So lil sis lea lea is 27 today. Right about now is the time I used to think about as a teenager when people would always say that she looked older, and I'd of course retort that that was fine by me, wait till we're older when it really matters.
And that time is now. How ya like them apples, baby?
I'm sure she's pimpin' it up in Phoenix right now, drinking too much, talking too much, and having just the right amount of fun for a 3-yrs-till-30 birthday.
I still remember as a little kid waiting for her to come home from the hospital after one of her eye surgeries, and sitting by her bed, crying because I was sooo worried that she wasn't gonna be okay.
She, naturally, does not remember this. She, naturally, remembers the time I threw her into the coffee table; the time I slapped her in the middle of the school cafeteria; the time I bounced the rent check in college.
I, naturally, choose not to remember any of that.
I miss her. And her restaurant comp card.
Come home Wee Wee, come home!!!
Thursday, May 25, 2006
Tuesday, May 09, 2006
I (heart) Texas, and then some...
So, Motherpie recently posted something to effect that there lots of people who like to express their pride in TEXAS (more so, even, than NY -- gasp!!). I was well aware of this early on, when at the age of 16 I took a trip to DC and somehow just knew that we Texans were the pride-fullest of the prideful. My first and ONLY clue?
There were no earrings in the shape of the District of Columbia, Virginia, or any of the nation's other 50 states. None. No necklace pendands shaped like NY, no "Don't Mess With (Fill In the Blank)" shirts, NOTHING.
While I, being Texan, was at once ridiculously proud of this fact, I was also quite aware that the cashier at the gift shop whom I unleashed my new-found knowledge upon was not quite as impressed.
Which brings me to a conversation we had this past weekend while floating the Salt River in Arizona. We were talking about how much nicer the view was there than on the Guadalupe or Comal, and how, yeah, we could definitely see ourselves living in Arizona. Except, of course, for the kids.
"They have to be raised in Texas," I declared.
Why? Here are just a few of my many genius reasons:
1. The weather. I know, I know -- this seems like such a crazy notion, but where else can they experience the moist, suffocating damp heat of the rain forest, the blazing, arrid heat of the desert, the freezing-your-ass-off cold of the north, AND develop allergies of every kind all in one state? NOWHERE ELSE BUT TEXAS.
2. The Hill Country. God's Country.
3. Willie Nelson
4. The food -- BBQ done the RIGHT way (no mustard and honey shit here), Tex-Mex, and Steaks the way God intended -- red and mooing. Plus? You'll easily get as-good-if-not-better Cajun on the Gulf Coast as you will in Louisiana. And yes, I do know this for a fact.
Okay, well, that's all I can think of right now, but really, what more do you need?
There were no earrings in the shape of the District of Columbia, Virginia, or any of the nation's other 50 states. None. No necklace pendands shaped like NY, no "Don't Mess With (Fill In the Blank)" shirts, NOTHING.
While I, being Texan, was at once ridiculously proud of this fact, I was also quite aware that the cashier at the gift shop whom I unleashed my new-found knowledge upon was not quite as impressed.
Which brings me to a conversation we had this past weekend while floating the Salt River in Arizona. We were talking about how much nicer the view was there than on the Guadalupe or Comal, and how, yeah, we could definitely see ourselves living in Arizona. Except, of course, for the kids.
"They have to be raised in Texas," I declared.
Why? Here are just a few of my many genius reasons:
1. The weather. I know, I know -- this seems like such a crazy notion, but where else can they experience the moist, suffocating damp heat of the rain forest, the blazing, arrid heat of the desert, the freezing-your-ass-off cold of the north, AND develop allergies of every kind all in one state? NOWHERE ELSE BUT TEXAS.
2. The Hill Country. God's Country.
3. Willie Nelson
4. The food -- BBQ done the RIGHT way (no mustard and honey shit here), Tex-Mex, and Steaks the way God intended -- red and mooing. Plus? You'll easily get as-good-if-not-better Cajun on the Gulf Coast as you will in Louisiana. And yes, I do know this for a fact.
