Happy Birthday to Me

$165 of over indulgence in the form of a scarf edged with pom poms. It reminds me of my hair ties when I was little and those little fluff balls on the back of tennis socks.

Adios Petunia Pickle Bottom, I'm reclaiming my purse rights. Albeit and HUGE tobo (that's right, it's not a hobo it's not a tote... this reminds me of something else but I digress), but it's washable and it's all mine.

Single File, Please

I live in one of the top 3 cities for triathalons in the nation (I didn't say I DID triathalons, I said I lived here, people). This means we cannot go anywhere without encountering cyclists on the roads, don't me wrong - I love those tight spandex shorts and aerodynamic helmets, my better half has no less than five bikes and two 'bibs'. However, there is no shortage of amateur, self righteous cycling road hogs who don't think twice about giving you the finger when you have drive past them and they're riding three to a lane. So, I've devised a plan. The next time I'm riding in the backseat and I see one of you overeager weekend warriors, you're getting a little slap on the ass out the window. Roar.

Snap a Strap

Just put the hot pink miracle bra back on. At least it adds a pop of contrasting color. These are not Harry Potter's Invisibility Cloak - we can all see them, you're not fooling anyone, we know you have a bra on, it's not strapless and it's TACKY! It's all I can do to keep myself from snapping one when I see them.

I Need These

But all the other short people bought them before I found them. Only the tall girls have a chance left - sizes 8 and up... if anyone finds them in a 7 let me know.

Unexpected Read

I read her two previous novels, which were mostly satirical and feminist, the second one being more of a memoir, collection of stories from her past. I had a really hard time finding this book at our local stores and wondered if that was a bad sign. While completely different from her first novels, this is an amazing story of travel, suspense and humanity. I LOVED it. It's best to jump in having no clue what to expect - so I'll leave it at that.

Need Reassurance that it's Completely Normal to Engage in a Powerstruggle with Your Toddler? Read This

Just finished. Giggle-worthy novella about a woman, her toddler and supportive work-at-home Mr.Mom as they wait for #2 to arrive. We're nearing the 'trying' phase for our #2, I went from being more terrified of getting pregnant than I was in high school to ooohing and aahhhing at every baby under 3 months we see. Damn hormones.

I'm starting a list of things I want to do before the next child begins to devour every brain cell I still have left, here's what I have so far (suggestions welcome):

1) Organize Master Closet
2) Organize Garage
3) Drink as many Margaritas, White Whines and other mixed drinks not involving rum as socially acceptable before the abolition
4) Plan two vacations before the magic number multiplies (one up Oregon coast and other to Park City)
5) Get new carpeting (got an estimate - $12K?!)
6) Choose materials for backyard re design (I HATE driving to the block and brick place) and actually choose a contractor who won't rip me off (two estimates so far, one for $90K, one for $36K... same project)

I'm Pretty Sure I Saw This Happen on COPS Once...

If you have a car that has a sensor and supposedly will *not* lock itself if the keys are within a foot of the door, it's bullsh*t (confirmed by fire dept.). I locked the baby in the car a few days ago, and with her - my phone, spare house key and any sanity and sense of control I started out with that morning.

One 911 call later, a fire truck was pulling down our long driveway (thank god my neighbors weren't home) and miraculously unlocking the door. I was two seconds from throwing a rock through the window when they showed up.

When the door opened, I realized I'd had the foresight to start a Barney DVD and the baby just looked up at me like, "Oh, hi. Who are those hot guys in uniform with you?"

I baked them some cookies and took them over to the station that night. Encinitas FD, I owe you one - they didn't even mention how hysterical I was, not even once, instead assuring me that this happens at least three times a week.

I'll be one happy mommy if this is the only 911 call I ever make.

Emotional Baker Goes Back to Weight Watchers

I am reading Such A Pretty Fat, by Jen Lancaster, on the advice of this hysterical lady and came across the term 'Emotional Baker' (a roommate who bakes up a frenzy as described by a leather clad biker attending a Weight Watchers mtg). 

