Mommy needs a margarita!

My little ray of sunshine

2011-01-11T11:44:00.000-08:00

At first, I was morally opposed to babies in Juicy Couture - but COME ON NAH. The evidence speaks for itself.

Thanks to Miss Kim over at Fashion Mama for reminding me to post some adorable!

Don't call it a comeback

2010-11-08T09:28:00.001-08:00

Ok, first thing - I'm eating a Subway sandwich as I write this, and the tomatoes are actually good. WHAT IS HAPPENING. Anyway!

When last we met, it was August? Really? Did time really pass that quickly? In that span of time, I've been a bridesmaid twice, been to a boatload of weddings, got married myself, stage managed a play that opened the week after my wedding and didn't lose my mind, and survived Wayne's Great Halloween Spending Binge of 2010 without shedding any blood.

I honestly don't even know where to begin, so I suppose I'll write about what I learned from my wedding. There is really only one lesson:
1. Things will go wrong, and it's ok.

Our aisle music got totally screwed up, thanks to a batty Day Of Coordinator. There wasn't supposed to be any music for the groomsmen/parents walking down the aisle, just for my bridesmaids and me. Unfortunately, our DOC battered my cousin (our MC) into playing the two songs I picked for my bridesmaids and I for everyone else. So my bridesmaids ended up walking down to my song. And then we just started over and I also walked down to my song. I was really disappointed at first; the song that I picked meant so much to me, and I really wanted it to be special.

Also, I was already pissed at the DOC for FORGETTING MY BRIDESMAIDS AND I IN THE ROOM WHERE WE WERE GETTING READY. But! After the ceremony, everyone told me how much they enjoyed the music. I later found out that many of the guests had a fun sing-a-long, and you know what? That's awesome.

Ultimately, my wedding was about wearing a pretty dress, eatin' some cake, being with the people who mean the most to me, and having Wayne make an honest woman out of me. Honestly, it was the best day of my entire life, yes, even compared to Ruby being born, because guess what? I wasn't giving birth! Didn't have to! Ruby was already there!

For all of the stress and arguments and lost sleep, my favorite moment of the entire day was after the wedding, sitting in the hotel room with Wayne, eating sandwiches and drinking beer.

....

...and rocking out to "Bye Bye Bye" with some of my oldest friends.

I guess what I'm getting at here is to never lose sight of the purpose of the day. Look, you're probably going to get pissed when you're planning a wedding. Things aren't always going to go your way. You will probably also get pissed the day of your wedding, it's just going to happen. The important thing is that you get your ass down that aisle without punching anyone and get hitched to the person you love. And cake. That's important, too.

An Open Letter To The Wiggles

2010-08-06T12:48:00.000-07:00

Dear the Wiggles,

Listen, I appreciate your ability to exploit the fact that you give parents 5 minutes of alone time just as much as anyone else, but seriously, YOU WERE SINGING ABOUT FRUIT SALAD THIS MORNING. WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU. WHY IS THERE A PIRATE. WHAT IS THIS:

WHAT ARE YOU.

Also, what the hell is a Wiggly Waffle? When I hear wiggly, I think of Jell-O, and a waffle made of Jell-O sounds both disappointing and impossible to achieve. You men have no dignity, I can see the void in your dead eyes as you sashay and sing about playing one's guitar with Murray (is that a euphemism? If so, that is INAPPROPRIATE. This is a show for children).

I won't lie, Wiggle Men, there is a sick, dark part of me that wants to attend one of your live shows. Not for the brain-killing music, no. I am convinced that you have groupies. Sad, lonely, stay-at-home moms who are driving their children to futures filled with extensive therapy, all so they can breathe the same air as The Hot Wiggle*. Can you tell me, Wiggle Men? Is there a secret, underground movement of mom groupies? Do worn, stretched-out nursing bras get thrown at you when gallivanting about stages from city to city? Let me in on this. I want to know.

But seriously, fruit salad? Stop that nonsense. I hate you.

(and envy you and your dirty Wiggle money)

With love and revulsion,

MNAM

*I don't actually know if there is such a thing.

To sleep, perchance, through the night

2010-07-23T06:33:00.000-07:00

Q: What can I do to get my baby to sleep through the night?
A: Wait until (s)he is 14.

I mentioned a few posts ago that we're going through a bit of a rough patch with Miss Ruby. Lately, she's been going to sleep "for the night" around 7 or 8pm, then wakes up 3 hours later crying. We try to let her fuss herself back to sleep. She begins sobbing. We start to feel guilty, but still try to wait it out. She starts screaming. We finally give in and go in her room. She picks her head up and smiles at us.

Stinker.

Then, if we don't pick her up, she starts crying again. It's obvious that she's tired, she buries her face and rubs her eyes, but she just won't go back to sleep. Finally, we give in completely and give her a bottle. I know this is wrong. I know this creates bad habits. But when it's midnight and you have to be up in 5 hours, it's difficult to care. The sense of desperation is something I haven't felt since trying to fit in with the cool kids in middle school. Except that was kind of sad and pathetic. This is sheer survival mode.

Anyway. After the bottle, she normally is asleep, or is at least close. We put her down, and go to bed. She normally wakes up at least once after this and fusses, but not for long, and goes back to sleep on her own. Then she wakes up.

Between 4 and 5am.

Now, I'm sorry, this is one thing that I will not tolerate. Maybe we were spoiled or whatever, but Ruby used to sleep from about 7:30pm-6am. 4am is totally insane. Normally, she'll fuss for a while when she wakes up now, and then falls back asleep. She's getting good at the fakeout, too.

Waaaaaahhh hahahahahaaaaa waaaaahhhhwahhhhhaaaa
(pause)
....
(Wayne and I look at each other)
....
WAYNE: I guess she's asleep now.
(ominous music that we can't hear)
WAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!

Finally, she'll fall asleep, but then I start to panic. "What if she hurt herself and that's why she's crying? What if she's unconcious? What if SOMETHING IS WRONG. But if I go in there, she might not even be asleep! Or I'll wake her up and it's 5am, and I can sleep for another hour, so I really should just stay here, but WHAT IF SOMETHING IS WRONG. AM I A BAD MOTHER FOR LETTING HER CRY, I SHOULD REALLY JUST GO TO SLEEP."

