The Train Wreck

Every year for Christmas we drive up to Lake Tahoe, CA where my en-laws have a vacation home with five bedrooms, fully equipped with cribs, pac-n-plays, bouncy chairs, bunk beds, etc. so all of us kids and our families can get together. It's a beautiful house and I'm pretty sure we all feel lucky to have this tradition.

A few years ago, all of us brothers and sisters would go out to dinner, have a few drinks, maybe even gamble at the NV state line for a bit, it was fun. Now, we all have kids. There's actually six kids age 3 and under right now. This year for Christmas, it was like we were running a daycare. The first morning we were there, we had plans to go to a 'Breakfast with Santa' event. Sounds exciting! Right? We packed up the kids, diaper bags, cameras, and headed out. We had a nice breakfast, changed a big poopy diaper, and listened to some carolers sing as we waited for Santa to show up.

Santa must have been running late because it was 30 minutes later that we all got in line which was an eternity in toddler time. The fireplace was blazing with absolutely NO safety gate and it was about 105 degrees in the room, but Santa was handing out gifts so we waited in line to see him. Why do we do this crap? Is it for the photo to email to my parents? I mean, the 3 year old was fine, she gets it. But my kids, almost 2 years old and 6 months old, were just tired, and perhaps miserable. I, personally, was sweating profusely waiting for these other kids to hurry up and get their gifts and photos taken so I could throw my kids up there and get out as quickly as possible. Bubu refused to sit on Santa's lap so I had to sit next to Santa with him, Peewee was miraculously fine with the bearded stranger, and we made it with a couple decent pictures.

Christmas morning was fun yet oddly stressful. The kids opened presents and we tried to keep track of who got what so we could hopefully safely get the presents home somewhat intact. Some of the toys were definitely the "winners" and so every child wanted to play with those and I'll just say, we are all still learning what the word "share" means. Maybe it was the fact that my watch battery died so I had no clue what time it was for days that made it tough for me. I actually forgot to give Bubu lunch one day because I just didn't know what time it was. Maybe it was tough because after a full day of chocolate, candy canes, and goldfish, Bubu had a tummy ache all the next day and I had to hold him for 5 hours straight. Did I mention he's got to be over 30 lbs now? He is. And for some odd reason, Peewee did not want to be held by anyone except mommy or daddy. So basically, I showered once in 3 days.

Regardless of all the constant commotion, we had a good time and the kids all had a pleasant experience that they may not remember. And we will all do it again next year. So yes, it was a train wreck, but with no casualties.

The Working Mom Analysis

A few months ago, I had a massive meltdown and it felt like just in the nick of time, I happened to find a job. Remember that? I do. Pretty vividly actually. And I'm pretty sure my husband and mother-in-law do too. So anyways, just to give you an update, I got called about another opportunity that seemed better all around and I recently accepted the new offer and switched jobs Dec. 1st. Over the past 4 or 5 months I've realized what it's really like to be a working mom. And it's taken awhile, but I finally feel like I can discuss it.

There are some mornings when Bubu cries hysterically because I'm leaving for work. It is truly heartbreaking and it makes me question leaving him. But then I leave and ask the nanny if he was okay after I left and she always says that as soon as I leave, he's totally fine. I wonder if I'll ever get over it, or when will he get over it, and when will Peewee start doing it? Eek. I have years of separation anxiety in front of me, so I guess that's a con.

But then I drive to work, I get my Starbucks and I don't have a double stroller with me. Did you know that it's a much quicker stop without the double stroller?? It is. I listen to the news instead of cartoons on the DVD player, and every other day I call my mom without interruption to let her know that Bubu and Peewee are fine. And I have to admit it, I like to work. I like accomplishing my work stuff. And I like contributing to our household income.

Then I come home. I cherish my time with the kids when I get home, and I'm so excited to see them. I try to cram in all the playtime I can, they help me fix dinner, we get ready for bedtime, and 9 times out of 10, it's a good time. Okay 8 times out of 10 it's a good time. And by 7:30pm I'm ready for them to go to bed.

I wonder, do they miss me all day? Are they somehow negatively impacted because I'm not the one caring for them 5 days a week? The nanny seems to be great so far, but I know it's not as good as I would do with my own kids, right? She cleans up the house every day though, which is awesome. But I wonder, will Peewee turn out okay? Will my kids appreciate the fact that we are working to provide for them?

In addition to my job, I also have the task of cooking, shopping, paying all the bills, oh and don't forget the all important, Target trips on my lunch break. Would it be easier if I just stayed home with the kids? Or would I start going nuts like before? I do miss the 10am playdates with my moms group so Bubu could play with other kids. I hope he doesn't turn into some anti-social loner uni-bomber kid. I guess I better find a preschool for him.

So there you have it. The pros and cons, the good and bad. Of course, we've all heard this one, that one way is not better than the other. Each of us choose what's right for us individually, right? I guess the true analysis will be many, many years from now when I ask Bubu and Peewee if they resent me for working when they were young. Maybe they'll understand, we will see...

The Christmas Card Revelations

Let me just preface by saying, I love Christmas. Aside from all the Toys R Us commercials, there's something magical about it and people are nice and I love it. I love Santa, I love the lights on people's houses, I love our fake tree.

So, it seems for weeks now, I have been working on a one person assembly line every night to complete our Christmas cards. How did the list get so freakin' long? Anyways, needless to say, I've had some time to ponder the meaning of life, dinners for the month, and scrubbing the card list for next year. So most important first, who will I cut off our list? Right now we have over 100. Seriously, let me say that again. Over 100. Which basically means I'm spending our Christmas present money on cards so me and my husband don't get jack. Do we dump our parents' friends? Do we dump the ones that don't send us a card? Do all family members make the list by default? As I mindlessly stuffed envelopes, I thought about who really appreciates getting a card from us. Hmmm, so maybe next year, we'll shoot for the 50 people who I can envision oohing and ahhhing about how the kids have grown and who stick us on their fridge for a year.