Okay, well, that's all I can think of right now, but really, what more do you need?
Monday, April 24, 2006
Here. Right here. This is why I never wanted a girl.
Thanks, Oprah.
So, in an effort to avoid having my baby suck at loving herself the way I did (and sometimes still do), here's my letter to my younger self:
Hey dumbass. Look, life isn't about the way you look, or being the coolest, or having the most. It just isn't.
That unbelievably flat chest you've got? Stop bitching, and please please please stop praying for bigger boobs, 'cause damn girl, Mom was right -- you better be careful what you wish -- you just might get it. In volumes. Stopping your track career short and causing back pain previously unimaginable, garnering you more negative attention that you ever wanted, your endeavor to destroy them with surgery will render you useless in the Mother's Milk department, which actually isn't such a bad thing after all, except for the condescending glares from la leche losers and the fact that 9 out of 10 doctors agree that your poor formula-fed children will be lacking in all developmental areas.
Wait -- what was my point?
Oh, right, the LOOKS thing. Listen, you look the way you do, which though it sucks now, really isn't such a bad thing, seeing as how because you aren't they prettiest, cutest, sexiest, or even really desirable in any way imaginable, you've had to hone your comedic talents, and baby, you got loads in that area. You, of course, don't believe that you are talented, but you might as well be good at something, so let's just go with that one.
Now before you start listing all the ways that you think I'm wrong, I'm just gonna leave you with this last little nugget:
You are going to give birth to an amazing baby girl, who will be strong and beautiful, unique and funny and smart as a whip. She will be a mix of you and your totally hot hubby, your Mom and Dad, your sisters, and all those who helped make you the miserable way you are today. She and her beautiful brother are testaments to the love that was born before you, and will live on long after you are gone. They deserve a mother who loves them enough to love herself, to trust herself enough that she can let go of herself and those issues that will not only destroy her spirit, but may just end up destroying their's as well. And your mom deserves a daughter who appreciates what she was given when she gave life to you, because you are not the first mother to want wonderful things for her daughter, to wish for better than what she had, to vow to do whatever it takes to help her avoid the same heartaches she endured.
Oh, and those loser boys who tease you? Yeah, your future husband is, like 100 times better looking than they are, and can TOTALLY kick their collective asses. Just so ya know.
Now, onto the whole cool thin. Yeah, you just don't have it. No, really. Can't pull it off. But that's okay, cause all the "cool" girls around you? They're really not either. Just embrace your geekiness, love the nerd within, and she will love you right back.
As far as the need to have? Yes, money is nice, but it won't make your issues go away. It won't stop you from making the mistakes you are destined to make, and it certainly won't help you make smarter decisions. You'll value what you have when you have it, and won't miss what you don't. You're better than the money, it is not better than you.
But it would be nice to have a honeymoon, so please don't blow your savings in Vegas. No, really.
So, in an effort to avoid having my baby suck at loving herself the way I did (and sometimes still do), here's my letter to my younger self:
Hey dumbass. Look, life isn't about the way you look, or being the coolest, or having the most. It just isn't.
That unbelievably flat chest you've got? Stop bitching, and please please please stop praying for bigger boobs, 'cause damn girl, Mom was right -- you better be careful what you wish -- you just might get it. In volumes. Stopping your track career short and causing back pain previously unimaginable, garnering you more negative attention that you ever wanted, your endeavor to destroy them with surgery will render you useless in the Mother's Milk department, which actually isn't such a bad thing after all, except for the condescending glares from la leche losers and the fact that 9 out of 10 doctors agree that your poor formula-fed children will be lacking in all developmental areas.
Wait -- what was my point?
Oh, right, the LOOKS thing. Listen, you look the way you do, which though it sucks now, really isn't such a bad thing, seeing as how because you aren't they prettiest, cutest, sexiest, or even really desirable in any way imaginable, you've had to hone your comedic talents, and baby, you got loads in that area. You, of course, don't believe that you are talented, but you might as well be good at something, so let's just go with that one.
