Dear Mitchell, a very important note for you

Dear Littlest love of mine,

In all the chaos of you and your sister, it appears that I forgot to teach you something very important.  I’m so sorry!  Hopefully this note will make up for it.  Read it, take notes, and for the love of all things Mickey Mouse please try to follow each and every step…


How to sleep through the night:

1.) Take a bubble bath (I’ll do most of the heavy lifting with this step buddy, you just try to not pee on me).

2.) Slip into cozy jammies and an overnight diaper.

3.) Enjoy 7 ounces of your lukewarm & delicious nighttime bottle.

4.) Close those pretty blue eyes.

5.) Roll over & snuggle in.

6.) Dream of airplanes, baseballs, puffs, whatever floats your baby boat…

7.) Keep those eyes closed.

8.) Wake up when the sun comes up, and not a minute before then (please, pretty please).

That’s how you do it.


See you in the morning.


Your tired mama


Never Eat Alone

Hello Irony,

Nice to see you.

A few weeks before maternity leave I made a one-click Amazon order for the book Never Eat Alone.  What was I thinking?  Not only have I not made it past the first page, but I’ve also never disagreed more with a book title in my life.  Never Eat Alone… are you kidding me?!?  I want nothing more than to eat alone.  Quietly.  Without food to cut up.  Without a newborn to bounce up and down.  And without epic negotiations that involve rounds of ‘one more bite’ in return for godforsaken Frozen fruit snacks (thank you Disney).

Is this what Keith Ferrazzi was referring to?

In fact Eating Alone sounds so amazing that on my first day back to work I might lock myself in the conference room, dim the lights, sit quietly and slowly savor my very own sandwich.  The sandwich would be mine, all mine!  Not leftover from Kenz and not in the shape of Elmo.

But then I think about the two little people in our lives and all the ways they make our mealtimes crazy… Kenzie’s cute lunchtime chatter, Mitchell’s dinnertime coos and their cute jammie breakfast attire.  And with just two weeks left before I go back to work I better embrace the craze these two munchkins create.  I’m pretty sure that before I know it I’ll be spending countless days eating alone at my desk while I blast out e-mails just so I can leave on time and get back to my meal crashers.

So until then, bring on the craze kiddos… the spills, the chatter, the whines and even the chewy sugar-covered Olaf treats.  This mom is really going to miss these days of never eating alone.



PS  If anyone has cliff notes for the book, please pass them along to me.


Baby prep and burnt pancakes

This morning started like a normal Sunday morning, but it was a just little bit different.  True, I was up by 5 because I just couldn’t get comfortable anymore but it was more than that.  It was the feeling of being on the brink of something exciting and wonderful yet slightly scary and completely surreal.  As I laid awake in the wee hours of the morning the question of Are we ready? kept dancing through my mind.

I went through all the lists and prep we’ve been doing for the past 39 weeks…

Are we ready for Nana and Papa to watch Makenzie for a few days – yes.

Are we ready to spend a few days in the hospital – yes.

Are we ready to bring home a newborn, swaddle him up and rock him to sleep – heck yes.

But are we ready to be parents of two kids – I just don’t know.


By the time the sun came up the toddler Pandora station was blasting in the kitchen while my favorite little buddy was hard at work mixing pancake batter, yet I was still questioning our readiness.

Are we really ready for sleepless nights, endless diaper changes and countless cleanings of bottles? 

Are we ready to teach two kids about all the good in the world yet make sure they can protect themselves from the not-so-good? 

Are we able and ready to give them really amazing childhoods?


Chef Makenzie

Within 10 minutes I had my answer. My little chef had moved to her kitchen seat and was playing the alphabet game on her tablet when everything got crazy.  A tidal wave of spilled milk on her new toy prompted an unforeseen meltdown.   As I cleaned up her milk and sopped up her tears, the oven buzzer beeped reminding me that the sausage was overly done and that the pancakes needed flipped.

Just like that I went from Rockstar Mom with a burning desire to make a Sunday morning memory to a Rotten Mom with a burning skillet of pancakes.  Just like that the entire day shifted.  And just like that I realized that maybe being ready only means being ready to expect the unexpected.

Maybe being ready means knowing that we can’t foresee all the tears, falls and broken toys.  Maybe being ready means being okay with the fact that we can’t prevent the long nights, the life lessons and the broken hearts.  And maybe being ready means that despite all we do to be great parents to our kids, it’s inevitable that some morning will include spilled milk, tears and burnt pancakes.

