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Breaking-Up with Breastfeeding
I’ve had my last child. There. I said it out loud, well sort of. I am filled with such a profound mix of emotions; relief coupled with a deep, dark sadness. I am so worn out that I feel that my very bones are tired. I have more grey hair than Steven Tyler and I possess wide, giant clown feet that belong to a woman eight inches taller than myself. I haven’t slept in six years and I have been nursing or pregnant for as long. My youngest baby is fifteen months and it was at this age that both of his older siblings were weaned from breastfeeding. This baby,…
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Chelsey Tries Floating
I’ve been on a quest as of late to experience new things. My newest challenge: enter a deprivation tank and float. So I teamed up with Float North County located in beautiful Solano Beach. In exchange for my open and honest review, I received three floats and a treatment called Lucia Light. This isn’t your college float session; I didn’t set up camp in Mission Bay during Floatopia on a giant inflatable pizza, armed with a pack of Coors Light. (I have actually done this and I can personally assure you that this kind of floating can lead only to extreme sunburns and wicked hangovers.) Instead, I tried floating at a legit establishment which…
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Mama’s Locket
To my children, I won’t remember every detail of your life. I can’t recall what day you walked or how many teeth you had at seven months. But I will never forget the moments; they will stay with me crisp and clean like a stark fall day. Daddy and I bringing home each of you. Slowly, magically, completing our family. I’ll remember the feel of your breath on my face and the sweet hum of your snore as you drifted off to sleep. Your soft, chubby hand resting gently on my cheek. Your excitement in realizing that all three of you siblings have the same toes. The incessant, yet strangely…
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Chelsey Gets a Facial
Hello, my name is Chelsey. And I have poor hygiene. Especially with my skin. Ok, wait. That’s not entirely true. I do take showers. I don’t smell bad or anything. But I am 31-years-old and I literally just started washing my face. I know. I know. I’m not the best at adult-ing. But my skin has always been decent so I just went with the if it ain’t broke don’t fix it technique and it was working for me. Until it wasn’t. Until I looked into the mirror and staring back at me was an old lady with wrinkles and loose skin. I had to take a photo of myself…
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Trying New Things
Trying new things can be hard. Whether it is your time or your money that is tied up, I always find a laundry list of excuses not to do things for myself. But I want to change that. I want some adventure. So in this spirit I am on a mission to try new activities, treatments, go new places and meet new people. I’ve told my friends this time and time again, You need to take time for yourself! I don’t ever take my own advice. It sounds better regurgitating it onto someone else. The worst part of it is, there is no one holding us back but ourselves. Most of…
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A Mother’s Quest For Girl Scout Cookies; A Saga
Day 1: It’s Friday. Yesterday I received a message that my five-year-old had purchased two boxes of cookies through her classmate. Great. I’ve side-stepped them at the grocery stores, ignored texts from my cute nieces about their troops, hid on the floor when the buggers knocked on my door like they were Jehovah’s Witnesses selling me scripture–and yet they’ve found me. The Girl Scouts have made it through my defenses. I sent my daughter to school with a five-dollar bill and instructions that she is only to purchase ONE box, and that she cannot open it until she gets home. I make sure to get Samoa‘s, you know, the coconut…
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Postpartum Depression; An Interview
Postpartum Depression. Before having children myself, I had a certain connotation with this word; I equated it with overworked, distraught mothers who couldn’t handle their shit. And so they got sad. Crazy hormone levels, baby blues, leaving their newborn at the fire station…that sort of thing. I never got sad after the births of my children. And being completely uneducated in the spectrum of effects of Postpartum Depression, it never occurred to me that I, too, could suffer. It wasn’t until years later that I realized that I had a mild case that had manifested into real and palpable anxiety. Due to the fact that I discovered it after the fact,…
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KidloLand App Review
**The folks at KidloLand gave me a free subscription in return for an honest review. I am giving this app a solid THUMBS UP. I LOVE IT. I know all of you other parents out there are looking for reviews on products that you can actually trust. And parent to parent, I’m telling you this one actually rocks. Let me begin by saying that I rarely let my kids play on the iPad. I try to keep their screen time at a minimum. Plus, most apps are confusing for them and have advertising hidden all around. I don’t want to hand my device to the three-year-old if he’s going to…
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Why I March
There has been a lot of discourse over Saturday’s Women’s March on Washington. I proudly participated in my own local “sister march” in San Diego. At first all of the coverage that I saw was from inside of my bubble; people’s joyous photos, exclaims and declarations. I saw floods of pink take over social media. But as the weekend came to a close, I began to see people’s feelings– those outside of my bubble– spill into my Newsfeed. And it reaffirmed again for me that there is so much divide among us–so much misinformation. There are posts calling women who marched “whiners”, “babies”, “idiots” and “spoilsports”. Although I cannot speak…
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That One Time I Forgot About Stages
What happened to my baby? My happy, giggling boy hit the 12 month mark and with it came anxiety. Excessive nursing. And crying. So. Much. Crying. I would like to point out that this is my third child. And while having done this twice before doesn’t make me an expert, it does mean I’ve been through it. I seem to suffer from acute memory where most things of importance are concerned. I mean I’ve been sitting here for a week contemplating the benefits of exorcism, and then it occurred to me to do some research. Was I the only mother whose baby had radicalized at this age? As I scrolled…