Now before you start listing all the ways that you think I'm wrong, I'm just gonna leave you with this last little nugget:
You are going to give birth to an amazing baby girl, who will be strong and beautiful, unique and funny and smart as a whip. She will be a mix of you and your totally hot hubby, your Mom and Dad, your sisters, and all those who helped make you the miserable way you are today. She and her beautiful brother are testaments to the love that was born before you, and will live on long after you are gone. They deserve a mother who loves them enough to love herself, to trust herself enough that she can let go of herself and those issues that will not only destroy her spirit, but may just end up destroying their's as well. And your mom deserves a daughter who appreciates what she was given when she gave life to you, because you are not the first mother to want wonderful things for her daughter, to wish for better than what she had, to vow to do whatever it takes to help her avoid the same heartaches she endured.
Oh, and those loser boys who tease you? Yeah, your future husband is, like 100 times better looking than they are, and can TOTALLY kick their collective asses. Just so ya know.
Now, onto the whole cool thin. Yeah, you just don't have it. No, really. Can't pull it off. But that's okay, cause all the "cool" girls around you? They're really not either. Just embrace your geekiness, love the nerd within, and she will love you right back.
As far as the need to have? Yes, money is nice, but it won't make your issues go away. It won't stop you from making the mistakes you are destined to make, and it certainly won't help you make smarter decisions. You'll value what you have when you have it, and won't miss what you don't. You're better than the money, it is not better than you.
But it would be nice to have a honeymoon, so please don't blow your savings in Vegas. No, really.
Tuesday, March 28, 2006
I Must've Been Absent That Day...
I just read an article on the Top 10 Careers for Aries, and apparently I totally missed my calling...or did I?
I bet I can find aspects from each of these jobs combined in the role of MOTHER. Don't think so? Read on, read on:
1. Olympic Athlete -- while Stay-At-Home-Mothering may not qualify as an actual Olympic Event (though if Trampolining can be counted, where do we draw the line?), many of the requirements they list fit perfectly into my current job description --
a. Dogged Determination: Potty Training, anyone?
b. Long hours, stress, injuries, early rising: I woke up yesterday at 6 am, went to bed last night around 11:30, then was awakened at 3:40 by two screaming kids; stress doesn't begin to describe all day everyday surrounded by two mpatient needy little beings; you squeeze 2 7- pound babies through your vagina, then talk to me about injuries; early riser? I refer you to my first example.
2. Personal Trainer -- although I take HUGE exception to the fact that they describe us Aries as "obnoxious" (choke on it, folks), I again have found many of the qualities needed to succeed in this field the same qualities needed to be a SAHM:
a. pushy and bossy -- umm, check! No matter how many times Ry tries to insist that I am "not the boss" of her.
b. love of competitiveness -- My kid's closests are full of Gymboree, Gap, and Ralph Lauren. Don't tell me you can't smell the whiff of competition there!
3. Bouncer -- I am laughing so hard, I can hardly type.
a. Breaking up fights -- thanks to the addition of Jax, this has become my new favorite pasttime.
b. Looking Impenetrable -- Just last night I spent 30 minutes blocking the doorway to Ryan's room in an effort to get her to get back in bed. I define "impenetrable".
c. "Aries affinity for really loud music and boisterous patrons will come in handy" -- click here.
4. Prison Warden -- "When faced with a riot, they are not daunted, and a rush of adrenaline takes over. They may have to watch their blood pressure and take anger management courses." Have I mentioned my Prozac prescription lately???
5. Drill Sergeant -- A position of "complete power". There may be some argument in regards to this one, but let's just the recall the age-old saying, "If Mama ain't Happy, Ain't Nobody Happy."
6. Stunt Person -- I'm just going to quote the first sentence in this job description requirement, and move right along: "This job requires a realy crazy person to sign up." There. No explanation needed.