Luckily it just took a few paper towels and a fresh batch of pancakes and all was good again in the world.  Later today I found this quote and I’m starting to believe that maybe, just maybe, we are ready to be parents of two kids.  It might require a few extra paper towels and an extra box of tissues on occasion but I think that the next week or so will bring more joy than we could have ever imagined.


And on a side note… If you’re listening little guy, come on out!  We want to meet you and show you the world.   Life is going to be unexpected and messy at times but we’re here to help you through it.  You just show up and we’ll do the rest.  We can’t wait for you to join in on the fun!


Mom & Dad






Drop it like it’s hot

It’s a Saturday night in the McGee house and we’re getting ready to drop it like it’s hot.

drop it like its hot

This is how we roll, yo

Yet when I say Drop it like it’s hot I’m referring to the crib mattress.  I think we’re going to have to get low, get low, get low.

Here’s why… One bad decision in the middle of the night which involved allowing a fussy tot sleep with us has turned into 5 nights of 90+ minute bedtimes and either Denny or me sleeping on the floor (yet again).

I can hear you right now, “Shut the door,” “Let her cry it out,” “She’ll be fine.”  BUT and this is a big but (I don’t like big buts and I cannot lie), we can’t let Makenzie cry it out… because our little Rolly Pollie rockstar can now jump out of the crib.  It happened Thursday night and it was terrifying for all of us.  Luckily she was fine, but now we’ve turned into little pawns.  If we let her keep crying she could try to jump out again and possibly get hurt.  So we spend at least 30 minutes each night sleeping on her floor until she falls asleep and then we army crawl out of her room.

Essentially our 21-month old just yelled out Checkmate!

Well played Makenzie, well played.

Once again we’re back at a parenting crossroads.  Unexpected sleeping issue Avenue intersects with Who the hell even allowed us to be parents Street and our car has stalled out.  So now what?

Do we continue into this trend of endless bedtimes?  Do we keep sleeping on her floor until she is into her mid-20’s?  Do we opt for the toddler bed?   Do we drop the crib mattress like it’s hot to the floor?  Or do we just laugh about it and wait it out a few more nights?  One might think that we would figure this out since we’ve been here countless times but we’re still stumped.

But on a good note, we have a decent amount of time to ponder this while laying on the floor next to our girl’s crib.  If you know any shortcuts to get back to the Quick Bedtime Boulevard let us know.  In the meantime we’ll be spending our nights relaxing under the stars in Makenzie’s room.


My view from the floor… look closely and you’ll see her crib rails.


And call me crazy but part of me kind of likes knowing that she wants me there while she heads to dreamland.  I’m pretty sure I’ll miss this someday when she is in her teens, her sleeping patterns are regular and she begs me to leave her room.

Sweet dreams Makenzie Ruth, I love you and your stubborn little sleeping habits to the moon and back.






It’s not you, it’s us.

Summer rocks!!

Picnics, parades, pool parties…

7_4 parade flag baby

Sweet sweet summertime, baby!

…and pathetic excuses why we leave social events early or even worse, we don’t even show up.  Tell me I’m not alone on this!


It wasn’t long ago that Denny and I were quite the party couple. We were champs when it came to beer-related sports and we often stayed around for Last Call.  But with all good things in life, that era came to an end and to be honest I don’t really miss it.  Life has become WAY more fun with our Makenzie, but when it comes to the social scene our attendance is dwindling drastically and I don’t know why.

From Monday at 7:20 am to Friday at 5:15 pm, we’re on our A-game.  Kenzie gets in her car seat like a champ and we zip around town – baby-sitter, work, work baby-sitter, drive-thru, errands – lather, rinse, repeat x 5.  We are generally on-time, generally put together and generally reliable.  (Please note the vague nature of the word generally.)

Then Friday evening rolls around and shit gets crazy (excuse my language Mom).  We run late for parties, we leave picnics early and sometimes we don’t even make it at all.  I can think of two social activities in the past 10 days that we said we would attend yet didn’t even make it out to door.  Ugh!

Here’s generally how it works:

  • Receive an invite – Absolutely, we’ll be there!
  • Social event gets closer – Yay, we’re still planning on it
  • Social event day rolls around and inevitably something happens – Fever, puke, unexpected family visits or the inability to wrangle a little munchkin in her carseat without epic meltdown from aforementioned munchkin and/or parents
  • Sulk back into house, send obligatory “I’m sorry we suck” text and spend next hour feeling like a rotten friend/sister/neighbor
  • Social event Fail!


picnic table

We’ve become those people.  The better ask someone else to bring desserts because the McGees will no show people

Overbooking is partially the reason (my fault completely), but the other part of this is a complete mystery to me.  Frankly it’s quite embarrassing.  Is this normal for new-ish parents?  How the heck do we drop the ball so much on the weekends?   Does this get better?  Or will our sub par reliability levels earn us a spot on the B list or even worse the no list?

