You Suck! Now That You’re A Mom

Being a good mom means putting aside your wants and needs for the sake of adequately protecting and raising your children. It means redirecting your focus from selfish insecurities and indulgences to no longer giving af about much else other than your babies, maintaining some version of a presentable household, and ensuring that your adultish responsibilities are met (ie: paying bills and getting your oil changed).

Being a good mom also means that you will slowly start to lose your cool, and I mean that in the rad, hip and happening sort of way (although you will inevitably lose your cool in the other sense of the word, too). The things that used to make you stand out and shape your personality and relationships have become a distant, fond recollection that you desperately try to cling to as you scroll through your Facebook memories and vye to resurrect that cool and with it side to you once again… but maybe next year, when you’re less busy.

I’m here to tell you that as a mom, you suck. Or, certain things you do suck. And it all starts to go downhill the moment you go into labour, greet your newborn, and face the fear of not knowing wtf to do with the thing the moment you get home. Suckage literally begins with your baby’s first latch and continues into every facet of your life.

While you start to decline in a number of areas of your life, this siphoning vacuum is balanced by the things you start to become good at since embracing motherhood, such as self-doubt, worrying, and Googling. Yay!

While every mom begins to suck in different degrees and circumstances, there are 7 things that most moms can agree on when asked what has gone from successful to epic fail since becoming a mom.


You’d think with all these baby food tools and containers that prepping a meal would be made easier for moms, but it simply ain’t. IT. AIN’T. When it comes to making any sort of meal, whether it’ll be consumed by your tot or not, it’s gonna get burned, or be mushy, raw, or tasteless. Whatever the cooking faux pas, it’s going to happen because you just don’t have the time or the attention span to give two shits about whether it’s Master Chef worthy, just so long as it’s edible. Before babies, you had the hours, the budget, and the dedication to preparing a five-course meal for your friends. As a parent, you’re ordering take-out.


Whatever the occasion pre-spawn, you were there. Sporting event at the pub? GAME. ON. Networking opportunity? SIGN ME UP. Girls night? In. Beach volleyball game? Eh…alright, whatevs. Now it’s like, “How’s two weeks from now, in the afternoon because my baby has an appointment, but we can squeeze in some time after their lunch and before their nap. Does that work?” Your friends really have to be accommodating and patient if looking to get in any sort of face time with you. As for invites to parties and other social events? That’ll take some MacGyver-like planning and rearranging on your end to make an appearance.


Life before becoming a Mom meant disposable income that would be spent on furnishing your pre-baby body with labeled linens and branded swag. It meant taking a trip to the closest mall whenever you had a free day (which was often) and picking up a few things to accentuate your on point wardrobe. If you’re a mom, those days are no longer an option. Aside from the fact that all your money is being inhaled by your offspring, you just don’t have the time or the body to care about what’s in style anymore. Pre-twins I had Kate Spade and RW&CO, now I’ve got loads of Joe Fresh. Why? Because it’s comfy as f**k, it can take a hit of puke without me feeling remorseful, and I can pick it up while also buying baby food, eggs, and beer at the grocery store.

Awareness of Current Events

Okay, maybe this one is just me, as I don’t currently have cable or subscribe to any news publications, but I’m calling the odds that most moms don’t keep up with new business ventures, the stock market, politics, or who’s leading when it comes to major sporting competitions. If anything, we’re learning about the news via Facebook or by overhearing it while we’re picking up a convenience store coffee. At best, we’ve grabbed the tabloids at the checkout. So while we may not be able to contribute to a conversation on Trump’s latest actions as president, we can tell you the names of George Clooney’s twins.


This is not as shocking as it may seem. We do care about maintaining ourselves; shower, shave, brush teeth, deodorant, done. We cover the basics and that’s about it. Making time for exercise, doing our makeup or nails, plucking, or even brushing our hair, is solely reserved for special occasions or on days where you miraculously wind up with an extra hour to spare.

Talking On The Phone

I remember the days when I could sit on the phone and have a conversation that would easily exceed an hour. Time wasn’t even something I had to be conscious of monitoring, unless someone’s show was about to start or I was getting sleepy. Nowadays, having a phone call that exceeds five minutes is dreaded. You just don’t have the patience to endure it, especially while trying to detach your twins from each other because they’re slapping each other’s faces. If what you want is a phone call, you best schedule that shit before dialling those digits – or better yet, send a message – because chances are, she’s not gonna pick up.

