Saturday, February 27, 2010

One of those days

The other day at my "keep my crazy in check" Doctor's appointment, I silently promised to myself that no matter WHAT, I was not going to cry. I was going to swallow back whatever "crazy" was lurking in the back of my throat, and calmly speak about it, without any form of wailing.

And because my life seriously NEVER goes as planned, my babysitter decided to get  pig flu and did not want to accidentally lick my child. (She does that on occasion.) So Allie had to come with.  And of course it was pouring, and of course she had not napped, and of course I forgot her bottle. Just call me, Mother of the Year.
Perhaps it was out of pure selfish reasons, but I decided that day we were going to give the hospital day care a shot. After signing her in, and slowly backing away, I was feeling incredibly proud of myself. I had conquered the leaving her with strangers fear.
I made my way up to the waiting room, paid for my visit, tinkered on my crackberry for minute and grabbed a magazine. Just as I was about to sigh with a moment of relief, I am greeted with my wailing daughter, who seriously looked like one of those children who gets left behind in a store and couldn't find their mom.

I mean, she was hiccup sobbing. (drama queen). I glanced at the other people in the waiting room, who seemed to be shooting death glares in my direction. It totally did not help that the lady kept saying "I told you we would find her! Here is your Mom, we FOUND HER!"

Wait a second.

As if, I lost her.

Holy Mary Mother of GOD, these people in the waiting room.....they think I lost her. Like, I sat her down in the PARKING LOT and WALKED AWAY. And...AND I AM CLEARLY IN THIS WAITING ROOM FOR THERAPY.


Then, just to smear some chocolate shit covered icing on the proverbial cake that is my life. She asked me to see an ID, in order to claim my child. In front of everyone.  Which, I guess I should be happy about. But at that point in the story, I was sweating, and red faced, and ready to start explaining.

And right after that, as soon as the door closed behind me, before I even sat on the couch.

I burst into tears.

Friday, February 26, 2010

Allie and Aiden are 10 days apart

Aiden's Mom and I have been friends since the sixth grade

And even though they are getting older...

We will always remember them this way.

Do you ever get the feeling like you are being watched?

 Especially when your daughter sees absolutely every object as a phone, and thus must hold it up to her ear and nod her head back and forth, all the while lowering her tiny voice to an almost guttural growl, barking out orders as if she is the CEO of a World Dominating Corporation?

And I really have to ask, after she sits there for a minute gabbing away, Is that suppose to be me?


Thursday, February 25, 2010

Why this blog is called Random Thoughts....

If I told you I was sore it would be a horrific understatement.  And, yeah, I used the word horrific. Jackie Warner can kiss the very whitest part of my ass. That total body workout, was literally a total body workout. For example: You worked on your shoulders, your triceps, biceps, lats, front of your legs, back of your legs, upper abs, lower abs, and obliques....I half expected us to start working out our eye lids. And because I was all cocky yesterday, gloating that I can easily run 8 miles, with minimal soreness, I woke up this morning, unable to stand comfortably without feeling as if the muscles in my back were going to break. Or perhaps they were already broken. I cant really be sure.
I honestly have not been this sore, since I ran fifteen miles. There is a part of me that is psyched that I actually worked muscles that have not yet been worked, but there is another part that would love to be able to hold my daughter longer then five seconds without my arms shaking. Yes. Its that bad.
Damn you lactic acid.

I took some Aleve, like the elderly woman that I strive to be, and will do some light yoga this morning to try and move around all that soreness.
I would also like to point out that it is almost March, as in, its almost Allessandra's birthday, and its almost time for me to pack up all my shit and MOVE to Georgia.

I stood in my bedroom yesterday, just taking in the chaos that is  my closet. Thinking that in four weeks I have to figure out what goes and what gets tossed in the trash donated. I think the reality of you are not going on vacation came spilling in waves over my head yesterday, as I realized that this time, my brother's ashes are coming with me, along with the stuff that belonged to him.  How am I even to explain that? "Oh, all this stuff?" "This stuff is just the crap that belonged to my brother, I can't part with it, cause I need his down vest, under shirts, sweaters, and tie."  "I also need absolutely every stuffed animal that he EVER gave to me as a child."
I feel pathetic. Because not taking all that crap, is totally non negotiable. I wonder if there will ever be a day when I can let go of it.

Wow. This post just took a turn down a very sad depressing highway. One that I am sure NO ONE wants to adopt.

OK people, if there is any preggo chick out there reading this and you are a size 4 and want a BOX full of LOFT maternity clothes, for pretty cheap, (I am willing to throw in a cat or two free of charge) you can leave me a comment and I will post pics of everything.
I am thinking of selling my wedding that tacky? Or does someone want it?

She is not for sale today. Although, Monday.....

Wednesday, February 24, 2010

The Break up

Jackie Warner kicked my ass.

No, seriously.

Yesterday, I decided that me and Denise Austin needed to take a break, in a very, its not me, its you, type scenario. Her pep and excitement totally did not match my total dislike of what I was doing. (usually squats, I f ing HATE squats). It actually got to the point where I fantasized about grabbing a fist full of her blond slinky hair and punching her directly in the teeth. I figured, since it got to that point, perhaps it was just time to move on.

I started  perusing the fitness TV on the On Demand section of my TV- and low and behold there was Jackie Warner, my favorite Bravo TV star. Which, by the way has not been on in a long time, what is up with that?
Anyways, she works out with all the trainers from her show, and it is an intense workout. I did the "core" section yesterday, and definitely thought I broke a rib.
However, this morning, (because I have abs of steel) I am not even sore. Which means, that Jackie is taunting me to to try her "full body workout" and see how long it takes for me to need a full body cast.