To our remaining friends (are you still out there?) we miss you and we hope that we can see you soon!  I’m sorry we’ve blown you off.  It’s not you, it’s us (I swear!).  But we just don’t how do we fix it?!?  Help!!  Any suggestions, let me know.

Slacker love,

Erin (the once reliable, turned flaky Mom)



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A day at the park?!

Holla toddler Moms,

A relaxing day at the park sounds lovely, right?  

You mean toddler Moms don’t get to relax like this at the park?

Wrong!  Grab your sneakers, the diaper bag, your SuperMom cape and perhaps some Xanax.  It’s playground season!  

And maybe I’m just a Rookie Mom but the park is a scary place.  Let me tell you why…

:: High-Low game ::

The playground for a toddler Mom is actually like a giant chess board.  One wrong move and it’s game over.  From my experience (or lack thereof) there appear to be 2 schools of thought when monitoring your tiny tots at the p-ground.

Theory One: Stay High – Some experts suggest that you stay directly behind that toddler as they run across the bridges and up the metal steps.  The good news is that you are one step behind them if they lose their balance.  The bad news is that said toddler is always just one slide away from complete and total freedom.  Undoubtedly your oversize Mom butt will get stuck going down the slide and in this time your kiddo could potentially sprint across the playground.  Fail!

Theory Two: Stay Low – The competing theory is to stay on the ground as your toddler races through the metal jungle gym.  Theoretically you will be one step ahead and you’ll be there to scoop up your kiddo as the bottom of the slide.  But being on the ground isn’t ideal either… one wrong move and your kid is on a breakaway through the twists and turns of the playground.   Do you climb the ladder and chase them, or try to run around the playground and then anticipate which slide they’ll go down?  Either way it’s playground Checkmate.

playground 2

How fast can you race around the perimeter of the playground? Not fast enough!

:: Bad example bullies ::

Got a toddler who loves to imitate everything you do and say?  Perfect!  The playground seems to be a breeding ground for bad-ass tweens that like to jump from the 10-foot platforms and run the wrong way up the slide.

bully with words

Grandma’s gonna love your kiddos new vocabulary!

:: Drop-offs ::

Speaking of 10-foot falls, why MUST all playgrounds have those large openings to allow kids to rappel from the metal playground sides?  Seems fun for Spiderman, but what about our wee baby toddlers?  These are NOT cool!

toddler mom heart attack zone

So there you have it.  Call me crazy… call me overprotective… call me a helicopter parent… but I think the playground can be a scary place for toddler Mom.

Will this fear stop me from visiting the slides and swings with my fearless tot?  Heck no!  But I’m going to have to strategize a little better when it comes to staying one step ahead of Makenzie.

And as for the saying about a Day at the park… I’m pretty sure this false representation of a relaxing day was created by the same person who coined the phrase sleeping like a baby.  Maybe they should change it to sleeping like a toddler Mom!   Nighty night!



Need some wine after your trip to the playground?  

The bottle is always half full at Mommy McBlog

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Truth be told…

I’m throwing out my “keeping the bottle half full” rule and replacing it with a tall glass of Pinot Honesty.

Truth be told…

Tonight is annoying.  Tonight I am cranky.  Tonight I am NOT a happy camper.  And tonight I have no legitimate reason why.  So I called in the big guns to deal with my medical semi-emergency.

Cue my girl, Doc McStuffins.

The Doc is In!!

Time for my check-up!  She’s gonna check my ears, check my eyes and find out how much I’ve grown.  Sure enough, Doc found some symptoms:  irritability, worried husband who thinks he did something wrong, fatigue, and general urge to run away by myself to Target even if for just 30 minutes.

Doc thought about it and then realized the diagnosis:  A General case of Sick-of-being-an-adult-itis.  Yikes!  This is one for the Big Book of Boo Boos.

According to Doc, Moms occasionally feel burned out after day in and day out of busy schedules, never-ending to do lists, a house that doesn’t clean itself and constant meal planning, baby bag packing, dishwasher emptying, and general need for making decisions.  

Luckily it’s very curable.  The treatment includes: sweat pants, a two-hour liquid diet of Riesling, an early bedtime and a round of take-out the next day to avoid a nasty flare up of ‘what the duck is for dinner tonight-itis’

So on that note, I’m checking out of life and pretending to be my 20-year-old self for just a few hours.  I’m gettin’ ca-razy and I’m going to bed without my shirt ironed, without my K-cup placed strategically next to my to-go cup, without my lunch packed and without a dinner plan for tomorrow.