This is TOTALLY me! I always knew I wasn't an emotional eater, but push me too far and I'll whip up a batch of cookies in 30 min. It's not enough for me to spoon dough straight from the pink melamine bowl, I have to bake 40 peanut butter chocolate chip cookies to poison the rest of the household too. There's just something satisfying about knowing you're not the only one who's going to down an extra 100 calories a day for the next week with 3 dozen cookies laying around.

I polished off the last cookie a few days ago and then hopped on the scale. I'm still down from where I was before I got pregnant and still maintaining from where I was last summer, but, I'm up 5 from where I was before I put on a bikini and went to Kauai in March. Planned out the WW menu for the next week online last night. Poor D, married to a bi-polar chef in the kitchen. One week it's cookies, the next it's grilled chicken.

One of these things is not like the other

Either my cleaning lady is getting forgetful or she's trying to burn all my hair off.

Limonata (Spiked)

 + one shot of Kettle One = way easier than opening the wine bottle, recorking, using that weird sucking out the air contraption and then washing out the glass when I'm done. 

Further Proof that No One Should Speak to Me Unless I've Been Awake at Least 2 Hrs

Bad, teething filled night. Starbucks this morning some nice, unsuspecting man says to me, "How old is your daughter? I have an 8 mo. old at home. She just started sleeping through the night!"

I know he meant this as a 'show and tell' sort of conversation, but I took it, on my four hours of sleep, as shameless bragging and rubbing it in. Seeing as how I'd been up for about an hour, my personal filter was not in place and I said smugly back to him, "Oh really?! I'd love to tell you that's gonna last." 

Poor guy - I am such an evil bitch before 8AM. 

Home Depot Debacle

A window in our house refuses to stay open, apparently a 'balance' is broken. Said part was removed and taken to Home Depot for the 3rd time in attempt to replace it. Below is a summary of these trips and the explanation for why I will not make a 4th trip is inherent. 

1) "Oh, you want to replace that? We don't actually carry it and since today's Sunday, I can't order it for you. Come back during the week."

2) "Oh, you want to replace that? It's after 2PM, the warehouse is closed, come back before 2PM."

3) Salesman: "Ah, you again. Ok, so (baby screaming in background after 15 min. wait) how much does that window weigh?"

Me: "I have no idea." (Baby slapping me in face and screaming)

Salesman: "Well, to replace that part, I need to know how much that window weighs."

Me: "Ok. Um, how do I find that out?" (Assuming here that I will be instructed to find a model number or part that will point him to my exact window in his giant book of windows, therefore leading to a window weight)

Salesman: (Baby throwing hair bow, socks, shoes and screaming) "Well, you go home, get on the scale and write down how much you weigh. Then you take the window out of the sash, get back on the scale and write that number down. Then you subtract your weight from that number. Then you come back, let me know how much it weighs and we'll order it for you. But, that might take awhile, so maybe you want to come back when you have things under control."

For reals? The hell with the window, we have AC. 

Girlfight

I was more than a little excited when I heard the host of The Real Housewives of New York Reunion show say there was 7 hours worth of footage for the reunion alone. Alas, there are only two actual episodes, the second of which airs tonight. If they sold the raw footage, I'm ashamed to say I'd buy it and watch it all, probably seven hours straight, demanding solitude and total silence (same rules for the last episode of Sex in the City).

Shame aside, I LOVE watching the trainwreck that is Kelly. I think it makes me feel more normal. Or maybe I'm still a 14 yr. old girl dying to see the head cheerleader really get what's coming to her. Probably the later.

D has baby duty tonight and I am all set to go with my DVR and Chardonnay.

UPDATE: Yeh, I'm not really going to ever be happy until these two just have it out slapping and hair pulling. There, I said it, I don't care if my trailer trash side is showing.

