Trump: A Woman’s Prespective 

I am not a Donald Trump supporter. With the being said, I am not a total HRC supporter either. But, this is a rant about Donald Trump. 


As a woman (and also as a human being with general decency and morals and thought process) I am enraged almost 100% of the time when I hear anything about Trump. 
There seems to be an underlying theme of asshattery that the Donald just oozes with every word, every exchange, every mention, every everything he is involved with. 

As a woman, as a mother, I am simply terrified of the prospect of a man like Donald Trump being president of these United States. To make things worse, Captian Discrimination Mike Pence being his running mate. *cringe* 

The fact that it is 2016 and there is talk of reversing Roe v Wade. What the funk is that !? As such a modern and progressive society we try to be HOW IN THE WORLD IS THERE STILL TALK ABOUT REVERSING WOMENS RIGHTS TO THEIR BODIES !? 


As a mother, I want my daughter to have every option open in regards to her body. I would not let an old man (who hasn’t been to medical school), who is (or even is not) a career politician, to make decisions for my daughter in general everyday life in areas where he is not qualified. SO WHY IN THE WORLD WOULD I AGREE WITH ANY PERSON WHO WANTS TO MAKE A DECISION ABOUT MY DAUGHTERS BODY !? 

FUN FACT: IN BRITIAN, A “TRUMP” IS SLANG FOR A FART. 

Aside from the Roe v Wade issue, Donald Trump has proven himself to be a sexist, misogynistic douche bag. 

We’re all familiar with the most recent bit of cringe worthy bull shit that was released. “Grab her right by the pussy.” 

My god. 

*deep breath* 

A presidential candidate who believes that his status gives him the right to sexually assault women *married women in this case* is not a president make. Is not a man make. Is not a person make. He is a predator. He is a monster. 

Donald Trump called his own daughter, Ivanka, a piece of ass. 

Let me say that again. 

CALLED HIS DAUGHTER A PIECE OF ASS. 

HIS. DAUGHTER. 

Donald Trump has said he walked into the Miss America pageant rooms while the women were changing “because I owned the place, I could do that.” He could look at the undressed bodies of women, who did not consent to having him in the room, because he owned the building. 

Interesting. The CEO of the hospital I work at has never walked into the women’s bathrooms or changing rooms because he was the CEO. Maybe he’s just a prude ? Oh, wait no. HES JUST NOT A SEXUAL PREDATOR LIKE DONALD TRUMP IS. 

He calls women pigs, bitches, whores, stupid, makes jokes about being on their period, insinuates that his fans should kill HRC using their “second amendment rights, maybe one of you will take care of it.” 

As a person who has common decency, I don’t understand how anyone could support this monster of a man. 

Racist, sexist, homophobic, islamophobic,   xenophobic, transphobic, misogynistic pig. 

I don’t understand how women, minorities, people of color, people of various sexual orientations could support someone who has little to no regard for them. How little self respect do you have to have to support such a terrible person ? 

I find it interesting how Trump says he “loves beauty” and is “drawn to beauty like a magnet,” yet he is a raging sexual predator. A raging sexist. A disrespectful pig. 


I don’t even like calling him a pig, because I love pigs. Pigs are cute and nice and have curly little tales. Pigs have also been found to have the intelligence of a third grade child– which is more than we can say for Donald Fart. 

For a full list of all the smut that has come out of this mans mouth click here
Rant over. 

Em

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Where’d My Baby Go ? 

Last night, I was laying in bed with Nola, like I do every night. And I found myself staring at her for a really long time. She wasn’t the 7 lbs little baby i brought home almost ten months ago, anymore. She’s almost one. She’s basically a toddler. 

When did she get so big ? 

I feel like so much of the beginning of her life was spent in a sleepless, sore, crying-filled haze that all blends together when I try to look back at it now. I feel like I didn’t absorb as much of her little baby days as I should have. 

But, honestly how could I do more than I did ? There wasn’t a single moment I spent apart from her. There wasn’t a second that she wasn’t in my arms, on my boob, or in the same room with me. She sleeps in my bed. She takes a bath when I shower. She comes to work with me. Not a moment apart. Yet, it still feels like there are memories that I’m missing. 