Will I regret this night of irresponsibility tomorrow at 5:35 am?  You bet!

But by then my nasty 12-hour cranky-mom-atosis will be gone and I’ll return to my regular condition of Incredibly Thankful for all the awesome things we have going on in our world.

Once in awhile, feel free to let your bottle be half empty (especially if it’s your favorite bottle of wine).  It makes you a human.  And even Super Moms need to rest their capes once in a while.



Cranky, Party of one… your early bedtime awaits!

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The Dirty Little Secrets of a Mommy McBlogger

Greetings from Mommy McBlog world!

Now that we’re all done shaking our shamrocks for the year, I wanted to share about a little flashback I had this week.
It all started with a minor mouth surgery on Thursday – overall it was uncomfortable, slightly painful and something I hope to never repeat.   But I had one nasty side effect even the Dr didn’t see coming, and that side effect was a flashback to Junior High.  Yikes!

Join me as we go back 20ish years…  O.J. was getting chased, Nancy Kerrigan was getting clubbed, coffee was being sipped by our Friends at Central Perk, and I was having the same minor mouth surgery that I had last week.  Same experience pretty much –  overall it was uncomfortable, slightly painful and something I hope to never repeat.  But in Junior High having mouth surgery meant something WAY worse than discomfort.  Having mouth surgery in Junior High meant being completely and totally shunned from the Friday night game of Spin the Bottle.  Gasps!  Oh the horror!

Thinking back to these days made me reminisce about all kinds of humiliating experiences and bad decisions that I faced in my youth.  And now that I have millions, thousands, a few blog followers (Hi Mom!) I thought it would be best for me to come clean with the skeletons in my closet before Perez HIlton finds out.  So here goes:

The Dirty Little Secrets of a Mommy McBlogger

I’m a…

  • Spin the Bottle rejectee – Yep, the above story is a true story.
  • Troll collector – Yeah, I know.  Troll collecting is almost worse than saying I did illegal drugs.  It’s creepy and uncomfortable but likely these freaky dolls are a thing of my post.  
    • trolls mommy mcblog


  • Former perm victim – I once rocked the body wave, or should I more appropriately say that the body wave rocked me.  Either way it was awful and I’ll never go back to those dark days of my life.
  • Former Headgear wearer – Speaking of embarrassing situations of my youth, I’m admitting that I wore headgear.  And not just any headgear, I wore the really awful kind that went around my head and left big marks in my hair.  My sister threw magnets at me and hung Christmas ornaments from me during the minimum of 14 hours per day I had to wear it for almost one year.  But it wasn’t all bad because I was allowed to take it off when I saw Boyz II Men in concert.  Score!  Turns out It’s Not so hard to say goodbye to yesterday when yesterday includes trolls and headgear.
This wasn't me but I wore headgear just like this.  Fashion forward bitches!

This isn’t me in the picture but I wore headgear just like this.
Fashion forward bitches!

  • Recovering Late-aholic – The first 20+ years of my life I was late for everything.  But I finally admitted I had a problem, went through the 12 step process to overcome it and I’ve been relatively clean ever since.  I do relapse occasionally but who doesn’t when you have kids?

And lastly…

  • I was a serious late bloomer – I believed in the tooth fairy way too long, I slept with my stuffed animals way too long and I got boobs way too late.  In 8th grade I was actually dubbed the Founder of the Itty Bitty (you-fill-in-the synonym for boob) committee.

There you have it.  I’ve now come clean with my deep dark secrets of youth.  Nothing scandalous really, just some seriously dorky experiences that I now look back on as opportunities to “build character.”  And luckily I’ve been able to gain a little more wisdom, a little more fashion sense and a bra size that doesn’t contain the same acronym as the Automobile Association of America.  Perhaps the reasons we live through the disasters of our youth isn’t so we can get kicked out of the game of Spin the Bottle, but maybe it’s so we can feel more prepared when it’s time for the real game of Life.

And sorry perez Hilton, you’ll have to keep looking if you were hoping to expose an outrageous history of a blogger.


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If I listened to myself…

Tonight I had the opportunity to connect with college kids.  I was supposed to be a “wise adult” and give them post-graduate advice.  Clearly someone made some type of clerical error in allowing me to be a wise adult, but I faked it okay and I even learned something along the way.

While talking to a student about the uncertainty of her life after college, she commented that life works out for the best because she always listens to her inner voice.  Hmm, smart girl but this made me think…

I know that I have a ‘Good Erin’ voice that tries to always steer me in the right direction, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized that I haven’t always listened.