I suppose there isn't much of a point in encouraging her to sleep later if I'm just going to sit up like some neurotic junkie coming off a heroin binge.

Now that this has been going on for the better part of a week, I'm just glad that there is such a thing as Dunkin' Donuts iced coffee. And that they offer it to you in a large size.

Plus Ones

2010-07-21T13:58:00.000-07:00

I read an article a while ago lamenting wedding-planning couples who don't allow plus-ones outside of spouses. I wish I could find the link, but it appears to be buried under the entire internet.

Look, as someone who has been to a wedding solo before, I know how awkward it can be if you don't know any of the other guests. I took this into consideration when inviting folks, and the one person I know who won't be too familiar with anyone is allowed to bring a guest. Other than that, the guests are either married, or will know the vast majority of people there. If we are friends with both members of the couple, obviously, both are invited.

Here's the thing that people don't seem to understand: Weddings Are Really Expensive. The most expensive aspect of a wedding is, in fact, feeding the guests. The soon-to-be-wedded couple, or their parents, or whomever, are paying more than you would probably pay for a nice dinner out per person. Would you give anywhere between $50-$130 to a person you didn't know? If you said yes, is your name Bill Gates? If so, could you please give me ... .00001% of your net worth? Thanks.

The comments on the article absolutely infuriated me "If everything is so expensive, then why don't you just cut back somewhere else?" Do I even need to acknowledge this statement further? I didn't think so.

Besides the cost, there are also space concerns. Venues can only seat so many people, and you are expected to adhere to those guidelines.

To all the singles, spare the bride and groom the awkward phone call, and ask before you start scribbling names willy-nilly on your RSVP card. Maybe they'll even be nice and say it's ok!

Or maybe the Plus One Monster will come and eat your guest in the night.

UPDATE: Here is the article I was referring to! If you really want to go on a face-punching spree, read some of the comments. (Thanks, Bucky!)

How did my baby inherit my sister's most annoying quality?

2010-07-20T11:38:00.000-07:00

We're going through a bit of a rough spell with Ruby. She's still a silly, mostly happy girl, but she is starting to realize the things she should be doing that her body is incapable of so far (crawling, walking, eating turkey legs), which has led to the discovery of my least favorite thing:

WHINING.

Let me get this out in the open: I am not a whiner. I do find it easier to find humor in negative things, but I will not whine about them. Complain? You bet your ass. Whine? NEVER.

My sister is the queen of whining, and always has been. I should point out that she is a grown adult. I think she is brainwashing my baby.

We never want to give in to whining, but let's face it. If a co-worker in close proximity to your desk was playing "Your Love is a Drug" by Ke$ha over and over, and said they'd stop it for a dollar, and there were no suitable weapons nearby, I think you'd give them a dollar. What I'm saying here, is that my sister gets her way 87% of the time, and I believe she is passing this knowledge to Ruby in secret. Annoy until you get your way!

Ruby is also struggling with the limits of her physical abilities. Every night this week, we've been awakened by a screaming baby between the hours of 1 and 3am. Why? Because she is trying to crawl in her crib and IT ISN'T WORKING. There is no way to console her when it gets to this point, either. She will only accept offerings of Enfamil.

The main cause of whining is the fact that Ruby wants to stand more than just about anything. She can stand if we stand her up in her playpen, and put her hands on the side. She is happy and content and then her legs start to get tired, and she falls on her butt. Commence crying and whining. We put her back up, her legs won't hold out, she cries again. We distract her with a toy. She's happy for a few minutes, then begins whining again because she can't stand.

Baby bodies seem to act independently of baby brains, sort of like how a cat doesn't control the actions of their tail. Baby wants to sleep, but body says "You must crawl or else you are weak!" Baby doesn't want to crawl, yet finds they are crawling anyway. Baby bodies are sort of like abusive personal trainers.

We've been lucky so far in that these rough patches don't really last that long. Now that I've said that, Ruby will be whining well into her early 20's.

Hell, a screenplay

2010-07-14T08:34:00.000-07:00

COMPUTER: You've received a secure email! Please enter your password!
ME: OK! (enters password)
COMPUTER: That password is not correct. Please enter the correct password!
ME: Uh ... OK! (enters another potential password)
COMPUTER: That password is not correct. Please enter the correct password!
ME: (changes password)
COMPUTER: Please click here to confirm you changed your password!
ME: (click!)
COMPUTER: Your password has successfully been changed!
ME: YAY! (returns to email, enters password)
COMPUTER: That password is not correct. Please enter the correct password! (LOL :D)
ME: (grunts, enters password)
COMPUTER: You have exceeded the maximum log in attempts for this account. Please contact technical support.
ME: (explodes)

Coming up with clever titles is the hardest thing about blogs.

2010-06-29T12:44:00.000-07:00

So, we're leaving for our first big vacation on Saturday, and I feel so scatter-brained I genuinely can't focus on anything past making mental wishlists while window-shopping on the internet.

We've taken Ruby on small trips here and there, never any more than 3 days. But now we're going for a week, aka a length of time where we can't afford to not bring her jumperoo. Our packing list looks something like this:
-Clothes for Ruby
-Formula for Ruby
-Food for Ruby
-Dishes for Ruby
-Bottles for Ruby
-Shampoo for Ruby
-Towels for Ruby
-Sunscreen for Ruby
-Lotion for Ruby
-Laundry detergent for Ruby
-Case of water for Ruby's bottles
-Toys for Ruby
-Jumperoo for Ruby
-Stroller for Ruby
-Playpen for Ruby
-Pack 'n Play for Ruby
- Sheets for playpen for Ruby
-Sheets for Pack 'n Play for Ruby
-Diapers, wipes, Desitin (for Ruby ... maybe Wayne, too)
-Clothes for Katie
-Clothes for Wayne
-Hairdryer
-Beer

I have to laugh when I think about how ridiculous our car is going to look. Packed completely to the gills, and only one, maybe two bags will be packed with adult items. Thinking of how we are going to fit all of this stuff into our car is causing tiny explosions in my cerebral cortex.

Oh, and addition to the insane amount of laundry and packing and making my list and checking it twice that I'll be doing, we have to get our wedding invitations out before we leave :D

Is this really considered a vacation? Is it going to be fun for us to haul a ton of stuff down to the beach, plus a baby, only to have to bring it all back up an hour later? When I stop to think about it, it would almost be easier to just stay home for a week and not have to pack anything, and do laundry at my leisure.

