My Week In Review

I just spent the past hour and half combing the Internet in search of a new shelf for our fridge door.

(I know. How thrilling, huh?!)

It's cracked and will probably fall apart at a completely inopportune moment. So, even though we're only renting this house and therefore this technically isn't my problem, I've taken it upon myself to fix it anyway...

There's no make or model anywhere to be found on the fridge, and as for the manual left behind by our landlords...

It's written in GERMAN!!!

I used what little info it provided to search for part and service suppliers in the UK and surprise, surprise NONE of them carries the one thing that I need...

...or are even willing to answer their phone on a Friday, for that matter.

I was getting all snippy and snarly when it occurred to me... WOW! This REALLY isn't my problem.

In the end, I just patched it up with duct tape and fastened it back on the door. Job done!

You know what they say. You can take a girl out of the country...

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The other highlights of my week:

• I have been on pins and needles waiting for my friend on the other side of the world to have her first baby and this past Wednesday, she did! Now, I'm on pins and needles waiting for them to send MORE pictures.

• I decided that I hated living in London where I am way too far, far away from everything I know and love.

• At the exact moment that my friend was having her baby, I was coming home from Moms' Night Out with my ex-pat pals. I was having such fun with them that I sort of suggested demanded that we extend our good times with a "girls only"weekend jaunt to Paris...
  

• I decided that I like living in London again and new friends are fun too... especially when they can be convinced to join me for an uninterrupted cup of coffee... in Paris!
  

Victory Is Mine

I'm back in the town where I grew up, living at my parents' house with my son like the unwed mother that I appear to be these days...

I had my reservation about moving back home. For one, I had sworn up and down that I would rather live in a pizza box under a bridge than live with my parents ever again. It was simply a matter a pride...

How quickly pride gives way to pragmatism when in a bind like suddenly having to sell your house and move overseas?

Well, that and my son is way too precious to live under a bridge.

Then there was the other night, when I was out past NINE and my dad called my cell to ask where I was, who I was with, and when was I coming home... It was just like being in high school all over again... except this time I have a kid, a Roth IRA, and unfortunately, a mortgage.

Turns out Dad was just making conversation rather than imposing a curfew... not that I ever minded the one I had in high school anyway.

So here I was feeling all secure in my adulthood, when blast from the past, I run into my old clique... at SuperTarget, of all places.

I rounded a corner with my son and I came face to face with the meanest, pettiest, bitchiest girls I've ever known in my entire life-- my lunch table crowd from high school.

They haven't changed one bit. In fact, they are all still hanging out together... just without me. In the intervening TEN years since high school, I must have missed the memo 'cuz apparently, we had a falling out which I was not only completely unaware of, but had not even noticed had occurred.

I guess that just goes to show how much fun they were to be around... even when we were the closest of "friends".

Still, I was genuinely happy to see them again, thinking that whatever went on in HIGH SCHOOL would be long forgotten as we connect over shared adult experiences and laugh at how silly we used to be...

Nope!

The chattiest of the bunch cooed over my son and quizzed me on "life in general", while the other two hung back and sized me up. Standing defensively with arms folded and offering little more than guarded, one-word responses, I could tell that they've been rehearsing this moment in their heads for the past ten years. They probably even practiced the cutting remarks they would say to me if ever they saw me again. Yet, they seemed caught completely off guard. I was too until they asked what I was up to...

"Oh I'm back living my parents," I offered unabashedly with a smile. I detected a slight smirk shared between them so I continued, "Well, for now... My husband recently took a job in LONDON. He's working there now, so I moved in with my parents while our house is on the market. I figured it will sell better without my toddler running around and me having to keep it clean by myself, you know. Haha! We'll be joining my husband there in a few weeks. He's looking for a house for us right now."

"Will you be working in London, too?" one asked.

"Oh my, No. I don't have to work. I plan to just hang out with this little guy and just enjoy living in London..." (Okay, that I totally didn't mean to say how it came out, but I was quite pleased anyway)

Floored, they quickly changed the subject and inquired about my best friend. They had heard she got married.

