Because you can’t talk about motherhood without including a “poop” story… my lovely friend, Norine, over at Science of Parenthood, offered to share this hilarious tale of a near poop disaster. Enjoy!


When will your kid poop … or pee for that matter? Well, it sure as hell won’t be the 10 times you ask if he has to use the potty. A child will always wait till the least convenient moment. And then he’ll have to go immediately.

My son was 3 when we were flying home to Orlando after my cousin’s wedding in Denver. My husband had had to work, so it was just the two of us, knocking around the Denver airport waiting to board our flight.

“Do you have to go potty?” I’d asked when we got to the airport.

He shook his head vehemently. “No.”

“Do you have to go potty?” I’d asked before we went through security.


“Do you have to go potty?” I’d asked when we got to our gate.


“Do you have to go potty?” I’d asked as they started boarding our flight.



And so we settled into our seats in the bulkhead and fastened our seat belts. My son busied himself looking out the window at the planes maneuvering around the gates. I opened a New York magazine, I’d been looking forward to reading. (When your kid’s a toddler, how often do you get time to read something other than a board book?) I bared noticed when we pushed back from the gate and began rolling toward the runway. And then …


“Hmmm,” I murmured, absently.

“Mommy! …” he said, a bit more insistently.

“Yes?” I said, without looking up from the page.


“What???” I turned to look at him.

“I need to go potty.”

“Now?!? Why didn’t you go when I asked you to?”

“I didn’t have to go before. I have to go now.”

Of course, he did. I looked around helplessly. I didn’t know what to do, what I could do. So I rang the Call button.

A flight attendant appeared almost instantly. “What can I do for you?”

“My son needs to go potty,” I explained. “Can we just pop into the bathroom, like super fast?”

She shook her head. “We’re next in line for takeoff,” she said. (Of course we were!) “Can he hold it?”

I certainly hoped so. I had no extra clothes in my bag, and the thought of spending the four-hour flight with a stinky, wet, cold, whining child wasn’t a happy one.

I have to say the next 25 minutes were among the tensest in my life as I parried my son’s repeated potty pleas with Not yet, Soon, In a few minutes and the increasingly desperate, Almost, baby. Just hold it a little bit longer.

As soon as I felt the plane level off, I rang the Call button again.

“Can I take him now?” I begged the flight attendant. “Please!”

“The seatbelt sign is lit, so I can’t tell you that you can get up,” she said.

“Are you gonna stand in my way?”

“Nope,” she said with a smile, moving aside so I could scoop my boy out of his seat and into the lavatory.

A few minutes later, we slid back into our seats, one dry, not poopy boy and one very relieved mom.

As we buckled our seat belts again, the flight attendant reappeared. “I thought you could use this,” she said with infinite kindness. Then she placed a cup of ice and a bottle of Stoli on my tray table.


If you loved this story, you need to hurry on over to Amazon to purchase the SOP book immediately!


Norine Dworkin-McDaniel is co-author with illustrator Jessica Ziegler of Science of Parenthood: Thoroughly Unscientific Explanations for Utterly Baffling Parenting Situations released in November by She Writes Press. It’s available on Amazon and wherever books are sold. Follow Norine and Jessica on their blog, Facebook, Twitter and Instagram. Is Science of Parenthood coming to your town? Check out our tour schedule. Want Science of Parenthood to come to your town? Message us!

**BIG GIVEAWAY** Tis’ the season of thanks and giving back!

The lovely people at Chicco reached out to me in August and asked if I’d be interested in trying their new Stack Chair, which is a 3-in-1 chair that grows with your child. I was immediately excited and accepted the generous offer. IMG_3586

Their new campaign is all about celebrating a child’s firsts. A child’s firsts are always special – from their first full night’s sleep to their first steps. As the official sponsor of firsts, one area of firsts they’re celebrating at Chicco are first foods! From the first solid to the first time he or she uses a spoon to the first birthday cake, food milestones are a big part of every child’s life.

So in honor of celebrating #FirstFood moments and Chicco’s new Stack Chair, a new 3-in-1 Multi-Chair that grows with your child from a traditional highchair to a booster and then a stool, they also offered to sponsor a giveaway!