Next topic at hand, dinners every night. I know, I know it sounds dumb, but it really requires some planning and effort to keep the family fed for a week. Maybe it's a good thing that I had so many cards to get out, at least my mental grocery list is made. So once again, with too much time to over-analyze everything while addressing envelopes, I start thinking about why my assembly line consists of one person? There's actually another capable worker watching TV about 4 feet behind me. Hmmm, should I invite my husband to join in the card process? Or will that just mean I have to micro-manage another employee? Yikes. Therefore, no invitation extended this year.

As for the meaning of life, still the same as always, my two little miracles Bubu and Peewee. Merry Christmas everyone.

Admitting It

A few years ago, back when I was on my own, I decided that it would be a good idea to learn how to take care of someone other than just myself. I started looking for a dog. My husband, boyfriend at the time, knowing about my search, surprised me with a cute little puppy. Looking back, I should have gotten a plant.

So, we named our new addition Chewy. Between the two of us and our busy careers, we took care of Chewy. I lived a few feet from the ocean but since Chewy barked at other dogs like he was crazy and had rabies, I walked him every morning in the dumpy alley instead of the beautiful Manhattan Beach strand, gazing at the back door trash cans and garage doors in place of the ocean . Oh well. Then I got married and we had to move. It was traumatizing for everyone involved, especially Chewy. But we all survived and moved to Brentwood, where I walked Chewy in the alleys there. Then Bubu was born.

We joked that Chewy was our first born and that he now had a brother. Don't we all do that? Pretend that our pets are siblings with our children? Okay, well, we did. I think that was a turning point. Chewy went on fewer walks and he seemed to get in trouble a lot more. We tried to be understanding of the transition he was going through but we didn't do good enough a job with that. Then we moved to Northern California. It was a seven hour drive and my husband and Bubu drove up together ahead of us and then many hours later, after the movers had finished packing us up, Chewy and I headed up North. Leaving my home of ten years was tough, but I wasn't alone, I had my dog.

When Bubu started crawling, we realized we had to be a little more careful but we weren't on high alert at all time with the dog and the baby. Needless to say, we had a few incidents and our sweet little Chewy got blacklisted with our family. That part really sucked but we totally understood and it just gradually became a lot more trouble for us. After Peewee was born, we had another incident and that was it.

It took me months, but I finally found a rescue that accepted Chewy and is putting him up for adoption. My husband and I had to surrender our first born yesterday. It was hands down the most awful, painful thing I've had to do in I don't know how long. I still feel like I've been punched in the gut numerous times. Did we do the right thing? I don't know, I guess. What is it that hurts so bad? It's because I failed him. I failed Chewy by not trying harder to train him, to take him for longer walks, to care more, to make more time for him, and now what? It was my failure as a an owner, as his parent, that has led to poor Chewy probably sleeping in a crate last night instead of in our warm, cozy bed with us.

At this point, I'm just praying that he goes to a good home. To an owner that won't fail him like I did. 

The Halloween Edition

Oh Halloween. I have to admit I love Halloween. I remember back in the day, which is defined as 22 months ago, when we would get dressed up and go to costume parties and have cocktails with friends. Now, it's still fun but in a slightly different way I guess. The majority of this weekend was trying to get a good photo of Bubu, in his costume, looking at the camera. Much harder than it sounds.

So, anyways, let me back up for a moment. A few weeks ago, I decided to sign up to run a 5k mudrun on October 30th, which is basically a 5k with some obstacles and a lot of mud. Sounds fun, right? Some of my girlfriends in my moms group were also running it and I was really excited to get out there and finally do some real activity for the first time since Peewee was born. This, for some reason, symbolically meant a lot to me. I thought of it like a real accomplishment to jump start perhaps more of the same.

Then, a couple weeks ago I had a doctor appointment and asked why my belly button had not gone back to normal after my last pregnancy? What's going on here? Am I going to have to have plastic surgery to fix this and pay for it myself? No! Good news! It's a hernia and so she refers me to a surgeon to have it fixed. I was really happy about that. I felt like I had some weird tumor for the past few months and I have been really self conscious about it. SO I go to the surgeon and they schedule my surgery for Nov. 1st. Okay, so yes, it's the day after Halloween but I think whatever, I can swing it.

I then, of course, jam pack plan the week full of a pumpkin carving, pizza party, costumes, candy, cupcakes, groceries, and the mud run, oh and work too. SO, inevitably this past Thursday I threw out my back. Thank you beautiful children for giving me a bad back and a hernia. I love you both dearly.

I tried to ignore the pain and power through the day thinking I could use The Force to make it go away. Well, it totally backfired, and adding insult to injury, I woke up Friday morning sick. I felt so awful I didn't make it to work, which rarely happens. Ugh, the timing couldn't have been worse. I pulled it together on Saturday to get the pumpkin carved and outfits ready, but I did not make it to my mud run on Sunday and that part made me sad. My back is still not better unfortunately but we did take Bubu and Peewee out Trick-or-Treating for the first time which was awesome. I am still having my surgery tomorrow. And despite it all, I still love Halloween.

Immense Restraint

So, remember how I said I'd have to write about the nanny diaries later? Well, here it is. And I'll go ahead and say it up front, this might be a longer story than usual.

I was so excited to get a job back in the beginning of August and get back into the work force. We interviewed nannies fairly quickly, like 2 days, and chose who we thought was best. Everything seemed fine at first, the kids seemed happy and we felt good about our choice. Then the weirdness began. We found cigarette butts on our back patio one weekend and since we had requested a non-smoking nanny, we were confused. Well, I immediately suspected it was her but I didn't have any proof so I texted her and asked if she smokes outright. Maybe that wasn't the best Nancy Drewing I've ever done but so anyways, she said No. Alrighty, so we decided to play along for now and if it wasn't her, then there was some creepy peeping tom smoker coming up to our house un-noticed and dumb enough to put the butts out on our patio. That seemed unlikely, right? So we basically forgot about it in the bustle of life, but then a couple weeks later I got a text from the nanny while I was at work saying that she had found 2 more cigarette butts outside. So then I freaked out because maybe there really WAS some weirdo lurking around our house with the kids there. It couldn't be the nanny or else why would she tell me that? So I call my husband and start planning how big a padlock we need on the gate, how much are video cameras for outside, what if there's some freak seriously coming on to our patio smoking?

