I get much of my blogging inspiration from life experiences, other moms, or US Weekly. I can thank US Weekly & my obsession with bloated-for-the-1st-time celeb moms for my latest. The hidden secret, or maybe not so hidden secret, in the mommy world, is the debate over having or not having an epidural during labor. As I've discovered in my short 1 year of being a mother, moms can be each others strongest allies or harshest critics, and it pretty much starts from day 1 of conception. "I didn't use drugs" or "Pain free PLEASE!" becomes as hot a topic as Republican or Democrat. Who knew that someone's medical decisions could create such a firestorm of opinion and finger pointing? I don't judge when someone has a tooth pulled with or without novocane, yet I too have jumped on the mommy crazytrain, voicing my many thoughts on why drugs are the right way to go. I'm not Barbara Walters & I don't work for the View, so why I feel my opinion matters is beyond me, but it's topic all moms seem to feel strongly about.

So why the debate over something so insignificant in the grand scheme of things? US Weekly featured a 2 page spread in their latest July issue on the many celebs that went au naturelle.  Lets take Giselle, for instance. She said childbirth was a zen experience, like doing yoga. To that, I say, up yours. I had a baby, with drugs, & it was exciting, and scary, and certainly hurt much like attempting yoga, but I would not say it was zen. Good for you, Giselle, for feeling no pain, but 95% of women would probably compare childbirth to someone pulling out their liver with pliers. You probably also don't eat, we all know you don't smile & you most likely never poop or sweat either. AND since you don't have cellulite, I've decided you're not really human & therefore, I can't take your opinion seriously and neither should the rest of America.

Do you see what anger this whole epidural thing brings out in a person? If you want to feel every ache & pain during labor, good for you. If you want to be drugged up and feel almost nothing, good for you too. In the end,  all Joe and I wanted was a healthy baby (coming out of my end) and that's all other moms should want for each other as well. If you want to dress your baby boy in pink, have at it. If you want to drink wine every day while prego, it's all you. My opinion and anyone else's opinion certainly should not matter cause 1. It's your body & 2. It's your baby. And who knows, maybe you'll go drug free, and it will be as zen for you as it was for Giselle. Either way, all moms are so fortunate in this country to have a choice during labor to do whatever they want, and that's what we should be celebrating.

Moral of my story...it doesn't make you weak to have an epidural, and it doesn't make you crazy to not have one. Either way, we'll all be sitting on ice packs together post-labor anyways, so who really cares. Happy contractions to you all (except you, Giselle & your perfect non-contracting uterus)!




I used to be fun. I realized this at a recent work convention for my highly mom-focused company. As is typical of many sales conferences, the company usually brings in a few random speakers that always cover off on the following topics: 1. selling more, 2. why that speaker has been awesome in their career & you haven't, and 3. why you are crazy & it's holding you back. The "crazy" speaker really hit a nerve & brought out this deep, dark secret of mine, that, surprise! I used to be fun. I shared this finding with the room of 150+ moms. They responded in laughter & then proceeded to try and get me drunk all night. No fun Karyn should have kept her "I can't hold my liquor anymore" mouth shut.

When I say I used to be fun, I mean, I used to be the life of the party, but I was fun because I wanted to be, not because it was expected. I just loved being crazy because in my daily life, I was perfect, an A student, always had my act together, paid my bills on time, totally boring stuff. But when I could let loose, I went nuts, and I really enjoyed it. I was "dance-on-tables" fun. I was "pull-your-shirt-up-over-your-head" fun (yes, mom, I was at least wearing a bra & yes, mom, I did apologize to God for my actions).

Now, I've become "you-dance-on-the-tables-&-I'll-pick-up-the-beer-cans-under-you" fun. I blame this on many things. 1. I officially became an adult (aka: bought a house, had a child, live in the burbs) and 2. Quality beauty sleep sooooo outweighs 15 glasses of wine & staying out until 2:00 in the morning. I also blame this on the fact that I had 4 months straight of morning / afternoon / evening sickness when I was pregnant, so I'd rather jump in a pile of poop than be hungover.

Please don't think that my fun only came cause I was a lush. When sober, I was way more carefree, didn't stress out if groceries needed to be bought or there was laundry to fold. I bought myself nice things, I took the time to relax, and worried so much less, hence, the lack of gray hair some 3 years ago. Why can't I, as Julia Roberts so eloquently put it, "Fly by the seat of my pants, ya know, moment to moment" (I can quote Pretty Woman / a prostitute but can't remember what I did yesterday. I may need to rethink things)? Ohhhhhhhhhhh, that's right, I pushed a baby out of my vagina, gained fat in places I didn't know existed, & now, all of the energy I used to put towards being fun goes towards feeding, loving & diapering this amazing new person in my life. It's all starting to make sense.

I guess I need to realize that fun comes in many shapes and sizes. My new fun might not be a 3 hour bike ride around Manhattan or a day at a Yankee's game, but it doesn't mean I can't have fun rolling outside in the grass with Isabel, singing "I'm a Little Teapot" as she's eating dinner or chasing her around the house till her giggles turn into hiccups. And ya know what, she thinks I'm lots of fun, so that has to count for something! I do need to take more time to smell the roses instead of the poppy diapers, but what mom doesn't. There's always going to be a push & shove between the old "fun" me and the "new" fun me and hopefully, one day, those worlds will collide once more. I only have 17 more years to really have fun with my daughter, so I better enjoy it while it lasts (and I can always look back at the pics of when I danced on tables, right?). 

The old, fun me (Yes, I am a Candy Cane and yes, that is a piece of bacon drinking a beer in the background)!

The new, fun me!


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