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.