Then a couple Mondays ago, I came home and of course had to pee immediately after walking in the house because I have birthed two children, and I see a cigarette butt in the toilet. See, our toilet hasn't been flushing well recently and the shower started clogging up too, maybe because someone has been flushing cigarettes down the toilet for two months. So I didn't know what to say in the moment but of course I knew she had lied to us. I kept quiet for a little while...wondering how to approach this delicate situation, because I don't want to jeopardize the care of the children so I can't really fire her right that minute. And I need to think and discuss with my husband so I say, "So, did you find anymore cigarettes out back?" And she stumbled over her answer but she said oh yeah, I found one today, blah blah. In my head now I f---ing hate this kid and would punch her in the face if I didn't have the kids there and a husband to answer to. But I didn't. I said ok, see you tomorrow.

Well, my husband agreed this was way too super weird and she not only lied to us, but tried to make us think there was some creepy lurker coming on to our property and endangering the kids. And she has probably destroyed the plumbing as well.

There's other stuff too like she got engaged, then 3 weeks later the boyfriend dumped her, and they live together so now she has to find a new place to live, etc. Every week has been some weird drama. "My wallet got stolen, my car key broke, my dad went to the hospital." And then she'd also ask me almost every day what time I was coming home. Seriously, I mean, what are you doing that it matters when I'm coming home? You're bugging me. And are you so eager to leave that you're not taking good care of the kids? Omg I hate her.

Even if all this stuff is true, the concern is how can you focus on taking care of the kids if your life is always in shambles. And at this point I didn't trust anything she said anymore. I started interviewing new nannies as I questioned the trade-off of being a working mom. Once again asking that haunting question...is it worth it? Because no matter who we hire, no one will be quite good enough. Can I deal with that?

So, let me just say how bad an actress I am. And I'm trying incredibly hard not to go psycho on this kid everyday with a fake face each morning and afternoon. Then Friday rolls around and my mother in law said she's driving through and will drop by un-announced to check on the kids and nanny. So one more thing I forgot to mention, last week the nanny got sick and now both my kids have gotten a cold. Thanks bitch. But so anyways, Friday morning I specifically tell her NOT to take the kids anywhere because they are sick, especially Peewee because she is not even 4 months old yet. I even went so far as to explain WHY you don't take a sick 4 month old tromping around town in case she needed clarification. Then around 1:30pm I get that dreaded phone call from my mother in law saying she was there and no one was home and the nanny's car was gone.

Are you f---ing kidding me?? Really? I was livid. My eyes hurt I was so mad. My voice was shaking as I told my husband to handle this and find the children instead of me so as not to kill anyone and avoid jail. (Deep breath.)

The kids are fine and I texted her yesterday and said I lost my job so we don't need her anymore. I lied because my husband told me to...in order to avoid drama. If I had my way I'd have already ripped this kid a new one and made her cry 18 times, and hopefully taught her a lesson so some other family didn't go through this BS. But I guess it's not my job to teach a 23 year old how to be honest, right? I haven't slept for days. I've interviewed nannies and checked references non-stop for 3 days now. Good news is I found a new nanny. She starts tomorrow. And through this process I did not yell at anyone, I didn't damage anyone's personal property, and I didn't set a bad example for my kids. I told my husband he should be proud of me because I showed Immense Restraint.

Reno Eve

It's been an interesting week. The nanny got sick which was one of those extremely irritating situations where you can't really get mad at anyone. I made arrangements with a babysitter for Monday, had to come home early on Tuesday and so then I finally got the kid some soup and Dayquil on Wednesday which hopefully translated into "suck it up." There are other weird nanny issues but I haven't personally analyzed them enough to explain them in writing quite yet. I'll just say that her fiancé dumped her a few weeks ago. Stay tuned for the next episode of The Nanny Diaries.

Bubu seems to be going through a phase where he is totally on Team Mom and he has denounced Team Dad. So when Daddy gets home after a long day at work and all he wants is a hug from his little boy, he gets rejected. It's awful to watch. Tonight, Team Dad says "can I have a hug?" No. Kiss? No. Don't you love Daddy? And Bubu says "No" as he climbs on my lap. Ugh, I felt guilty for some reason and just plain bad. And no, I am not brainwashing my toddler.

So tomorrow I am going to Reno, NV with some moms in my moms group, for a little getaway weekend. Well, actually, for one night but for us, just to lay out by the pool and sleep all night without a baby monitor sounds like heaven. I think we could be in any city, anywhere, with a cocktail, and be happy. But so I'm hoping while I'm gone, Team Dad wins Bubu onto his team.

The Good Stuff

In between those scattered moments of trauma that I have, are also those amazing times that I usually skip mentioning because they're just not as entertaining to describe, but so I thought I'd pay homage to the good stuff this time.

Peewee amazes me more and more every day. She smiles and laughs when we make silly noises at her, she has this intense focus when she's lying on her activity mats trying to grab the dangling princesses above her, and her eyes light up when I get home from work and it truly melts my heart. I find myself staring at her tiny feet and hands and I can't imagine our lives without her in it. It took awhile to really get a chance to bond with her because Bubu demands so much attention but now I feel like we actually have a family of 4.

