NOT a hipster

Here's my man.

He shaves with a straight razor, wears a wool car coat with his slim-tailored suit, carries a vintage-inspired leather satchel, wears a fedora and now...

Fancy footwork: Mom Exhibit

I'm inviting BYU's football team to come workout in my house. It's guaranteed to keep 'em on their toes. It's impossible to walk in a straight line in any direction. If you don't keep your eyes down, you're sure to step on land mines (little plastic toys strewn across the floor).

Christmas came and went like a storm of tornadoes. And here's the aftermath.

Sorry—blurry pic.

Blogging obsessions

image source: http://www.loadingartist.com/2011/09/05/fans-fans-fans/

Hahaha! My feelings exactly. It's so true and also so pathetic. This is also me with comments, blog followers, twitter followers and twitter mentions/interaction. I need a new hobby.

Holiday meltdown: Mom Exhibit

Girl. Let me tell you.

I. am. pooped.

I've got one of those haven't-slept-well-in-nights headaches and my shoulders are so heavy. For the past 2 days, I've wanted to post about a million different things.

But, then I remember the whites that have been soaking in the washer for 2 days when it was only supposed to be over night, the dishwasher that has sat 1/2 full and the dirty ones in the sink I could just throw in real quick to get it started, the vacuum I need to pick up from the repair shop (30 min away) so I can finally clear the carpet of the 3-week-old food chunks, the gifts I still need to make for Christmas, the wrapping (ooohhh the wrapping—worst part, right?), the car that we still can't drive because it needs to go to the shop (it's been sitting in the driveway for close to 3 months), the realization that the kids have no clean winter clothes as of 4 days ago.

Tis the season.

It's too much to think about. So, sorry—it felt like too much for me to take a pic of the house, hook up the camera to the computer, download pics, edit lighting in Photoshop, save the image and upload to blogger. Just look back at other Mom Exhibit posts. Nothing's changed.

Take this, Charlie Brown: Mom Exhibit

Oh, Christmas tree...

You're looking pretty pathetic these days...pretty sparse on the bottom half. The girl's constantly rearranging and the boy whacks at ya with drum sticks. Your surroundings don't help.

What matters most, though, is that you're loved. Mostly loved. Because the girl "likes everything except for one thing: the bow on top." "Because I hate bows," she says.

So moms, don't stress or apologize to visitors. We understand. You tried to make it look nice. There's a time and season for everything. And this season isn't the season for Martha Stewart-esque decor.

Link up below and show me your "kid-proof" tree. Click the link below, "Click here to enter."

Who are "they" anyway?

Your older sister offers you her high-end used-one-time drop-rail crib for your new baby. "Oh, sorry, sis. But, they say the drop-rail cribs are too dangerous now. I need to buy a brand new one that meets all of their guidelines."

Your aunt is feeding your 6-month-old peas out of the Gerber jar. She closes it and puts it back in the fridge for tomorrow. You sneak in later & throw it out thinking, "They say not to double-dip in the jar because the saliva from the first feeding makes it go bad."

Or maybe your grandma makes your 11-month-old a peanut butter & jelly sandwich.

"Oh, grandma! She can't eat peanut butter! They say not to feed it to babies until they are at least 1 year old."

Your 1 1/2 year old son's legs are wrapped around his neck but you refuse to put him in a forward-facing carseat because "they say to wait until they are 2 years of age."

Who are "they" anyway and why are they in charge of everything in regards to the care for our babies and children?

Faking postpartum anxiety

Postpartum Anxiety.

PPA.

That's what I like to call my issue. However, deep down, I know that having babies only amplifies what I've had going on my entire life. I've always had anxiety. As much as I'd like to pretend and tell people it's only a postpartum issue (blame it on pregnancy and suddenly you're not crazy), it's really not.

Down under: Mom Exhibit

Deep down under the dining table, lying in the dark abyss of the ocean floor, live undiscovered, unclassified beings. Some are quickly ingested by the local carpet creatures. Others lurk, waiting to embed bare feet with their sharp, stinging edges.

Yes, I do shower: Mom Exhibit

I do get dressed, you know...occasionally. I'm not aaaalways in my pajamas. Most days I do throw on jeans and a tee. It's just that the last two weeks, I've been sick. And you know that means pajamas, for sure. Thank goodness I'm on the mend. As for my husband and kids?

Put down your toilet wands: Mom Exhibit

I've had a breakthrough.