I'm still looking forward to not being at work, and getting to see bunches and bunches of my extended family.

They can help with the hauling, after all.

On Feminism

2010-06-25T11:12:00.000-07:00

I recently stumbled across this delightful blog called the Seventeen Magazine Project, written by a whip-smart high school senior. The premise is this: she uses the most recent issue of Seventeen as her life guide. She follows the fashion advice, hair and makeup tips, diets, and cuts out any pictures of Seventeen-approved hotties and hangs them up on her wall.

I absolutely love this blog, but here's the thing. I came across this post, and it got me thinkin' about good ol' feminism. In that particular post, our teenaged revolutionary talks about the implied "tribal trend" in Seventeen, and is offended by it.

Look, I am very sensitive to equality for all (unless I'm giving birth, but I still want to punch everyone in the face equally), and I think that this "tribal trend" being racist is a stretch. Unless it's got swastikas all over it, I think being offended by a print on some fabric is pretty ridiculous. If clothes are in a tribal style, then why not call them tribal? I hardly find the garments as visually offensive as I do a tribal tattoo on a douchebag, so what's the big deal?

I've noticed recently that more and more women prefer not to call themselves feminists, and I believe ideas like the above are a good indication why this is happening. Feminism has become a term that, in the most stereotypical sense, indicates a tendency to get offended about anything and everything and how dare you comment on my ovaries, damnit! Feminists are seen as being hypersensitive man-hatin' non-breeders.

Sure, there are feminists who fit that description, and that's ok. I thought an episode of Six Feet Under summed it up best when Ruth stated "being a feminist means being happy with who you are."

So ladies, don't be afraid to call yourself a feminist. We should all be able to live the lives that we want to without judgement, especially from each other.

Who needs birth control?

2010-06-11T09:24:00.000-07:00

You really shouldn't listen to people who tell you that pregnancy is fun. It isn't. Or at least, mine wasn't. I think I was being punished for all of the times I've taken the Lord's name in vain ... which I still continue to do, so lesson totally not learned.

I'm writing this for posterity's sake so if, in a year or so when Ruby is getting to be a big girl, I don't get all nostalgic and want a baby right then. So, without further ado, here are
THE THINGS THAT HAPPENED TO ME WHEN I WAS PREGNANT:

-Morning Sickness! That term is a lie - what I had was All The Time Sickness. I got a brutal stomach bug around 14 weeks, and then I really didn't get sick anymore, save for a few times when I took too long brushing my teeth.
-Cruel cravings! All I wanted for the first trimester was strawberry yogurt. But every time I ate it - I threw up! Yes, even at work! Moments of grace, I tell ya.
-Back pain! This started before I was even showing. I think something was pressing on a nerve, but nothing I did made the pain go away. When I finally went in for a prenatal massage, my back wasn't hurting that day. Because the world is unfair sometimes.
-Gingivitis! What else can I say?
-Spidey Senses! I could smell a cigarette from about half a block away. Also, my heightened sense of smell made me sick every time I ate grilled cheese. One time, I smelled a dog fart from the other side of a house. If you had stinky feet, I knew about it.
-Stretch marks! They itch!
-Crusty nose! This hasn't gone away yet. My nose is really dry on the inside all the time, and it's really pretty disgusting.

And finally, my feet and ankles. Just show this to your kids in lieu of giving them The Talk:

Buh-bam!

This isn't the greatest picture. I know it is hard to believe that I wouldn't allow people to document such an atrocity. Also, please don't think I dress like a granny because of the gown I'm wearing. I went as the Virgin Mary for Halloween, and this was taken during our office Halloween party.

Also, can I just say that my doctors were not concerned about my feet at all? Isn't that bothersome?

So, there you have it. MNAM's handy guide to pregnancy prevention and/or waiting just a little while longer. Or, you know. Forever.

That's not a nightmare in my closet, it's a serial killer.

2010-06-08T11:34:00.000-07:00

Parents are supposed to be fearless protectors. We're supposed to be able to reassure our little ones that there aren't goblins under the bed, and that giant seamonsters aren't going to come out of the toilet and swallow their butts.

I thought that being a parent would somehow erase all of my crazy-ass irrational fears, but it's actually made them even worse. I live on the third floor in a condominium building that is secured. I am afraid of scary people scaling up the balconies ... and ... standing on my balcony? I don't really know what they would do once they got there. I feel like the door is pretty strong, and therefore brick-resistant. Maybe they would bang around? Shuffle awkwardly? Perhaps they'd just take my down Christmas lights.

We also have two flimsy trees in front of the bedroom windows. I don't know how someone would manage to climb them, but I am still terrified of someone doing it and stealing Ruby. Or me. Maybe Wayne. They can have my cats.

We had a pretty severe thunderstorm a few weeks ago, and while everyone in the house slept soundly, I shifted restlessly, convinced that Jason was going to come out of my closet and chainsaw me to death. I searched around my room for an item within arms reach that could double as a weapon, and panicked when all I came up with was a stuffed animal that I could throw as a diversion.

I worry about neighbors in my building completely losing their shit and setting the entire building on fire.

I am also afraid of the dark.

Before I put Ruby to bed at night, I check each door and lock obsessively, typically more than once. If the closet door in her room is open, I freak out and peer inside hesitantly, waiting for an axe to slice my face open.

Once Ruby is old enough to be afraid of monsters and Sloth from the Goonies (I had nightmares about him until I was 14), I'll be consoling her and also arming each of us with baseball bats.

I mean, there's strength in numbers, right?

Men are not from Mars, they come from caves

2010-06-07T10:27:00.000-07:00

Life Situations:

A woman comes home from the grocery store. She puts the refrigerated items in the refrigerator, the frozen items in the freezer, the dry items in the cabinet, and the toilet paper in the closet.

A man comes home from the grocery store. He leaves the refrigerated items in the bag, tosses them in the refrigerator, uses the frozen items to play some kind of weird Jenga in the freezer, leaves the dry items out on the counter, and gingerly places the toilet paper just outside the closet door. He then watches Most Extreme Elimantion Challenge for the next 6 hours.