They want this chair to be there as babies try their first foods until the first time they help set the table. It’s a great product for parents who don’t want to buy a new highchair every couple years, and it has premium features including a padded, 3-position reclining seat, convenient tray that snaps on with one hand and much more.

I’ve used mine for over a month now and love it. It’s a space saver, which is important to me too. It’s sleek and has a fun colorful design. We are going to transition my son into the booster seat in the next month and he’ll be thrilled to sit at the “big boy” table with this brother.


Here is a demo:


To enter the giveaway: 

  • comment “enter” below with your name
  • **Please feel free to enter someone you know that may need it and does not have the financial means to buy their own**
  • Along with your name, type in the hashtag #FirstFood
  • If you share this post on social media you’ll get additional entrees.

*Winner will be announced Friday, November 20.

Good luck!

Remember when Halloween used to be fun? It was an innocent holiday when kids dressed up as ghost and goblins and Disney characters as they ran the streets in search of the best candy. It was a night once shared with friends to go on hayrides or scream your way through haunted houses. We used to all met at someone’s house to watch horror movies and sip on hot cider. My how things have changed. Halloween is now all about the parties, boozing, and who can find the raunchiest costumes.

Over the last decade we’ve had a paradigm shift in Halloween attire from spooky to straight skanky. Its become impossible to celebrate the holiday without being ambushed by boobs and booties everywhere. I, for one, am so over it. I no longer have the desire to accept party invites, and I avoid bars like the plague on Halloween. The last thing I want to do is be surrounded by borderline naked chicks all night.

I used to love Halloween. It was my favorite holiday. And I get it – Halloween is the one-day of the year we can pretend to be someone else. Yes, it’s fun to dress up, paint our faces, and have friends and strangers rate our ensembles. But, Halloween shouldn’t be a free pass for every girl on the planet to throw on fishnets, hooker heels, a bra, and some ears and call herself a cat. Cats don’t even wear fishnets. In fact, cats are probably embarrassed by your half-assed attempt to look like them. They look majestic – you just look tragic. I don’t need to look like a stuffed sausage with my cleavage touching my chin to get noticed, nor do I want to. Unless you’re headed to the Red Light District there’s no need to go to this extreme.


I can’t quite grasp how someone can proudly announce they’re a “peanut” by sporting a yellow bodysuit that was once intended for a toddler and some thigh-highs. That’s not sexy. No one thinks peanuts are sexy. Plus, a lot of people are allergic to you. Not cool. Another costume I’ve seen is a sexy bee. Again, bees aren’t sexy. They sting you and their buzzing sound is completely annoying. Witches, corn, crayons, Olaf, and tacos are not sexy either. Stop making everything sexy when it’s not. What is the point anyway? Are you trying to land a man? Let me help you out. Gentlemen, are these really the women you want to take home to mom and dad? Women who wear onesies? Case in point.


People argue that if you have the body for it, you should flaunt it. Fine, flaunt away. But not by only wearing duck tape and a hardhat and saying you’re a construction worker. On any other day, you’d get arrested for indecent exposure. There needs to be some boundaries because it’s getting worse every year. This trend isn’t just with the 20-something year olds either. It’s whittled its way down to the tween crowd and all the way up to the mom crowd. I just don’t feel comfortable with my lady parts being on full display, especially when there are young girls who look up to us. Plus, if I want to get drunk and dress like a porn star, I’d prefer to keep that in the bedroom for my man – not when I’m trick-or-treating with my toddlers or out celebrating with friends.

Should you wear a white sheet, cut out two holes, and call yourself a ghost? No, but creativity doesn’t have to mean slutty. There are millions of other options. Too much sexy is actually not sexy at all. Do you want to know what is sexy? Leaving some things to the imagination. You can be sexy and classy at the same time I promise. So ladies – let’s clean it up. Agree?




8 Things I Actually Miss About Being Pregnant

Originally featured on Scary Mommy

I can hear the gasps now! Wait, what? Who misses being pregnant? All you do is pee yourself, waddle like a duck, gain more weight than you’d like to admit, and complain to your partner nonstop! So let me clarify: I don’t miss pregnancy in a let me go and get knocked up kind of way, but more in a I only miss it now because I don’t have to go through the experience again kind of way.

