Tag Archives: Pregnancy

Fifty Shades of Mommy Porn

Standard

While I don’t make a habit of doing book reviews and I’m not sure I could call it that, I couldn’t help jumping on the bandwagon and add a bit of unwanted/unneeded commentary. So if I’ve lapsed a bit in blog writing it’s because I’ve been busy with 2 kids immersed in a bit of mommy porn. I can’t take credit for the name mommy porn either if you haven’t already heard it, that’s actually what someone else called it at work that place I go to avoid my children 2 days a week (hey we all have our escapes so quit judging) and what it’s been called on the internet.

Fifty Shades of Mommy Porn (which might be what it really is), is better known as the Fifty Shades of Grey Trilogy (Fifty Shades of Grey, Fifty Shades Darker, Fifty Shades Freed). Which tracks the relationship? (if you can call it that) of one Anastasia Steele, innocent recent college graduate (but apparently unknowing fan of kinky shit) and Christian Grey (former sadist turned Dominant i.e. I like to control all things sexual and otherwise because I can/need to and to quote the book megalomaniac). The book is considered erotica and I’m beginning to think it may be the new way in which people secretly judge just where you fall on the how comfortable you are with your sexuality spectrum (aka are you secretly into kinky fu*$ery) by how you respond to questions regarding your interest in the books and whether you’ve read them. For example if you’ve read them and found them a sad excuse for erotica, there will be some that think you’re clearly a sadist and their opinion of you will never be the same, perhaps you’re like me though and it has nothing to do with erotica and you just want to send Ms. E.L. James a gift wrapped thesaurus midway through the second book and tell her to find some new words because if you have to read any form of the word beguile again you might pull your hair out and not in a sexual sort of way, but a I can’t stand to f*$king read this anymore unless you find some new verbs, nouns and adjectives.

I will say this, I’ve never been a big fan of the word F%$K and really don’t find its need in society, however after having read these three books, I don’t think the word will ever phase me again. It’s used so often in the books that you could walk up to me and say “I’m off to the grocery store this afternoon, then I’m going home to F*&K the pool boy” and I would be like “Have fun” thinking you had just said something as normal as I’m going to run home and then take the kids to gymnastics. It’s now as innocuous as the word “the” in my everyday language, it has basically no effect on me. We’ll see how long that lasts.

Bottom Line: Read the first book, it’s the best (and perhaps the worst or best in the erotica sense if that’s what your reading them for you dirty reader you) and will tell you whether to keep reading or stop. But ultimately I think everyone can read these and learn a little about themselves while doing it, even if it’s as simple as you don’t like the books. Lastly, while E.L. James is not the new Charlotte Bronte, the books are truly deep down a romance and I for one, am always a sucker for a romance even poorly written and hidden in all kinds of “kinky fuc&ery”.

I give them 2-2.5 out of 4 stars. And highly encourage them to anyone trying to get pregnant right now. =)

 

Some days I just want my boobs back…

Standard
Breastfeeding symbol

Breastfeeding symbol (Photo credit: Topinambour)

Yup I said it. And if you found this post through some search of the word boob and for desires reasons other than reading my whining complaints about breastfeeding, you’re not going to find what you’re looking for here. And if you do, yuck. I have a serious case of formula envy. Who knew there was such a thing, but I’ve got it bad. If you’re thinking it’s because I’m some kind of lush, it has nothing to do with alcohol, and I’m not. In fact, I rarely drink at all or rarely did drink, since I can’t currently and haven’t for YEARS. Though interestingly I can tell you the last drink I had was the last weekend in June of 2009, because I was kinda sorta purposely not drinking that drink because I thought I might be pregnant but hadn’t had time to take the test yet and I didn’t want to raise any red flags by saying no to having a drink during girls weekend (Don’t get me started on how I haven’t had a girls weekend since). Then I was pregnant, and breastfeeding and then when I stopped breastfeeding it was only because I was pregnant again and my milk supply gave out. So now its been almost 3 years since I’ve had a drink, really at this point why go back. Ummm because I still crave a glass of white wine, man if I crave it and don’t even drink that much I can’t imagine what it must be like for those that do. But enough on that tangent, this post is not about alcohol, it’s about my boobs and how I want them back. This is strange since I generally don’t even really like them, they’re kinda on the smallish side when not breastfeeding and nothing overly spectacular, in my opinion. At this point though they simply represent a certain freedom, one that I greatly long for.

There are so many wonderful things about breastfeeding, briefly to name a few, protection against diseases, enormous nutritional benefits, cost savings (hey formulas expensive), special bonding, possibly reduces your risk of certain cancers, etc. etc. Heck looking at it that way it’s practically life saving. What all the brochures don’t tell you is that sometimes it downright SUCKS, no pun intended. You either have to be near your baby on a pretty stinking regular basis or pump regularly enough to maintain some sort of supply of milk for any occasions away from your little bambino. Really, anyone who thinks pumping is convenient, clearly doesn’t do it or not often enough, because I find little joy into having to attach plastic suction cups to the ladies while this annoying humming machine makes weird sounds while it tries to extract milk from my body. At no point in my life did I expect to have something in common with a cow. So now I have formula envy, because it would be so nice to hand Pippa off to her grandparents or a babysitter and get away for a day or a night and not have to worry about having enough milk for her or having to find somewhere to pump and store the milk. But I’m trapped by this tiny little person who makes my heart sing and who I adore but just can’t get away from for quite long enough. So while I in no way would change my choice and don’t get me wrong it even saddens me a little she will be six (6) months old this week and starting on other types of nourishment, I just wish that those breastfeeding pamphlets would be a little more honest with people, maybe I’ll start writing my own…

 

Breastfeeding; Why it Pays to be a Cow!

or

Think Menstruation Cramps are Bad try Mastitis

or

Engorgement? It’s not for the faint at heart!!!

 

I think I should keep my day job…