7. Prize Fighter -- Agile, Powerful, Shrewd. Have I ever told you about the time it took 4 grown adults (Myself, Shawn, my Mom and my Dad) to hold Ryan down and remove a splinter from her foot? She was 2. When agility and power can't get the job done, count on the shrew in me to garner any help necessary to tame the beast. Just call me Kate.
8. Fire Chief -- "they have to be sharp, decisive, and able to respond to conditions quickly": It's called IMPROVISATION. A degree in Theatre Arts really should be a pre-req for any SAHM. Luckily, I already got me one of those.
9. Mercenary Soldier -- Okay, I'm rolling now. Tears streaming, knee-slapping, doubled over with laughter.
a. "toughness of mind": As I write this, I'm also balancing my checkbook, mediating bewteen the kids, and folding laundry. Score one for mental toughness.
b. "lack of need for personal safety": If you've ever unbuckled your front-passenger seat belt, crawled into the backseat of the 70 mph moving family car to feed, fetch, or force, you understand.
c. "ability to cope with lack of creature comforts": It's been 2 days since I've showered, and trust me, it's not for lack of want (or need).
10. High School Coach-- Need I remind you of my stint as a Middle School Teacher/Coach? And since when is the task of "forming young minds and bodies" limited strictly to High School? If that's not what I'm doing now, then why the hell am I here??
So maybe you agree with me, maybe you don't. Either way, the top position they definitely missed out on is the one I'm fortunate enough to hold, and lucky for me, the job security on this one is good for at least 18 more years.
I bet I can find aspects from each of these jobs combined in the role of MOTHER. Don't think so? Read on, read on:
1. Olympic Athlete -- while Stay-At-Home-Mothering may not qualify as an actual Olympic Event (though if Trampolining can be counted, where do we draw the line?), many of the requirements they list fit perfectly into my current job description --
a. Dogged Determination: Potty Training, anyone?
b. Long hours, stress, injuries, early rising: I woke up yesterday at 6 am, went to bed last night around 11:30, then was awakened at 3:40 by two screaming kids; stress doesn't begin to describe all day everyday surrounded by two mpatient needy little beings; you squeeze 2 7- pound babies through your vagina, then talk to me about injuries; early riser? I refer you to my first example.
2. Personal Trainer -- although I take HUGE exception to the fact that they describe us Aries as "obnoxious" (choke on it, folks), I again have found many of the qualities needed to succeed in this field the same qualities needed to be a SAHM:
a. pushy and bossy -- umm, check! No matter how many times Ry tries to insist that I am "not the boss" of her.
b. love of competitiveness -- My kid's closests are full of Gymboree, Gap, and Ralph Lauren. Don't tell me you can't smell the whiff of competition there!
3. Bouncer -- I am laughing so hard, I can hardly type.
a. Breaking up fights -- thanks to the addition of Jax, this has become my new favorite pasttime.
b. Looking Impenetrable -- Just last night I spent 30 minutes blocking the doorway to Ryan's room in an effort to get her to get back in bed. I define "impenetrable".
c. "Aries affinity for really loud music and boisterous patrons will come in handy" -- click here.
4. Prison Warden -- "When faced with a riot, they are not daunted, and a rush of adrenaline takes over. They may have to watch their blood pressure and take anger management courses." Have I mentioned my Prozac prescription lately???
5. Drill Sergeant -- A position of "complete power". There may be some argument in regards to this one, but let's just the recall the age-old saying, "If Mama ain't Happy, Ain't Nobody Happy."
6. Stunt Person -- I'm just going to quote the first sentence in this job description requirement, and move right along: "This job requires a realy crazy person to sign up." There. No explanation needed.
7. Prize Fighter -- Agile, Powerful, Shrewd. Have I ever told you about the time it took 4 grown adults (Myself, Shawn, my Mom and my Dad) to hold Ryan down and remove a splinter from her foot? She was 2. When agility and power can't get the job done, count on the shrew in me to garner any help necessary to tame the beast. Just call me Kate.