Since my husband and I have officially nixed any further family expansion plans, I thought I would relish the few fond memories I do have of my last two, brutal, pregnancies.

Besides the obvious (you get a cute little baby at the end) here are some benefits to being pregnant:

1. You can let it all hang out. This by far was the best perk of being pregnant. After many dinners that included seconds and dessert, I didn’t have to worry about sucking my belly in. I could just let it flop down between my legs and no one would guess that the bump was actually the consequence of my shameful indulgences. People look at your belly in awe because you are creating a little life in there, versus whispering to their friends that you may need to lay off the burritos for awhile.


2. You have a free pass to sleep all the time. I love naps, but I always feel guilty taking them. I feel like that is time I could be spending with my family or being productive, but when I was pregnant, I slept all the time without the guilt! In fact, if anything or anyone came in between my day sleeping and me – there was hell to pay!

3. You have a “Get Out of Jail Free” card. I used this card often when helping with chores, driving, avoiding social events I was too tired for, and even tying my own shoes. It was glorious!

4. You can eat guilt free. Even though I’m typically a healthy eater, I allowed myself some gelato more times than I’d like to admit. You’re eating for two, right? Even though that second person is the size of a lemon, they need just as much gelato as you do. Plus, every bite was worth it.

5. You feel the baby move first. There is something very special about being the only one to share that experience with your baby. You fall in love with your baby first. They fall in love with you first – and that’s some magical shit.

6. You can pamper yourself more often. I had prenatal massages once or twice a month just so I could move, but those two hours were heaven on earth. I also had several pedicures a month. I loved convincing my husband to rub my feet, and he fell for it every time! I just might have to fake an injury or something so I can justify putting this pampering back into my monthly rotation.

7. You have thick gorgeous hair. Your hair looks like you walked out of a salon every day! The shine, the texture, the fullness – where did it go? This last time I lost a lot of hair post-partum. I’m regretting complaining about that lustrous hair now.

8. You have a leg up on any situation. Anytime someone complained about petty shit, you could always say, “I’m creating a life! What are you doing today?” Take that, people who always think they have it so rough!

For all the women who float through pregnancy with ease and love every minute of it, I envy you and almost don’t believe you. Pregnancy was one of the most emotional, and physically draining, things I’ve ever been through, but was absolutely worth it – even if it was just for the guilt-free gelato (and the cute little baby)!


You know those days when you wake up, the sun is shining, the birds are singing, and you feel like there’s nothing that could happen to ruin your perfect day? Then Murphy’s Law kicks in and turns that day into a living nightmare. As parents, we should know the possibility of something going wrong multiplies when certain components are involved. These certain components, in my case, are almost always my older, low-spirited, 6 year-old son and my 10 month-old, high-spirited son.

Recently, I woke up to what seemed to be a perfect morning and rewarded myself with a cup of strong hot coffee, which can usually get me through a full day. On this day, my husband, sons and I were supposed to go to a wedding of some close family friends. I was thrilled – finally a chance to indulge in myself a bit. I was going to see a hairdresser, have a manicure and pedicure, and play dress up. This  was a pretty nice change, if you ask me, as the only dress up I have done lately is changing from one pair of sweatpants to another. My hubby was rocking a black suit and the boys were looking spectacular in their tiny suits with matching bowties. We looked like one of those families from commercials – ready to conquer the world and looking mighty fine! Later I would realize that the only thing that’s going to get conquered  – was my dignity.

Once we arrived, the church was already set up and looked like something out of a fairytale. Flowers poured over the aisles, candles lit the room to the perfect glow, and the decor looked like it was dripping with diamonds. Everything was so beautiful and romantic, so I already had anxiety that my boys would do something to destroy it. We quickly grabbed as seat as the churched was packed with quests and the ceremony was about to start.