Confessions of an Exhausted Mommy

Ok, I know I'm supposed to say I want to spend Mother's Day enjoying time with my family and relishing my good fortune to be happy and healthy. But really, deep down, I can't seem to bury this fantasy of just leaving the house and having a weekend ALONE. Sleeping on the beach, sleeping in, getting massages, facials and shopping. Ah, the good 'ole days.

Photography Widow

See more of his work here and here. 

“When your hobbies get in the way of your work - that's OK; but when your hobbies get in the way of themselves... well...” Steve Martin

My husband has a variety of revolving hobbies that almost always result in my garage, hallway,  etc. being filled with off road vehicles, bicycles, guitars and so on. My housekeeper has stopped asking why there are mountain bikes propped up against the dining room table. All this, I surmise, is the result of a childhood deprived of G.I. Joe dolls, I mean 'action figures' and Matchbox cars, envying the other kids on the block. 

For the most part, these hobbies have done nothing but add to my OCD, save for one. As of late, he is into photography. Despite the fact that my house is filled with stacks and stacks of photography books and we cannot go ANYWHERE without the damn camera(s), I do appreciate and recognize his dedication to documenting our daughter's childhood because, let's face it, my iPhone pics aren't cutting it. 

So, for now, I will try to bite my tongue when I feel the urge to scream, "Put down that camera and either help me with this 100 lb. planter or get your daughter to stop tonguing the shopping cart!" as we stroll through the Target garden center on a Sunday afternoon. 

Fashion Victim or Tree Hugger

I really want to buy these. Something is holding me back. Deep down I think my mommy need for comfortable, flat shoes is manifesting itself in a fashion victim sort of way. To buy or not to buy? God, I sound paranoid ;) 

Megalomaniac or Narcissist?

My husband and I recently spent the Easter Sunday car ride home discussing what 'Narcissism' meant to us and if we knew of any whom had children. (If 'yes', how did their child rearing techniques compare to us 'normal' folk?).  He believes that the majority can't bring themselves to have children or detest them (as well as dogs) altogether.

The result was that we knew a small amount of Narcissists, none which had children, one which was currently pregnant (jury is still out, we'll let you know what happens when reality sets in) and one that was borderline. 

In researching the narcissistic personality disorder, I came across this quote and have since decided Mr.Borderline is definitely a Megalomaniac:

"The megalomaniac differs from the narcissist by the fact that he wishes to be powerful rather than charming, and seeks to be feared rather than loved. To this type belong many lunatics and most of the great men of history." Bertrand Russell

And just to be sure I couldn't see the forest for the trees, I took this test and my results are highly paranoid, highly histrionic and moderately narcissistic, amongst other low scores, like obsessive compulsive; but one look at the bottom of my closet and you would've known that for yourself, no test needed. 

Do you know any narcissists with children (I strongly suspect said 'bunny' in previous post)? Is this the mom with a live in nanny who never sees her kids? If yes, why do you think they continue to have kids? 

Real Housewives of New York

"I'm a mom! I don't want to be too over the top." Eh-hem. I guess Ms. Bensimon must've let this costume from Halloween 2005 slip her mind. In all fairness, the bunny outfit at least covered her midriff. 

Why do I have to watch this crap? I just can't get enough of these overly exaggerated personalities going at it. 

Sharing is Caring

"Parents are not interested in justice, they are interested in peace and quiet." Bill Cosby

My daughter committed her first social offense today. She smacked a playmate when he tried to take a toy from her. I immediately held her hands, looked her in the eyes and told her what she had done was wrong (the good Super Nanny watching mom that I am) and she (the good manipulative toddler that she is) immediately turned on the waterworks and pouted out the lip. The other women in the playgroup were horrified that I was 'so harsh' with her, one of them actually said, "Just look at her sad face!". Am I a cold, heartless disciplinarian or are these chicks just a bunch of suckers?

Should I have ignored the behavior and just took the toy away all together? Oh Super Nanny, where art thou?