8. Fire Chief -- "they have to be sharp, decisive, and able to respond to conditions quickly": It's called IMPROVISATION. A degree in Theatre Arts really should be a pre-req for any SAHM. Luckily, I already got me one of those.
9. Mercenary Soldier -- Okay, I'm rolling now. Tears streaming, knee-slapping, doubled over with laughter.
a. "toughness of mind": As I write this, I'm also balancing my checkbook, mediating bewteen the kids, and folding laundry. Score one for mental toughness.
b. "lack of need for personal safety": If you've ever unbuckled your front-passenger seat belt, crawled into the backseat of the 70 mph moving family car to feed, fetch, or force, you understand.
c. "ability to cope with lack of creature comforts": It's been 2 days since I've showered, and trust me, it's not for lack of want (or need).
10. High School Coach-- Need I remind you of my stint as a Middle School Teacher/Coach? And since when is the task of "forming young minds and bodies" limited strictly to High School? If that's not what I'm doing now, then why the hell am I here??
So maybe you agree with me, maybe you don't. Either way, the top position they definitely missed out on is the one I'm fortunate enough to hold, and lucky for me, the job security on this one is good for at least 18 more years.
Wednesday, March 22, 2006
CCR, partII
For those of you who know me really really well, you know how much I love love can't say it enough, LOVE CCR (Creedence Clearwater Revival). The fact that I have even used those intials in the title of this post as a nod to Cross Canadian Ragweed should give you a hint as to how much I love their stuff.
Jenny first intro'd me to them a few years ago, and being the condescending Big Sister I am at times known to be, I just smiled and nodded. Years later, this was the very first "country-ish" group my husband ever accepted, and has since left me loving them as well.
We just spent our first real date night in months at their concert, where I blew both my diet and my lenten promise (no alcohol) in honor of these guys.
They are just sooo good, and now I can barely sit still knowing they've got a cruise/concert thing going on this summer. Seeing as how my birthday is just around the corner, any donations toward this endeavor would be great. Or whatever.
Seriously, you need to check these guys out.
Jenny first intro'd me to them a few years ago, and being the condescending Big Sister I am at times known to be, I just smiled and nodded. Years later, this was the very first "country-ish" group my husband ever accepted, and has since left me loving them as well.
We just spent our first real date night in months at their concert, where I blew both my diet and my lenten promise (no alcohol) in honor of these guys.
They are just sooo good, and now I can barely sit still knowing they've got a cruise/concert thing going on this summer. Seeing as how my birthday is just around the corner, any donations toward this endeavor would be great. Or whatever.
Seriously, you need to check these guys out.
Tuesday, March 07, 2006
Freud Freud Freud, Part II
So here's an update of my "Shawn's Cheating On Me" dreams.
There was a lot of discussion between he and myself regarding the Oscars, and namely, "Brokeback Mountain". I, of course, am dying to see it, he vehemently denies it's worth and shuns its existence with virtuoso.
I'm guessing that's why my nightmare last night involved Shawn leaving the kids and I for Jake Gyllenhal. Just a guess.
There was a lot of discussion between he and myself regarding the Oscars, and namely, "Brokeback Mountain". I, of course, am dying to see it, he vehemently denies it's worth and shuns its existence with virtuoso.
I'm guessing that's why my nightmare last night involved Shawn leaving the kids and I for Jake Gyllenhal. Just a guess.
Wednesday, March 01, 2006
FYI
If your trainer ever convinces you to go on an all-day fruit/juice/veggie-only cleansing diet that gives you outrageous gas, try not to schedule it on the same day as your gyno appointment.
Just so ya know...
Just so ya know...
Tuesday, February 28, 2006
Freud Freud Freud
So in the past week I've dreamt that Shawn has cheated on me. 3 different nights, 3 different girls. Christina Aguilera, Britney Spears, and a 40-yr-old CIA agent.