"Oh no. Not yet," I corrected, "not for another two weeks. Their wedding is going to be on an island in GREECE."

"Oh, I guess you won't be able to make it, huh?" another one sneered in fake sympathy.

"Oh no, I'm going to the wedding. Are you kidding? I won't miss that for the world!" I said realizing that I never even thought to invite them to mine...

"Well, look at you, Ms. Fancy-Pants World Traveler... London and Greece? That's so cool, but I guess that means probably won't be flying back for our class reunion this fall, huh?"

"Uhh.... No."

And, do you want to know what the best part was???

Getting to come home and tell my parents all about it...

Grass Greener?

Yesterday, my sister-in-law called to "check up on us". She had heard the news about Hubby losing his job, but I'm not sure if she was calling to commiserate or rub in it...

I filled her in on the basics, but after the hundredth time of repeating them, I just didn't have the heart to go over the details. I also left out most of the big parts like...

... finding out the unemployment benefits that we were naively counting on to see us through because everyone we knew said would be so freakin' awesome (like "70% of Hubby's previous salary" awesome) will barely cover groceries for a week. That's NOT 70%... Boo! Hiss! Texas.

On top of that, they get still get taxed... federally. Um, Insult, meet Injury.

... finding out that the toothache that I thought was merely stress-related is actually my wisdom teeth coming in about 10 years too late and a week before we lose all of our health insurance.

No, we can't even afford COBRA (see above). At least, the dentist prescribed some beautiful painkillers until they can be removed.

Of course, once I took one of the beautiful painkillers and was lying in bed happily stress-free, my husband comes in to tell me that our son spiked a fever. Again, no health insurance in a week, but at least for this one, I can call my mom.

Basically, all of the parts that I don't really care to discuss with anyone right now, so I casually changed the subject and asked how they were doing... big mistake.

My brother-in-law (Hubby's youngest brother) has just accepted a wonderful new job. It's a great opportunity that pays double the salary and apparently offers endless growth. She'll get to stay home with the kids like she claims to have always wanted. However, it also means that they will have to move.

Yeah, moving sucks, but you would think that this would still be really, really exciting for her...

Nope. Not her.

After throwing a big hairy hiss about having to move... wait for it, wait for it... a messily hour away for this fabulous, lucrative job, she told me that she only conceded after he PROMISED that they never... ever...move... again.

She also gloated informed me that his salary was only "going to get better year after year" (i.e. they never have to worry about money again) and they fully expect to get three times what they paid for their house in selling it.

In light of our current circumstances, it's difficult NOT to be jealous hearing all this... even if that last part was just plain petty and hurtful.

I didn't feel the need to disclose to her our highly tentative plans of moving wherever Hubby's next career move lands us, whether it be across the country and across the globe....

Knowing how she reacted to moving across their home state of Oklahoma, I didn't really think she would be very supportive anyhow.

That, and quite frankly, I had had enough of talking to her.

My sister-in-law isn't entirely short-sighted, self-centered, and insensitive. She did offer me some words of comfort... I think.

"At least I only have the ONE kid... ", she told me, whatever the hell that was supposed to mean...

A page from my parenting playbook...

I kid you not. My EXACT words when I noticed my son eying this with peaked interest at his friend's birthday party...

"Honey, if you pull that plug the sun will go down"

What can I say? It was the first thing that popped into my head and a heck of a lot more interesting for my son than the usual, "Don't! Stop! No!"

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Click the button for more Monday hilarity and such.

My Kinda Sugar High

Umm, hi there...

I'm so sorry that I was stoned off my ass at your kid's birthday party, especially since you probably only wished you were (but weren't) at my son's party last weekend. (Sucker!) I assure you, it was for medicinal purposes only.

You see, it's just that it's been a really long week... long day... bad morning... allergy season. I've been stuffy, sneezey, coughy, achy... well, absolutely miserable.

I probably could have sent my Hubby and my son on their own and (blissfully) spent the entire morning in bed, but I just could not miss the BIG party for your little guy. Why, that would be a shame!

