"Good luck with the little drama queen," they say when they find out I'm expecting a girl. It seems we gals have a rep right out of the womb -- as dramatic, irrational whack-jobs. So, when one of us is assaulted and comes forward, many people instantly think: oh she's exaggerating, seeking attention or revenge or a payday. It's a pattern, after all.
Vicki Murphy is a mom, writer and hot mess in St. John's, Newfoundland and Labrador. She spends her free time fumbling through motherhood and living to tell the tale (barely) at www.motherblogger.ca. Vicki's first book, MotherFumbler, published by Breakwater Books, is now available.
I'm torn because my family always comes first, but I also have these ideas and opportunities and the iron is hot and I'm not getting any younger and this is my time, bitch. I'm riddled with guilt just typing that, because society and my upbringing and all that bullshit has programmed me to believe I'm a mother now, so I'm supposed to sacrifice my own dreams for everyone else's. But I'm determined to try my best to fuck that noise and do it all, even if I don't do any of it perfectly. I'd rather live with failure than regret.
09/15/2014 05:36 EDT
Reason #1: Because we might not be pregnant. And then we'll think you're calling us fat. As much as we treasure new reasons to question our appearance, maybe you should refrain from asking the question until there's a giant baby head dangling from our crotch.
06/05/2014 01:00 EDT
What you're saying to your son when you say "that's girly" is: Stop acting like a girl, because being a girl is bad. You're also saying: You're a boy, and boys are supposed to act a certain way. (That's a whole other can of worms.)
02/05/2014 12:57 EST
Tick tock, hubbies of the world. 48 hours remain before Christmas Day. When ye men finally take your hands out of your sweatpants and think, "Hmmm. Guess I should get out and do some shopping." Gee, ya think? Here are a dozen easy, inexpensive ideas to help.
12/23/2013 12:04 EST
One day, I pressed play on the PVR and went about my bidness, Max on the couch pumped for some Turtle Power. A few minutes later, I heard this moaning and groaning coming from the television, with some bow-chicka-wow music in the background. What the. I ran to the TV and saw a commercial for a chat line, The Night Exchange.
12/02/2013 08:11 EST
Around 10:45 a.m., I decided it was time to turn off Lego Stars Wars and turn our attention to real war, and all those who have fought, or continue to fight, for our freedom. First, I had to get Max Skywalker on board. He really had no idea what Remembrance Day was all about. My super-simplified explanation went something like this...
11/11/2013 12:18 EST
Apparently most writers have a special place to, you know, write. George Bernard Shaw had a hut that he could rotate so he was always in the sun. Roald Dahl spun his dark humour from an elaborate gard...
10/30/2013 11:11 EDT
Just in case you missed the first trillion times I mentioned it: giving birth was really hard. Now I am about to give birth again. This time, to a book. In some ways, giving birth to a book is harder than giving birth to a baby. Everyone loves your human baby because it's an innocent party in all of this. But many will hate your paper baby, because you made it, and you suck.
07/08/2013 05:25 EDT
A mother's milk may very well be the "perfect food" but the process sure ain't perfect so let's not pretend it is. Of course it's nice. It's convenient, even. But it is NOT magical. Unless curling your toes while your vampire baby sucks your nipples four inches down into his throat is magical.
06/11/2013 07:50 EDT
Max James Murphy, you sneaky rascal. How are you growing up so darn fast? You are four years old today. I am in awe. When people asked how old you were today, you said: "I'm four. And then five and th...
04/30/2013 02:09 EDT
Oh look, a couple hours of spare time to blog. It was hiding behind the creative brief I brought home from the office, which was behind the dog's dandruff shampoo, which was behind the heap of dirty l...
04/28/2013 06:26 EDT
Even though I'm not much of a believer myself, I tell my son about Jesus. I do it so that one day, when Max realizes it's all a bunch of horse shit, it won't be "because Mom told me so." It'll be "because that is what I think." On the other hand, if he decides it's all true, I am open to be enlightened.
04/02/2013 12:09 EDT
You never really know what kind of youngster you've got until you test him out in the real world. Our recent trip to Orlando confirmed that our little junior is quite the joiner. We shouldn't be surprised by his courage, I suppose. His nickname is Turbo Ginger for god sakes.
03/17/2013 11:10 EDT
They say it can take a few weeks, even months, for new a mother to bond with her baby. For me, it took three and a half years. It's not that I didn't love him before. But maybe I didn't completely like him. Now, at age three-and-a-half, he is absolutely perfect.
01/23/2013 05:35 EST
In a nutshell: life is chaos, it's all my fault, but I just can't help it so bite me. I'm a busy woman who is chewing what she has bitten off as fast as she can. I'm a hot mess, always in a rush to get where I'm going, dragging my poor son behind me. But damn it, I'm doing it. I'm getting there. There is room for improvement for sure. But at this dawn of a new calendar year, I'm not going to make a grand pledge to change.
01/03/2013 12:14 EST
The other day, over a lunch-time pint, someone asked me to name the number-one thing I absolutely need to be happy. Now that's a heavy question. What's the one thing I need to be happy? Above all else, I need to be myself. It's simple logic. How can you be happy if you're not being yourself?
12/16/2012 01:47 EST
Christmas. The birth of Jesus. And the crucifixion of your credit card. In spite of these uncertain economic times, we're spending more than ever on crap for our little crappers. You give your youngster a big, expensive gift only to watch him toss it aside to play with the wrapping paper. This year, save yourself money with homemade gifts...
11/27/2012 05:32 EST
In spite of our marital problems, I try not to bash my husband. But after two consecutive long weekends of boozing, golfing and fishing, and coming home at 4:30 a.m. reeking of sausages and whores, I think he's fair game. You see, I found some pretty incriminating photos on his camera.
07/13/2012 03:59 EDT
I could chalk it up to the terrible twos or almost threes. Toddlerhood is an emotional time. But here were a handful of kids, all around Max's age, and he was the only one freaking his freak. Today's lesson in Toddlerville: Have more hissy fits, get more stuff. Damn it.
04/23/2012 12:40 EDT
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