I do miss the days when working out was just a tad more convenient.  Hell, even when she was a newborn I could toss her into the sling and walk away on the treadmill, but now, now she is not a fan of me trying to strap her into anything.
My goal for these next two weeks is to go off sugar junk candy, and Oreos. Specifically.

I feel so much better when I am not ingesting that crap, and when I am paying more attention to what I am eating. I am still sticking to my points for WW. But while technically 24 Oreos is still my allotted 24 points I get for the day, its not, exactly healthy. (No, people, I do not sit here and eat 24 cookies, I am just making a point).

Yesterday was Day ONE of going off junk, and I have to say, not only was it easier then I thought, I totally had WAY more energy for my run, and did not want to nap at 3PM.

This morning I mixed a little bit of 1% milk with a bowl of oatmeal, I expected to be hungry after, but so far it has filled me up. The Oatmeal by itself (instant kind) is about 2 points, with the milk I suppose it comes out to be about 5 points, which is a pretty decent breakfast.

After the child goes down for a nap, me and Jackie have a date, and then I am teaching a yoga it should be a pretty decent exercise day.

Happy Wednesday!


Tuesday, February 23, 2010


Seeing my nephew is always a little difficult, being that he is the spitting image of my brother. I think sometimes I forget just how much they look and act alike.

I was taken the first time Allie and Dylan met, at how they were instantly connected to one another. There was no awkwardness, no tears, Dylan pulled her onto his lap and laid his head on her head.

Yesterday I kept having this feeling like I was talking to my brother in little boy form. There were things I noticed, that no one else would. Dylan stands the same way his Dad did, with his hands in his pockets partially slouching forward. They both smile the same way.  Smiling, while trying not to smile, which ends up looking ridiculous, but to me, totally endearing.

My brother and I were so close at this age, that after I saw this picture I seriously teared up.

How can you look at this picture and not want to squeeze them both?

Monday, February 22, 2010

Road Trip

I am writing about this right now, because tomorrow I am planning on hiding under a bunch of covers with a box of chocolates, and a bottle of ice cold wine.

I am only kidding.  But its where I will be in my mind, and therefor I will be staying as far away from the computer as possible.

If I were to tell you that today was a "good" day, It would be a bold face lie. There were parts that were good. I would say, from about 8:15AM to about 3:00PM, from 3ish to about ten minutes ago, I was standing by the pearly gates of hell, begging Satan to just LET ME DIE PLEASE , and Satan was all, fuck no, that baby is crying too damn loud!

She cried screamed as if someone was shoving bamboo shoots down her finger nails, for TWO. HOURS. There were pauses of gagging, and a few moments of silence when she was gasping for her next lung full of air.
And, I literally began praying to God, that I did not ram my car into any car that decided to go 65 MPH in the left lane. At one point, I noticed that I was easily doing 90 and actually hoping that I would get pulled over, so I could offer up my child as some sort of collateral. At the very least, I thought, I would get a "warning" because the Police officer's face would begin to melt off from the screeching that was coming from the back seat. So either way, I drove real real fast. (Sorry Mom for the F word and driving fast, and for calling you and letting her scream into your answering machine).

When I arrived home, I passed the child into Josh's arms. Sobbed quietly for a few minutes in the bathroom, drank a glass of wine and buried myself in a bathtub full of bubbles.

It is safe to say, tomorrow I am staying in.


It is amazing to me that no one really talks about Postpartum depression. Sometimes when I begin to explain to someone about my experience, they get all uncomfortable and shifty eyed. They say things that I am sure are meant to be reassuring, such as, "Oh you wont need to be on medication for forever." Or, "Oh that's just baby blues, you will kick that."

In the beginning I believed these affirmations. I stuffed them in a backpack along with the deaths in my family and my uncontrollable need to be not be depressed. I kept pushing down all those feelings, and that backpack just kept getting heavier and heavier. It wasn't until I was absolutely paralyzed by my anxiety, that I realized that, if I didn't get help I would not going to see Allessandra grow up.  Which was a thought that hopped on through my brain, two seconds before I dialed my mother's number.

Because, today, three months into my treatment I am so full of hope and motivation, I wonder why I fought so desperately to get help.  Especially when perusing through other mommy blogs and finding that so MANY other moms are going through the EXACT same thing I went through.

Let me leave you with this little nugget of information. I was talking to my Gram over the weekend and was slightly hesitant to share with her what was going on with me. I suppose I should have known better, since she had four kids and once told me that had to step away from my uncle because she wanted to shake him till he stopped crying.  Anyways, I told her I was taking medication for my PPD and she shared with me that one time after she had one of my uncles, she was so over come with this feeling that she needed to remove all the knives in her kitchen, because she was afraid she was going to hurt the baby. So she packed up all the sharp object in her kitchen, and hightailed it to her mother's. She was curious if that was a symptom of PPD, or at the very least, was that what I was feeling?
Thankfully, No. But close.
My Grandmother is eighty-nine years old, for her to share this was me, truly was an eye opener.
Mothers, myself included, are always quick to reassure everyone that NO we would NEVER EVER harm our children, we fiercely stand by our anti-Andrea Yates mentality...but at least for me, in the back of my head, the fear was always there.

I guess I am just happy that I am feeling better.

I am off to the Cape today to visit my momma.

Happy Monday!

Sunday, February 21, 2010

Morning rant

1. If my child is practically breaking her hand waving to you and whispering "Hi, Hi, Hi", and you choose to ignore her, then I reserve the right to punch you in the back of the head. Shes a person. A very tiny person, yes I realize that, but if she is waving to you, and making an effort...suck it up and just friggen wave.