The fact of the matter is, most dudes' priorities fall somewhere outside of order, cleanliness, and general common sense.

This weekend our lovely town had its annual festival. Without fail, this festival is always held on a weekend that carries a threat of apocalypse-level storms. Most of the time, we manage to escape unscathed, but that didn't happen this year.

I was sitting under a tree with my mom, sister, and the hubs-to-be. Mom was holding Ruby when all of the sudden there was a huge gust of wind. Our chairs and the stroller blew over, and it started pouring rain. Mom handed Ruby to me, grabbed one of Ruby's blankets, held it over her head, and made a beeline for the nearest bar. Wayne set his beer down in the cupholder of Ruby's stroller. My sister helped me get Ruby into the stroller. She sprinted off towards the same bar Mom scampered into. I started pushing the stroller. Wayne's beer spilled a little bit. Wayne removed his beer from the cupholder, and was also holding mine. I struggled to push the stroller down a curb. Wayne was about 5 steps ahead of me, trying to figure out how to cover the beers with both hands occupied. I navigated through throngs of irrationally panicked people, and ran into Wayne outside of the bar. He had realized he couldn't bring the beers he worked so hard to rescue inside. I went in while Wayne stood in the pouring rain, chugging both beers.

When we got to upstairs, my dad was sitting at the bar staring at the Live Doppler app on his iPhone. He was completely dry and enjoying a vodka soda.

"Oh," he said, "did it start raining?"

But can you pour watery, blue liquid on it?

2010-05-24T11:12:00.000-07:00

I made the decision to watch the finale of Lost last night (it really irritates me when people write the title as LOST, only truly awesome things should be written in all caps, like COOKIES and DINOSAURS) having only ever watched one episode - where the hobbit dies - and maybe reading a handful of recaps here and there.

Did you know that of Lost's two and a half hour time slot, 45 minutes of that time was commercials? I winced at the previews for the Gates - some bizarre Stepford Wives-esque vampire vehicle (we have reached the bottom of the vampire barrell, humanity), but what really caught my attention were the commercials for the iPad.

I think I saw the same commercial about 10 times, so not noticing it was sort of unavoidable. I hadn't really thought much about the iPad, past the obvious jokes - "HEY DOES IT COME WITH WINGS LOL," "WHAT WILL PEOPLE FROM BOSTON CALL THEIR IPODS LOLOLOL," but after the commercial was hammered into my brain a million times, I became totally dumbfounded.

We live in a gadgety society, sure, but it's causing us to carry around more crap than we possibly need. We have our phones, our iPods, our Kindles or Nooks, our laptops, our GPS ... things. This is not the sign of an intelligent society! Let's just take a look at Apple's more portable products:
-iPod: It plays music! You can download apps! You can use the internet and send email!
-iPhone: You can make phone calls! It plays music! You can download apps! You can use the internet and send email!
-iPad: You can make phone calls! It plays music! You can download apps! You can use the internet and send email! You can look like a big ol' idiot because portable phones weren't even that big in the 80's!

Apple is goddamned clever, I'm willing to admit it. They use the Mexican food principle - it's the same contents, just different wrapping. Yet so many must have the taco/burrito/enchilada combo. Why? I don't know. I'm still rocking my ancient iPod from 5 years ago - before they could even display graphics! Whoooa, what's my social security number, 17?

My question is the same question I had when it was revealed that Jack Shephard had a son, except not really - why? Why do we need all of this crap? Why would anyone haul around an iPad when you can have an iPhone which is smaller and does all of the same things? Does it work well as a food tray, or would I kill it if I spilled anything? Will it clean my litter boxes? It won't? Then I don't get it.

...Except for the Boston jokes. It served its purpose there.

Thoughts on toofers

2010-05-19T09:21:00.000-07:00

Well hey, strangers! The past few weeks have been just crazy, and the next few are going to be just as packed. I don't think I've ever done so much laundry continuously in my entire life. So I apologize for the lack of updates!

Ruby is getting so big, it's crazy. I can't believe how quickly time is flying by. We have visual on two teeth! I'm excited, but I can't help but be a little sad over the fact that gummy toothless grins will be a thing of the past before I know it.

Teething is such a pain in the ass, isn't it? Ruby's been handling everything surprisingly well, no fevers or anything, but I think I could replenish the world's clean water supply with all of her drool if I found a way to filter it properly.

We get a fussy night every now and then (she's got two teeth neck and neck for double the annoyance), and it just confounds me. How long have humans been in existence? Our bodies still haven't evolved to the point where this isn't a painful process? Then again, I once had a fellow courting me in the early days of Myspace who looked closer to ape than man, so perhaps we haven't really come all that far.

The Animals

2010-05-05T13:18:00.000-07:00

A thing people never tell you when you're expecting is how your relationship with your pets will change once your baby enters the world. Before I had Ruby, my two cats, Stella and Weebles, were the center of my universe. Sure, they were annoying. Sure, they tore up my carpets and got fur everywhere. But they were so cute and mooshy and cuddly, and while they didn't love me all that much, well, I kidded myself into thinking they did. I even hung stockings for them at Christmastime. I didn't put anything in them because, of course, cats only play with things that we humans consider garbage, but the thought was still there.

Then Ruby came, and they became two more mouths to feed. Two mouths that wouldn't reward me with smiles and coos, but rather with increasing demands for more food. Two mouths that force me to vacuum every day. Two mouths that have made me throw out more than one bottle after making it because I noticed a cat hair on the inside.

There have been nights where I have been awake at 4am, not because Ruby is awake, or because I'm sick, or because someone is breaking in, but because my cats are, literally, destroying my house.

Stella is my oldest cat. She started out as a tiny black kitten, and has turned into something that more closely resembles a miniature bison. She's a compulsive groomer and is missing patches of fur on her sides (one of which is a stunning representation of a phallus), she also has a gland problem and leaves little poo marks around the house from time to time. People are grossed out by her.

Stella is a bit of a dumbass when it comes to litterbox etiquette. Instead of covering her business like a normal cat would, she just scratches at the wall over and over and over again. She doesn't know when to stop because she is making no progress. Of course, this typically happens in the wee hours of the morning. I'm also assuming that she's actually going in the litterbox, which she typically doesn't. Stella is spiteful pooper, and will often go just outside of the litterbox - her version of a giant middle finger.