Bubu can talk more and more each day that passes. He makes us laugh a million times a day with his new abilities. He just learned how to count to 5 and he seems to know the colors blue and pink. Shocker. He runs to me whenever I walk into the room and gives me a big hug and I love it. His favorite word is mommy and I'm usually happy about about that. We went swimming today and he started out with a death grip on me sitting on the top step in the water saying "I got you, mommy" over and over but then slowly we were in the pool, splashing around together. By the end of our swimming adventure Bubu was standing at the edge of the pool and jumping into my arms in the water. I was so incredibly proud of him, I could have cried. I wish I had a reality TV crew taping us to show his father so he could share in my delight.

And last, but not least, there's my husband who destroys the kitchen to make a grilled cheese sandwich but it's funny somehow. It amazes me to watch him with Peewee. He magically puts her to bed almost every night and I love him for that alone.

So, beyond the meltdowns, weird syndromes, and temporary losses of sanity, there's the good stuff.

The Fruit Snack Tirade

I'm not sure what started causing my periodic episodes of intensity but perhaps a little analysis will help me figure it out so here it goes. I happened to get done with my workday early yesterday. I know most people would be happy to get done early and get to go home, right? So it was about 3:30pm, I get home, and the nanny leaves around 4pm. Mind you, I'd been on my feet a lot that day so my back hurt, my feet hurt...I was tired. But I was glad to play with Bubu for awhile regardless. We played and then he asks for fruit snacks. I look at the clock and since it's almost dinner time I said no. Meltdown. He asks for a popsicle, I said no. Meltdown. He wants a Pacifier, I said no. Meltdown. Then, of course, Peewee starts crying. I go to pick her up and Bubu totally loses it. So I'm thinking, what weird twilight zone am I in right now? And where's a razor blade when you need one?

The nanny told me Bubu didn't really eat his breakfast or lunch and I didn't think much of it until now. I realized Bubu has been running the show and he eats 18 packets of fruit snacks per day so why eat any real food? So, I manage to survive a dinner for Bubu where he eats nothing but 2 cookies. Meanwhile, I've resolved to just ignore Peewee crying until her father gets home to take care of her.

Everyone finally went to sleep and woke up at 5am. I don't know what came over me but there was no going back to bed after the early morning feeding. I actually started writing pages of instructions for the nanny, spilling all my thoughts, ideas, rules and regulations out on my notebook for Bubu. Then, when the nanny arrived this morning, I reviewed all that I had wrote down for her. I also hid the remaining fruit snacks and expressed for about 30 minutes how much I f---ing hate fruit snacks and that I never want to see them again, I'll never buy them again, and never speak of them again.

On my way home from work today, I made sure NOT to get home early. I was that asshole driving 45 on the freeway actually. And now in retrospect, I realize I may have scared the poor girl...with my crazy fruit snack tirade.

Emotional Instability Syndrome

I believe the expulsion of two human beings out of my 120 pound body, which is no longer 120 lbs, has caused me to develop Emotional Instability Syndrome. For short we'll call it NUTS. Sunday started out as a nice normal day. Then, while I was trying to watch one of our favorite TV shows, True Blood, that is way too violent and profane for us to watch while any child is awake, the housekeeper called 3 times. So I thought ok, I guess I should see what her deal is so I answered. I'm not sure if it was the fact that she talked too much in a Peruvian accent that I can't understand, or that she's over-charging me for a mediocre job, or that the baby in my arms starting crying, but I lost it and fired her and hung up on her.Oky doky.

Then yesterday I'm at work and the nanny calls me. My heart rate immediately spikes and I answer my phone. Turns out that she put the dog out in our fenced in patio, as I instructed, so she could drive the kids to the park and he was barking like usual and so our neighbor comes over and tells her not to leave the dog outside because it's animal cruelty. And no, she's not a member of PETA. So, number one, in my mind it's not animal cruelty to leave a dog outside with a bowl of water in 75 degree weather. So I tell the nanny to leave the dog outside anyways and I'll call the neighbor.

Just so you know, the neighbor happens to be a sweet little 70 year old Indian woman, Curry not Casino like me and also happens to be from the same town as my mother. Huge coincidence. She's a few years older than my mom but it's seriously like having my mom next door. She's been wonderful to us, is now friends with my mom, and babysits when ever we need an hour to go run an errand. Anyways, I call her and politely explain that I told the nanny to put the dog outside when she leaves the house so he doesn't pee on the carpet where the kids play. I also asked if it was really just that the barking was disturbing. Well, she didn't respond exactly how I imagined. She adamantly said it was animal cruelty and that we can't leave the dog outside and he barks. Great. Thanks. Allrighty then so, I said ok I'll call the nanny to go lock the dog in the 4' x 4' laundry room since that is less cruel. Fine.

I haven't disclosed this before but our dog is a biter. A little 12 lb Napoleon biting dog. He has bitten Bubu, my mother en-law, and last week, the nanny. So picking up the dog and putting him in the laundry room isn't as easy as it sounds. And I'm still paying for the ER bill for Bubu's bite. We've discussed getting rid of him but we never went through with it. Until now.

My NUTS kicked in and I called the neighbor back to let her know the dog was now barking inside and that I was going to put him to sleep tomorrow. I'll just say I was maybe a little rude and disrespectful. Okay I yelled at her. After she hung up me, I called my mother and yelled at her to call the neighbor and apologize for me yelling at her. Yes, I was in a full blown downward spiral. I called the SPCA and they said to bring the dog in. I rushed out on my lunch break, picked up the dog and drove him to the SPCA to get rid of the root cause of my stress. After filling out a 12 page form, they said they can't put him up for adoption because he's a biter and that they just put him to sleep in a few days. I started crying in their office and took the dog back home. I don't know if I was sad about killing the dog or that I had no solution to my problem.

I'm currently dealing with my life better today but I've had 2 glasses of sauvignon blanc so we'll see how tomorrow goes. I'm searching for a no-kill shelter in northern CA that will accept my dog that bites. My husband doesn't want to get rid of the dog. And my NUTS are killing me.

