The toddler struggle

Having a toddler is a fun, fast paced, forever changing, adventure. Today I learned a valuable mom lesson— lock the water feature on the refrigerator.

I was having my morning poop when I realized my toddler wasn’t in the bathroom staring at me. All the Mom’s out there know that you lose all rights to privacy when you have a child. My 1 year old typically stands right in the bathroom while I poop. Today though, he was nowhere to be find.

My toddler was being quiet. Too quiet. I call his name. Naturally he doesn’t come to me. Then I hear what sounds like liquid being poured on the floor. I dismiss this thought almost immediately because I know for sure there would be no way for my child to get ahold of liquid. Then I hear it again followed by a giggle. I quickly finish up what I’m doing (yes, I stopped mid-poop) to investigate.

Somehow, he had figured out how to take his play cup and stick it up to the water maker on the refrigerator and press down. He was filling up his cup, pouring it into the hallway, and the repeating. Water was everywhere. He was also completely soaked and shaking.

What did I do? I laughed. I busted out laughing. Who could have predicted this? I didn’t even know he was tall enough to reach the water.

Lesson learned. Always use the lock feature on the refrigerator.

Love,

Mommy Blaire 🌻

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The crackhead is at it again.

Well, hi there. I’m back💗💗

How was my Christmas? Great. Perfect… well, until it wasn’t. You guessed it. The crackhead is back.

Having a brother as a crackhead is always a very bad, dark, twisty nightmare that just doesn’t end.

Recently my brother got “sober”…… yeah right. I see him approximately never so when I noticed him talking to himself on Christmas I knew immediately nothing had changed. My parents, on the other hand, truly believed he had become a nice sober Christian man.

The day after Christmas my dad calls me while I’m at the gym. He somehow manages to pocket dial me on a daily basis so I ignore it assuming it’s a pocket dial. He calls back for a second time so I answer. He’s requesting help. Yelling that my darling “sober” brother is at their house and they need help. Yes, he called his small (but scrappy) daughter instead of the standard 911 when he felt his life was in danger. Classy.

As I sprint to my car, I start watching my parents ring doorbell. There stands my brother putting on a full theatrical performance. He’s 100% so fucked up on the drugs he is talking all sorts of crazy. He says he’s going to kill himself by driving his truck into a brick wall or off a bridge. He’d like for us to set his dead body on fire immediately because he’s going to hell either way. He plans to also kill our parents but is saddened by the fact that they will go to Heaven and he will never get to see them because he will be roasting in the fires of hell. Blah, blah, blah, blah. This performance went on and on. Although I absolutely hate his guts, I’m not going to have his suicide on my conscience so I called the police department.

By the time I get to my parents house half the police department is there. In true crackhead fashion, my brother is handcuffed but attempting to use his feet to bust out the windows of the cop car. He’s carrying on and on and on. He realizes I’m the one who reported his threats of violence and suicide so naturally he adds me and my 1 year old baby to his hit list. He repeatedly says he has a plan to kill my baby. This wasn’t the only threat he was screaming but this particular threat was the last straw.

Ya see, this threat is where he went very, very wrong. Fuck with me? Cool. Fuck with my kid? HELL NO. Took everything in me not to jump on his ass right then and there. Had to remind myself that I’m simply not cut out for jail.

Before anyone could blink an eyeball I had taken out a restraining order against this crackhead. I’ll fight him in court a million times over to make sure he never sees my child again.

This is even low for a crack head. Like dang. Don’t mess with an innocent child you piece of shit.

You’ll love this. The crackhead calls my husband to tell him that he’s sorry for what he said and that he had just done too much meth that afternoon. He wanted forgiveness. Hell to the naw naw naw. This time he was stopped before he was violent, but what happens tomorrow when he does drugs? Or the next day? Sorry buddy. You fucked up big this time.

Y’all pray for me. Pray I don’t jump across the table at court and knock some sense into his stupid brain. 😒🙏🏼

Love you,

Disgruntled Blaire ☠️

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I gave birth

I have a healthy baby boy! And, well, that’s the only positive thing about my birth story— the rest was straight up shit.

I scheduled an elective induction for a Monday morning. I was 39.5 weeks and oh so ready to never be pregnant again.

During the cervical check I was exactly 0 centimeters dilated. How very helpful, body. Thanks.

The nurse let us know that this would take a long time… likely days. I told my husband to run a few errands because this is a slow process. Then while he’s gone BAM my water breaks.