(note to self: umm, do THAT next time...)

I haven't left my house in a week HELP ME. and the only thing I had on hand was some of my son's cough medication from way back before it was frowned upon. I figure, they dose this stuff based on weight sooooooo, what's that?

Um, sssssiii-SEVEN times his dosage for me?

Right? No? Oh well... It turned out alright. Everybody seemed to have fun. I had a GREAT time and you have some equally quality footage of me snorting and laughing hysterically at my own lame jokes.

I didn't even mind when you insisted that we have that Barney sing along. In fact, I believe that the medication only enhanced the experience. I hope you didn't mind that I changed the words to that annoying charming "Bingo was his name-o" song... (B-I-T-C-H, was it?)

My apologies for any of the other inappropriate things I may or may not have said... out loud... in front of the kids.

Well, so there you have it. I promise to be on my best behavior next year.

Hugs!

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Click the button for more Monday hilarity and such.

The Dos and Do Nots

Over Easter brunch with several other families, one of the guests "casually" dropped an announcement...

He's writing a screenplay.

...and suddenly, the other guests got very interested in the smoked salmon and melon salad we were feasting upon.

What did you say was in this salad again? It's delicious... Oh, is that my son breaking something in the other room? I better go... Hey, I had a really good poop today. Anyone wanna to hear about that...

Okay, maybe not that last thing, but almost anything to avoid talking about this guy's screenplay.

He brought it up again, but only to admit that he hadn't actually written anything yet, but merely purchased the special, super-duper software for it.

To which I replied, "You mean, Microsoft Word..." (Smart Ass) I got a huge laugh, but don't think he appreciated that comment...

We probably could have been more supportive of our friend. So why weren't we? Pondering this incident, I realized it's because I'm jaded and cynical.

There comes a point in every bourgeoisie existence where everyone you know has, at one point or another, had aspirations to do something creative... without actually doing anything creative.

In other words, that whole "planning to write" a screenplay... No one plans to become a writer. They write.

No huge proclamations. No fanfare. No premature pats on the back. They simply write.

Come see me when your first draft is completed. I'll be happy to press "spell check". Just don't think I'm going to get all googly-eyed and impressed when you talk about all the special formating your new software will automatically do.

Luckily, my husband, with his USC film degree and years of working in the film industry, was not in the room when the screenplay was brought up. I can only imagine the dose of "reality" he would have provided...

Later in the privacy of our own home, when I told him about our friend planning to write a screenplay, he merely said, "Yeah, him and everyone in L.A. Pfff... Good Luck!"

When does "not getting pregnant" turn into "infertility issues"?

When you decide to make it an issue...

We've been trying for a second child for several months now... unsuccessfully.

It's been upsetting, but I've handled it with dignity and grace. I've tried not worry about it so much. Put it in God's hands. Focus on the all the blessings in my life. blah. blah. blah. BLAH!

But after the fifty billionth person asked, "sooooo, when are you having another one?" and I got all choked up and heart-wrenched on the inside, I decided to just start tellin' it like it is...

"Oh, I don't know (ASS). We've been trying for months(ASS), but I can't seem to get pregnant (ASS)."

At this moment, the other person usually gets flustered and embarrassed for asking in the first place. They uncomfortably search for the "right things to say", avoiding eye contact and probably afraid that I'll burst into tears at any moment.

As if there's a "right thing" to say. The only thing you can say to someone that wants a baby, but can't have one is, "You're pregnant". The best anyone has ever come up with is,"Oh."

Yup, just "Oh"... followed by stunned, awkward silence.

"Good!" I gleefully think to myself, "Serves you right for asking (ASS)"

Next week, I plan to start telling people that my husband has ED... and we're looking into penis pumps and getting some "Viva Viagra". Not true, of course, but I can't wait for the bug-eyed stares and hurried subject changes.