Weebles used to go in after Stella, and cover the messes for her - yes! Even the ones on the floor! Cleaning litter out of grout is not fun! But now it seems that Stella's ridiculous behavior pattern has infected Weebles as well.

I can only describe Weebles as a helliun. When we got home from the hospital after I had Ruby, we found out that Weebles had dug the carpet out from under the threshold of our bedroom, somehow released the baseboard with all of the tacks, and flung it across the living room. I am not sure how a 5lb cat would find the Herculean strength to do that, but I am now convinced that she could kill me if she wanted to.

Since then, the love for my cats has been limited at best. Sure, we still feed them (of course), and give them cuddles once Ruby has gone to bed. I'm not wishing any ill will on my pets, but my mom put it best when she paused for a moment and watched her 3 cats putz around the kitchen - "I'll be glad when ... there are no pets."

I'm doing a CONTEST - ding ding ding!!

2010-04-29T08:58:00.000-07:00

I am shocked and amazed by the amount of support this little blog o' mine has received on Facebook. As a thanks to all of the fine ladies and fellows who have thumbs-upped me, I'm doing a CONTEST. Yes, every time I say the word CONTEST, I am going to put it all in caps. Yes, I am highly caffienated.

A while back, Oprah had a hilarious show on Mom Confessions. One Mom 'fessed up to having to pee while on the road with her kids. Rather than waking them up by stopping at a rest area, she decided to fish in her diaper bag, pulled out a diaper, and put it under her. You can imagine the rest.

Here's the deal: Email me your funny Mom/Dad/Aunt/Uncle/Grandma/Grandpa/Babysitter Confession to mommyneedsamargarita@gmail.com. The funniest will win this apron...
...which was made by my wonderful friend at Mimi's Needle and Thread - check out her shop out Etsy! http://www.etsy.com/shop/mimisneedle

You'll also have the option of having your hilarious story posted on this blog right here, but I fully understand if you'd rather not have it on public record.

The submission deadline is June 1, 2010 - I can't wait to hear from you!

I'm having a Jerry Seinfeld moment

2010-04-27T10:33:00.000-07:00

What's the deal with Whole Foods? More specifically, what's the deal with the people who frequent Whole Foods? I have never been surrounded by more rude, self-important people at one time in all my life! It's a grocery store. Get over yourself.

I only go to Whole Foods for one reason - CAKE. Their baked goods are absolutely divine, and way better than any other store-bought cakes I've tried. This also reduces my Whole Foods visiting quota to about once per year.

Tragically, through a long string of events, we lost a cake yesterday at work. It was thrown in the trashcan in a moment of spite-y passion, only three lonesome pieces had been eaten. Everyone talked about the cake solemnly and what could have been. "That cake looked good," we all said. "I was just waiting until lunch to have some ... but it's too late now."

I thought when I came in today that we would all be over the terrible loss, but it seemed that the wounds were still too fresh - "That was a marble cake, too. I'll bet it was delicious." As incredulous as I was, I decided to go out today to get a better, fancier cake to boost office morale. Off to Whole Foods I went.

I hadn't even stepped in the door before a little old lady zipped in front of me, nearly impaling me on her cart, to get through the door first. Are you afraid that I am going to get to the macrobiotic tofu before you? I am sure there is enough for everyone.

I picked my way through hippie moms, yuppies, and a guido of all things, dodging, spinning, nearly tripping over people as they whizzed past me to the Asian buffet. What is the rush? The food is not going anywhere. It is highly unlikely that the building is going to explode in the next two seconds, and even if it did, you would be dead so I doubt you'd really miss that organic beet salad with hormone free bleu cheese.

I finally made it to the bakery, got the cake, and then paused for a moment to peruse the drink case where I was nearly tackled by the guido. I decided it was high time to run away before I became One Of Them. Shockingly, I made it to the cash register without being mauled in any way.

Did you know that some of the food at Whole Foods isn't even organic? So what's the big deal? What about shopping at Whole Foods makes you the greatest person ever to exist ever? Also, have you noticed that going to Whole Foods also means navigating through some of the worst parking lots ever designed? What's the deal! What. Is. The. Deal.

... That being said, though, the cake was delicious.

A night out? What's that?

2010-04-26T09:57:00.000-07:00

Since Ruby came into the world, there have been many moments spent wistfully anticipating my upcoming bachelorette party. Don't get me wrong, I love every moment I spend with Ruby. I think we all have moments, like when scrubbing baby poop from every inch of the bathroom, where we'd just like to have a few beers without wondering if the establishment has a changing table or not.

This weekend, Wayne's friends came to visit. They spent Saturday morning playing golf while I stayed home with Ruby, so Wayne more or less forced me to plan something for Saturday evening while he stayed home. I threw together a little girl's night, and it was lovely! However, there were a few sobering moments, showing what an old woman I've become:
1. We went to a bar, and a band started playing. We vacated as quickly as possible because it was too loud. No dancing, no singing along to the corny Beatles covers, just irritation over the noise level.
2. I had one (1) beer, and that was more than enough.
3. We ended the evening in a bar that was completely empty, except for us, talking about periods and our moms having The Talk with us. Hands down, the highlight of the evening. Because there was no one there. Except for the male bartender and a young male waiter who were, unfortunately, privy to our conversation.

There was a time, not too long ago, where I would have walked into an empty bar and promptly spun on my heel and walked out. Of course, I don't even wear heels anymore, so there goes that.

Regardless of how old and crotchety I've become, it was really nice to get out of the house and see some gals I haven't seen in a long time. And to, you know, have one beer.

Let's be real for a moment, shall we?

2010-04-22T08:03:00.000-07:00

I have debated a bit over whether I should discuss this or not, however, I am nothing if not honest and I feel like I might not be the only one with this .. uh .. issue.

A mere two posts ago, I discussed my overly inflated sense of pride at my ability to birth a giant. While I am still in amazement over myself, this came with a consequence, and I'm not talking about peeing when I run, sneeze, laugh, or shift my weight slightly. I have been fortunate in not being cursed with that. Instead ...

... I queef. I wish there were a better word! For those not familiar with that disgusting term, a queef is basically a vagina fart. Maybe a better word for it would be "vart." This doesn't happen every day, but when it does - hoo! I walk around sounding like the freaking Tin Man, desperately in need of an oil squirt in his groinal region.