Pop Culture References

Aside from learning mild details from the aforementioned and rare impulse buy of purchasing a grocery store mag, we can’t tell you squat about what’s happening in the world of music or movies. “Hey, you hear that new song by…” Nope. We’re gonna stop you right there. We have no idea what song or new artist you’re referring to. And while we would love to schedule a time to go see a movie with a friend, we have no idea what’s playing and all of the titles look foreign to us. We’ll check out who’s in it and decide based on that.

While there are some moms who probably rock at maintaining some thread of success in these areas, while also mom-ing her heart out, I’d like to hope that the majority share in the same dwindling areas of past successes as I do.

In the meantime, we moms take pride in knowing that while that phase of our lives is over, this new phase is something we embrace and cherish even more than being good at all those things. So while we might not be around much or rockin’ the latest trends, we are mastering a new challenge and it’s one that we most certainly don’t suck at: motherhood.


Facts About Motherhood: #58

Fact #58: Motherhood is boring.

It’s never fun to admit something that you’re supposed to keep a secret. Like, the fact that you have hemorrhoids or a third nipple.

There are so many secrets that mom’s won’t admit to that it actually adds more stress to keep the thoughts all bottled up. There is never a good time for moms to confess every thought or worry they had. If we did, we’d be sent to our guilt graves. Or we’d be looking at an epic novel, and not the short and loose dialogue I like to share with you all.

One thing that nobody ever tells you about becoming a mother is how boring it is. Oy, it’s mind-numbing. The moment you have a baby (or two!) is the moment that you enter a black hole of repetition, routines, and lack of spontaneity.

Hey, I’m not knocking down parenthood. There are plenty of joys that come along with raising infants, such as… well, baby giggles are nice. And teaching them things like the word “no” is kind of rewarding, too. All I’m saying is that the load of expectations of what motherhood is like should be busted open like Pandora’s Box.

Here it is, ladies. Motherhood in all it’s glory.

You’re gonna be bored AF sometimes.

Every day is the same cycle of tasks: waking up at the crack of dawn, washing the same dishes and onesies, playing with the same toys, changing the same bums, infinite nursery rhymes. Add the precise moment your toddler starts whining and you won’t even have to look at the clock to know you’re entering their afternoon fuss time.

Now, there ARE things to help you to keep your sanity in check while your little ones examine and toss the same damn toys around. For example, I like to vent about it online. Some moms like to work out. I don’t have such mom friends, but I imagine I’d hate them encourage them to maintain their interests.

Doing anything for yourself when your infants turn into toddlers with ‘tudes will make you feel a lot of feels, especially guilt. Even right now, I could be playing with my girls, but instead I’m doing this. While deep down I know the benefits of doing something for myself, I can’t help but feel like I’m neglecting them. And what’s more annoying is that they’re becoming smart enough to know that. The moment I open my laptop is the moment they start crying out, “Mama!”


Mom Boredom should be as much of a well-known term as Mom Guilt; both go hand-in-hand and can suck the pre-mom personality out of you faster than a bottle of wine.

Mom boredom can affect you so much that when you finally are gifted with a break, you simply can’t handle the freedom. You stay close to home and feel like a prisoner finally being released into the wild. This is why so many moms flock to Walmart and Target in their down time – it’s the least likely task that will generate guilt by spending time by yourself. “I’m buying diapers, damn it! I’m still thinking of my babies. Just leave me alone to walk every aisle for the third time!”

Being bored when you’re childless is like being bummed by the fact that you’re lazy and uncreative. Or hating the fact that you have way too much time to relax.

Being bored when you’re a mom means talking to yourself because you can’t talk on the phone with your girlfriends ’cause your baby won’t let you. It means dressing your babies up in endless outfits and taking dozens of photos just to make the hour go by faster. It means eagerly volunteering to go buy milk (or literally anything) the moment your partner comes home from work. “We desperately need more pepper – out of my way!” It means becoming socially awkward because you’ve been lacking in all forms of communication, other than social media. Being a bored mom means that you seriously consider turning to, ugh, Pinterest for things to do.

Nah thanks. I’ll stick to complaining online.


People always share with us how lucky we are to have twins. Lucky. Sure, some days I do have moments when I’ll feel that way and think, “Man, am I ever glad I only had to be pregnant once.” But, I know when people say this they see it as a blessing that we were gifted with two healthy, beautiful babies. Especially when so many families suffer through trying to conceive. My heart goes out to those couples.