What Passes for a "Crazy Night" at the Casa de D

"YOU'RE the fun one???" my sister-in-law once asked in utter disbelief. "Why yes I am," I tartly responded (the "yeah, bitch" was implied). Actually, no one believes I'm the "fun one".

Well, good cop, bad cop. Fun one, strict one... whatever you want to call it, I AM the instigator of the good times around here.

Come to think of it, neither one of us is truly the "strict" one. We both agree on discipline and dole it out when needed. (united front, united front, united front) My husband just wouldn't think of, much less allow, stuff like finger painting the tub...

He was however impressed that we cleaned up afterwards-- baby and tub.

My husband handles the bedtime routine at night, giving me time to blog a nice break in the evenings. Having to do it alone has become super stressful, so I've just made going to sleep optional. He likes to wait up for his Daddy anyway. We both do.

So, I just leave the light on and let him look at books in his crib until my husband comes home to enforce bedtime again...

My husband would also never allow our son and his friends to play golf inside the house. At least the kids were in their pj's already... or maybe they've been wearing them all day. Hmm...

my son and his BFF, either golfing or jousting

Like it matters. Did I mention that these kids just had ice cream for dinner? They didn't want to eat the healthy stuff. No one was here to back me up and I was too tired to make them eat it on my own. Yeah, I have no idea why people let me watch their kids either...

This is just the sort of stuff that happens when my husband starts having to spend all of his time at the office. We miss him, but a little chaos and madness seem to make the hours until he's home (to put an end to the chaos and madness) fly by just a bit faster...

You say Tar-jay, I say "Shut it"

Me to the cashier at Target yesterday, "Oh, you forgot to give me a gift receipt. Do you mind printing one for me?"

Man behind me who was looking really ticked about having to wait a half second more says, "You're RUINING my evening."

My retort, "Well, it's 9:30 and you're at TARGET. I don't think your evening was that great to begin with."

What can I say? Last minute, late night Christmas shopping brings out the bitchy in me....

The Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Week

What would be the crowning achievement to what has been a horrible, horrible week?

....umm, realizing you booked your flight to Chicago for the WRONG DATE on the way to the airport!

...and then, being told it would be another $700 to fly out tonight... or I can fly standby first thing tomorrow morning. Since I blog for fun, not profit, I'll be at the airport at 4 am to get on a 6 am flight.

I have freaked out, cried, and kicked myself repeatedly because I have no one else to blame for this but ME. My husband and son have been so sweet in comforting me, but I was still so mad at myself that I had to call a friend to vent about it.

"Oh, it's just 'mommy brain'. You'll be fine once this is all cleared up," she said before she laughed at me. "My goodness, this could have happened to anyone," she continued once she regained composure. But it didn't. It happened to me!

I know it's not the end of the world. I do HAVE a flight to Chicago and worst case scenario, I'll just miss the first day of BlogHer (gasp!). Let's just say, I'm looking forward to it and wishing I was there more than ever now...

So what made this such a "horrible, no good, very bad" WEEK?

For starters, it began with a cold. A miserable, achy, stuffy full-bodied cold... in JULY. Personally, I think colds have no business happening in summer. They're for warm blankets and hot soup season.

Fortunately, the steady stream of DayQuil (non-drowsy, my ass), hot tea in the middle of a Texas summer, and actually "napping when the baby naps" has somewhat restored me.

One would think I'd at least have a deep, sultry Kathleen Turner voice to show for all my trouble.

Nope. I wake up sounding like Beaker.

My son is also teething again and seems to be up to molar a week. While I don't have any of my own recollections of what it was like to cut teeth, I can only imagine how painful it must be. As his mommy, I am very sympathetic. Of course, I would have prefered that my son let me know about his great pain at home rather than at the lovely baby shower we attended this morning.

He was just fine before we left, but his mood quickly changed once we arrived. He rammed push toys into the furniture, screamed at the other kids, cried if anyone other than me held/sat next to/talked to him, and I got to be that mom who "can't control her kid". We left right after our gift was opened.

So, you see, I was REALLY looking forward to a few days off... which made me hate myself even more for screwing up my flight!!!