Just cause you chose not to have children, does not give you the right to be a jerk. Would it seriously kill you to just throw her a bone and acknowledge her? I promise that just by saying hi, I wont make you change her, nor will I push her into your arms and bolt. Seriously people. Stop being rude. And sticking with that subject on to number 2.

2. If you cannot tell what gender my child is, even if she is clad in butterflies tiny pink hearts, glitter and tiny sparkling vaginas, the default gender should not be male. I understand that mistaking a boy for a girl is just plain horrific, but look here people, mistaking a girl for a boy is just as insulting. If you don't know don't assume. I always appreciate the dumb ass routine of, "And what is YOUR name?"  To which I reply, "Oh this is my beautiful daughter, Allessandra, just like the VICTORIA SECRET MODEL, although my HUSBAND PROMISES THAT"S NOT WHY WE NAMED HER THAT!"

3. To my loving awesome husband. Giving our daughter a cereal bar, putting a dirty dress over her head and forgetting to button it up, not putting any leggings, socks or shoes on her, is NOT getting her ready for the day.
Also, letting her dump out her crackers and eat them off the floor, is actually going against what I am trying to TEACH HER.

Thank you.

Saturday, February 20, 2010

Whole Wheat Pancakes

What you need:
3/4 C Flour
3/4 C whole wheat flour
3 Tablespoons sugar
1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon of salt
1 1/2 Milk (or buttermilk)                  
1 tablespoon canola oil
1 large egg
1 large egg white
Cooking spray

3/4 cup maple syrup
3 tablespoons butter

  ( WW points 7 for 2 pancakes (includes the butter and syrup)

Combine all the dry ingredients
Then combine all wet ingredients in a separate bowl
Add the wet ingredients to the dry ingredients and mix with a whisk
Heat a non stick skillet over medium heat and toss those bad boys on there
This, actually did not work for me. In fact I got a goopy mess because the heat is actually in the CENTER of the pan. So I gave these to Allie, she enjoyed them.
Its Halloween all year round in my house.

My Breakfast....YUM. Check out my fantastic receipe holder thing my mom got me for Christmas. Its  
splash proff !

Friday, February 19, 2010

This is the best I could do....she walks now

Hi, my name is you want to be my friend??

Since going on medication for my Postpartum depression, bringing Allie out into the world, has actually become manageable, I might even go so far as to say it's fun. I bought this big ass Vera Bradley bag that I can literally fill with absolutely EVERYTHING I could POSSIBLY think of.  Everything is organized in separate pockets, thus setting me up for success, every time I leave the apartment. Never again, will I be stranded without whole wheat puffs, or butt wipes. Who cares if Josh constantly points out the fact that I am carrying a Granny purse, that sucker would hold Allie if a crisis emerged.

Anywho. I do actually have a point here. My point is, now that I am feeling more stable, and less likely to cower in a corner and scratch at invisible sores, I find myself having to interact with crazy ass moms.
Crazy. Ass. Moms. They are everywhere, talking in groups, wiping antibacterial soap on their tongues before they even speak to another child. They point out the color of the floor, and the wall, the ceiling, they switch back and forth from Spanish, to French, tossing in a baby sign just for good measure. They have extra diapers, (in all sizes. Cause, well, you just NEVER KNOW!) baby food, spoons, wipes, juice boxes, change of clothes, a sink, a toilet, you get my point here. Those crazy ass moms show me up EVERY TIME. While I feel smart for bringing along a plastic cup of cheerios, these mom's whip out whole wheat organic creme filled Oreo cookies, made especially for toddlers, and GUESS WHICH ONE ALLIE WANTS?!

She never wants my delicious cheerios.

Today, just for good measure, Allie crawled on to the lap of a pretty blond woman, who was just deeeeeeelighted to read her a story.
The last time Allie sat quietly on my lap while I read her a story, was when she was high off Benadryl .

I don't understand the disconnect that I feel with these woman. Perhaps its an age difference, or maybe its because  I let my child lick all the blocks in toy box, and that makes them uncomfortable.
 I will never know.

When I move to Georgia, I have to make new friends.

Moms, in particular that sometimes use their Johnson & Johnson  baby powder as shampoo, just to save time.
Those are the mom friends I need. If you live in Atlanta, or Georgia, hell, if you live ANYWHERE near GA and use baby powder sometimes as shampoo, please be my friend.

Thursday, February 18, 2010

My Award!

OK. this is 3 posts today, I am starting to run out of things to say, but Diana at Hormonal Imbalances just this very second gave me an award, and I truly don't even have a speech prepared.

I was all flabbergasted and verklempt, until I realized that now, in order to accept my award, I have to pass it along to 12....other people? I don't really even read 12 other blogs, and out of the blogs that I DO read, I highly doubt that Heather Armstrong, is really going to get as excited as I am about this award.

I practically just called my Mom.

But I digress, the people that make me laugh, and that I humbly pass along my award to...

Are as followed:

In A Stellar World
She's my bestest, enough said.

 Laura is where I get all my recipes from, I am basically stalking this woman.

My sister in Law, who just moved to Italy at Beth Uncensored She is an amazing cook, and takes lots of pictures of her adventures.

Also, Motherhood Uncensored and There' no escaping Cake both are blogs that I read religiously. 

phew  I am pretty exhausted from linking here.

Thank you Diana, just for that, tomorrow I will recycle my cans.