Maybe it’s because, for almost three weeks, feeding her would cause me massive amounts of physical pain. 

Maybe it’s because I was (and still am) the only one getting up with her every night, every single time she would wake up. Sometimes, I would get two hours of sleep MAX. 

Who knows. 

I looked over at her and realized my baby wasn’t such a baby anymore. 

She waves “hello” and “goodbye.” She says “mama” when she wants me to hold her. She feeds herself. She is so smart and strong. 

As I’m wirting this, she’s sitting in the middle of the floor, analyzing her toy box. She isn’t looking to me to be held or coddled. She doesn’t want attention. She’s being independent. 

I’m so proud of her. I’m so proud that she is the way she is. So smart, silly, always learning, always curious, always looking for something to investigate and get into. 

In such a short time, she’s evolved into a small person. She’s not the little baby who sleeps on and off all day. She interacts and plays. 

I suppose there wasn’t too much for me to remember when it comes to her little days. Lots of sleeping. Lots of eating. Lots of people telling me she shouldn’t sleep in bed with me. All that jazz. And I remember that, and honestly that’s all there was to it. Mostly. 

Now is when the memories start to become more substantial. Crawling, talking, big girl food, walking.

I was there when she first crawled. When she first babbled. When she first sat up. When she first age big girl food. The first time she went in the snow. The first time she went to the park. The first time she pulled herself up. Her first teeth popping up. Her first smile and laughs. 

I was there for all of that. And they’re such beautiful memories. I’m so thankful to have them. 

While she is transitioning from a baby to a toddler, I’m excited to embrace all of the new things that are in store for her. Walking, talking, reading, writing, friendships. There is so much life for her to live and it’s only barley started. 

The memories are just beginning. The future is exciting. 
-Em

WTF, Body ?

Do you ever have one of those mornings when you wake up and it’s like you woke up in someone else’s body ? 

This morning I woke up and something was wrong with every region of my body. Let’s work from the head, down. 

My hair was an absolute disaster. Even after straightening it after my shower last night. 

  
My face looked like I just hit puberty for a second time. Seriously, what the hell is going on. I have red splotches on the corners of my mouth, not cold sores or anything like that, just red dots. Cool. Bumps all over my face. Super cool. 

  
My nose piercing is infected. That hasn’t happened for almost two years. I have no idea what happened. And there’s a zit right at the front on my nostril. 

  
Attractive shit is happening. 

Then, aunt flow came to visit. Always a fun time. Probably explains why my face looks like a bomb just went off. 

  
My back feels like I slept in a pyramid  made of concrete. Am I 86 or….. ? 

 

 
Above is an actual picture of me. 

Giant bruise on my leg. Where did that come from ? Who knows. 

It’s just one of those days when I woke up and it already wasn’t a good day. I’d like to go home, take a hot shower and sleep for 18 hours. But, seeing as I have an 8 month old to tend to, I’ll probably go home, take a quick warmish shower and sleep for about 5 hours. 

I’ll take what I can get. 

-Em

Things I Don’t Care About

  • Sandra Bland. Oh my god don’t even get me started. 
  • Anything someone who doesn’t believe in vaccinations has to say in regards to anything. 
  • The Kardashians- in any aspect. 
  • Bill Cosby. 
  • The Bachelor and anyone who participates. 
  • Kiwis. The balls of the fruit world. 
  • Your truck/car and/or any modification(s) you’ve had done 
  • Relationships. Not a care in the world.
  • The weather in the south. Or any other location, for that matter. I don’t live there so don’t talk to me about it. 
  • Matching my socks. 
  • Matching my babies socks. 
  • Huggies vs. Pampers vs. Luvs. Honestly, they’re all gonna hold baby pee and poop. 
  • The drugs that you’ve done/how much you can drink. Shut up. 
  • How you only got 7 hours of sleep last night. Because I got less. 
  • Pretty Little Liars. Omfg I cannot with that show. 
  • Béyonce 

-Em

Baby Talk

Today, as Nola was playing with her toys, something happened. Normally, when I put her down, she holds up her arms and cries to be picked up. But, today when I set her down, she didn’t cry, she didn’t look up at me or watch me walk away; she looked at her toys and decided to play with those instead. 