Follow me. The other day, my girl, Kim, gave a great tip. Set a timer for 10-15 minutes, clean with the kids as fast as you can and then be done for the day. And then, in a moment of silence and pondering, the heavens opened and a ray of light shone down upon my face, illuminating the grease in my hair from several days of not showering.

Your Exhibit: Mom Exhibit

Today's the day, girls. The time has come for you to join me in the momming revolution, Mom Exhibit. I want to see PROOF that I'm not just a disgusting slob who can't keep it together.

Be brave and get out your cameras, flip phones, iPhones, whatever takes a picture. Document some part of your unedited mess. Post about it on your blog and add yourself to the Mom Exhibit Blog Hop below. Spread the word to encourage others.

Together, we will stick it to the man, proving that momming is actually very, very different from the 1950's portrayal of Mrs. June Cleaver. Let's lower our expectations for ourselves to realistic levels, helping us to feel accomplished and successful at the end of each day!

Instructions:

1. Take some photos and publish a post about them on your blog.
2. Please include one of my buttons in your post so it's clear where the Mom Exhibit originated. Just copy & paste the code from under the button (below) into your post.
3. Come back here & click the link below titled, "Click here to enter." The Linky will be open until Dec 13.
4. Since it's a Blog Hop, you'll want to put the Linky list on your blog, too, so others can add their posts on your blog. To do that, after you add yourself to the Linky list, click the link at the bottom of this post titled, "Get the code here..." Just add it to the bottom of your published post and there ya go!

My buttons:

<a href="http://cinderelladuty.blogspot.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m631/cinderelladuty/momexhibitnowopen.png" alt="CinderellaDuty" width="150" height="150" /></a>

<a href="http://cinderelladuty.blogspot.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m631/

Image source: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/June_Cleaver

Clean House In 1 Hour: Mom Exhibit

"Clean your ENTIRE house in 1 hour" was the claim of an article on Yahoo last week. My eyes lit up as I clicked on the link, hoping for a breakthrough. The article states that if you spend 9-15 minutes in each room, working your way down and out, you'll be done in 1 measly hour.

I'm going to re-name this article, "Clean Your Childless Loft In Less Than One Hour."

And just to prove my point, I tried it. Here's how it went down.

I started in the catch-all of the house, my bedroom. I hope this makes you feel reeeeeally good about yourself. Otherwise, I've published these humiliating photos in vain.

Don't go upstairs! Mom Exhibit

I love having friends in my home, especially if I know you're coming. I'll usually tidy the living room a bit and make sure there's nothing gross in the visible areas, like a stinky diaper.

However, there are no words to describe the nauseated feeling I get when you have to run upstairs "real quick" to grab your child. This little commercial clip portrays it perfectly:

Mom Exhibit: Day 1

Can I just say I'm really, really terrified to publish this? I am afraid that you'll judge me. I'm scared that this project won't go over the way I intended.

With that said, here's why I'm divulging the mess in which I live.

Messy house on display!

Are you ready for this?! Imagine getting a candid, un-edited look into the home of an everyday mom. Yes, I appear to have it all together. But, I want to show you what's really going on behind the scenes. Why on earth would I do this? More on that tomorrow.

The "Mom Exhibit" will be open December 1-31, 2011. Feature one of my buttons on your site and I'll do the same for you. Email your button info to cinderelladuty@gmail.com.

<a href="http://cinderelladuty.blogspot.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m631/cinderelladuty/momexhibitnowopen.png" alt="CinderellaDuty" width="150" height="150" /></a>

<a href="http://cinderelladuty.blogspot.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m631/cinderelladuty/messyhouseondisplay.png" alt="CinderellaDuty" width="150" height="150" /></a>

Siri. Seriously.

Moms frequently joke about their pregnancy-induced Alzheimer's. But, for those who know me well, they'll admit I'm in a whole separate category of space-brain.

Definitely naughty

What if your long-awaited boots came in the mail TODAY?! And what if they were a gift from your man that you picked out and ordered but he clearly stated you could not have until Christmas? And what if the words on the box went even further to rub the excitement in your face? What would you do? What would you reeeeally do?!

Well, here's what I did...

Cry for Frye

You know Jillian Harris from that epic season of The Bachelor? When she met up with Jason at her home in Canada, she was wearing the most A-MA-ZING boots. Since then, I've been obsessed with Frye boots, which she has openly admitted to loving and wearing on her website here.

Borrowed this photo from the amazing Wedding Bliss Photography

So, why don't I just buy some?