Flashback to high school

‘Good Erin’ voice once said, Hey Erin, maybe a singing role in the school play isn’t really your cup of tea.  

But I didn’t listen.  I sang.  I humiliated myself.  And I allowed my parents to buy the video.  Great.

And just when I thought I buried this skeleton, I started dating Denny and he found the video.  Then he watched the video and he laughed hysterically for hours.  Oops.

video tape

Nile Drama Club presents… A big fat mistake

Flashback to my years at Ohio University

The ‘Good Erin’ voice came with me when I lived in the 45701 and frequently spoke.

Erin, do you really think glitter jeans are cute?…  Hey Erin, do you think it’s smart to steal those police barricades and put them in front of the RA’s door?…  Hey Erin, a beer bong, really?!?   

But just as frequently as the voice spoke, it was ignored.  And in turn, I paid for it dearly through fashion blunders, through getting busted by the RA and through hangovers of epic proportions.  Ugh!

police barracades

Do not cross, especially if you are dressed in sparkly jeans!

Now fast forward ten-ish years to present day

‘Good Erin’ is still alive and well.

Do you really need to eat those chips? Wouldn’t it be a good idea to clean the floor during naptime?….  Shouldn’t you keep on Makenzie’s schedule instead of letting her have a dance party?

Luckily I’m becoming slightly smarter and listening more often.   I guess that’s all part of growing up and being an adult and a Mom.

But I also think it’s okay to sometimes ignore the ‘Good Erin’ and have a little bit of fun.  If I listened to myself all those years ago I would have missed out on some good experiences and some even better laughs.

So when the time comes and I have to be a “Wise Mom” and give Makenzie advice about the next step of her life, I’ll be thankful that I had this practice round tonight.  Now I can tell Kenz to not always listen to ‘Good Makenzie.’  Life’s too short, and I have a feeling she’ll be able to pull off glitter jeans a little bit better than I did.


Do you think you’re a wise adult?  You’re probably not. 

Why not connect with other unwise adults like you on Facebook?

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An (Honest) Mom’s Letter to Santa

Dear Santa,

Hey big guy!  It’s me, Erin.  You’ll be here in a few days and I have yet to send you a letter.  This is partly because I’ve been busy, but more so because I’m afraid I don’t have a spot on the ‘Nice’ list.  Last year at this time I just had a baby and I was full of crazy hormones, but I’m not sure my excuse this year… Sleepless nights?…Working mom craziness?…  Do those count?

The past few weeks paint a pretty vivid snapshot of the year so I’ll be honest and tell you what I’ve been doing (and what I haven’t been doing).


Here goes:

  • Our family went four days in a row without eating vegetables at dinner – Not nice
  • I failed to make our bed… for the past 51 weeks  – Not Nice
  •  Makenzie ate a chicken nugget out of the trash can while I was in charge of her.  – Gross and Very Not Nice
  • I missed my Grandpa’s Birthday – Definitely Not Nice
  • I bought Denny chocolate as stocking stuffers and then ate them all within 2 hours. (Sorry honey) – Slightly Naughty
  • I went through a yellowish light, crap! – Very naughty
  • I snapped at Denny because I was feeling stressed. – Not nice at all.
  • I said curse words when my Roomba stopped working. –  Naughty.
  • I said another curse word when I woke up late. – Naughty, naughty.
  • I said curse words when I went through a yellowish (red) light, but I was not with my daughter if that makes up for it. –  Naughty, naughty, naughty.
  • I forgot to give the cat breakfast. – Meow, not nice.


  • I lied about my weight when signing up for life insurance. – Not nice but who tells the truth anyway?

I think that’s it (oh wait, I have a dentist appointment Monday morning and I’ll likely lie about flossing regularly).


Phew.  Okay, that’s really it.  I’ve officially come clean with my Not Nice-ness.  It’s not  pretty but it’s the truth.  Now, it’s your call as to what list I’m on.  If 2013 is the year I end up on the Naughty List, I can accept it, and I’ll definitely try harder next year.  If I can squeak by on the Nice list, awesome!  And if that’s the case, I would like to request a 12-hour night sleep and perhaps a pedicure.   Otherwise, I’m good to go and I have everything a girl could want.

I’m looking forward to a really fun Christmas!  Thanks for all your hard work and keep me posted on your answer.  I’ll be eagerly waiting and hoping to unwrap a full night’s sleep under the tree.



naughty nice


You’ll be on the Naughty List if you don’t like

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