Roasted Garlic Pizza...MMMmmmmm

What you Need:
1 Garlic bulb
1 (8-oz) can of tomato sauce
Pinch of black pepper (but I forgot mine..and it tasted fine)
1 (10-oz) whole wheat prebaked thin pizza crust
1/2 c shredded part-skim mozzarella cheese
1/4 grated Parmesan cheese
1Tbsp fresh rosemary leaves (again, I left these out..)


You put the garlic (the whole damn thing, and YES I had to call my friend and check that, put the whole damn thing in the oven, meant, PUT THE WHOLE DAMN THING IN THE OVEN.)
You set the oven to 400 and wrap that sucka up all nice and pretty, "like you are gift wrapping it" PS. thanks for dumbing  it down for me Stella, I appreciate that.  
After 45 min of your entire apartment reeking like garlic, you take that hot foil out and let it sit for 10 minutes.
(Please, wait people, don't be like me and start tearing away, you WILL burn your thumb, and that shit still hurts. )

Next, You take out your pretty whole wheat pizza crust and slather on some tomato sauce.  Then just start squeezing the crap out of the garlic, thus spurting chunks of it wherever you see fit.
Add the cheese, and stick it in the oven, set at 450  for 12 minutes.

Why, YES that is a big ass butcher knife, and not a typical pizza cutter, we totally didn't know what to register for when we got married.  I have a food processor, a Kitchen Aid mixer, and a waffle maker, but don't own a pizza cutter, or an ice cream scoop. Seriously people.  
Send Gifts.

In case you were wondering, 2 slices is 3 ww points, which leaves room for Oreos and ice. cold. milk.


Fruit Loops is NEVER the answer...only sometimes..

When I was pregnant I was addicted to cereal. I would balance the bowl on my stomach and happily chow away. I ate it with ice cold milk, or plain, mixed with chocolate chips. (And I wondered where those extra 25 pounds came from.) Josh likes to remind me that right around this time last year we were going through 3 GALLONS of milk, a WEEK. Damn straight people, I would waddle my fat ass into the kitchen in the middle of the night and throw back that ice cold goodness like it was liquid crack.

Milk and cereal was truly the only thing that I ate nonstop. My point here, is that recently I have fallen back into old habits, yet, I am in fact not nine months pregnant. I am, however, throwing back bowls of cereal like I have never, EVER, tasted the crunchy zest of Fruit loops before.
Which, I guess in a way is true.   I was a product of a "non sugar cereal family" which is why when I eat that garbage I act all savage like, shoveling it in hand over fist. Seriously, Toucan Sam, knows what he is talking about, those fruity chemicals go straight to your brain, sending out all sorts of happy feelings.  Of course, fifteen minutes later it is  followed by a deep hollow hunger that can only be compared to when one eats Chinese food.

So after going through almost two bags of cereal in one week, naturally Josh was all "What the fuck do you do all day, sit on the couch and inhale cereal?'"
And since Josh, is the new face of Healthy Eating in America, and how to annoy the shit out of your wife when you lose 58 pounds by counting every God Damn point that goes in the hole in your face." He gently suggested that perhaps I should set a "better" example for my daughter and fit in some veggies in between my Oreos and corn pops.
And while, I honestly don't have an excuse as to why I eat so poorly, I can really only chalk it up to laziness. I make sure Allie is eating all her food groups, steaming veggies, and peeling oranges for her, but not taking the time to make myself something healthy to eat.
And it's  kind of sad, because I am sure I would run farther, and have more energy after lifting and yoga if I fueled myself with something OTHER than sugar and caffeine.
So, this morning, I put down the bag of cereal, crumpled it in a ball and pushed it back into the drawer. I pushed the container of milk aside and reached instead for my yogurt.
I mixed a teaspoon of honey and chopped oranges, because truthfully the Chobani alone kind of tastes like you are eating your own throw up, (sorry, but it does).

 I was surprised that  my headache vanished, and I felt MUCH better after my four mile run. Much stronger, and less like death. Josh, may have been on to something here. Although I would never tell him that.

Wednesday, February 17, 2010

And why you should probably always have insurance....

So, I totally got in a car accident yesterday. It was 100% my fault, as in, my car totally slid right into the back of their car.  There really isn't anything more exciting then having your breaks not do their job.

As I pulled my car over, ready to get out and do the whole "Are you OK?" spiel that one is suppose to do, when one rear ends a van full of people, I noticed that the van was actually not joining me in the pulling over, but in fact was driving away. I truly was half a second from rolling down my window and shouting after them, "BUT, I HIT YOU?! HEYYYYYY!"

My car is fine, I am fine, and I guess they were "fine" with losing half their bumper.

Tuesday, February 16, 2010

I Gave Allessandra my very first baby doll I ever had...


This gives me hope for the future.....

In today's news

School Vacation is really starting to chap my ass.

I do realize that I probably wouldn't have so much of an issue with it, if I did not work in the biggest mall ever. But, alas, I do. And it currently houses 5 billion little high school shits, that like to roam the various stores, and skate board around the rotary.  Oh and PS. to the donkeys that were participating in that little adventure last night, I should have hit you. And NEXT time, when you skate you stupid skate board IN FRONT OF MY CAR, be prepared to lose.

Also, to the little groups of you, I am speaking specifically to the boys here, and YES, to ME, you are BOYS, standing outside the store and staring in at me, and POINTING, and WAVING, and YELLING, "HEY, HE LIKES YOU!" Is by no means, a way to get my attention. The only way I am going to remotely pay any attention to you, is if you come INTO the store and buy a nine hundred dollar suit. If you can't do that, then please, just keep walking.
And also, to the mixed groups of you, the hoochie mamas and the ghetto thugs, (you know who you are) please, please, don't come into the store just to touch shit. I do my best work, doing very little, and cleaning up after you, is really starting to piss me off.
And one more thing. We all know that you are super cool because you  smoke clove cigarettes, I personally thought, wow look how grown up they are, smoking butts outside the mall. But, the next time I have to walk my child, or myself through a thick cloud of cancer, I will shove the cigarettes down your throats. Please stay away from the Entrance, or you know what? Go home.