Well, see you tomorrow... I hope.

Was it planned?

This is post is for The Parent Bloggers blog blast to coincide with the launch of the Body, Soul, & Baby campaign, a new pregnancy/new mom handbook by Dr. Tracy Gaudet (Director of Duke Medical School's Department of Integrative Medicine). I'm to answer the following question:

What’s the most annoying preggo or new mom question you’ve ever been asked — AND — what’s your best, snarky “wish-you-could-have-said-it” answer.

Well, there were SEVERAL to pick from... In fact, I mentioned a few in a previous post. For some reason, people seem to think that just because you recently found yourself in a delivery room with your who-ha displayed for all the world to see, you must be completely comfortable divulging every detail of your life- heart, soul, and sex life- over lunch... at work.

I was young and nine-months newly married when I got pregnant. I had also recently started a fabulous, new job, was a semester from completing my MBA, and just getting used my married name...

No, a sane person probably would NOT have planned to start a family right then and there... It just happens.

The truth is my husband and I knew we wanted children someday, but weren't sure we'd be able to have one right away. We had no reason to think we would have trouble conceiving, mind you. It was just that neither one of us had ever tried before. Plus, a lot of our friends seemed to be having fertility issues around this time, so we automatically thought we'd be in the same boat. We started trying with the expectation that it would take a while...

Guess what?! NOPE!

While our family and friends were thrilled with the news, the average acquaintance and random co-worker raised an eyebrow and with a smirk, unabashedly inquired, "Oh, so was it an accident?" or "was it planned?".

The sarcastic response I proudly gave was, "umm, well, I think I know how it happened"

Unless I make a habit of sharing intimate details of my life with you AND I've known for longer than a coffee break, you have no business asking about it, so just don't ask.

No, it wasn't the "perfect time" to have a baby, but that's only because there's NO SUCH THING as a good time to start a family. There will always be a reason to hold off- more money, more house, more time... but there are so many more reasons why I'm grateful for how things turned out. My son is a blessing and a gift from God and who am I turn down God.

Of course, the most annoying question I get as a SAHM is still "so, what do you do all day?" to which I reply, "Read my blog".

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“Don’t you wish you could have just handed them this?”

Things I've been doing...

...instead of blogging this week.

I wish I could tell you that I was stricken with spring fever and have spent my days romping around the great outdoors with my son...

On the contrary, the first part of the week was rainy and damp. Ick! The closest I've come to "romping" was mowing the front lawn during my son's nap time (strictly under duress by our Homeowners Association, mind you). I also took my son swimming yesterday afternoon because it was just that much easier than actually cleaning the fruit smoothie off of him. (Don't ask.)

We made up for our time indoors by taking a "field trip" with our playgroup today. The mommies collective thought it would be an excellent morning to take our kids to the Fort Worth Zoo. Unfortunately, so did about TWENTY local ISDs...

I arrived at the zoo just as it opened and just in time to fall in line behind all of them ...

My son and I were surrounded by a sea of sights and sound. The summer vacation-bound kids wearing their matching hats, shirts, and/or name badges and the "cool teachers" chaperons sporting their Hawaiian garb and too-short shorts. Everyone was screaming. Everyone was hyper. Everyone had been assigned a buddy.

We were eventually joined by the rest of our playgroup, and off we went into the "World of Primates"- a stroller-parade with toddlers, sippy cups, cameras, and snacks for the day. We moved quickly through the crowded exhibits, clamoring for our turns to point to the furry animals and say to our sons, "Look it's an orangutan!". Then turn to one another to ask, "That is an orangutan, right?".

My son was fairly interested in the animals, but at thirteen months, honestly didn't know what to make of them. The rest of the time he was content to sit in his stroller and people watch. He even kept his hat on... most of the time. After two hours in the sun and the insanity, we decide to break for lunch. My son and I took off to visit the grandparents, who live nearby.

I really didn't mind all the little kids being at the zoo with us. For the most part, they stayed in their groups and were considerate of the babies. It was the middle school kids who were being tedious. First of all, I don't really understand the point of taking a class trip to the zoo when you're in JUNIOR HIGH.

