Gracias, Jo

Sí, es feo robar, pero cuando otro lo dijo antes y mucho mejor, ¿para qué esforzarme tanto? Esto es lo que me está pasando estos días, todos los días. Geno te quiero tanto...

My kind of thing

Me duele la panza y no puedo parar de llorar. Antes de que se crean que pasó algo malo, les aclaro que es por la risa. Y quiero compartir esto con alguien pero no se me ocurre quién podría compartir este sentido del humor. Les juro, nunca jamás me reí tanto con un post, y hacía mucho que no me reía así siquiera en la vida real. Son los posibles títulos, enviados por lectoras del blog Mommy Shorts, para la biografía de una madre. Javi se asustó de verme reir de esa forma. Capaz ando medio desequilibrada, no sé.

24 Hilarious Momoir Titles: Reader Edition

"It Gets Easier"
& Other Lies Parents Tell You
By Lisa

Give Me The iPad & Get Out of The Dog Crate:
Toddler Rearing at Its Finest
By Arielle

Where's My F*cking Village?!:
Raising Kids Away From Extended Family
By Ashley

One Red Sock Will Turn the Whole Load Pink
By Mary

Oh, Dear God, It's Everywhere! 
The Blow-outs You Never Saw Coming
By Felicia

I Only Had Time to Shave One Armpit
By Michelle

Thanks for the Mammaries:
A Postbreastfeeding Mother's Reflections on her Journey from B's to the High of D's, all the way Back Down to Tennis-ball-in-tubesock A's
By Kande

Why Some Animals Eat Their Young
& Other Things Motherhood Has Taught Me
By Amy

Is it Bedtime Yet?
(It's 8 O'Clock Somewhere)
By Leah

Please Stop Poking Me With That:
Seriously. Why is someone ALWAYS touching me?
By Amanda

Joining the PTA:
Evening Escape Plans to Avoid Bedtime Bedlam
By Heather

Preschool, Pinterest, and Prozac 
(Not Necessarily in that Order)
By Stephanie 

Wipe Me
By Mel

"Stop Putting Stickers on Your Vagina":
& Other Things I Never Expected to Say Out Loud
By Jaclyn

Adult Conversation:
Because I Haven't had Any in Three Years
By Asia

Starch:The Only Food Group
By Katie

No Amount of Bleach Will Ever Get Rid of that Pee Smell: 
Things No One Tells You About Raising Boys
By Terra

Finger Through the Wet Wipe
By Kerry

"Where is the Damn Tupperware Lid?"
& Other Life Altering Questions
By Brit 

Sometimes I Hide in My Car
By Oluwatosin 

Don't Sit on the Bottom of the Slide:
Rules for Life
By Alicia

"I Would Never Do That To My Kid":
All the Crap I Said When I was Stupid, Self-righteous and Sans-children
By Messy

No, We Are Not F*#@%ing There Yet!
By Suzy

Duct Tape & Tequila: Mommy's Little Helpers
By Michelle 

Viene, como dije, de Mommy Shorts; acá el link al post. 

Estas cosas no dan

Pero lo voy a hacer igual.  Porque esto debería ir en marcadores, en Pinterest a lo sumo, o impreso y guardado en alguna carpetita amorosamente decorada, pero nada de eso hará que algún día lo relea, así que mejor me lo dejo acá. Fue sacado de acá, y es una wish list, como me gustan a mí, pero con respecto a la persona que quiero que me hijo sea. Me identifiqué tanto, y estoy tan segura de que jamás podría escribirlo tan bien, que acá va:

I hope I raise a child who says “thank you” to the bus driver when he gets off the bus, “please” to the waiter taking his order at the restaurant, and holds the elevator doors when someone’s rushing to get in.

I hope I raise a child who loses graciously and wins without bragging. I hope he learns that disappointments are fleeting and so are triumphs, and if he comes home at night to people who love him, neither one matter. Nobody is keeping score, except sometimes on Facebook.

I hope I raise a child who is kind to old people.

I hope I raise a child who realizes that life is unfair: Some people are born rich or gorgeous. Some people really are handed things that they don’t deserve. Some people luck into jobs or wealth that they don’t earn. Tough.

I hope I raise a child who gets what he wants just often enough to keep him optimistic but not enough to make him spoiled.

I hope I raise a child who knows that he’s loved and special but that he’s not the center of the universe and never, ever will be.

I hope I raise a child who will stick up for a kid who’s being bullied on the playground. I also hope I raise a child who, if he’s the one being bullied, fights back. Hard. Oh, and if he’s the bully? I hope he realizes that his mother, who once wore brown plastic glasses and read the phonebook on the school bus, will cause him more pain than a bully ever could.

I hope I raise a child who relishes life’s tiny pleasures—whether it’s a piece of music, or the color of a gorgeous flower, or Chinese takeout on a rainy Sunday night.

I hope I raise a child who is open-minded and curious about the world without being reckless.

I hope I raise a child who doesn’t need to affirm his self-worth through bigotry, snobbery, materialism, or violence.

I hope I raise a child who likes to read.

I hope I raise a child who is courageous when sick and grateful when healthy.

I hope I raise a child who begins and ends all relationships straightforwardly and honorably.

I hope I raise a child who can spot superficiality and artifice from a mile away and spends his time with people and things that feel authentic to him.

I hope I raise a child who makes quality friends and keeps them.

I hope I raise a child who realizes that his parents are flawed but loves them anyway.