The Anniversary Edition

So, today is my 2nd wedding anniversary. I am embarrassed to say that a phone call from my mother en law at 7:30 this morning reminded me of our joyous occasion. At the time, I was trying to trick Bubu into trading me his pacifier for a bowl of Kix and Peewee was naked on her changing table. Let me just preface this posting by saying how much I love my husband. More than I could ever put into words. I knew the date was coming up, but I guess with the new job, juggling training the nanny, firing the housekeeper, paying the bills, being a mom...it slipped my mind. Don't worry, I got a card on the way home from work tonight and we have made impromptu arrangements to go out for dinner tomorrow night. But now, with a moment of reflection, I realize that I've been pregnant for 16 out of our 24 months married. No need to elaborate, right?


I know that we are just starting out. And we have two beautiful children and the rest of our lives to grow together with them. We are so proud to be parents but I have to admit, I'm glad we can now finally enjoy just being married to each other. I wonder how the next 50 years will turn out?

A Mom First

I started my new job last week. It makes absolutely no difference what the job is, I like it fine. It happens to be exactly what I went to college for, so I'm sure my parents are glad all their hard earned money didn't go to waste. Anyways, we now have a nanny. It was her first week too and I initially told her that she'd be taking Peewee to her 10am doctor appointment today. Then, after a little thought, since it would be Peewee's first shots ever, I made arrangements for me to be the one to take her instead.

By the end of it all I don't know who cried more, me or Peewee. For those of you who don't yet have children, vaccination day is horrible. They stick a huge needle into your tiny little baby over and over again. So, I had to get to work but I was a disaster and Peewee was screaming like I've never heard her scream and the nurse leaves us in the room so we can compose ourselves in order to leave. I felt like I was having a nervous breakdown, which seems to happen a lot these days. I had to get a freakin' grip and get the kid home and book it to work. So I dried our tears, strapped Peewee into her car seat, put on my sunglasses and headed out into the big bad doctor's office lobby.

After calming down and working for a few hours I get a text message from the nanny asking if I could call her. My heart dropped out of my chest. Did Peewee spike a fever? seizure?? allergic reaction??! is she dead??!!! This is seriously what my mind does. So, I excuse myself out of a meeting with all the most important people at my job to make a phone call outside. Now, I know that in the "job world" that was not the most appropriate career move, to walk out of a meeting with no explanation. Especially on my 7th day of work, right? Nothing else mattered in that moment though. I didn't even think twice, I had to call the nanny.

Everything was fine, Peewee was just not a happy camper because she got stabbed 85 times that morning. I'd be pissed too. As soon as I could, I raced home. On my way, I realized no matter how much I wanted this job, no matter how much I needed this job, I was still - now and forever, a Mom first.

Changing the Tag Line

Last Thursday I got a phone call from a recruiter with a job opportunity. It was totally random, out of the blue, and since I've been looking for a whole year now, I wasn't too hopeful but I said sure, submit my resume. A few hours later I got a call back about a phone interview for later that afternoon. I was thrilled. I managed to take the phone call without having a baby crying in the background. Actually, I believe the Fresh Beat Band was singing instead. Which is a victory in my eyes. Anyways, it went well and we set up a meeting for Monday. I couldn't believe it. It was like all my prayers were being answered finally. A chance at a real full time job that did not involve poop. Okay, so now I need a babysitter. I called around and it was stressful, but I figured it out eventually.

I guess it wasn't the most fun weekend with the kids because I started getting easily irritated by the time Sunday rolled around. I managed to hold it together though with the prospect of a job looming. Monday's meeting went well and I waited by the phone to hear about the job. Tuesday went by, and no call. I was discouraged but I survived, with the help of a vodka tonic at exactly 5:01pm. It's not even that Tuesday was that difficult either. Peewee slept a lot that day, Bubu wasn't too terrible but for some reason I started cracking under the pressure of nothing.

I woke up Wednesday chanting my mantra for the day of "Snap out of it Debbie Downer, and plan some playdates." So I got on the computer and tried to be productive. Then, miraculously, I got a call from the recruiter and scheduled a second interview for 3pm that day. Sounds like I'd be super excited, right? But I wasn't. I was stressed out because I had to find a babysitter, and fast. I was trying to make calls and well, I'm not sure what happened next, but one poopy diaper later and a runny nose wiping struggle ended in me yelling at Bubu at the top of my lungs. I even threw a crumbled up napkin at him. Peewee and Bubu both started wailing in unison. I strapped Bubu in his high chair and proceeded to lock myself in my bathroom. Long story short, I had a massive meltdown and my husband had to come home from work to get me out of the hole I was in. The kids are fine by the way. I guess the question is, am I fine?

The good news is that I made it to my interview at 3pm and I got the job. I wonder if that will totally fix everything. Was I just having a bad day? A bad week perhaps? Anyhow, therefore I am changing the tag line of this blog to "Stay at Home Mom, Who Finally Got a Job"

Top 10 List

One newborn, five weeks, and three meltdowns later, I find myself reflecting on what I've learned thus far. I actually don't know if it's 10 things but "Top 7 List" just didn't seem to work. Anyhow, here it goes:

10. No matter what your parents say to you, do not respond by saying "duh" especially if you're above age thirty.
9. Some days are for house cleaning, and some days are for seeing how trashed your house can get in one day.
8. Showers are optional.
7. The 2:30am feeding is not so bad, but the 5am feeding really blows.
6. Just go ahead and emotionally prepare for your mom to remind you to take your daily vitamin everyday for the rest of your life.
5. If you don't already have one, find a hobby that is equal to any hobby your husband has, especially if his hobby is golf.
4. Scrapbooking is fun.
3. You can have a family pajama day on a Tuesday and everyone lives.
2. Coffee is a food group.
1. And finally, words are like toothpaste, you can't put them back in the tube.

On Suicide Watch

Let me just preface this post by saying you do not need to call 911, I am not really going to kill myself, I just happen to be a tiny bit dramatic. Okay, maybe slightly dramatic. Okay, extremely dramatic.There, I said it.

