of my son’s Kung-fu grip.

So we get into the ladies room and naturally, it is equipped with everything but a changing station…so I have to make due with what I’ve got. I pull my son’s shorts off to confirm that they have indeed been compromised, so I have no choice but to have him go without.

Let me just tell you, changing a category 6 diaper in a car seat on the floor of a public restroom is literally the worst.

💩💩💩 e v e r y w h e r e 💩💩💩

While I’m sweating like a mofo, I wrestle with my son to keep his hands out of his diaper whilst simultaneously trying to pry single wipes out of this cheap container like medieval basic bros trying to pry Excalibur from the fabled stone, only to have them come out three and four at a time. It’s either peel them apart and save some of them and risk my little boy do what little boys do and have all hell break loose, or sacrifice a few wipes in the interest of getting him clean.

And that is how that whole entire inventory of wipes got cleared tf out.

This whole time he’s squirming, uncomfortable, and crying, people are beginning to knock, and I’m losing balance while trying to get him clean without getting anything over his car seat. It was a challenge to say the least.

Finally I manage to get him cleaned up as best I can, throw the diaper in the open trash receptacle (in retrospect I totally forgot to cover it so I feel bad for whoever walked in on that…) and get the dock out of fudge, of course 10 minutes late at this point, with my baby in a tank top and diaper only.

And so now I have to desperately explain to the receptionist, who very patiently and politely pretends to listen to my plight, the series of events that just unfolded in hopes that I will not look like a neglectful parent. To what avail, I’m not sure…

We get our favorite medical assistant, at least, and we get him measured and weighed. Then the doctor comes in to look him over and of course I look down when he removes his diaper to see that I had MiSSeD a sPoT when I was cleaning 😨😰😩 But other than that, he got a squeaky clean bill of health. At least something was clean today…

So we finish up the 6 month requirements and go to check out and make his 9 month visit, all while I try to face his car seat away from people so they don’t see my baby in just a diaper and shirt like the son of rif-raf. Once I take the appointment card and go to do my walk of shame, what should happen but a convoy of the slowest moving people make their way into the practice, while others make their way out, all looking at my practically naked child, and then to me, judgement clearly plastered on their faces. I made my way to the car, buckled my upset son in, and made my way home in a sickly, sulky funk.

While all of this was happening, I felt like the biggest loser of a Mom. I started thinking crazy thoughts like, “I can’t do this!” And, “I don’t deserve to be a mom…” I let this one time I was not overprepared have me believe that I was a failure and a bad mom. I know you’ve been there, too, and I know I’ll be there again. We all have those #momfail moments that drain almost all of our HP and make us want to ragequit. But we know we can’t, and so we persevere.

I had a long talk with myself and realized that if I really was a bad mom, I wouldn’t have felt as badly as I did. I realize that I made a mistake, I did all I could do at the time to correct it, and I’ve learned from it. I know now that I should always have supplies on me, even if I’m only out with my son for an hour or even less, because you really never know when the Call of Doodie will strike.

So my Gals (and d00ds), be sure to keep an extra bag full of diapers, wipes, creams, powders, etc, and most importantly a change of clothes in your car at all times!! Learn from my mistakes!

We all feel like we suck at this game, but we got this!! It doesn’t get any easier, but we are always leveling up to meet whatever boss battles come our way.

Thanks for reading! Next post will be on ways to reuse those formula cans and scoops so you can really get your money’s worth!!

Dys. Morphia or: How I’m learning to stop worrying and love the (Mom) Bod.

(Disclaimer: yet another post from my phone under the wire of my son’s naps so it’s a little raw and unfiltered I’m so sorry!)

I’m pretty sure anyone reading this blog is too young to get what this is parodying. Because I’m too young to get this is parodying, as it’s a film from even before my parents’ time. I only know about it because I’ve seen this title in a trivia game and the name resonated with me. If you care to know where it comes from, you can look at the IMDb. It’s a classic, I should see it sometime.

Anyway, getting to the point, I know this blog has been a lot about personal issues more so than actual Mom stuff, but we Moms need to look out for ourselves and each other. We owe it to our babies to be our best selves, whatever that takes.