One thousand and one times I have put her down and gotten irritated that she immediately wanted to be picked up. I just needed two minutes to go to the bathroom, make food, rest my arm. Just a moment for myself where I didn’t have a 17 pound baby attached to my hip. A second where my glasses weren’t getting smudged by wet baby fingers, my hair wasn’t being pulled, my face wasn’t getting gnawed and sucked on. Just. One. Second. 

Then, today, I put her down- very well expecting her to cry and put her arms out to be picked up. But she didn’t. She didn’t cry or fuss or stiffen her legs so I couldn’t sit her down. She looked at her toys and decided to play with them. 

At first I thought “yes. Thank you goddess.” But, then I was sad. Why wasn’t my baby reaching for me like she always does ? Why did she pick her toys over wanting to be held ? 

In that moment I realized how big she really is. I recognized that she is on the cusp of so many big things. She’s almost mobile, so she won’t soley rely on me to get around. She’s eating more and more solid food, and our breastfeeding journey is getting shorter and shorter everyday. 

I look at her and see that, yes she’s still a baby, but she’s not the little tiny thing I brought home, what seems like, yesterday. She entertains herself and communicates. She interacts and explores. She laughs and babbles and smiles and growls and yells. She smiles and wiggles with happiness when she sees her aunties and nana and papa. She squeals with glee when I walk into the room. And it melts my heart.

And it makes me think. One day, she won’t be happy to see me. One day, she is going to be a teenager-and lets be honest, teenagers are awful. One day, she won’t want to cuddle with me and she won’t let me kiss her a million times a day. 

It feels like 7 months have sped past at super sonic speed and I haven’t had a chance to savor any of the moments. I realize now that, when she lays on my chest, she is a little heavy and a little longer than I remember. When she nurses, her little legs don’t stop at my tummy anymore; now then wrap around to past my hips and her little hands reach up and grab my face. 

As excited as I am for the future-for preschool and art projects and Halloween costumes and dance recitals and little pig tails and the first days of school-I already miss my little baby. 

I intend to savor every moment, because it truly has gone by much, much too fast.

-Em

Are We Nearing The End ?: A List

Of breastfeeding, that is. 

I set my breastfeeding goal at one year. That seemed totally doable and even a little short, so maybe 15 months. I was gung-ho to do this and nothing was going to stop me. 

 
 
I preach about breastfeeding all the time. On all of my social media, you will find pro-breastfeeding videos, articles, memes, facts & figures, I’ve got it all. I have been vocal about wanting to become a lactation consultant, about offering help to any young mom who needs breastfeeding advice/help. I am the biggest supporter of breastfeeding I know. If I have any other children, I will, without hesitation, breastfeed the for another years time. I am a passionate breastfeeding supporter, public breastfeeder, future LC, exclusive breastfeeding mama who has not (and will not) given my baby a single drop of formula. So, I don’t feel guilty when I say that I will be happy to cut the breastfeeding cord at one years time. 

I was so excited to breastfeed when I was pregnant. I was so passionate and so sure that I was going to do it. 

And I did it ! I was so proud of myself, because I know a lot of mommies who couldn’t, even if they really, really wanted to. Even if the first month was painful, due to an improper latch, it was still amazing. 

So, here we are, month seven. Seven months of providing food, nourishment, bonding, and skin-to-skin love for my baby. And I couldn’t be more ready for one year to come around. 

And it’s not because I don’t love breastfeeding anymore, it’s not because my supply is dropping or because I don’t love my baby. It’s for entirely selfish reasons. It’s because I would like to have my body back. 