HOWEVER, when you’re a new mom and are riddled with fear of caring for ONE infant, two bundles of joy makes you feel everything BUT lucky.

From the moment we came home from the hospital, the chaos began.

One baby: Cries when hungry, poopy, tired, and uncomfortable.
Solution: Feed, change, swaddle, and adjust.
Solution with twins: Oh god, it’s 3 am and the other one JUST went to sleep and now this one is crying and waking the other up. Fuck go back to sleep. They will never sleep and we will never sleep and we’re all overtired and is it too late to give one back!?!?!

DAY 21
One baby: 4 am and wants to eat.
Solution: Warm bottle or whip out nip, hold baby and support head, pop nipple in mouth and both fall asleep peacefully together.
Solution with twins: Both babies wake at the same time and are hangry. Spouse is at work and you still haven’t figured out how to feed both babies at once because damn those wobbly heads and fuck they’re both crying at the same time and I’ve only slept 1 hour from the last time I fed you whyyyy do you eat so much thank god I decided not to breastfeed and so let’s feed one at a time while the other one cries and cries and the crying never. Ever. Stops. EVER.

DAY 22

DAY 41
One baby: Getting out of the house by yourself.
Solution: Dress baby, put it in the car seat, and carry it outside to the car or stroller.
Solution with twins: THIS. DOES. NOT. HAPPEN. Well if I’m being honest, you do exactly as you would with baby one, but spending double the amount of time and adding triple the anxiety.

DAY 198
One baby: Feeding them solid foods.
Solution: Sit baby in a feeding chair and give them one bite at a time.
Solution with twins: Prepare breakfast while praying that this round goes well. Have pacifiers on hand. Dig deep into your core to find what little patience you have left on reserve. Inhale. Exhale. Put bite into one baby’s mouth. Cue screams from second baby. Pop pacifier into second baby’s face. Give bite to second baby. Cue screams from first baby. Pop pacifier into first baby’s blow-hole. Repeat for 98 more bites (if no tantrums erupt). Finish food, wipe hands and faces, cry. Mentally prepare for Round 2: Dinner.

DAY 241
One baby: Crawling around and exploring their new home.
Solution: Follow baby carefully.
Solution with twins. One is carefully followed while the other one burns hand, gets shocked, or ends up under a bookshelf.

KIDDING! But furreal, both can’t be set loose at the same time if you’re working alone. They’re like little puppies, but instead of chewing on shoes, they’re chewing on your hair and each other.

When people stop us on the street or in a mall, we always hear, “Oh, double the trouble!”, “Two for the price of one, hey?!”, or my fave, “You’ve got your hands full!” and boy do I know it! Their comments couldn’t me more true, or annoying.

The Devil Wears Diapers

If you’ve ever had a baby, you understand the pure hell that is teething. One baby has the power to bring you to your knees, arms raised above your head, shouting what you’d give to end it all. You’d sell your soul, but this baby already owns it. And remember I have two. So I expect double the sympathy.

These demons are 8 months old and have been teething for an eternity. AN. ETERNITY.

Every day we endure the lighting bolts of screams and scalding whines. The endless cries from exhaustion. The bipolar-esque switch from glee to misery.


At 8 months old, not a single tooth has popped.

And those damn teething toys and tricks don’t work. Nothing works. Aside from passing out mid-play or post-meal, the only thing that distracts them from their swollen gums is watching Baby Einstein on YouTube.

HALLELUAH! We have a saviour.

Before babies, I was all, “If I ever have kids, I am limiting their TV time! No way will I let my spawn be glued to a screen.” Meanwhile, I’m glued to my phone.

Was I ever deluded.

When TV is the only source of salvation, you have no choice but to give in. But Baby Einstein? Really? I often think, “How can my babies enjoy such puny plots? I could make these if I had an abundance of toys, a solid white wall, and a steady camera!” Baby Einstein is just a series of toys, babies, music, and high-pitched jabbering.


The other option that helps us claw our way out of hell is drugs.

While we don’t do this often (enough!), baby doses of Advil is liquid magic. When we reach our wits end, and I’m sure when the girls have reached their own, they get the syringe.

JUDGE ME. I don’t currrrrrrrrrrrrr.