So Peewee is 3 weeks old now and I must admit, there are certain things that are easier with baby number two and certain things that are more difficult. Well, not difficult but 'new'. For example, there's this infection in the mouth called thrush that is pretty common in babies where the inside of the mouth looks white. Every newborn-how-to book talks about this but since Bubu's tongue never looked white, I always skipped that chapter. Well, Peewee's tongue is white. I noticed it just days after getting home from the hospital so I mentioned it to the doctor at our appointment and she gave me a prescription to fix it. No big deal it seemed. I went to the pharmacy, got the bottle of medicine and the guy at the counter, presumably a pharmacist, said this could cause a little diarrhea. So I looked at the bottle, asked for a dropper and that was it, I left.

For the whole week, my husband, mom, and I have been administering 1mL of this stuff to Peewee every 6 hours and forcing her swallow it and then washing it down immediately with milk because we figured it tasted bad. After eight days, I noticed that her tongue was still freaking white! So I start googling of course and discover that this medicine seems to be topical...which means it should just be squirted on her tongue and left there. I literally started sweating when I read the words. I think my face got hot too. I called our pediatrician and found out that yes, you're supposed to just squirt it in her mouth AFTER she eats on the infected areas so you don't wash it all away. That is when my suicide watch began. I have been shoveling this stupid liquid down my baby's throat for eight frickin' days for nothing. Probably causing her tummy to hurt. I immediately blamed the pharmacist for not giving me better instructions, then I blamed the doctor for not giving me ANY instructions, but when it all sank in, the truth was that I didn't read the papers I got with the bottle. I just threw them away like they were just ugly wrapping paper for the medicine. I cannot express how bad I felt in that particular moment. I had no one to blame but myself. Damnit! I hate hate hate when I do stupid stuff like this!!!

Fast forward to today, I have correctly administered Peewee's meds for two days now and her tongue already is better. I guess that means I'm no longer on suicide watch. Whew!

GuiltyMom Disease

I was driving to Peewee's 2 week doctor appointment this morning, minding my own business, talking on the cell phone to my best friend when out of nowhere I got pulled over. So let me just say, the phone was in my hand but it was on speakerphone and I was planning on shoving it in my cleavage soon but just hadn't gotten that far yet. Regardless, I was busted, with my newborn in the backseat. Ugh, does that make me a bad mother? I pull into a parking lot and the motorcycle cop walks up and says he saw me on the phone. I don't know what came over me but I reverted back to age 17 and blurted out, "but it was on speaker!" in a slightly whiny voice. The cop must have felt bad for me or thought I was just really dumb because he was nice about it and said "well, it's still in your hand even if it's on speaker." so I said "oh, ok" and reached back to pull the sun visor over Peewee to shade her from the sun, on purpose so the cop would see I had a newborn, thinking maybe that would help my cause. He asked for my license which of course had the wrong address on it from over a year ago. The cop asked of it was my correct address and I said no because we just moved here, but then he asked when...I faltered because it's been a whole frickin' year now but I stumbled a little and then said "over 9 months. Sorry." Shockingly the cop was still nice, probably because he thought I was such an idiot. He asked for my registration to see what address was on that, well when I opened the glove compartment, it was so packed full of junk I could barely pull the registration card out which had the wrong address in it too. Damn! So I explained that address was my husband's cousin where we lived for 3 weeks when we first moved here on a long drawn out explanation. At this point the cop just gave up and said it was ok and just gave me a fix it ticket for my address on my license. As he walked away, I yelled out to him "I won't talk on the phone anymore! I swear!" As I drove away, the guilt overcame me and I apologized to Peewee in tears, of course, the whole way to the dr office.

This next wound is still fresh but I'll spit it out. I hate nursing so I quit. I was pumping but I'm now trying to quit that too because I hate it. My boobs hurt and it's tough to give Bubu a hug so I gave it up. Much to everyone's disappointment. Including my own. I was so determined to breastfeed better than I did for Bubu and I failed. I thought that whatever I put my mind to I could accomplish but I was wrong.

Finally, I had an ice cream sandwich after dinner tonight. Oh the guilt. The guilt of ice cream. I've totally contracted GuiltyMom disease.

Let the Workout Begin

I've noticed that the older I get, the more I like to research things. I research the price of anything I want at multiple stores, online, and survey my friends and family repeatedly prior to purchase. Maybe it's just a way for me to kill time but I enjoy it. So, Peewee is almost 2 weeks old now and even though I'm still in a mild state of discomfort, I can't wait to get rid of this huge muffin top mid section I have now. I guess some moms would probably be trying to bond with their new baby right now, but I am researching the arm shaker weight that I saw an infomercial for last night at 3:30am. I figure the bonding will occur naturally but destroying the muffin top, that will require effort. Oh and for the moms-to-be out there, yes, you will be awake at 3:30am to feed your baby and no, you won't be drunk, and yes, you will watch infomercials if that's all you can find on tv. So I thought I'd make good use of my 3:30am tv time and do research for the next 4 weeks. Yay!

There are quite a few workout plans and diets in the market I've discovered. It's actually kind of confusing, almost daunting. There's the celebrity workout, the 6 week workout, the 90 day workout... Then there's weight watchers, Atkins, Jenny, Tracy, lions, bears, oh my! Which one do I do??

I'm not sure if it was just the exhaustion talking at the 5:30am feeding, but I settled on the coffee and white wine diet.

We have 4 weeks though, we'll see what happens. All I know is that the muffin top has to go.

The Circus is in Town

You know how there are those moments in life where you wish you had a camera crew following you because you could sell the video and be some reality show on TLC? Well we have been home from the hospital for a few days now and I'm about to post an ad on craigslist for a camera crew to hire.

I will start with my disclaimer. I love my Mom.