PicMonkey Collage

As one would guess, weddings aren’t the most entertaining of events when it comes to a 6 year-old, so he decided it is the perfect moment for a nap and became a wet noodle draped over us. And naturally, since he wanted to nap my other son wanted to stir up some trouble. Although he is only 10 months old, he is an expert crawler. As the ceremony continued, it was becoming more and more difficult to contain my little guy. He was desperate to hit the ground….crawling. I figured I’d put him down just for a second, because how far can he really get in this crowed church? But, it quickly became apparent that he wanted to be the first to congratulate the newlyweds so he rushed across the church floor, scooting his little body towards them. In seconds – he was at the alter. Just as I turned beet red and was prepared to profusely apologize for my baby taking the limelight at their wedding, the crowd  burst into laughter. Thank goodness the rest of the people found it to be amusing and not a big issue. Me, on the other hand, I wanted to go hide in the bathroom.

Fortunately, the rest of the wedding reception went smoothly without anymore incidents. I guess the phrase ‘boys will be boys’ is still an acceptable excuse.

The Catch-22 of Kindergarten

Here I am. Here we are. Your first day of kindergarten is tomorrow. I spent all summer telling myself I couldn’t wait for this day so you would have more to do, and I would have an easier schedule to fit chores, work, and even some play in. As much as I’d like to celebrate and relish in all the free time I’ll now have since my little baby, wait, I mean my big boy, is headed to kindergarten – I’m more so feeling empty inside with a tinge of guilt.

Did I spend as much time as I wanted to with him?

Did I savor all the precious moments?

Will I regret wishing some of the days away?

Where did the time go?

Maybe I’m not ready to send him off into the world – just yet. 

It seems not too long ago, I was looking into his eyes for the first time and stroking his baby soft skin making a promise that I’d always take care of him, and love him unconditionally. I was wearing him on my body and singing him lullabies as he stared up at me in awe. I was laughing uncontrollably at his baby-giggles, and helping him up each time he fell when learning to walk. It feels like just yesterday I cheered him on when he made his first pee-pee in the potty, and every night we cuddled as we read Goodnight Moon together. Now, here I am setting his clothes out, packing his lunch, and preparing him for our first day of kindergarten. Has it really been five years? How did this happen, already?


He attended pre-K last year, so why is this year so difficult for me? Why is this incredible milestone hitting me like a ton of bricks? Maybe because kindergarten is not a choice, it’s mandatory. Maybe it’s the realization I have to share him now, and my influence will soon be one of many. Or, maybe my heart is hurting because I can recall, from my own childhood, that kindergarten is really when your memories start to include more friends, teachers and coaches, when up until now – I was the center of his universe.

baby s

On one hand, I want to be excited for my son. I want him tackle obstacles on his own. I want him to learn from others what I’m unable to teach him. I want him to be independent and have life experiences that don’t always include me – I really do. But on the other hand, I want him to need me forever. I want to keep him in this perpetual state of innocence. I want that look of pride to remain on his face when he hands me a picture he made me – just a little bit longer. I’m not ready to share him. I’m not ready to let him go. I don’t I think I’ll ever be.

We spend our entire childhoods in what seems like an eternity, only to grow older and now find ourselves frantically searching for the brakes. As mothers, we try to savor every beautiful moment of parenting, but too often we get lost in the daily grind. Inevitably, time slips through our fingertips. So tonight on the eve of kindergarten, I will watch my baby sleep just one last time, for tomorrow he will awaken as a big boy. I’ll hold onto this moment for as long as I can and take solace in knowing we made it to this point together. I’ll stare at his perfect little face, hold his chubby little fingers, and remain lying next to him until time forces me against my will – to let go.


Embracing The “Suck” of Motherhood

Sometimes you just have to let go.

Sometimes you have to change your expectations and attitude.

Sometimes you have to embrace the suck.

Welcome to motherhood. Where the rules are often made up, life changes on a dime, and the particulars no longer matter.

Like that one time I spent 4 months getting up every 45 minutes to nurse because that’s what my baby now wanted and became so sleep deprived – I was literally walking into walls.