Monday, February 15, 2010


"Did you enjoy your dinner baby?" Josh crawls into bed, pulling up the down comforter and reaching for the remote. Sesame Street Cakes is on Food Network channel, *We so know how to be romantic*

 "I did, it was delicious." I quickly change out of my suit.  I pull my hair back and throw on a tee-shirt and sweat pants. Food Network is the best and even better when you are stuffed full of chocolate and wine.

"I am so glad since I spent pretty much all day making it.   Making the eggplant, and caramelizing all those precious onions...  Are you, wait.... ARE YOU WEARING GRANDMA PANTIES ON VALENTINE'S DAY?"

I bury my head under the piles of covers and pillows. "But they keep my bottom and my waist so toasty warm."

Sunday, February 14, 2010

Happy V Day!

After eight years together, I have finally figured out, that if I actually want something for Valentine's Day, I have to ask for it.
Josh has many talents, but he lacks the ability to mind read. Which kinda sucks, cause when I say, "No, baby, lets not do presents this year, I don't need anything for my birthday." And then I eagerly expect a neatly wrapped present, and ultimately, am sorely disappointed when he actually listened. (For the first time EVER.)
And then he is all, "You said YOU DID NOT WANT ANYTHING!" And I am all, "Sure, the ONLY time you listen to me, is when I tell you NOT to get me something!"

So this year, after spending Valentine's day last year sitting on the couch, nine months pregnant, WITH HIS MOM, WHILE SHE TAUGHT ME HOW TO CROSS STITCH, I decided that this year I DESERVE SOME DAMN FLOWERS.
So, I simply said, "Baby, this year I want WHITE roses, and candy. If you don't get me those, I will castrate you."
Taaa Daaaa!

And, he got me all dark chocolate truffles, what? (He's awesome) AND, now, after two years, I can FINALLY play my freeeeking i pod in my car again. I am now the proud owner of an i pod player thingy that goes in my car. (Was that descriptive enough?)

Happy Valentine's Day!

Saturday, February 13, 2010

Allessandra is so gonna be in trouble

 When some handsome young Doctor proposes to her someday. Because her mother, is going to absolutely, without a doubt, lose her fucking mind. And, this is not something that I knew about myself, until I started planning her One Year Old "Princess Birthday Party/ Yo Gabba Gabba/ Elmo...(We still have not entirely made up our minds...)

What started as a simple idea, "I just want Josh and I, and maybe our closest friends," Turned into this, this, how do I even describe this?...OK, I basically bought her a friggen wedding dress yesterday. And, somehow, a "couple people" turned into, well, a lot.  A lot, A lot. Like, I am not really sure where people will sit, or how they will be able to breathe.

But its all about the dress that I bought, because the DRESS is what makes this party so awesome. It's  just utterly fabulous, its clad in satin and tiny rose buds, with a big ass PINK BOW. Its something that I am positive will make my Mom roll her eyes, and assure me that, "YES, you ARE going slightly overboard". But I am sure the sight of her beautiful Grand daughter in pink taffeta will make her heart sing, as will the flipper, fake tan, and wig I plan on purchasing for the occasion.

So when I am all done with her she looks like this:

 But really more like this:

What? I am getting prepared for pageants.  PEOPLE, I am moving to the south, its what they DO.

Friday, February 12, 2010

I'll say I have an 11 month old, and you say "You are almost there!"


First and foremost. 11 truthfully in my opinion like turning 20.   Everyone is all excited for you, but, really? You still are not 21, and thus the birthday is pretty meaningless. People say things like, "Oh just wait till NEXT YEAR!" Not to say that being 11 months, isn't super exciting for Mommy, its just, well, YOU ARE GOING TO BE A YEAR IN 4 WEEKS!
If you had asked me a few days ago, I would have said the transition between 10 months and 11 months went about without any new "skills" or anything particularly noteworthy. That was until yesterday when I brought you to the crack house in the mall little kid place in the mall. Where children run around screaming like assholes and scream, with all the screaming. I tried to place you on the ground, and you refused, wrapping your arms in a death grip around my neck. Which probably means, that you need to be around more people OTHER then Mommy. I noticed that you stood alone more, probably showing off to all the other toddlers, and you began pointing at random things. We also decided to take you to Friendly's.  I personally always feel kinda dirty eating there, but you seemed to enjoy yourself. You INSISTED on feeding yourself, which is a new skill that I am not too sure I am enjoying.

If you notice, I am holding on to the ice cream bowl with all my strength, because you would have dumped it on your head if I had allowed it.The look of determination on your face is priceless. It was the same look you gave me, when you reached for a handful of french fries and proceeded to chuck throw toss them over the side of the high chair. 