This is where I went

Last week, I went on a very nostalgic adventure. I want to share it with you!

Mom Exhibit now open

Here's some perspective for ya.

A few days ago, we spent the afternoon at Salt Lake City's Discovery Gateway Museum. Besides the awesome exhibits, I noticed something: employees everywhere. They were young, probably college students, and they were running around frantically returning toys to their homes.

I was so amused by this, first because it seemed like a wasted effort. I mean, within moments, the coop of plush chickens was demolished again by a posse of three-year-olds. And then I realized something.

"Guilt is a useless emotion"

"Guilt is a useless emotion," says my therapist.

Cricket. Cricket. "Whaaaaat did you just say?"
"Guilt. It's a useless emotion." And then she explains:

I got an award!

I got an award?! People actually enjoy reading this crap that comes out of my head? Well, that's nice to know.

No, but for real, I really, really, really love when you leave me comments. I log on several times each day, crossing my fingers that someone left a remark on a post. And when I do get comments, or new followers, I call my man at work and burst, "Guess what?! I got a new comment/follower!" He's always so kind and says, "Congratulations, honey." And then I prod, "Aren't you so proud of me? Can you believe I made this site and keep it up all by myself?" "That's great, sweetie. I'm really proud of you. I have to go now, though, because I have a conference call with China in 8 minutes."

Give me your dresses

So, I always have grand ideas that I could do things like run a soup kitchen or start a charity to deliver clothes to homeless children across the country. But, I'm just one little person. I'm just Becky.

How I ALMOST ruined my kid

When my first child was born, I felt the responsibility to tend to her every need, be her best friend and playmate, jump at her every request, take her to weekly story time at the library, join playgroups so she could have friends. I decided that, come hell or high water, I was going to be the best mom this little girl could ever have.

Hey, Son, I ate your Halloween candy

This had me laughing out loud. Check it out. Oh, and thanks, Jimmy Kimmel. You're a genius.

The nerve

“I wouldn’t wish PPD on anyone, but seriously, if your life is so hard, why are you having more children?"

Seriously, someone asked that question. Not to me, thank goodness because of my issues with verbal diarrhea. However, Alena at Charmingly Chandler hit the nail on the head with her response here. This girl deserves a huge "AMEN."

Is withholding intimacy a joke?

Saw this posted on Facebook today. My opinion? Not funny. Actually, it's highly offensive to me. Why? Because this is real! It's actually a huge issue in so many marriages, even mine. But, for some reason, women feel that if they joke about it and can laugh together, than they're actually not doing anything wrong.

What's your take on it?

Let's Talk: Removing baby stains

Becky,

How can I remove stains from my baby's clothes? I don't exactly know what the stains are. Some are just general food and spit-up. The ones I am having the most problem with are from Grandma's and I have no clue what they are. I'm guessing dirt and other food particles from crawling around on their floor. Can you help?!?

Amber

Let's Talk: Homemade laundry soap doesn't work?

Becky,

I was wondering how to make homemade laundry detergent. Do you have a recipe you could share?

-Grace

Grace,

Interesting that you'd ask this question now. My Mom-in-law, Lark, started making the detergent for all of her kids (including me) two years ago. She has been using it non-stop for that entire time. I wish we'd kept track of how much money she has saved by not purchasing commercial detergents!

After a year of using the homemade laundry soap, I started having major problems. I wrote about it here. Until yesterday, I thought the only problem was hard water. So, what happened yesterday?

"Rock n' roll all night"

I'm a super Halloween freak. No, I don't really decorate. Yes, I do really dress up.

Two years ago, I tried sooo hard to get the man to costume-it with me. He finally obliged and guess what we were?

We were EMO! He loved it. His fav part was wearing my jeans—weirdo. So, this year, we had to step it up. After much deliberation, here's what we came up with:

Momouflage

Cue Mission Impossible theme song: dun, dun, dun-dun...

SNEAK ATTACK!

Rude awakening

Yesterday, I was dragging from 8:30 am until I went to sleep at night. Nothing got done all day. The man asked me to wash the whites and his brown slacks. He ended up doing it when he got home. Poor guy. And what did I have to say for myself? Nothing. I felt pretty bad.

Curse my big mouth

Some guy lies to your face. You stare in disbelief, frozen, unable to speak.

A lady cuts you off with her shopping cart and snaps at your "out-of-control" kids. You're shocked, at a complete loss for words.