They couldn't have been playing hookey since they were there with their matching shirts, name tags, and chaperons. The girls would run gossip back and forth through the various cliques and try to get the boys' attention by shrieking and acting oh so terrified of the bugs.

Um, heeeee-llo. We are at a ZOO. Of all the creatures here today, that FLY would probably be the least harmful. You think?!

Then, there were the boys, who were obviously too cool for zebras. They couldn't be bothered with bugs or...well, anything. They mostly hung back, listening to their iPods and watching the girls freak out. Each posturing for one another.

Of all the animals we saw today, I must say they were the most fascinating to watch. And to think, we actually descended from these monkeys...

Photo by mailliw

Instant Karma

This morning, I took my son to playtime at Gymboree. It's open to kids of all ages, provided they're currently enrolled in one of their classes.

A girl about three years old ran over to play with my son. She took a toy from him when her mom, "Braggedy Ann", swooped in to remind her to "play nicely". I complimented the little girl on how well she shared after that and the mom turned to me to ask...

Braggedy Ann: How old is he? (pointing to my son).

Me: Just turned a year on Wednesday.

Braggedy Ann: Is he walking?

Me: On his own? Not yet, but he holds on...

Braggedy Ann: Well, my daughter walked at 9...er, 8 months old. My son too. (points to younger boy).

Me: Oh really.

Braggedy Ann: Yes, 8 months. Walking. Both of my children started walking at 8 months old.

Me: I see.

Not that I asked, by the way...

My son, having lost interest in the conversation days ago, left to play with something else. I just smiled and took off after him.

A little while later, Braggedy Ann's boy bolted for the parking lot when someone opened the door to leave. I happened to be standing right outside at the time. Luckily, I was there to catch and release him back to his "Smug-mmy".

That is, when she eventually realized he had taken off without her...

Hmm, maybe it's not so great when they learn how to walk...no, RUN away so early, is it?

photo by tobasari1

Pyramid Scheme for Literacy

I got roped into a book exchange, which sounds like fun on paper, and I said I'd do it before I considered what it really entailed...

Why? Why? WHY do I always act first and ask questions later?

What is a book exchange, you ask???

Basically, I recieved a letter in the mail with the names and addresses of two kids. You send a book to the kid in the #1 spot. Then, you use an enclosed blank letter to move the #2 kid's name and info to the #1 spot and add your kid's name to the #2 spot. You make copies of that letter and send to your "responsible" friends within a week.

They do the same and if all goes well, you get 36 books for your 1 that you sent. Everyone is happy, because what kid doesn't love getting mail? Plus, it's a fun and inexpensive way to stock your library.

I know it probably sounds like a scam, except the person that sent it to me is actually a good friend of ours who I happen to like and trust.

Last week, I sent a book to Kid #1 and made copies of the letters. Easy-shmeasy

This morning, I was faced with addressing my letters to send... and drew a blank.

It's not that I don't have six friends with kids to whom I can mail the letters. It's more of a question of who I want to burden with this. It does entail a purchase of a book, making copies, addressing letters, and mailing everything. While that's not a whole lot of work for me, I can only image how other people could react.

One of my friends told me outright that she thought it was stupid and if I sent her a letter she would just ignore it. Yikes!

Since we just had a huge party for my son last week, I feel like I can't really trouble the people we invited (our closest friends) with it. Especially after all the thoughtful and wonderful gifts they gave my son. So, I decided to send it to my playgroup...

If they hate me for it-- oh well. Also, if this scheme doesn't work out, all I'm out is a book and some postage, right?

Mirror, Mirror...

At lunch with my former co-workers, one of them asked me if I was one of those mommies that "gets manicures during the day".

I just laughed, but couldn't quite find the words to say, "WTF, do you think I LOOK pampered?"

As I sat there with a jacket hiding food stains from my son, nails to the nub, smeared make up, and puffy sleep-derived eyes, the answer was a resounding "NO!". (But, I'm certainly flattered that she thought so...)