My Mom is staying with us for a month to help us with the new baby, Bubu, and house stuff. At the hospital, my doctor said to just come into the office in a few days and they will take out my staples. No appointment needed, just quick drop in. So Monday sneaks up on us and my mom and I pack up Bubu and the new baby, whom we call Peewee, to go to the doctor and grab groceries for the week and head home. Sounds easy enough, right?

Let me just throw some advice out there for everyone, never believe the doctor who says you don't need an appointment when you have two kids in strollers and your mother going to get staples removed from your stomach. Just call ahead and announce your arrival because sure enough, someone will poop their pants, and get hungry, and that one toy in the waiting room will get old and boring in 8 minutes. And if all this happens, yes you guessed it, you have a toddler meltdown in your doctors office. This was arena one in our Thornton family circus.

So over an hour later we head to the grocery store. I forewarn my mom that moving quickly through the store is key when you have kids but she's kind of hobbling these days due to arthritis and I had a c-section 5 days ago so I am hobbling also. But we need food so we plow ahead into the produce section, two Indian women hobbling through the Safeway with a five day old baby and 17 month old little boy singing baa baa black sheep and playing peek-a-boo down every other aisle. At this point I've checked ego and self esteem at the door and lost my ticket. We finally get to the check out (whoo hoo!!) and Bubu starts crying if I move more than 3 feet away, it's 45 minutes past feeding time so Peewee starts crying, my mom seems to lose all mental ability and forgets everything she's learned about the credit card machine so I start calling out instructions to her yelling over the sound of two crying babies. The store clerks at staring at us in shock as we continue to sing Old Macdonald as we walk out the door. Welcome to the main ring at our circus mr grocery store cashier.

As we are driving home, I realize that my moms driving is a weird torture for me. But we made it, got the kids inside, fed, and groceries put away. Was it that bad? No, but let me just say we aren't going to Target tomorrow like planned. I think it might take a few days for the circus to venture out again.

The Joys of Childbirth

Due to the graphic nature of this blog post, parental discretion is advised to all women who don't have kids yet and men. Amidst all the happy, joyful feelings of the past few days, I have to admit, there are definitely some moments that trigger non-happy, non-joyful emotions. On June 15th at 8:02am, we had a beautiful little girl via c-section.

Let me just start with the good things about the scenario: since the surgery was planned, I had my hair and makeup done for the post childbirth photos and since surgery only takes 30 minutes, I looked pretty in my picture. I think that's about it for the good stuff. Now for all the other stuff: the medicine from the anesthesia made me puke during surgery and my husband had to catch it in a little pink plastic bowl. Yes, he really loves me. I cried throughout the surgery with that ugly crying face and the nurse and my husband had to dab my tears so as not to mess up my makeup. The baby weighed 7 lbs 4 oz so I'm still carrying the other 30 lbs I gained which makes me feel so incredibly attractive. I've been wearing my hospital gown for 3 days so I'm wondering why I packed anything in my hospital bag. My husband has seen my boobs in ways that make me worry that he is scarred for life by the images. He has also seen me in these hot gauze hospital panties that are one size fits all with huge pads in them. And I've, once again, had trouble nursing which makes me feel like a total failure, again. After finally being able to shower today, he had to put a clean dressing on my staples across my lower abdomen which was not a pretty sight. My body hurts everywhere.

Has the experience brought us closer together? Or do I just feel utterly humiliated and defeated? Not sure yet but I do know that overall, this whole process is extremely miserable. I love my kids more than anything in the world so of course all this sacrifice for them is ok but it ain't easy.

What channel is MTV?

The MTV movie awards were on last night and we actually knew about it this year. Whoo hoo! My husband and I decided that we wanted to record it since we don't stay up late enough to watch it all live, is that sad? Wait, it gets sadder, we didn't know what channel MTV was. It wasn't hard to figure out, but what struck me was, an era had unknowingly ended in our lives.

I remember The Real World seasons 1, 2, and 3, that game show with Jenny McCarthy, maybe some music videos here and there...then nothing. Is it amnesia? At what point did we stop watching MTV? It used to be such an integral part of our lives I feel. Anyways, so we watch the first 30 minutes of the awards show which happened to be before our bedtime and Twilight won every award. I haven't seen the last Twilight movie yet, so needless to say I told my husband to put it in our Netflix queue. Then Reese Witherspoon won some type of  lifetime achievement award and I almost fell over...she's probably my age by the way. Don't get me wrong, she's accomplished a lot and I love her, but does anyone else think she's kind of young to win a "generation" award? It was as if she was the oldest, wisest woman in the theater.

So I've decided that today we mourn the end of our MTV era as we watch the recorded awards show and celebrate the one we are now embarking upon with Dateline on the Investigation Discovery channel.

Change of Plans

First of all, I'd like to start by saying Birth Plan, Schmirth Plan. Why do I even bother? Two for two babies now totally testing my ability to "roll with the punches". My confidence in my doctor is also being tested but I'm not sure how to handle that one yet.

So when Bubu was born, we lived down in Southern CA, Orange County to be exact, you know, like those housewives on Bravo but not quite that fabulous. We really liked my OB and we had ultrasounds throughout the whole pregnancy. Then at the end, the OB said Bubu was going to be huge, over 9 lbs (which he wasn't) and I had no sign of going into labor on my own so she recommended a C Section. Well, that change of plan was tough for me, but I googled it and was okay with it eventually. Then my water broke the night before my surgery and we had to change plans again. No C section, but I survived and I learned all kinds of things from that whole experience. The stuff I learned was great and I was planning on using all that great knowledge to make this birth super smooth and perfect.  Here's what I learned:

1.) Don't let your husband go out drinking with his buddies the week of your due date. Make that 2 weeks.
2.) Pay attention in childbirth class, even if they have chocolate chip cookies.
3.) When you do your hair and makeup before going to the hospital, remember that this hair has to take a beating so plan for a pretty ponytail look.
4.) Breastfeeding is not so easy, so being doped up on painkillers does not help. Just say no to the morphine, but epidural is okay.
5.) Being doped up on painkillers also doesn't translate well on photographs.
6.) When they offer you cherry Popsicles or ice chips, either take the ice chips or plan to scrub your lips and applying gloss before delivering because you don't want all your first pics with the baby to look like you are a vampire who just fed on a big bloody animal. 