WTF

I bought a birthday outfit for my daughter, which arrived last week. There were two boxes addressed to me, I tore into both of them (literally) and found that one of the boxes contained another woman's order. I emailed the company immediately, but they could not figure out what had happened, so I told them to let me know when they figured out their mistake. Last night, apparently, they did. They asked me to return the skirt - so I said, no problem, just send me a box so I can mail it back (I'm not in the habit of keeping shipping boxes around my house or paying for boxes when it wasn't my mistake). The response I got is below.

Contact my husband? Seriously? Is that like, "Just wait until your father gets home?" 

I do have a huge moving box in the garage... maybe that would work.

And did you all know this about receiving merchandise shipped to you by error?

I have no idea why you are such a miserable person.  Just keep in mind that your behavior in this matter, will lead to much larger problems.

At this point, you have just admitted that you threw away a box to a product that you knew was not yours. You have the skirt, that you know is not yours and the act of throwing away the box, is an act of deceit and intent to keep a product that someone else paid for, and needs for her little girl.

Yes, we made a mistake, and sent you YOUR order and by error sent you [other woman's] order. The proper, human thing to do is to seal the box back up, tell us you have a skirt that is not yours, and allow us to pick it up.

I am going to give you 12 hours to paypal us the $59 for the skirt, OR package up the skirt that you do not own, and allow us to pick it up, or I am contacting the police department in your city and I will file a complaint. You have had the property, that is not yours, for over a week. You would not admit that you had it, when we asked you directly. You replied "Figure out your own mistake".

I am also going to contact your husband, because he may be able to talk sense into you. It is stealing, what you are doing. You have shown intent to keep what is not yours.

I have never come across anyone like you. I prey I never do. Your rudeness, and inhumane behavior is troubling.

Just Say No

What is this? 'Critically Acclaimed' by whom? Timothy Leary and Aldous Huxley? I fell off the Hipster wagon, someone enlighten me. What am I missing here?

I Love a Good Bottle

Reminds me of Loudon Wainright's White Wino lyrics:

Mother liked her white wine

she'd have a glass or two

almost every single night

when her day was through

Six Degrees of Playgroup Dating

I live in a different world (and city) than most of my friends from school or childhood - which means once I had a baby, I moved to an entirely different planet. Lately, I've been trying to establish relationships with other women in playgroups, regular haunts (caffeine and wine merchants) and my neighborhood and it feels more like awkward pre-teen dating. 

One woman who I seemed to have a lot in common with was in both my yoga and library group and unfortunately, after catching her maiden name on our email list, I Facebook'd her. Turns out I'm fairly sure that we not only went to college together, but she has witnessed a few rum filled, i-need-a-guy-to-define-my-self-worth VERY public frat party screaming  matches with my emotionally unavailable ex-college beau (who is now getting married, Congrats [enter Irish name here]! You've presumably reached emotional maturity and/or found a woman young enough to assume she can help you get over Oedipus complex, ahhhh youth). I digress.

Suddenly, her friend potential plummets. I cannot possibly go out on a third date and face the "Where did you go to school/meet your husband/move to?" stage because at some point, the light bulb will go on or she'll discover my maiden name and then it will all come rushing back and she will no longer be able to picture me as a doting mother, but as one of Captain Morgan's victims of binge drinking. 

Damn. If only they had Match.com for playdates (the clean kind).

Never write anything down that you wouldn't want to read in public.

Despite the cringe-worthiness of all the well thought out MySpace Bulletins and Facebook posts that I read, I've decided to blog. It is a self-serving and narcissistic exercise that I hope will document the recurring themes in my daily life and help me gain some perspective. 

And the term 'free dog'? Several years ago, our well trained (or well intentioned training) German Shepherd trotted off from us on a walk and absentmindedly, I uttered "There he goes again, free doggin' it." He was off on his own, pretending not to hear us calling out 'come' and 'with me', sniffing the road, peeing on bushes, just doing his own thing. 

This is my 'free dogging' space. A place where I can let go of what normally rolls around in my head for hours at bedtime.