I took this picture before I got married. I was mad at the way I looked. I was livid with myself for not losing enough weight before my wedding and felt I didn’t deserve to get married…my self image has always been a little warped 😅


So, if you haven’t already guessed, this post is all about body image issues. Particularly after a baby. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that our bodies go through the ringer while we’re incubating our progeny, some more so than others. And while it’s a simple biological fact that the majority of us won’t be the same after our miraculous, awe-inspiring forms bring forth miraculous, awe-inspiring, albeit terrifying, life, somehow it feels like the pressure is on for us to fit back into those skinny jeans from college as soon as we “recover” from the ordeal our bodies have gone through.

It seems like those perfect inspo moms follow me everywhere I go. Pinterest, Instagram, YouTube, hecc, even family and friends and friends of friends seem to have it more together than I do…I know the most toxic thing you can do to yourself is compare yourself to others, but it’s easier said than done.


Working my Puff into Tuff 💪🏼 My failed attempt at inspomomming. I busted my knees for three weeks running full impact downhill shortly after my 6 week recovery period 😅


I have this addiction of sorts to hurting myself. I’ll get more into that in another blog post. But in a nutshell, lately my addiction is laying into myself about my body. I know I’m not alone in this.

I feel like there’s a negative message in the media about post baby bodies. In the movies, after women have babies, they just lose that prosthetic bump and just have a messy, but still attractive bun and running makeup that’s still somehow on point. But their bodies are for the most part, back to being taut, with perky boobs and although they wear mainly sweats and yoga pants because #relatable, you can tell that they could probably zip their pre-baby jeans. This could just be that they weren’t really pregnant to begin with, but I guess even after knowing real people that have gone through this before me, I guess I still had this idea that I’d breastfeed, workout, eat right and the weight would melt off. Yeah, #notsomuch.

Four months postpartum, I can now manage to button my jeans, but my loose belly skin and residual baby fat still hangs over uncomfortably. So to keep circulation going to my midsection, I need my pregnancy belly band. I know this is realistic for a lot of women, but I can’t help but be infuriated with myself for this…


Ow Ow! 😂 Really putting myself out there…I took this picture while doing laundry at my Dad’s house today. No belly band, no push-up bra, trying to embrace my new form. My “deflated” Mom boobs, that I used to nourish my son for as long as I possibly could, my “sloppy” Mom belly, that protected my growing baby for 39 weeks and 4 days until he was ready for the real world, and my stretch marks, which I honestly kind of like. I know I’ll never be the girl in that spontaneous mirror pic again…and the more I look at myself and the more I really think about the power behind all of the flaws, I think I could be okay with it…someday.


I need to remind myself that I’m real. That I’m strong. I need to remind myself that what my body did is a beautiful thing, what God gave me via my womb is a beautiful thing. I should be grateful to my body, kind to my body, and take this love/hate relationship and make it more about love.

I know this will be an ongoing battle. I’ve been going through some mental and emotional turbulence lately, so my body image has me down. I’ll have a post on prenatal and postpartum depression at some point, because, honestly, it’s brutal.

It’s time to be kind and n o t rewind. I mean stop looking at those old pictures longingly, mourning the figure that you had before you had a baby. It’s absolutely fine to want to slim down, for health’s sake, even to fit into old clothes for the sake of not having to go out and get a new wardrobe, but we need to be okay with our new forms. Even if our stomachs never stretched out, our breasts stayed firm, and our feet never Hobbited out, the body we have in our 20’s and 30’s is not even our final form. Eventually, we will all be subject to gravity, and we will age. Physical beauty is relative, and how we take care of ourselves will reflect how we look later on, but ultimately, our figures will change in some way, our physical beauty, in the technical sense, will fade. So we may as well look at all we’ve been through and take all things into consideration, and focus on the things we like of it hurts too much to confront the things we’re still sensitive about. It will never go away, but eventually it will get easier.


Censorship. 😂 This lil d00d’s too much! And soooo worth embracing this new form. I could learn to stop worrying and love the bod for his sake 💞👩‍👦I need to set an example for my son, because boys get body issues, too. Is there any better incentive for self-improvement?


Bless you for making it so far!

Tune in next time for my first trimester story and life hax for those brutal three months!

Thanks for reading! Talk soon! 😘