You are saying more words now. Daddy and I swear you can say "Hi, Daddy!"  (Still can't say Momma on demand yet, but yeah, I am not bitter.)
The biggest, most awesomest skill that I taught you IN ONE DAY is that you can now BLOW KISSES. Even tho you leave out the hand over the mouth part, and just start Blowing out air, and pointing. I totally know what you are doing. When we put on Yo gabba gabba, you clap your hands together and do a happy wiggle dance....and just this morning, you started blowing the characters kisses.
 I kinda wanted to smother you with hugs and kisses, cause you are just the smartest little thing EVER.
I love you,


Thursday, February 11, 2010

I would write about how hilarious it is, that we have a dusting of snow outside, when the TV was basically alerting us that it was going to be Armageddon. "Stay inside today, don't drive, if you go out, you will probably crash your car and kill yourself and fifteen other people. Call in sick, let your employees go home early, in fact CANCEL SCHOOL THE DAY BEFORE ONE SNOW FLAKE FLUTTERS FROM THE SKY, because, people, the TV is never wrong."
 I would write about this, but I fell in the shower yesterday, and I have lost feeling in my left butt cheek. Thus rendering me utterly hopeless in discussing anything other then my purple ass.  

 We all know I over share. So, I am over sharing...feel free to click the x at the top right of your screen if you would prefer to NOT hear about my purple ass.

I shower, usually, when Allessandra is down for her afternoon nap. Sometimes I can get a morning one in, but that's my time for exercise/cooking/cleaning/watching Ellen/making phone calls/figuring out what I am going to wear to work/scrap booking/baking/ or sitting on my ass and reading blogs.
So, yesterday, just like any other day, I hopped in the shower to quickly wash my hair, before Allie started wailing for me.
Now, let me be clear here, when I wash my hair, I am perpetually five years old. Meaning, I always get soap in my eyes. Even when they are closed. I don't know why, or how, but somehow, the soap gets all under my contacts and stings the shit out of my brain.
So, there I was, holding on to the side of the tile, trying to figure out how to get to my towel, virtually blind.
And yes, there was soap, and I stepped on it, and pulled an Oksana Baiul type triple toe loop, taking DOWN the shower curtain, and falling COMPLETELY OUT OF THE SHOWER, ending up with half my body in the HALLWAY. If the door had NOT been open, I would have slammed my face into the door frame.
Note: Josh does not  know to what extent I "fell in the shower" in fact, when he asked why I had a bruise on my behind, I said simply, "Oh, I fell in the shower." And he snickered, "Again?"

The only thing I could manage to do, after making sure that I had not snapped any bones in my body, was to quickly put the shower curtain back up, in order to cover up the fact that I just fell the fuck out of the bath tub. 
Oh, and then I had to throw a robe on and go calm my daughter, who clearly heard her mother's body come crashing into the hallway right outside her door. Yes, it was that loud.
And, yes, I am sitting on an ice pack.

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

Bottles and Sippy cups

We are giving up the bottle around here.

And, lets just say. It is not going as well as I would like. Allessandra, in fact, does not appreciate the sudden change, and has reacted the same way that both Josh and I would react. She either, A. Flat out refuses to drink it, at all. Or B. She throws the sippy cup as far away from her face as she can.
And because I am all adult, I say things like, "Well FINE Allessandra, you can just Stttaaarrrvvee." Then, after realizing that my threats are getting muffled by Elmo's screeching, and she doesn't seem to really give two flying craps, if she really DOESN'T"T EAT, I am frantically searching for an alternative to the sippy cup, that is NOT her delicious bottle.
The hospital has a record that I own her, feeding her is a part of the deal. Right? 

She finally took a "bottle" with a sippy cup type nipple, and handles. Oh, and also, I totally tricked her and spiked her delicious formula with some whole milk. What? I know. I am that slick. Also, her delicious milk was NOT pipping hot, which gives me hope, that she will not be walking and feeding herself a bottle. A bottle that I just heated up for her. ...before she gets on the school bus, to go to high school.
This month, we are giving up the bottle, and formula, which cleary means, that by the time she is ONE, she will be drinking whole milk, out of a princess sippy cup.  Then Josh and I are going to wipe our asses with 100 dollar bills, because we will be that rich when we stop buying that powdered gold.

I can't imagine how rich we will be when she starts using the shitter potty.

Tuesday, February 9, 2010

How Josh crushes Dreams, take 50

I remember the day that I found out that Bear Grylls was a huge asshat  faker. And, to be perfectly frank, it ruined my world. Bear was my dream man, he was out getting naked and jumping into arctic waters, and then "drying off, by sitting next to a fire, that he built by rubbing his hands together or some shit." Bear had the ability to save me, if I was to ever, you know, get stranded in the Arctic, or Desert. And that accent.  So WHAT if he frequently ate frozen deer eyeballs, and once ate a rattle snake, he was dreamy, cause what he did on TV was REAL, dammit, REAL.

Little did I know, that he had a bag full of snickers and TWINKIES and probably had a friggen portable heater, and TENT along for the ride, he might have had an Arctic hooker in his TENT for all I know.

For weeks Josh insisted that Man vs. Wild was fake, and I insisted that he was just jealous of Bear and my relationship. So, naturally one day, Josh calls me all nonchalantly into the living room, probably promising to show me a YouTube video of cat and a box but no. It was this.
You could hear my heart wrenching sobs from miles away. And you know what Josh did?
He giggled.
Like, he giggled a lot. He giggled so much that I am pretty sure I hated him that day.
I wonder how he is planning on telling Allessandra that there is no Santa, or maybe he is just planning on skipping the charade all together.
Why have something glorious to believe in, when Josh will just swoop in with Youtube videos and RUIN your DAY.

