Tag Archives: parenthood

Breast is Best! (But what about the rest?)

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I’ve hated my boobs since 5th grade, when they made a most unwelcome appearance. Backyard football with the boys became awkward. So did locker room changes. As they became a focal point of my high school figure, I despised them even more. My back hurt when I ran. Forget horsing around in a bathing suit. Rude and humiliating jokes from teenage boys.

Hated. Them.
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If you want to be happy DON’T have kids.

Author: Mary Katherine

If you want to be happy, you shouldn’t have kids. That’s a fact. Or at least, Time magazine and the sociologists who conducted this study believe so.

Parents get less sleep, have less money, and less independence. Parents have more stress, more marital arguments, more expenses.

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Thank You, Mom

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Author: Mary Katherine

Thank you, Mom.

For playing with my toys, one by one, to teach me which colors they are.
I know that you must have been tired, and your favorite show may have been on.

For singing silly songs in the morning. About weather and food and God.
I know that you needed coffee, and didn’t always wake with a song on your heart.

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I Dreamed of Becoming Something Great. I’m a Mom.

Author: Mary Katherine
2002. Year of spaghetti strap tank tops, flavored lip gloss and $1 gasoline. Diet Coke added lime to their cans. Michael Jackson dangled a baby over a balcony and Nickleback ruled the Billboard.

So, yah–a few regrettables, but altogether it was a good year. I was a senior in high school and graduation was around the corner. Our school newspaper published the Senior Edition, a tongue-in-cheek prequel to the yearbook. The graduating class voted Who’s Who in silly categories and anonymously submitted thoughts and jokes for a segment entitled In Ten Years I See.

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I loved my baby but hated my body

Author: Heather Anne

I was depressed. I was in a dark place. I was holding this beautiful baby in my arms and I felt like the farthest thing from beautiful. I undressed at night and stared in the mirror at a reflection of a body that I didn’t know. I touched my skin and traced lines that had appeared overnight and led to places that hadn’t been there before. And I felt lost, and confused, and a little angry, because this body wasn’t mine. This wasn’t me. But here’s the thing. It was. And I needed to accept it. I needed to stop hating my body because it was making me hate myself. And that needed to stop.
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Monogrammed Pajamas Giveaway WINNER

For the last week we have advertised a monogrammed pajamas giveaway on our Instagram page (@mamasinpajamas). We teamed up with Lanette over at Strong Stitch (www.facebook.com/strongstitch) and we gave away two sets of monogrammed pajamas (one for mama and one for her little one).

Today we let the babies pick the winner!

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Laundry Piles and Loneliness

I can sum up my thoughts on motherhood so far in 3 words.

I. Didn’t. Know.
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Pajamas and Sunshine

There was a moment in my life, not that long ago, when I realized who I really was. Not in the soul-discovering existential sense, but a quite literal one. I was strolling down the cobble-lined streets of Park Avenue with Infant Ben tucked neatly beneath a powder blue blanket. I had brushed my hair, dressed in a real bra (nursing moms feel my pain) and gotten out of the house. My best friend of 25 years was in town and we found ourselves window shopping, eating ice cream cones, and leisurely basking in the crisp weather of a Florida fall. I was also sleep-deprived and incredibly grouchy despite my surroundings. Lunch was taking forever, the sidewalks were crowded, and women with children were bustling in and out of stores with armfuls of shopping sacks. It was like somebody had kicked a human baby anthill in the heart of Winter Park.
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