It's like hearing a door on a rusty hinge blowing in the breeze. I can't seem to conceal it either, so I stop and scowl at my shoe for a moment, or look around confused at the sky as though God is fiddling with the aforementioned squeaky door, trying to figure out where to spray the WD-40.

I cannot figure out how to stop these varts! I try sitting down, going to the bathroom, doing a little dance, and nothing. It's the equivalent of the baked beans scene from Blazing Saddles, except instead of a bunch of gassy cowboys, it's just me.

Has anyone out there in Internet Land had this happen? Please tell me it goes away.

Now I'm going to switch gears in an attempt to erase this post from your memory! I am hopping aboard the Technology Express so I can infiltrate your internet experience in every way possible! You can now...
-become a fan of this blog on Facebook! http://www.facebook.com/#!/pages/Mommy-Needs-a-Margarita/107459569295816?ref=mf
-follow me on Twitter! @mommyneedsarita
-email me! mommyneedsamargarita@gmail.com

I'd love to hear from you, so won't you stop on by and drop me a line?

A thing no one told me.

2010-04-21T13:20:00.000-07:00

Everyone tells you not to wear white as a new mom, and I guess that's true. I don't wear much white myself, so I can't actually tell you if this is good advice or not. It's simply a good rule of thumb for me because I am clumsy and spill-prone, and it's just not flattering besides.

Because of this, I (stupidly) assumed that the new mom go-to color is black. Well, wrong again. I do wear a lot of black - perhaps as a nod to my overly dramatic days as a teenaged mall goth. I have learned very quickly that nothing accents a spit-up trail quite as well as black. It never fails, either. Ruby could go a whole week without spitting up, then I wear a black sweater and splat! Perhaps I should encourage her to leave a few more splats in random places so my sweater looks like it was tie-dyed by a drunk person.

The best option, and no one ever told me this, is to go for patterns. They conceal splats better, sometimes even making them look purposeful! Granted, you'll still carry the faint musk of regurgitated formula with you all day, but it's better than looking like you've been crawling through a sewer.

So, I've written an entire post about baby shampoo and now one that is more or less about baby puke. AWESOME. I vaguely remember what it was like to go places ...

WARNING: I use the word vagina in this post

2010-04-15T11:38:00.000-07:00

Oh, I did it up there, too. Well!

Lately I've been seeing lots of brand spankin' new babies out and about. It makes me wistful for the time when Ruby actually slept during the day, and also makes me admire all of the moms bringing their new kiddos out so soon. Ruby was born in the midst of swine flu season, so I shut myself in my house with her for at least the first month of her life. It got so bad that my mom forced me to leave Ruby with her so I could get out of the house. I may or may not have used this opportunity to see New Moon with a friend.

Anyway, seeing all these new babies, I'm realizing just how gigantic Ruby was when she was born. At the time, 8lbs 8oz and 21 inches seemed big, but not anything terribly note-worthy (considering my friend's grandfather was 13lbs at birth). But now, I mean, I've just got to take a moment to pat myself on the back. I'm convinced that my vagina is made of kryptonite. I want to start a slow-clap (see: Lucas), building into a thunderous round of applause for myself. Go me, pushing out that huge girl! I'd like to see you try that, Miss New-M0m-With-Tiny-Baby. Let's see how you do when shit gets real.

One might think that this would inspire some surge of self-confidence. If I can do that, I can do anything! It really doesn't though. I have no desire to climb Mt. Everest, or compete in a marathon. I'm satisfied sitting on the couch and watching American Idol ... I mean. NOT watching American Idol. I have NO IDEA who Lee Dwyze is, so you can stop looking at me like that.

....

....Is it just me, or was Ryan Seacrest totally smashed on Tuesday night's episode?

I know, I'm a lazy slacker, right?

2010-04-07T08:09:00.000-07:00

The fact is, I've been really effing busy these days! Some things have been changed up at work, and it's utter insanity and chaos. That's really all of the details I have, because I have no idea what is going on up in this place. Then I go home at night, and it's snuggle behbeh time, and then I'm exhausted and have to sleep. My apologies, dear readers.

On a totally unrelated note, I've been working out this entry in my head for a while, so let's see how it goes...

Being pregnant is like going through puberty all over again, but in warp speed. Everything gets bigger, hips, boobs, butt ... in my case, I also swelled like a pufferfish so my legs were approximately the same circumference as grand oak trees, and my feet got so swollen they looked like they had little flesh turtle shells on top of them. I got horrifying stretch marks on my stomach, and of course, I struggled with confidence. But at the same time, I didn't. I wore horizontal stripes to show off my ginormous belly. I wore dresses that went above my knee, even though they exposed my gross legs and feet to the whole world. I couldn't control what was happening to my body, it wasn't like I was gaining weight because I was hitting the Old Country Buffet every night. I was growing a baby, whatevs! Couldn't help it.

I really miss that "f- it" attitude. Now in this post-preggo body, I don't really know what to do with myself. I have weird spidery veins on my ankles from where my feet exploded, my tummy has loose, saggy skin hanging off of it that isn't going away ... I'm just not the same as I used to be! Now there's no baby in the tummers, so in my mind there's no excuse for looking so ... just ... weird. It's hard adjusting to everything, and it's hard to strut around with the sorta confidence I used to have. Thank god for Spanx, otherwise I'd be curled up in my closet weeping softly (probably reading Twilight ... wait, what? Did you hear something? Oh good, neither did I).

Now, I don't mean to come off as whiney and I hope I'm not. Being a mom is my favorite thing in the world, and no one could ever make me happier than Ruby. I think this is something that all mamas go through so, damnit, we should talk about it instead of getting wistful in the 5 minutes of alone time we get per day while we're peeing. I mean, come on, I've been getting nostalgic for the 90's lately. Of course this backfired when I realized that in my old age, I now find the majority of Soundgarden's songs incredibly annoying.

Method, you've done right by me...

2010-03-22T12:31:00.000-07:00

I didn't think that the most clever baby product in ALL OF TIME would be a shampoo, but it pretty much is!

http://www.amazon.com/method-baby-Squeaky-Green-Mallow/dp/B002LTNYLK

The top of the bottle is a cup that you use to rinse off your baby! There is a little circle cut out of the cup - at first I thought this was to make pulling the cap off easier, oh no no. It is so you can control the flow of water coming out, to prevent water from getting in tiny ears and eyes. BRILLIANT!