Your water breaking isn’t like the movies. It doesn’t happen all at once. Just kinda feels like you’re suddenly uncontrollably peeing everywhere. My water broke in sections. The water just kept flowing and flowing every time I moved. I would think it was all out and then Niagara Falls would start again. I’m not sure how my body even housed that much water. Was I acting very dramatic? Absolutely. This was a full ass experience that I assure you I was not ready for.

I’m guessing I’ve seen far too many movies because I thought my water breaking meant the baby was going to pop out soon. FALSE.

I labored for hours and hours and hours. Finally after over 24 hours I was 9 centimeters dilated. Go me. Almost pushing time. I might survive this.

FALSE. I now have a fever. My fever is climbing. The epidural isn’t working. Am I dying?

A nurse comes in and tells me there’s an infection. They need to take the baby now because the infection is spreading. Ok, agreed to c-section. My baby and I need to survive this. We’ve come this far.

In less than 10 minutes I’m on an operating table. I’m shaking violently. I can’t stop shaking. Why am I shaking? The procedure starts. I’m not doing well. I’m shaking. Oh no, here comes vomit. Nurses are asking if I’m ok. I am not ok. I need help. Doctor starts yelling that there’s too much bleeding. What’s going on? My baby is born. I can hear him crying. I can’t see or touch my baby because I am not doing well. Too much bleeding the doctor keeps saying. We must stop the bleeding. My husband is escorted out of the room. Is this the end? A horrible, sick 9 months and then I die? I never get to experience motherhood. I never get to see my baby. This is some shit.

I start praying. Please God let me live. I’m not perfect but damn this is shit.

Doctor starts talking to the nurse about a hike he went on last fall. A hike? This is the conversation choice? Am I dead?

WAIT. I survived. Doctor isn’t concerned anymore, he’s having pleasant conversation. An update would be great, but I’m still doing very very bad.

A nurse asks me if I want something to help calm me. I say yes. She tells me it would make me so I wouldn’t remember the next 8 hours. Is she for real? No, I don’t want that. I need to meet my baby and remember it. Also, is that legal? (Still curious on what drug that was)

Finally I’m wheeled back to my room. My baby is there and he’s perfect. All is good although I’m still feeling super rough.

I know one thing for sure. I will never, ever have another baby. One and done.

Still traumatized.

Blaire

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I’m pregnant

Never thought you’d see the day that I posted this? SAME.

So how’s the pregnancy going? Terrible. Absolutely terrible. I’m sick every single day. 23 long, long weeks of nausea and vomiting.

I am so thankful to be pregnant. I am.

It’s just not what I expected. I see pregnant girls on Instagram that are happy and active. I am not one of those girls. I’m barely surviving.

Don’t get me started on what it’s like to go without a jumbo margarita for this long. it blows.

Did getting pregnant cure all my problems? Nope. Do I still have a psychotic brother trying to ruin everyone’s life? Yup. Do I still try to play peacemaker daily? Yup.

More on this WILD journey soon,

Barfing Blaire 🤮

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Don’t create anxiety

I hate when people create anxiety for absolutely no reason.

Example: “hey, I have something to talk to you about later”

Stop doing this. Tell me right now or don’t bring it up till later.

Another example: I ask someone a question and they start to answer it and then say, “never mind”

NO. TELL ME.

Stop these behaviors. It drives us all crazy and causes anxiety for no reason.

Okay?

Love you.

Blaire 💙❄️

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I got my first vaccine

I can’t believe it. My time finally came. I was called to get vaccinated.

I hesitated. Should I get it? What are the risks? What do I do?

Fuck it. I’m going for it.

Did it hurt? No, the initial shot did not hurt. The pain in the muscle came hours later and lasted 2 days. Was the pain unbearable? No. Did I feel up to playing tennis or lifting weights? No.

I felt a little sleepy after the shot and my arm was sore. That’s it. Smooth sailing.

Shot one is done. Shot two is in 28 days.

I can’t wait to see a world where Covid-19 doesn’t exist. 🙏🏼🙏🏼

💉💉 Blaire

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COVID-19 vaccine

I’m still undecided on the COVID-19 vaccine. Do I get it? Do I wait? Do I deny it?

I believe that every person over age 60 should get it. I feel they are at greater risk for serious complications from COVID-19.

But what about me? I’m healthy. I have no pre-existing conditions. Should I get it knowing that COVID-19 is not likely to kill me? Could getting the vaccine negatively impact me in years to come? Or, should I just get it in hopes of stopping the spread?

Will I be banned from travel if I don’t get it? Will people fear me if I don’t get it?

What should I do?

Lucky for me, I have a long time to think about it. I’m in the last group that will get vaccinated.

Decisions,

Blaire 💉

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