Or that one period when my baby’s first three teeth came came in all at once. (What a nightmare!) Tylenol, teething tablets, and frozen bananas didn’t even come close to calming him and there’s nothing worse than watching your child wail in pain – and you can’t do anything about it.

photo credit:

photo credit:

Each and every period of difficulty seems to be never ending. Sometimes I cry buckets of tears, I yell at myself and my baby in intervals, and even yell at God. Why was this happening? Why couldn’t He just give me a break? Is this really too much to ask?

And then the answer came: “Just let it go. It doesn’t matter, anyway. Just let it go.”

“Screw You! I’m so tired, I can’t do this, I can’t just let it go! How am I supposed to just ‘let go’ of not sleeping? I won’t accept it, I will make this kid sleep!”

“If you say so. Then when you’re ready, let go.”

Weeks and months went by of battling what couldn’t be battled, attempting to force something to my will. This was mine and my husband’s son, I should have known better. All in vain, all futile.

One night after another hour long put down/cry/pick-up/rock/put down/repeat cycle, I simply said to him “Ok, I’ll stay with you, you sleep with me tonight. Let me know when you’re ready.”  That’s when the magic happened. I finally embraced the suck, I accepted that I was not in control, and I started to let go of the anger, the frusteration, the helplessness. And things started to turn around, not all at once, but they started.

Our kids are their own person. We’ve become so used to them being our babies while in our womb, we forget they have their own thoughts, feelings, and ideas of how they need to do things. They’re not little adults, they will have plenty of time to get used to doing what other people want and demand of them, so let them be a kid now. As adults we are used to feeling like we have to be in control all the time, and for a tiny little being to render us so completely out of our element, can really stretch a person – and bring up all kinds of emotions. Some of these emotions are negative and may even originate from our own childhoods. Trying not to yell at them the way you were yelled at. Trying to make sure they feel respected, while reminding them YOU are the one in charge. It’s exhausting, draining, and frusterating.

Then, right when you are about to lose it, you somehow manage to realize –  it just doesn’t matter.  Can our little ones irritate us to the point of checking ourselves in for a psych evaluation? Perhaps. Will it always be like this? No, and when it changes – it’s pure magic.

So you shed some tears, that’s normal. Sometimes you’re shaking in anger, or exhausted in defeat. All normal.

Next time you’re feeling this way, open your eyes wider to see that perfect smile and those beautiful little eyes looking at you with pure unconditional love.

Then you can embrace the suck.

And you let it go.

And it is beautiful.​

Book Review: Wake-Up Call

Since becoming a professional writer three years ago I’ve had the pleasure of meeting so many talented people in the profession. Not only have they supported me and given me invaluable advice, but they’ve trusted me to review their work.

A few months ago, Amy Avanzino  sent me an advanced copy of her book, Wake-Up Call, and asked for my feedback on the book.

First, I love to read so I was thrilled to accept her offer – and second, I love a great story! As a 20-something who was on the fast track in corporate America and thought I had my whole life planned out, this story really spoke to me. I laughed through every page, I never wanted to put it down. It was hilarious! I even shed a few tears, which makes for a complete story.

Wake Up

Wake-Up Call is a tale of a woman, Sarah Winslow, who wakes up with a terrible hangover…and a kid in her boyfriend’s bed. She makes the horrifying discovery that, due to a head injury, it’s not a hangover. She’s got memory loss. Overnight, five years have disappeared, and she’s no longer the hard-living, fast-track, ad executive party girl she thinks she is. Now, she’s the unemployed, pudgy, married, stay-at-home-mom of three kids under five, including twins.

As she slowly pieces together the mystery of how her dreams and aspirations could have disintegrated so completely in five short years, she finds herself utterly failing to manage this life she can’t imagine choosing. When Sarah meets the man of her dreams, she realizes she’s got to make a choice: Does she follow her bliss and “do-over” her life? Or does the Sarah she’s forgotten hold the answers to how she got here…and how she can stay?

Wake-Up Call is available on Amazon on September 1. If you’re looking for a new read, this is your go-to.



About the Author:


Amy Avanzino received a Bachelor’s degree from UC Berkeley and a Master’s from the University of Washington.  She is a former advertising executive, who has spent the last several years writing, while doing extensive hands-on research for her WAKE-UP series.  She’s a contributing writer of Hap Scotch, a play performed at the 2008 Frigid Festival in New York, which won two Audience Choice Awards.