The smell is a bit strange at first - reminiscent of Play-Doh, but the next day, little baby smells of delicious marshmallows. I've also found that it cleans Ruby's hair better and keeps her skin and hair softer than the Johnson's head to toe wash I was using before. It's on the 'spensive side, but the shampoo is pretty concentrated, so a little goes a long way.

I never thought I'd have this much to say about shampoo. Need help falling asleep at night? Visit my blog!

It's good to be the Dean (or so I imagine)

2010-03-18T08:40:00.000-07:00

It's a fairly commonly-known fact that I am a college drop-out. I don't think that this is quite as rock star as being a high school drop-out. I mean, Jon Bon Jovi dropped out of high school! Dropping out of high school = lavender leather pants and feathered hair and rock and roll! I can't think of anyone cool who dropped out of college (except for me, of course). Or if they did, they don't feel the need to mention it. I mean, you know. You can always go back - unless you're me apparently.

I have a decent job and all, if you don't count what I actually have to do every day. I make OK money, I have health insurance, I get an insultingly small Christmas bonus which is taxed separately from the rest of my paycheck. Friends who have graduated from college make around the same amount per year as I do.

I've been trying to go back to school for a few years now, and I'm really going to try once the wedding is over. I'm not doing what I want to be doing (neither is anyone here, for that matter). The fact is that you spend most of your life at work. So it really freaking sucks if you don't like what you're doing, right?

Here's the thing. Before I enroll in a fancy-pantsy college, I have to get my GPA up, so I need to take some core classes at the fine establishment of Northern Virginia Community College. HOWEVER! There is some kind of hold on my account which prevents me from registering for classes. In order to get this hold removed, I have to talk to the Dean, which sounds more important than it is. I have tried calling the Dean over and over, but haven't received a response. This is confusing to me. Do they not want my hard-earned money? Do I have to go into the admissions office with a flamethrower and a can of aerosol hair spray to get my point across? I feel like this is the best option, though I may end up getting arrested and not get to go back to school at all! What's a girl to do?

Perhaps I will compose an angry letter entirely out of letters cut from magazines. That's a nice, creative way to get someone's attention, don't you think? I'm sure I'll hear back then.

Wedding things

2010-03-15T09:23:00.000-07:00

Wedding planning is stressful, and can be non-fun at times. I thought I'd share some things I've learned along the way (so far anyway, we're far from done):

1. Having a graphic designer fiance is A Very Useful Thing.
Wayne designed our Save-the-Dates (by the way, wedding bloggers, please stop abbreviating this as STDs!! Not good!!), and we were able to have them printed on magnets for very little money. The company we used also pre-addressed all of our envelopes.
Hint: Make sure to get some envelopes printed that are blank except for your address - these are swell for last-minute additions, or address corrections. Sure, they'll look a little cheap if the address is hand-written, but you're giving these people free booze! Come on! What more could you ask for?

2. Kinko's is an invaluable resource.
Rather than shilling out even more money to Paper Source (they are the fine folks tasked with doing our invitations), we decided to print out the hotel information cards ourselves. Wayne was able to find all of the fonts for our invitations online (two were available for free, one was $24), so he designed the cards and had them printed at Kinko's. It was about $7 for 125 cards! Had we known this, we probably would have just done the invitations ourselves.

3. Find vendors who are new to the area.
My fantastic, adorable, lovely photographer had just moved to northern Virginia when I booked her. As a result, we are paying about half what an established photographer would charge (the average price I found was about $3000 for a full day). The only way to get a better deal would be to use a friend, which brings me to my next point ...

4. Friends are called friends for a reason.
Chances are, unless they're crazy busy, they want to help you! I have a friend doing my makeup for the price of a nice bottle of wine - awesome! We also have friends who are lending us their sound equipment, and one who is singing during the ceremony. Don't be afraid to ask, just maybe don't ask for a million dollars. Or for one to serve as a hitman. But, you know. Never hurts to test the waters.

5. Book vendors as far in advance as you can.
Our wedding is going to be on October 9, 2010. I started booking vendors in July of 2009. As a result, I was able to reserve services before prices went up for the next year, which is awesome and leaves more money for us to stock the bar. Essential.

6. Unless you want the works, find a friend, relative, or actor-for-hire to emcee your reception.
If you don't need sound equipment or lighting, the price of a DJ can be pretty extreme (think around $1000 for a few hours). Ask friends and family, or post on community theatre boards and see if you can find someone that way - you'll save a lot of money, and it will be more personal. If going the actor route, beware of divas. They are even worse in the community theatre world because ... well ... no one knows why. It doesn't make sense.

7. Finding a wedding officiant is difficult if you aren't a church-goer.
...Yeah. If anyone has advice on this, please share.

There is a Hell, and it's located inside David's Bridal

2010-03-14T13:10:00.000-07:00

I mean seriously, David's Bridal. What the hey. I'm so glad that I did not purchase my wedding dress from you. Every visit I've had to this store has been so freaking cray-cray that I can't even talk about it! Harumph!

Last night was interesting. Our baby monitor has been acting a little wonky lately - it beeps, it gets static-y ... it makes static-y beeps, and so on. Well, last night it decided to be The Most Annoying Thing Ever and make static-y beeps approximately once every five seconds. We tried everything we could think of. We turned off our phones, we shut off the router, anything that could be connected to the internet was shut off, and nothing worked. Finally, I waved my white flag of surrender and went to sleep in Ruby's room.

I put a futon in the nursery before Ruby was born, thinking I would sleep in there while I was on maternity leave. Well, the opposite of that ended up happening wherein we put Ruby in a bassinet in our room the entire time. The futon belonged to my sister, and I'm sure that it was very comfortable at one point, but I think sleeping on a roller coaster track would be preferable to this. There's a big bar that goes right down the middle, and that's exactly where my hip went. I know, aren't you jealous? It was like sleeping at the Westin or something. You know, in the storage room. I woke up this morning feeling as refreshed and vibrant as if I had spent the night in a prison cell. We have a new fancy digital monitor, so we'll see how that goes. It even does pointless things, like monitor the temperature! Rapture!!

