Things I’ve Learned Since Becoming a Mom

Joys of Josie, Mom Life / Wednesday, March 7th, 2018

People often ask me how old my daughter is and somewhere between months 13 and 21 I’ve lost track of how to count how long she’s been alive. She’s about 22 months now.

I’m utter shit at counting and math in general. Probz a large reason why I do hair and nails… there’s minimal math.

When Rory starts school, I will be complete aces when she has essays to write and is required to decipher the meaning behind a Shakespeare sonnet. But unless I want to relive the horrors of algebra and pre-cal… we are going let dad handle helping with the math homework.


At some point, it finally donned on me that WOW I’VE BEEN A MOM FOR ALMOST TWO YEARS.

Now, Rory is sweet and smart and a goof ball but seriously… let’s give someone else a round of applause… someone who has somehow managed to keep a child alive and well for almost two years.

Yes, yes, me.

And my husband because yes, he helped. But he doesn’t have a blog so I’m taking the applause. Thank you.

Being a mom has not been easy for me. Not to say it hasn’t been enjoyable, because it certainly is enjoyable quite often… but there are also times that I realize the whole “mom” gig is actually challenging AF.

Things I’ve Learned Since Becoming a Mom

Everyone has advice on how to parent correctly.

People love to give advice. It’s like in our DNA or something.

Some like to shove it down your throat while others like to offer it gracefully. It honestly gets annoying listening to all the advice people throw at you especially when they boast how they’ve raised three kids and they turned out just fine.

Yeah, well Judy, it’s not nineteen-fucking-seventy-five anymore.

Granted, you will probably have to listen to people judge your parenting skills while simultaneously giving you advice.

You only breast-fed for a month? You need to breast feed at least until your baby is 5 years old.

Something I learned: it’s easier to just smile and nod when people are on their advice-giving soap box. Sometimes, I don’t even listen… just smile… and nod.

And when people judge my parenting skills, I just tell them we do what works for us.

Lolz, ok… just once I told a guy in Hobby Lobby to mind his own f**king business.

When I do have a question or need some guidance, I will ask a trusted source like a pediatrician or a knowledgeable friend.

Self-care is essential.

Josie Short is a selfish person. I seriously doubt anyone in this world is going to tell you any different… including Josie, herself.

When first becoming a mom, I was absolutely terrified of losing myself in the midst of raising a baby. I actually like who I am and I feared becoming known only as Josie Short: Rory’s mom.

I wanted to be Josie Short: hairstylist, nail tech, quirky blogger, coffee addict, bookworm, wife to Evan AND mom to Rory.

Is this selfish? Yeah, probably.

Do I care? No. It’s who I am and I’ve stopped trying to change who I am long ago.

In my two years of being a mom, I’ve realized that it’s very important to include self-care as a part of my regular lifestyle.

There are some moms out there that can settle with being able to shower and pee with the door shut and say yes, this is fab self-care.

Not I. Kudos to you, though…if that’s you.

Self-care to me is everything that keeps me feeling like “me”.

Working out, reading a book, going on a shopping trip by myself (probs to a bookstore), getting a pedicure, treating myself to coffee at a cafe, dinner and drinks with girlfriends, movie date with the husband: these are all items I try to regularly incorporate in my life.

No, I can’t justify an evening pedicure, movie night, solo shopping trip, and drinks with the girls all in one week but I try to do something for myself each week.

Self-care = happy Josie.

Happy Josie = better mom to Rory.

It’s not rocket science, but it works.

It takes a village.

People will offer to help. If you’re like me, you will spend a long time turning down help and then suddenly realize, why not just accept some help?

Sometimes, I even had a hard time accepting help from my husband.



Like no… this wasn’t an immaculate conception. He helped bring this child into the world.

Why am I having a hard time saying sure honey, it will help me immensely if you drop Rory off in the morning?

I wouldn’t exactly say it was a bitter pill to swallow when I realized I can’t do this alone. More like a blow to my pride. As an independent woman, I am so used to doing things on my own and not needing help.

But when it comes to a baby… accepting help is absolutely crucial to my sanity.

When people offer to watch your kid, why not take advantage? My boss will frequently ask me to keep Rory for an evening and (as long as we don’t have prior plans) I’m like sweet Jesus yes, thank you, you’re my hero, can I pay you?

Sometimes you just have to laugh.

I’ve never been someone who is super serious. As in when I accidentally make a fool of myself, I will laugh just as much as everyone else. Sometimes more.

For me, parenting is no different. I have known long before even becoming a mom that I wanted to be an easygoing mom… one that didn’t take parenting too seriously.

When Rory found a box of condoms and decided to wear the perforated strip of ten as a necklace… instead of getting upset, it was better to just laugh, take a picture and plan to embarrass her when she’s older.

Mom life will present you with lots of embarrassing or frustrating situations and I’ve learned that if I can simply laugh them off it makes for a better time.

Being a mom is confusing.

Nearly every damn night, my child wears me out. Like I’ve played the guessing game to figure out what she wants to eat. I’ve bargained with her to eat her food or take her medicine or pick up her toys. My face is permanently red from getting frustrated telling her to stop torturing the dogs.

Sweet Jesus. I. Cannot. Wait. Til. You. Go. To. Bed.

And then, she goes to bed. And what do I do? I FREAKING MISS HER.

Evan and I talk frequently about how we need a date night and need time to be just us two. Well, we schedule it, and go on the date and spend probably 98.3% of the time talking about Rory… about the funny thing she did today, or our plans for her future or just how fucking cute she is.

The other 1.7% of the time is spent by me explaining how something reminds me of a Gilmore Girls episode.


Hope you’ve enjoyed.

Thanks for reading, friend.

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