I've no idea what I should read from this other than the fact that my subconscious obviously thinks hy husband has horrible taste. And you know what that means...
I've no idea what I should read from this other than the fact that my subconscious obviously thinks hy husband has horrible taste. And you know what that means...
Wednesday, February 01, 2006
wah wah wah
just venting over being married to a workaholic who, in order to provide us and our kids a lovely home, yummy food, and all that other nonsense, IS NEVER HOME!!!
Yes, I'm lonely, yes, I get bored with conversations revolving solely around Harry Potter, Disney Princesses, or Dora, but mostly, I just miss him.
Yes, I'm lonely, yes, I get bored with conversations revolving solely around Harry Potter, Disney Princesses, or Dora, but mostly, I just miss him.
Sunday, January 22, 2006
Welcome to the Club
One of my very dearest and oldest friends has recently become pregnant. Rather than overload her with unwanted advice, I'd like to just send a memo of "talking points" regarding some of the things she can now expect. So here goes:
Chaika, Chaika, Chaika,
My dear girl. Many congrats on your upcoming addition!! There is so much in store for you -- I can't wait to see how you handle it all. For instance...
1. Farting. Get ready to fart your ass off. (If only!) And since you're a teacher, get ready to lie your ass off (if only!), as well. Because if your life is remotely similar to mine (which it's probably not, but you could get lucky), you will inevitably let one slip right about the time one of your darling students walks to the front of the class to ask you a question. Think fast, my dear, and DENY DENY DENY!!!
2. Boobies. Okay, so let's be honest -- neither of us are up for nominations into the itty bitty titty committee, but even so, those babies are gonna SWELL, and though it will likely hurt a bit and get on your every last nerve, enjoy them while they are full, because like Kellie says, once the baby's had a go at them, they're nothing but flapjacks. Seriously, flopping in the wind, hanging to your knees, rolling under your armpits flabby. Just get ready.
3. Boobies, part2. Everywhere you look, you will be urged, begged, pleaded, even guilted into breasfeeding your baby. That's great -- I hope you do and I hope it works wonderfully. But if you try and try, spending hundreds of dollars on "Lactation Consultants" and new-fangled contraptions you have to strap to your body, only to find yourself spending every day trying to feed your screaming baby, pumping when they are asleep, then cooking your bleeding nipples no less than 10 inchs away from a bare light bulb (you know -- to "toughen them up"), all the while praying your kid doesn't wake up anytime soon, because God help you, then they'll want to eat -- don't be afraid to say "FUCK IT". I did, and both my kids are clearly strapping young genuises, so if you can't make it happen, just know that formula is okay too.
4. Feet. Your dogs'll be barking, but that's no surprise, I'm sure. What I'd like to discuss is the effect their scent may have on your OBGYN. This person will most likely be seeing you down there at least once a month, then once a week, and while I'm sure you will be taking care to keep everything "fresh", don't forget your feet. I personally carried a travel-sized bottle of body spray for the sole purpose of freshening my feet before sliding them into the stirrups. Don't think my doc didn't notice, either. She even went so far as to say that she really wished some of her other patients would do the same. I'm just sayin'...
5. Old Navy has really soft, cute, inexpensive maternity panties. Buy them.
6. Multi-tasking. As your friend and admirer, I know that you are quite accomplished at multi-tasking already, but you'd best start brushing up on your skills now, my friend, cause you ain't seen nothing yet. Here's an idea you should feel free to steal: When you've had a bad day and need to relax, but the baby still needs to be bathed, draw yourself a bubble bath and share it with the kid. Sure, it may be luke-warm, and every now and then you may feel a small toe finding its way to your butt-crack, but all in all, it's worth it. Anytime you get a chance to multi-task, jump at the opportunity. There will be plenty of time to relax when the kid goes to college.
7. Sleep. Do it as long and often as you possibly can now. Once that bundle of joy pops out, well, I'll just refer you to #6.