Moments later, you're fuming, knowing exactly what you should've said to stick it to 'em. You kick yourself and wish you could go back. But, do you actually know what would happen if you'd stood up for yourself in that moment? Did you consider the consequences?

Moms, will you help?

Call for all moms to share their true postpartum stories!

I want to gather women's experiences about their emotional journey after the births of their babies. I know I'm not the only one out there with a story. How have you truly felt since the birth of your little one? What have you done to help? What has worked? What hasn't?

Postpartum silence

I'm blessed with relatively easy pregnancies. For my second pregnancy, I practiced hypnosis throughout and found complete comfort, even up until I delivered eight days overdue. I thought, "I can do this. It's not so bad. I CAN have more babies."

And then he was born.

Moment of joy

I stumbled across a blog post that invited readers to share their joy—a photo, moment or experience that basically gave us the warm-fuzzies.

The other day when I went to get my little guy, Gus, out of the car, he was snoozing. When I saw his sweet, relaxed little face, life stopped for a moment. He actually took my breath away. And then I realized why.

Classy, huh?

Went to check on little Suz during nap time. Found a new decal on her wall. Love this kid.

Stop cleaning!

The bar for cleanliness in my home has been set very high.

No more than ten toy items on the living room floor at one time. All dishes should be rinsed and placed directly in the dishwasher after use. Pots and pans must be washed immediately after cooking. The table and counter must be cleared and wiped after every meal. The floors should be swept, mopped and/or vacuumed once a week. The dirty laundry baskets should be kept below half full. All clean laundry must be folded and put away within a day of drying. Beds need to be made every morning. Bedrooms should be tidy at all times. All family members must bathe at least every other day. Each child must be read to and played with individually for fifteen minutes at least once per day.

These have been my real expectations. I fail every day.

Are you a bored mom?

Six months ago, a new friend asked, "So, what do you do for fun?" "Hmmm...I uh, well I...umm." Nothing, I thought to myself. I actually do nothing for fun. I have no interests. I just mom all day.

And do you know what? That realization kinda freaked me out! What happened to ME?

EEEEvil miiiiildew! I will KIIIILL YOU!

Fo' real - I. Hate. Mildew. Part of the hate is that I'm still a K9 with a super-human sense of smell because I'm a nursing mama. The other part of the hate revolves around the grossness of something growing, actually growing, on a structure meant for human contact. Sure, we're not snuggling the tent to go to sleep. But, we are supposed to breath the air that filters through it's growth-stank walls. Gross!

Fall yarn wreath

And for all you ladies out there, especially those with Pinterest, I KNOW you've seen this little beaut of a wreath.

I followed the tutorial from the cutest blog, called Take Heart. The tutorial recommended using a straw wreath with the plastic still on. We wrapped forever and then made some simple felt flowers. Afterwards, we glued plastic pearls to the inside of each flower to add some contrast in texture.

You can't tell from this pic, but the roses are actually red, burnt orangeish-maroon and cream. The pearls and criss-crossed yarn are also cream.

Send me your wreath ideas so we can share them with everyone: cinderelladuty@gmail.com. Thanks!

Fall leaf calendar

A year ago, my little girlie was old enough to learn about the seasons. Since fall is such an obvious and beautiful change, with rainbow-colored leaves falling all around, I decided to use it as an opportunity to teach her about seasons.

I'm not sure what's up with fall this year. Maybe it's because winter lingered well into early summer. But, it's October and there aren't any leaves on the ground! Last year, during the first week of October, the girl and I went on a scavenger hunt to collect leaves. It was really fun for both of us. When we got home, we used our findings to make a craft project: a leaf calendar. We used it like an advent calendar to count down to Halloween, pulling one leaf off every day. However, it's probably going to end up being a countdown to Thanksgiving this year.

How do you teach your kids about fall? Share your fall kid craft ideas here so we can all get some new ideas and inspiration! If you have an image, email it to me at cinderelladuty@gmail.com.

Canning for dummies

So, my in-laws gave us 3 tomato plants in the spring. We've never had a home or yard, let alone a garden. We gave it our best shot, though, clearing a small plot in our "field," as the girl calls it. I swore for weeks the plants were dying, all the while my pops-in-law reassured me the leaves were just sunburnt and would flourish soon enough. And boy did they flourish!

The problem with tomatoes, or blessing, is that as the summer progresses, our three little plants ripped out the stakes that held them so surely in June and produced 2.5 times more tomatoes every time I picked them. My most recent haul was photo-worthy: 144 tomatoes! What on earth do you do with 144 tomatoes all at once?