Monday, February 8, 2010

My Secret

Recently I posted a new Face book profile picture that I did not share with my tiny angel. It was just me. And I was in the tightest dress ever. A dress, I might add that cost more then some of my jewelry.
I got a few emails from people, mostly moms, wondering what my secret was. I resisted the urge to say photo shop, but instead told them all about Weight Watchers. I wish I could say that running and yoga was responsible for me losing my baby weight, but it really wasn't. I run more for stress relief then I do for weight management.
After Allie was born, I honestly didn't know how to manage my persistent hunger, thanks to breast feeding. It was a constant struggle between, I have to eat, because I am starving, but omg I am never going to fit into my clothes again. So after I nearly had a heart attack while stepping on the scale and seeing the numbers actually GO UP instead of down, I looked into Weight Watchers. At first I have to admit I was more drawn to the program because I knew they catered to breast feeding moms. And hello, you get 12 extra points JUST BECAUSE you are squirting milk from your boobs. I was in love. And, consequently so was Josh.
Ten months later, Josh has lost around 50 pounds, and I have lost my extra 25 and some change. But the kicker here is, I eat like a horse, and I don't gain any weight.
I do realize that in a few previous posts I was complaining at how annoying it is to be reminded of how many points I have left, and yeah, it is annoying as shit, that part sucks.
But its no secret. Its portion control. That's it.

Sunday, February 7, 2010

"Tell me why! Aint nothing but a heart ache.....aint nothing but a mistake..."

Do you remember those ginormous coffee cake rolls that Dunkin Donuts used to make? I am not really sure if they make them anymore, probably because people were immediately sent into sugar shock from one measly bite. Not to say that DD doesn't carry a mass array of pastries that would do the same, I just have not seen those huge coffee rolls in a long time.

Last night at work, because we had nothing better to do, we got on the subject of candy we used to eat. Candy such as pixie sticks, what? That's right, a paper tube full of colored sugar, that was best sent directly down our throats. We didn't even need to actually swallow it. And there is nothing like a sugar high, that one gets from straight sugar.
Also, one of my favorites. Cadbury eggs. But none of the caramel filled ones, or the bullshit chocolate filled ones. I want my cadbury egg to look like a real egg.  I need that yellow sugar creme filling. Plus, we decided that they must lace those eggs with crack, cause hello? Why would they be that good?
Somehow, after our conversation about candy, we suddenly broke into Backstreet Boys songs, and I immediately had to find the BackStreet boy's radio on Pandora which, WOW, it was so fantastic.

 However much of a loser you think I am, I totally loved knowing every word to every song, but I suddenly felt old. And not just cause every single one of my joints ache, and I can hardly bend over to pick something up without my knees cracking I felt old because all those songs are CRAP. Have you ever really listened to the words? They make no sense. Like at all.
It made me sad, cause one day I am gonna be that  mom who doesn't understand "that crap" her daughter listens to.
And, I will be all "Allessandra, he doesn't love you he just wants to get in your pants!" And she will stomp down the hallway and slam her door, and throw her whole body on her bed and cry, because I just don't understand what its like to be her. And Josh will be all, "Boys, huh, what? Sex? WHAT?!" And then he will have to purchase a shot gun, and rocking chair. I am assuming since we will live in the South, that we will already have the front porch.

Friday, February 5, 2010

My baby is so growing up ...and Jen

It was not the best part of waking up

There was no Folgers in my cup this morning.

0 coffee in my kitchen.

Is this what crack addicts go through when their stash runs out?

Ten minutes into my morning routine and I am already having the shakes. So I did what any coffee addict would do.
I found an old bag of coffee circa 2001. I raked my finger nails along the bottom, Oh yeah, I did, I so did, you know what else? I made a cup of coffee with it, and I stirred the grounds into my oatmeal, and licked the bottom of the coffee pot, in order to eat every last grain.

Its been a rough morning so far.

Also, I have to mention. Yesterday I felt the need to do fifty seven million crunches, and then walked my shin into a very sharp edge of a table at work.
I can't laugh, because of the searing pain that runs throughout every single one of my ab muscles. (Damn you Denise Austin) nor can I sneeze, or cough, or get off the couch easily. And my leg is one big bloody bruise, which, by the way is super attractive in short skirts.

The good news is though, I think I am just pathetic enough that Josh will bring me to Starbucks.
Hope everyone enjoys their Friday.

Thursday, February 4, 2010

Green Living

I know a lot of people are not going to appreciate this post.

But I need to share.

Sometimes I feel as if I am not "being all I can be" for the environment.   I know right? You were probably expecting something way cooler, and most of you are all like, "OH GOD.  really."  But stay with me here, I know people that are, using cloth diapers. Can we collectively agree that this is just plain gross. I mean, I know our mothers, or our mother's mothers did it, but come on.  They invented diapers for a reason people. Don't you think that if they had disposable diapers back then, women would be all " You mean, I can throw the shit out, like in an actual trash can?"
Woman today that are using cloth diapers, I have to ask, "Do you also sit on a hole in your backyard every month?" I am just asking.

I digress.

After my 5 minute soak in a tub FULL of water last night, and my inability to remember my mesh grocery bags, I started to think that the people that focus on GREEN living, are just "not as lazy" as I am. 

Like, when I toss an aluminum can in the trash, Its not that I dont care, its just that I don't want to put in in the trash bag in the hall closet. Which, by the way is so full of diet coke cans, that one day the crew from Hoarders is gonna show up at our front door, And be all, "We know about the cans."

Again, we should bring them to the can collection thingy, I mean we will probably get back enough money to send Allessandra to college, but again, lazy. Or is it that the thought of bringing Allie into that sticky disgusting H1N1 infested room, where the homeless hang just doesn't sit right with me. So, yeah, perhaps its not so much as a lazy thing, but I have more things to think about then to worry about running the water while I brush my teeth. 
And all tho, I don't recycle (not entirely by choice) and sometimes I use a LOT of water unnecessarily, (like showering, and bathing 3 times a day) (What? I do my best reading underneath lots and lots of soap bubbles.) I do use those cleaning products that are made with like sugar and orange juice. Mainly, because I am terrified that I will venture into the kitchen one day, and find Allie chugging a bottle of bleach.
So to you Green living haters out there, you might not have any water someday because of me, but I am doing my part to protect the ozone layer. And sometimes I do remember my mesh shopping bags, even though I am certain that one day they are going to fall apart and send my can goods, and produce all over the germ infested ground. And I will be all like, "Double plastic bags never let me down like this..."