7. Contractions. They hurt. If they offer the drugs, take 'em.
8. Labor. I'm not exactly sure how painful this part is -- I took the drugs. 'Nuff said.
9. Delivery. If you are as vain as I am (and I'm pretty sure you are!), and you have the luxury of being induced, spackle on the make-up. You will be soo glad you did when you get those baby-just-out-of-the-oven pics developed. Trust me -- remeber how bad my pics were after Ry, and how good they were after Jax? I learned my lesson, sweets. If you aren't induced, I recommend plastering on the pretty every day starting from about week 30 on. Just to be safe.
10. Baby. Oh my God, oh my God. You will not believe how much you will love this little life. I know you will hear that from everyone, and they are soo right. Just don't squeeze too hard, that's all I'm sayin'. Oh yeah -- and get ready to cry.
P.S. I know I said I wasn't going to dole out the advice, but I lied. I'm a Mom. We can do that sort of thing "for your own good". Just wait, you'll see.
Love you!!!!
Chaika, Chaika, Chaika,
My dear girl. Many congrats on your upcoming addition!! There is so much in store for you -- I can't wait to see how you handle it all. For instance...
1. Farting. Get ready to fart your ass off. (If only!) And since you're a teacher, get ready to lie your ass off (if only!), as well. Because if your life is remotely similar to mine (which it's probably not, but you could get lucky), you will inevitably let one slip right about the time one of your darling students walks to the front of the class to ask you a question. Think fast, my dear, and DENY DENY DENY!!!
2. Boobies. Okay, so let's be honest -- neither of us are up for nominations into the itty bitty titty committee, but even so, those babies are gonna SWELL, and though it will likely hurt a bit and get on your every last nerve, enjoy them while they are full, because like Kellie says, once the baby's had a go at them, they're nothing but flapjacks. Seriously, flopping in the wind, hanging to your knees, rolling under your armpits flabby. Just get ready.
3. Boobies, part2. Everywhere you look, you will be urged, begged, pleaded, even guilted into breasfeeding your baby. That's great -- I hope you do and I hope it works wonderfully. But if you try and try, spending hundreds of dollars on "Lactation Consultants" and new-fangled contraptions you have to strap to your body, only to find yourself spending every day trying to feed your screaming baby, pumping when they are asleep, then cooking your bleeding nipples no less than 10 inchs away from a bare light bulb (you know -- to "toughen them up"), all the while praying your kid doesn't wake up anytime soon, because God help you, then they'll want to eat -- don't be afraid to say "FUCK IT". I did, and both my kids are clearly strapping young genuises, so if you can't make it happen, just know that formula is okay too.
4. Feet. Your dogs'll be barking, but that's no surprise, I'm sure. What I'd like to discuss is the effect their scent may have on your OBGYN. This person will most likely be seeing you down there at least once a month, then once a week, and while I'm sure you will be taking care to keep everything "fresh", don't forget your feet. I personally carried a travel-sized bottle of body spray for the sole purpose of freshening my feet before sliding them into the stirrups. Don't think my doc didn't notice, either. She even went so far as to say that she really wished some of her other patients would do the same. I'm just sayin'...
5. Old Navy has really soft, cute, inexpensive maternity panties. Buy them.
6. Multi-tasking. As your friend and admirer, I know that you are quite accomplished at multi-tasking already, but you'd best start brushing up on your skills now, my friend, cause you ain't seen nothing yet. Here's an idea you should feel free to steal: When you've had a bad day and need to relax, but the baby still needs to be bathed, draw yourself a bubble bath and share it with the kid. Sure, it may be luke-warm, and every now and then you may feel a small toe finding its way to your butt-crack, but all in all, it's worth it. Anytime you get a chance to multi-task, jump at the opportunity. There will be plenty of time to relax when the kid goes to college.
7. Sleep. Do it as long and often as you possibly can now. Once that bundle of joy pops out, well, I'll just refer you to #6.