Manicure, my ass. I'm lucky to get my hair brushed...

...which, by the way, didn't happen on that particular day as shortly before heading out, I broke my SECOND salon-grade round hairbrush in a month. I'm not proud of it, I'm just saying.

As a new mom, I constantly waffle between caring a great deal and not so much about the way I look.

I find myself falling deeper and deeper into the complacency that seems to come with motherhood. Let's face it. It's hard to focus on yourself when you're so focused on the well-being of a small, helpless creature that depends on you, and you alone, for its care and safety.

Of course, I still make the effort to dress up for Mass once a week, parties, lunches with friends, or a grown-up night out. I'm just fearful that as these event become more and more hectic with more and more children, I'll give up entirely.

For instance, there is a mom that I see at church every week in the same black, velour tracksuit. At least, I think it's the same black, velour tracksuit. For all I know, she could several velour tracksuits... one for everyday of the week even, but we're not good enough friends for me to know that for sure.

In many ways, I am already like this woman. My day-to-day wardrobe consists of t-shirts and capri pants or jeans, hair pulled back in a pony tail, and absolutely no make-up. My only accessory is my wedding band and maybe a watch. Since my son likes to pull on my earrings, bracelets, and necklaces, they're not an option most days.

In my defense, the minimal amount of time it takes me to put that together is all that is afforded to me by my very clever and precocious son. You see, getting ready every day also includes keeping my son out of the toilet paper, away from my shoes, and out of my make-up. Yesterday, he broke through the baby-proofing and dumped about 200 hair pins out of their closed container and onto the floor. The time before, he pulled the cord of my hairdryer and it shattered upon hitting the floor...

Let's just say it's hard to keep one eye on mirror and both hands on him....

Fulled with self-righteousness, I justify this look with "well, I'm a mom" and obviously I have more important things to do than preen in front of the mirror or match colorful shoes with pretty dresses. After all, I'm doing the greatest job a woman can do. I am a mother and I have a child to take care of...

...and then I see some hipster mom at a restaurant or in the park with two, three, or more kids and looking so put together. Motherhood didn't change her sense of style one bit!

Like that mom I saw with her two little girls at the mall yesterday. Both were dressed to the nines in their Easter dresses; no doubt just having posed with the Easter Bunny. The mom was wearing a t-shirt and jeans just like me, but she also had on a trendy belt, matchy-matchy wedges, and some long strands of pearls around her neck. Her hair was done up and her face was flawless. I swear, she could have jumped right out of an episode of America's Next Top Model to take her kids to the mall only to go back and win.

Sure, there's nothing wrong with the way that I dress to take care of my son, but I know I could do better...

When I told my husband about my co-worker, he suggested that next time I see her I shove some diaper cream under my nails to get that "french manicure" look.

I'm not sure what impressed me more... the fact that it seems like a really clever idea or that my husband knows what a french manicure is...

photo by The Rocketeer

Good Cop, Bad Cop

I walked into our living room to find our son pushing a plastic laundry hamper into the hallway. He was walking behind it (yea!), but seeing that made me kind of sad.

Nevermind that I had just emerged from our son's playroom (full of toys) and walked into another room (also full of toys that he was presently ignoring). I boldly delcared to my husband that we need to buy the boy some new toys...

"Don't you want to wait to see what people get him for his birthday?", my husband asked.

"No. Look at him. He's resigned to playing what a laundry hamper. He obviously needs more to play with..." (yeah, right... truth is, I want more toys...)

"Well, you know what he isn't going to play with any more? THE PHONE or anything reslembling the phone"

My son loves grown up stuff- cordless phones, cell phones, car keys, laundry...

Since his facination was pretty harmless, I never thought twice about letting him play with any of this stuff. On this partucluar evening, he somehow dialed 911... multiple times. There was a phone call from a 911 operator, followed by some loud pounding on the front door. It was a police officer coming to check on the "situation".