Today's been so productive, it feels like Sunday

2010-03-13T14:03:00.000-08:00

So, today's been a busy one up until now. We met up with Wayne's sister for lunch, and Ruby fell asleep. Feeling a bit overconfident, we decided to press our luck a little and make a Target run. Normally, decisions like these come back to bite us. Ruby wakes up, has no idea where she is, and we end up sprinting out of wherever we are, simultaneously making a bottle and waving a toy in front of her face as a diversion. Today, we got lucky. We left with some new outfits and a mat she can lay on in the bathtub, bigger diapers, and a fun bouncy thing she can stand in. Here's the thing. This bouncy thing was $90 (ok, $89.99, but Target's schemes don't fool me!). I was perusing Amazon yesterday and found this:

http://www.amazon.com/Playskool-Weebles-Goldilocks-Adventure-Cottage/dp/B000BCEJ8Q

Looks fun, right? Fun little Weebles cottage - so interactive! What a way to build a child's imagination! Wait. Whawasthatnow? Take a look at that price tag again - $109.99? Someone please explain this to me. This giant thing we bought today with lights, music, and all of these components is $90 - and this dollhouse is $20 more than that? I mean, is it made of gold? When Ruby gets too old to play with it, can I melt it down and sell it for profit? Does it clean my house for me - oh! Maybe it's secretly a Roomba. Hmm ... no. It doesn't appear to do any of these things! So tell me how any parent - or anyone else for that matter - is to justify spending $110 on some chunk of plastic their kid is just going to get pissed off at when they realize that Weebles only wobble? They don't fall down! The horror, the horror.

ANYhoo. Target really brings out the unreasonable jerk in people, doesn't it? I was not aware that the average speed limit for driving through a parking lot is 45 miles per hour, did you know that? Maybe I missed something, I thought it was around 10 or so.

I got the Valentine's Day decorations put away. A month after the holiday, not too bad! The Easter decorations are now up. The way I roll, those will probably stay up until mid-July, or at least until one of my cats knocks them over. I should point out that my Christmas lights are still hanging on the balcony, but they're turned off, rendering them invisible.

Wayne is watching Iron Chef America. I really wish Alton Brown would get that gross mole removed. Food Network personalities look so gross in HD, don't they?

Why do I kid myself...

2010-03-11T09:29:00.001-08:00

Every now and then, while perusing the frozen dinner section of the grocery store, I'll stumble across an entree that has fish in it. "Ooo," I'll think to myself, "salmon with orzo, carrots, and spinach? Don't mind if I do!"

This is ALWAYS a mistake. And I fall for it all. the. time.

How to describe the flavor ... hmm ... ok. Imagine you have a tank of seamonkeys. They entertain you for about 15 minutes, but then a House marathon comes on and you forget all about them. The tank is in an obscure corner of your house, and hey, TNT is showing Law & Order all day long, so you forget about your seamonkeys. Days turn into weeks, weeks turn into months, babies are born, people get married, people who met on eharmony go on awkward first dates and never speak again.

Eventually, the water in the seamonkey tank evaporates.

One day, you have a little soiree wherein people get their booze on. One such disciple of Bacchus stumbles upon your long-forgotten seamonkey haven. He picks up the tank, turns it around in his hands a few times, postulates on how big a clump he could make by peeing in a litter box, and licks the inside of the tank.

This is exactly how these frozen fish entrees taste. Briney, confusing, distressing. The taste isn't just limited to the fish, either, oh no! The polluted ocean taste infiltrates all aspects of the meal - even if you pick out the fish, it will still taste like you are drinking the salt water in your chosen body of water after an oil spill. I end up dumping about half a bottle of hot sauce over what remains to make it somewhat bearable. I am convinced that eating these will give me cancer. And yet, every now and then, I am still tricked into buying one! Why is this? Blind hope? I suppose so.

Then again, if you slap "spa cuisine" on anything, it sounds pretty freaking tasty.

I feel incredibly self-indulgent.

2010-03-11T07:57:00.000-08:00

Ok, so! Here I am blogging. Blogging seems much more intimidating than posting on LiveJournal. Which, I should say, I haven't done in a really long time.

I'll go ahead and assume that you want to know some things about me since you are reading this. I am a new mommy - my sweet baby Ruby will be 4 months old tomorrow, which is insane and I refuse to accept it. I also work full-time at a job whose purpose I still don't entirely understand after being here for two years. In short, I process life insurance applications for agents and make sure the cases get placed because life insurance agents are completely incapable of doing this on their own. It's kind of like having a whole big batch of whiney children from 9-5:30 Monday-Friday who are less self-sufficient than my infant daughter.

In the midst of mommyhood and worker-bee hell, I am also planning a wedding to my fiance, Wayne. The date is set for October, and I'm having fun planning everything. I'm also doing my damndest to lose this baby weight (and then some) before the big day. I'll tell you, though, breaking the habit of pregnancy eating ("Oh, donuts? I'll take 9!") is so difficult. I've had to come to terms with the fact that it's no longer cute and adorable when I devour everything in sight like a starved Tyrannosaurus Rex. Anyway. I called Jenny (so get off my case, Valerie Bertinelli!) and I'm doing well so far. 14.7lbs down, more than I care to think about to go!

Other things about me: I'm really into theatre, which I'm sure you can imagine since I'm vain enough to assume that people want to read about me. I did a play during my first and part of my second trimester with Ruby. I miss acting a little, but it's more fun playing with Ruby than it is dealing with annoying community theatre stereotypes.
I like to read, and I often find myself getting caught up in Dumb Things (see: Twilight). That being said, I bought a book about 2 months ago that I still haven't even started. I'm excited to read it! ... someday.
And, you know, I like movies, I like music. I don't like it when people are blatantly wrong. For instance, did you see all the people on Twitter yesterday talking about Corey Haim's passing? "OMG, Goonies!!!!1!! But I liked Stand By Me better." That made me want to scale the highest mountain with a bullhorn and shout "ATTENTION, TWITTER. STOP THIS NONSENSE." I mean, does no one use imdb? I just can't talk about this - I can feel my face getting hot!

I should also note that I'm pretty sarcastic, which sometimes doesn't translate well in type.

Videos of cats doing silly things always make me laugh.