7. Contractions. They hurt. If they offer the drugs, take 'em.
8. Labor. I'm not exactly sure how painful this part is -- I took the drugs. 'Nuff said.
9. Delivery. If you are as vain as I am (and I'm pretty sure you are!), and you have the luxury of being induced, spackle on the make-up. You will be soo glad you did when you get those baby-just-out-of-the-oven pics developed. Trust me -- remeber how bad my pics were after Ry, and how good they were after Jax? I learned my lesson, sweets. If you aren't induced, I recommend plastering on the pretty every day starting from about week 30 on. Just to be safe.
10. Baby. Oh my God, oh my God. You will not believe how much you will love this little life. I know you will hear that from everyone, and they are soo right. Just don't squeeze too hard, that's all I'm sayin'. Oh yeah -- and get ready to cry.
P.S. I know I said I wasn't going to dole out the advice, but I lied. I'm a Mom. We can do that sort of thing "for your own good". Just wait, you'll see.
Love you!!!!
Friday, January 20, 2006
Sweet Jesus, what have I done?
You remember that Friends episode where Rachel gets Monica to make all her decisions for her? Yeah, I coulda used that today.
I approached this trainer at the gym who teaches my kickboxing class with the idea that I would be willing to let him publicly note my progress (pics & all) in exchange for free personal training.
See, I'm an eensy-weency, itty-bitty, teency-tiny, little bit hung up on the whole 30th bday -- there are some things I wanted to have done in my life by that age, so I've actually gotta start stepping it up. This guy is so good that I know I can get there with his help, I just can't afford to pay for it. Great idea, no?
Huh. He's a bit more into the "before" part of it than I'd thought he'd be -- wants me to look as nasty before as possible; you know, for ALL THE PICS.
He doesn't want me to do anything for at least 3 more weeks because of my foot, which he said would actually be a plus; it'll get me a little less in shape. "It'll make the changes more drastic for the photos," he said. Sweet.
"Fine, I'll just go tan so I won't feel so heniously mortified."
"No no!!" he cried. "Don't tan. You want to be pale. If you tan it gives your muscles more definition -- we don't want that." Excellent.
Then he goes, "And no makeup in the pictures either."
Alrighty then.
I approached this trainer at the gym who teaches my kickboxing class with the idea that I would be willing to let him publicly note my progress (pics & all) in exchange for free personal training.
See, I'm an eensy-weency, itty-bitty, teency-tiny, little bit hung up on the whole 30th bday -- there are some things I wanted to have done in my life by that age, so I've actually gotta start stepping it up. This guy is so good that I know I can get there with his help, I just can't afford to pay for it. Great idea, no?
Huh. He's a bit more into the "before" part of it than I'd thought he'd be -- wants me to look as nasty before as possible; you know, for ALL THE PICS.
He doesn't want me to do anything for at least 3 more weeks because of my foot, which he said would actually be a plus; it'll get me a little less in shape. "It'll make the changes more drastic for the photos," he said. Sweet.
"Fine, I'll just go tan so I won't feel so heniously mortified."
"No no!!" he cried. "Don't tan. You want to be pale. If you tan it gives your muscles more definition -- we don't want that." Excellent.
Then he goes, "And no makeup in the pictures either."
Alrighty then.
Tuesday, January 17, 2006
Tuesday, January 10, 2006
Monday, January 09, 2006
A Girl After My Own Cheap-Skate Heart
Check out where I'm lurking now. I think this may be my new fave blog -- after this one, that is...
Wednesday, December 28, 2005
Yep, That's Me
| Your Blogging Type is Entertaining and Happy |
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Saturday, December 17, 2005
Friday, December 16, 2005
I Knew I Rocked For A Reason
| Your Celebrity Style Twin is Gwen Stefani |
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Wednesday, December 14, 2005
Tell Me Something I Don't Know...
| You Belong in Paris |
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What City Do You Belong In?
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