  
The list is as follows:

  1. Night time feedings. I am so ready for Nola to stop waking up every 2-3 hours to eat. Sure, I just lay on my side and she eats and falls asleep, but I haven’t had a full nights sleep in over a year and I would really like to sleep. 
  2. Human pacifier. Nola has decided that she likes using me as a pacifier, rather than a normal pacifier. I can’t blame her; it’s what makes her most comfortable and happy, so I don’t deny her. But, at some point things get sensitive and a little painful. 
  3. Teething. I don’t care that I’m nursing a baby with teeth, I really don’t. I would have nursed her if she was born with a full set of teeth: it doesn’t bother me. BUT. That doesn’t mean I like being bit and nipped. I know she’ll learn not to do it, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less now.   
  4. Healthy supply backfire. If Nola does sleep more than 2-3 hours a time at night, I wake up with rocks for boobs. I’m engorged and it HURTS. She loves it, of course, because she gets a big meal. I, on the other hand, am not such a fan. But, it’s kind of a dick move to complain about having a good, strong milk supply. Whatever, my reasons don’t have to make sense to you. 
  5. I GET TO WEAR WHATEVER THE HELL I WANT !!! Goodbye to wearing a nursing tank everyday. Goodbye to trying to dress it up with a cardigan or not caring enough and wearing a stupid hoodie. I have a WHOLE wardrobe, but you wouldn’t know that since I only wear the same 5 nursing tanks. The day I pack those away will be the happiest day of my life-post Nola. 
  6. I can wear a normal bra !!! Nursing bras are a joke, I hardly ever wear them because I hate them so much: I just wear the nursing tanks, which aren’t that much better. They have the worst support ever and they’re so uncomfortable. Those will be in the box with the nursing tanks. 
  7. I’ll be able to have a drink–or a few. I have a glass of wine every now and then, nothing more than that. I feel guilty every time I have to push a feeding back because I had more than one glass. And don’t misunderstand this: I don’t want to stop nursing so I can get drunk DONT GET IT TWISTED. I will be 21 and I want to be able to indulge without having to feel guilty about it.
  8. As much coffee as I fricken want. PRAISE THE CAFFINE GODS !
  9. Weight. I’ve struggled to lose this baby weight. I started losing some when I transitioned into veganism, but it’s since tapered off. I’m now stuck at this weight. It’s less weight, but it’s not where I want to be. Part of it is my hypothyroidism, but most of it is because breastfeeding makes me a ravenous monster who eats everything. I’d love to be hungry less, eat less, and eat less frequently without potentially compromising my supply. 
  10. Nola and I will be able to bond in new, different want. Introducing her to real big girl foods-not just baby food. Teaching her to love whole, healthy foods, raising her to appreciate fresh fruits and veggies. Teaching her about the right and wrong things to eat, and about animals being our friends. 

Five more months is a long time to soak in the love. I will love every remaining second of our breastfeeding journey, but I will also love it when my body becomes my own again.

Feed on, mamas. 

-Em 

Treat Yo Self

It goes without saying that spending habits and financial responsibility change when you become responsible for another human being. I can certinally say that my spending habits have changed, and not in my favor. 

I’ve become much more responsible with my money since becoming pregnant and having a baby. I still spend money, but it’s spent on two things: baby related items (diapers, toys, pacifiers, diaper genie bags, etc…) and gas. Occasionally, I’ll buy some Chapstick or if I’m feeling bold, I’ll buy some coffee. 

My clothes hardly fit; they’re too big or still too small. So, even though I’d like to buy some jeans, some new shirts and maybe a new jacket, I can’t because that’s money that needs to be spent on the baby. That’s money that needs to be saved to go back to school. That money has a purpose, and it’s not to make me look better.

HOWEVER ! 

Today, I treated myself. 

 Before I got pregnant, I loved makeup. I REALLY loved it. And I was actually really good at it. But, with pregnancy comes laziness and with a child comes the lack of time to do hair and make up. So, I settle for foundation and mascara most days. But, I miss the days of actually looking good, so I went to Sephora to regain my face and maybe a little more confidence. 

        

The Kat Von D blush in mauve, the Sade and light contour pallet, a contour brush, and a shimmer highlight. 

Treat yo self. 

-Em