Wednesday, February 3, 2010

You can totally call me Scarlett, Or Ms O'hara

I am obsessed with HGTV. To the point, that when I come home from work, I drop everything in the hallway, tripping over the baby gate in utter anticipation of WHAT IS ON HGTV?!
Naturally Josh will be watching it as well, since he too shares my obsession. I totally cannot WAIT to find our dream home in Atlanta. (Which, by the way, hellloooo have you seen how BIG the houses are? For like a quarter and a bottle of vodka?) If I had 500,000 I could literally be the new Scarlett O'hara. Minus the awkwardness of the plantation that she owned. Cause yeah. I would substitute plantation, for backyard. And hello? I could have two pools, and my own race track. 

But anyways, I remember reading someone's blog about how they were searching for a house, and all the details that went along with that. *SNORE* Pardon me while I stab myself in the face with the nearest object. I realize no one cares, until of course  I have pictures of my pool and new jacuzzi. Then you can pretend that you don't care, but secretly hate me. Which, is totally fine by me, cause I will be too busy with my ginormous house to care.
Perhaps I should find a job first.

Right, first things first.

Tuesday, February 2, 2010

Date Night

We slide into the evenly polished wooden booth. The kind of booths that are constructed for restaurants that do not wish for their customers to stay for very long.  You know the type right? The seat lacks a cushion, and the back is pushed way too forward, making me wish that I did not in fact pull on my skinny jeans, but instead wore a nice big pair of sweat pants.  As I look over the menu, wondering what exactly I could eat that would not A. make me utterly sick out of mind, or B. not cause cellulite to sprout in tiny buds instantly all over my ass, I wonder why Josh's boss give him a gift card for this crap hole, every year, for SEVEN years. 

Because of Weight Watchers, both Josh and I analyze the menu sprouting off point suggestions for each item.
"Oh, I bet the Shepard's pie, is easily 21 points."

"Yeah, how about the blue cheese cheddar burger? I bet we could split it, or just eat the burger and throw the bun away?"
Five minutes into that conversation and I am instantly irritated. Just like when I popped an Oreo into my mouth, just to tide me over, And Josh announced, "Now you have 15 points left!"

After much deliberation and three visits from the waitress, who is, at this point, clearly annoyed, we choose to split a sandwich and a salad.

Because this restaurant really borders on one of the trashiest places I have ever been, the food arrives almost instantly. Making me believe that it was seriously sitting under a heat lamp All. Damn. Day.
But nevertheless, the foccacia sandwich is decent, the salad OK.
Josh and I search for "something other then Allie" to talk about. We discuss our move, buying a house, me finding a job in Atlanta.
Some how, in between my first diet coke, and the arrival of my next, we get on the subject of hygiene.
Josh comments on how I shower three times a day, and I comment on how he doesn't.
"Is that why you don't like to give Allie a bath at night? Is it because you don't believe in showering?"  (A rather bold statement, I realize that he showers, but seriously. The child would not get cleaned if it wasn't for me.)
"No, I BELIEVE in showering! When you bathe her you have to kneel, and its really uncomfortable."

Blink Blink
I push another spoon full of strawberry shortcake into my mouth, and imagine reaching across the table and strangling him with my cashmere scarf.
"Baby, Do you want to know what else is uncomfortable? I clink my spoon with emphasis,

 "30 Hours of Labor, 2 hours of pushing with 0 success, then having my body sliced open and the child ripped from my uterus, THEN having my own blood inserted back into my spine, after already having three needles being placed into the very same hole that they made in my back. And Oh yeah, having to recover from this surgery on virtually 0 hours of sleep, And do I even have to go down the road of bloody nipples?  But I see, how you would not want to be uncomfortable, for five minutes, bathing our daughter."

Josh sets down his spoon and reaches for his wallet. "Thank you, I am glad you understand, it hurts my knees."

And that's the story of how Josh went missing.

Not really, but would you blame me?


Monday, February 1, 2010

...Teething part 89078

Having "sleep issues" is one of the side effects of the medicine that I am taking. Thus far, I have had absolutely 0 problems falling asleep, which is a huge change, because before medication, I was so tightly wound up in a stress ball, that it would take HOURS for me to settle down. Seriously. It was like I downed six cups of coffee and some speed.
My point. Right.

See, although I do not have issues falling asleep, I do, however have issues falling BACK asleep, when I am awoken by a screaming almost toddler who is getting molars.

So, as I sit here with an iv of coffee running straight into my veins, I can think of FOUR different times my sleep was rudely disturbed last night. Two of which, I was still sitting WIDE AWAKE. So, in theory I have actually been up since midnight.
Fan friggen tastic, huh?

It took me until almost 3AM to finally drug her and wrap duck tape around her face.  But up until then, I was super calm and only called her a jerk in my head.

And wouldn't you know that last night, she figured out how to say Mommamama.   Which makes one feel super guilty while they are shoving ear plugs deep inside their head, in order to ignore it.

Oh please, you would so have ignored it too, if it was 4:30 AM and you had a total of three hours sleep.

And, OhmyGOD. I totally did not ACTUALLY wrap duck tape around her face. We don't have any, and finding some would have taken way too much effort.