Amy currently lives in the stands above the football fields, basketball courts, and baseball diamonds around Folsom, California, with her husband and four children.

Ten Things MIL’s Do To Piss Us Off

Excited to bring you my first collaboration piece with the very talented and hilarious, Sara Sadik! We pulled together universal complaints about MIL’s and wanted to share them with you. Enjoy!

Mother-in-law’s, whether you have a great one or not, we can all agree that once grandchildren come along – the dynamic quickly changes. MIL’s somehow emerge as expert parenting know-it-alls and you become the clueless, incompetent mother. There’s an unspoken rule with moms that is somehow lost in the MIL – DIL translation and that is – when someone insults our parenting skills or our kids – we lose our sh*t. Period. No one is more defensive than a mom, and mother-in-law’s should know this. In fact, they tell us about their wicked MIL’s, yet turnaround and pull the same shenanigans on us.

I have to admit, I personally lucked out in the MIL department. My MIL tends to make suggestions verses just ramming her unsolicited advice down my throat, and she knows when I’ve hit my I can’t take this shit anymore limit, at which point she’ll offer me a cocktail as a truce – so I really can’t complain. We actually get along great, probably because we’re both a little crazy. The first time I met her she showed me a picture of herself giving birth to my now husband, and then commented on what big cajones he had as a baby. She was proud of her boy. True story. I died. Love her.

Most everyone else Sara and I know though, would move thousands of miles away just to escape their MIL’s if they could.

Clearly our mother-in-law’s raised great kids or we wouldn’t have fallen in love with their precious boys. Some of their actions prove their hearts are in the right place, and even some of their advice maybe valuable, but most of the BS – we could live without.

We are, however, convinced all MIL’s do and say things just to piss us off, and here’s ten examples Sara and I came up with to prove it:

  • They buy the loudest, most obnoxious, battery-sucking toys they can find that take weeks to put all the million pieces together, only to have our kids play with them for a few days – and then move on. We don’t want that shit, nor do we have space for it!


  • They do the complete opposite of what we ask them to do. If we ask them not to give our kids too much sugar, they take them out for the largest ice cream brownie fudge sundae known to man right before dinner. Awesome, thanks jerks.
  • They tell our kids they can’t do something because “Mommy said no” to make us look like the assholes.
  • They finish every sentence with, “Well I raised three kids and they turned out fine.” We know that, and we are trying to do the same with our own kids.
  • They comment on your appearance. Non-stop. And never in a flattering way. “Yes, perhaps I should get a nose job but…hey, maybe I’ll get a discount when you go in for your liposuction procedure?”
  • They are always shouting. On the phone, in the car, over Skype. We effing hear you! This is cute the first time – not the 50th. Stop yelling.
  • They question everything you do with your child. “Why daycare?” Or “Why not daycare?” Or they tell you what your child likes. I know what they like, I’m with them everyday! I’m not an absent mother.
  • They buy the most horrendous outfits and expect you to dress your child in them. My advice?  Put them in the hideous puke-colored dress and snap a few pictures each with a different scenery so it looks like you actually let your child be seen in it.


  • They are fixated on your weight. Both, pre-baby and post-baby. The obsession with your weight is only because, “she loves you,” or so your brainwashed husband likes to tell you. And then the fixation starts to include the baby. “She needs to eat more, she’s too skinny.” “What are you feeding her?” Ugh.
  • They spoil your kids rotten, break all the rules, and then send them back to you to deal with the consequences – while evil-laughing inside. Payback is a bitch, they say. We deserve it, they say.

There are few things that quickly bond women together – talk of work, marriage, the weather, and what brand of jeans makes your ass look best. But absolutely nothing bonds two women together like bitching about their MIL’s – then deciding whose is worse.

Let’s all make a promise now that we won’t be like this and if we do, we give our future daughter-in-law’s the permission to punch us in the face.