Have a day!

You know those conversations where you and a friend try to find common ground by admitting how you both have bad days? Your friend is all, "Yeah, I didn't shower until noon two days ago. I was so lazy! I spent all morning cleaning out and organizing my hall closet after I laundered and pressed my curtains." And then you reply, "Jeez, don't I know it! Today, I didn't get cleaned up until two o'clock because I was doing housework..." Look down and away and feel bad about yourself because you just LIED!

Mildew, whites & campfires

A few years ago, I stayed at my older sis's house in Virginia. We had 3 weeks of fun with our kids, each of us having one at the time. However, when I was packing to go home, I couldn't seem to find my girl's little striped shirt. We looked all over and finally found it in the bottom of the hamper under some damp towels. I have no clue how long it was there. But, it was long enough for it to become covered in black spots - mildew!! Yuck! It smelled so bad!

Grass-stained shoes

So, Steve Jobs just passed away. Glad I could announce that. Though I wasn't surprised, I felt like someone punched me in the gut. I was seriously so sad. I felt like I'd lost a close uncle, which is strange because we've never met. But, I really look up to the guy!

I didn't know how to express why I liked him so much. But, then my husband read me this article written so eloquently by a guy named John Gruber. Regarding Jobs and his surprisingly stained New Balances, he writes, "Why wear this grass-stained pair for the keynote, a rare and immeasurably high-profile public appearance? My guess: he didn’t notice, didn’t care." This was an ah-ha moment for me. Take a moment to read the full article here.

Image source: http://www.gadgetteaser.com/2010/02/27/amazon-tries-to-stay-competitive-with-apple-will-need-a-new-device/

No shame here

This morning around 10am, my doorbell rang.

My first thought: "Crap."
My second thought: "Who could it be?"
My third thought: "Good thing I got dressed today."
My fourth thought as I open the door: "Oops! I forgot she was coming over...to make salsa...in my messing kitchen."
My fifth thought: "Oh well. Rock the mess."

A REAL woman

So, let's begin. Pretend you knock on my front door right now. This is what you'll find cowering in the corner, so silent, sitting on the kids, covering their mouths so no one makes a peep. "We're noooootttt hoooommme," I scream-whisper-yell in my mind. "Goooooo awaaaaayy!" Actually, I wish I had a picture of that. It'd be frame-worthy for sure. So, this is probably what I'd look like the instant before you knock on my door - no fear or terror in the face yet, as you can see.

Hard water

Soooo...admitting defeat, I hang my head and pout a little. My home's hard water has won the fight. Calgon & all the vinegar & bleach in the world were not enough to overcome it. Commercial detergents come complete with chemicals that make them work, even in hard water. Homemade detergent, we had a good run. And someday, when I own my very own home, I will have a water softener installed and go back to making my own detergent. The savings are remarkable!

Cotton romance

Why me?! Why are my whites turning grey and smelling musty? My sheets smell musty, too! Why?! Could it be the homemade laundry detergent I've been using for over a year with no problems until recently? When I lived in my last apartment, my laundry was ALWAYS fresh-smelling right out of the wash. I've added more and more vinegar to each load, soaked overnight, tried both chlorine and non-chlorine bleach, and nothing has resolved the issue.

Laudryopath

I'm a bit obsessive about a few things.

What is Cinderella Duty, anyway?

Hi, I'm Becky. I'm a stay-at-home mom of 4 years and I've realized that I am a real-life Cinderella. I'm always on duty. I have a ridiculously long to-do list, nothing to wear to the party and no time or energy to figure it out at the end of the day. There's no real Fairy Godmother...but, perhaps a Godfather?

There are mice, however. I have two: Suzy and Gus. Just like real-life mice, they chew holes in utility bills, littering the house with nibblets of paper. They don't sew or care that I make it to the ball. The idea of even bringing them to the ball with me is absurd. No doubt they'd be hanging on my gown, smearing their fruit-punch stained cheeks on my blue satin as they cry for refills and crumpets. No. I can't take them to the ball.

I did marry a prince back in 2006. He's pretty rad. Our castle is about 1300 square feet. I was pretty bummed when I realized he didn't have any hired help. Cinderella for life, right?! Woo hoo!

As a real-life Cinderella, I'm learning I don't have to do all the work before I go to the ball. After all, in the real world, our work is never complete, right? Join me as we set real expectations and figure out how motherhood, or Cinderella Duty, should really look!