My husband apologized profusely and immediately confisacted the cordless phone from our son.

Fortunately, my husband was home. If I had been alone, I won't have bothered to get the door... In fact, I was in the other room chatting away on my cell phone and barely heard the commotion.

When my husband was telling me about it later, my reaction was, "Well, did you show him our son? If the officer had seen what a cute little boy we have, he probably wouldn't have been so mad..."

Yep, I'm one of those moms... and I'm not even going to apologize for it.

Now, if you'll excuse me. Surely, there's got to be something at Toys"R"Us that I haven't purchased yet...

photo by d_lav

Hooray!

For a blog about being a SAHM, I realized that I haven't specifically talked about my son much. Since today was a particularly red letter day (and I have no one else to tell), I wanted to give you a run down of what we did today... or at least the highlight?

Today, (drum roll, please) my son drank from a straw for the very first time and took to it like a pro! He even held his new spill-proof thermos all by himself and finished ALL of his drink... WHEW-HEW!

We've been giving him sippy cups since he was five months old and he never liked to drink from them. Play with them, yes. Drinking, noooooo!

Knowing that his doctor, like every other pediatrician I know, recommends kicking the bottle habit by baby's first birthday, I've agonized about this for months. I've asked every mom I know for advice on the sippy. I've even tried different brands, shapes, styles. Ones with pictures. Ones without. Nothing has worked.

We've also tried just teaching him how to use a cup. We bought him his own baby-sized cup to help him learn. Let's just say there is a very good reason sippy cups were created... He's got the drinking part down. It was trying to convince him that it's not a good idea to turn a half-full (half-empty?) cup upside down that was the challenge.

You have NO idea how freaking HAPPY I am to have bypassed the sippy cup stage completely. Sippy cups are retarded... especially since you have to break them of that habit too and at an age when they tend to be a lot more willful. In "grown-up world" that would be like replacing cigarettes with cocaine.

So, what do you think I should do with the hoard of sippy cups I've bought?

Oh wait! Here's a brilliant suggestion by Laura Jones

In the game of Life...

...I'm the one with the husband, baby, and station wagon.

My mom's best friend called me yesterday evening to ask if I could speak at her son's CAREER DAY in two weeks...

As she tried in earnest to convince me to participate and apologizing for the late notice, it occurred to me that my mom hasn't told her that I quit my job a month ago. I'm a bit surpirsed since I know they talk all the time... I guess my mom hasn't quite found the words to say "my daughter has an MBA and changes diapers all day..." hehe.

When I pointed out this minor detail, she stammered a bit before awkwardly reaching for other ways that I could "contribute". Being too sweet and polite to out right uninvite me, she quietly let me off the hook by saying, "it's okay to say no", then completely changed the subject. The rest of the time we talked about babies and grandparents...

I suppose I could go to validate my choice to be a SAHM as being a genuine career (limiting?) decision, but that would entail giving a crap about what other people think of my choices. I don't.

Plus, I realize that the point of career day is to inspire kids to go to college and major in things like zoology, pre-law, or something. Also, you have to HAVE a career before you can decide to leave it for a while... My 10- 15 minutes on the joys of being a SAHM would better serve a more "mature audience".

I think I will just do the noble thing and let her know we have other plans that day...

photo by We're So Tired

This week...

What did I do? Ah, yes. I...

• joined the Mothers of Young Children through our parish. I signed up for the monthly book club and TWO play groups (one of which I'm heading up).

• took over the leadership of our Young Marrieds group, also through our parish. I actually (wisely) decided to spilt the responsibility for this group with my friend. I'm in charge of representing (and promoting) the group within the parish, new membership, the website, and monthly date night activities. My friend is planning all the monthly family events. (In spite of my "to-do" list looking longer, it's actually a 50-50 split... )

• went to the gym at 5 AM three days this week.

• ordered Valentine's Day cards with my son's picture to send to family.

• continued working on the details of my son's birthday party

• made dinner every night

• need to figure out what to make for dinner tonight...

..and still managed to entertain, feed, and care for my child.