Hitchhiker’s Guide to Parenthood Injuries

Any mommy with a little one big enough to roll over has dealt with childhood injuries (if you haven’t, then start spilling those secrets you’ve been keeping). If your children are anything like mine, then even a minor injury, think scrape or bump with no physical symptoms, can provide a freak out typically reserved for the loss of a limb. As your parenting expertise grows you’re able to judge your child’s cry to injury ratio.  Then you’ll find yourself following a blood curdling scream from across the playground with a confident, haphazard rendition of, “Shake it off, Shake it off!”

But what do we do when we, the all knowing grown ups, get an owie? And I don’t mean the “stub your toe and mutter choice words under your breath” variety of owie. I’m speaking of the type of injury that involves blood gushing and a trip to the ER. How are we suppose to react when we get back home and our kids baulk at the sight of us, because Mommy is wearing a cast to protect her broken nose while her eyes continue to darken?

I was faced with this situation recently. I had an accident on Fourth of July that did not, I repeat did NOT, involve a firework, but rather running on slick, wet surfaces and meeting the sidewalk up close and personal. The shock of an injury like that doesn’t allow a mommy to keep a reassuring smile on her face while hurriedly being whisked to the doctor. In fact, an injury like that doesn’t allow for a smile at all. Instead it was met with tears and blood and ice and other grown ups rushing around frantically (I assume, because I was a bit more focused on my broken face than what the other adults were actually doing). Luckily, my kiddos didn’t actually witness me plummeting towards the ground, but they did know things were serious. Even when kids aren’t given a straight forward explanation, they know when things are bad. They can smell our stress and fear.


I ended up needing surgery to correct my broken nose and upper jaw. My black and blue, swollen face was covered in a cast and I spoke with a lisp following the procedure. All I wanted in my post- anesthesia trance was the comfort of snuggling my littles, because sometimes mommies need feel-better snuggles too. We decided against the kids visiting right aways as we didn’t want them to be scared seeing me wrapped up like a mummy. When they finally did visit, the response wasn’t as welcoming as I had hoped.

If you’re ever in this situation, try not to take offense to their reactions as it’s a very natural response for them to either be scared, or be disgusted by the very sight of you. Instead, try some of these tips to ease you and your family’s experience:

  • Don’t crumble to pieces. It probably isn’t the best idea to start crying hysterically while grabbing for them asking why they no longer love you. To them you look like a scary villain straight out of a horror flick. They are trying to manage their emotions, too. It can only make things worse if you pressure them into being near you and your busted, scary face.
  • Reassure. While you weren’t able to give the reassuring smile directly following your trauma, now is the perfect time. Try not to lie to them by saying you aren’t hurting. Children know better (remember they can smell your fear and stress). Instead, give them a bit of truth (appropriate for their age, of course). An example could be “Mommy sure does have a big owie, but I’ll be playing again in no time!” 
  • Get them involved. My littles LOVE to help. My youngest wants to be a doctor so she pulled out all her play things and I allowed her to give me a check up. Obviously, her assessment was given on a part of my body far far away from my actual injury. She gave me a shot, a princess band-aid, and told me I would be okay! My oldest, who is more perceptive, was legitimately allowed to help. He brought me extra pillows, ice packs and even brought me water so I could take my medicine. Both situations allowed the kids to not only see me, but gave them a purpose in helping their mommy get well. Win-win.
  • Let them watch cartoons. For a couple days after surgery, I just wanted sleep. The mix of pain meds, stress, and my body trying to heal made me a zombie. So, with other fully-functioning adults in the area, I allowed them up in the bed, with a milkshake to match mine (because after facial and dental surgery what else is there to eat), and we binged watched cartoons. They were able to be close to me (and me to them), get a little treat, (which makes everything better), and I was able to take a nap surrounded by my children’s love and giggles.


Eventually, I started feeling better and my little ones came around more often. My doctor-to-be toddler gave me follow ups, and my oldest got tired of his duties I gave him (“Jeeze mom how many pillows do you really need?!”). Despite still wearing a cast and getting strange looks out in public, life is getting back to normal.

My advice when you go through a traumatic experience in front of your children is to allow them to approach you in their own time. Don’t push them or yourself, that only worsens the situation. And lastly, don’t do a face plant on the concrete if you can help it. Obviously.