Since then, we have moved to Northern CA and yesterday I had my 37 week doctor appointment. This OB is way different than the orange county one. We haven't had a ultrasound since 20 weeks so I am starting to wonder, is it really a girl? how big is this kid?? is she in the right position now??? Does she have two heads and three arms???? So I asked for an ultrasound. I got a little resistance but I insisted and my OB finally gave in and I was right, baby is breeched, head up instead of head down like its supposed to be. Here we go again, scheduled a C section for June 15th now and my whole birth plan is ruined. They gave me some exercises to do at home but it's unlikely she'll move because there's not a lot of room. Now I'm wondering, how long has she been like this? Who knows because the frickin' doctor didn't check anything until I insisted on her doing her job yesterday, right? So, last night I google breech babies and it's all horrifying information that my husband finally made me stop reading. If she doesn't move by June 15th, then all my great experience is worthless. I hate changing plans.

Is It Worth It?

Today was absolutely exhausting. I made plans to meet the moms in my mommy group at this playground that's nestled in the middle of an outdoor shopping center which has one of those fountains that shoots water up from the ground and the kids run through it like a sprinkler. Sounds great!! right? So, the meeting time is 10am and the fountain shoots water at 11am. Usually Bubu is napping at 10am but today he woke up late and I thought, perfect, we'll skip that morning nap and just sleep in the afternoon. So, we get in the car at 9:45am and Bubu falls asleep on the way to the playground. Okay, no big deal, we'll deal with it. He woke up after just a short nap, which I knew wasn't quite long enough, but whatever, we went to go play.

He seemed to have fun throughout the time we spent there, even though he got stuck in a tunnel and I had to climb up in a toddler size tunnel to rescue him. Remember this is a 9 month pregnant mom climbing up into a plastic yellow tunnel. But you do what you gotta do. He got shot in the face by the fountain but after he recovered from that trauma he seemed to have fun. He kept running toward the street and I had to run and almost tackle him about 4-6 times but after those tantrums subsided he seemed to be having fun. Finally, I had enough and it was getting to be lunch time so as Bubu screamed I strapped him into the stroller and packed us up to leave. All with a big fake sweet smile on my face so the other moms in my group wouldn't think I was going to go home and slit my wrists.

We made it through the remainder of the day. The afternoon was a little "off" due to the weird napping scenario, the eating was off, the poopies were off, everything was a little more difficult. So here's my question: Was it worth it to break our happy little routine to go to the playground?

I know that on occasion we will break routine, and it's okay. We all survive and make it to live another day, but let's simplify the question. Was today worth it?

The Grocery Store Dilemma

I am a member of this mommy group and we have these playdates at each others house every so often. One of the reasons I like to go to these things is to get ideas for toys, decor, and of course to make friends. Oh yeah, I almost forgot, and for Bubu to play with some other little kids. So, one of the more organized moms had a calendar up with what their family was going to have for dinner EVERY night for the whole month! Wow. I mean, I gotta admit, it was impressive. I personally did not go so far as to do that myself but I thought it might work for me to have a weekly chart for dinners in order to help with my full time job as CEO of the Thornton household: the Roseville location.

So I pulled out a whiteboard from behind the washing machine, dug up some dry erase markers, and went to town! I am also CFO of the company and so I thought this idea would help staying within my grocery store budget too. I make my list and every Monday, Bubu and I head to the grocery store to get the 14 items we need. Here's the issue, I end up with approximately 38 to 50 items. I always wonder, how does this happen? Why do I even bother making a list? Is the problem that I'm sporadically on the phone throughout the store? Or is it because I'm prying pudding boxes out of Bubu's hands 25% of the time? Or maybe it's the playing peekaboo around the corner of each aisle that's too much of a distraction for me?

Regardless, I'm consistently over budget.

Babies R Us: A Necessary Evil

Let me just start by saying I hate this store. I remember the first time I ever set foot inside one of these stores with my girlfriend who didn't have any kids either, I was pregnant with Bubu and had to register there so we decided to try and tackle the task together. I think she was crying at the end of it all. Maybe we were both crying. Anyways, that was probably 2 years ago and ever since then, I have had to go to this store in multiple cities for a wide variety of baby items and it is somehow always a very poor experience.

So yesterday, I needed an umbrella stroller, sensitive skin baby wipes, shoes for Bubu, and maybe an outfit for my unborn daughter. I could have gone to Target, my favorite store, but then I still would have to get the stroller at Babies R us so I thought, fine. I'll suck it up and go to the dreaded locale. We get there, find the umbrella stroller on clearance, yay! So how much is the clearance price? Not posted. And with Bubu in tow, there's a limited amount of time to dilly dally before a meltdown. Okay fine, I got over it and moved on to find a stroller with a price tag and picked that up instead. Then I go to the shoe section. None in his size. I mean not one pair of size 7 baby shoes. Seriously. Okay fine, moving along. I skip the outfit because I hate this store. I go to the checkout area and get in line where a seemingly harmless Hispanic grandma is wandering around. She must think I'm Hispanic also (a common misconception) and she takes a strange liking to Bubu. She proceeds to come over and actually touch his face while making goo goo ga ga sounds in Mexican. It's totally odd and I can tell Bubu is getting freaked out by her but what do you do? Tell her to F*** off and quit touching my kid in Mexican? I thought that might be inappropriate nor do I know how to say that in Mexican so I just stared at her and tried to console Bubu as much as possible until the checkout girl called me up.

I get to the checkout girl, everything normal here and we've escaped from the weird Hispanic grandma. Whew! I grab the stroller and put it in the cart and the other items are in a stack on the counter and I'm waiting for the girl to put it all in a bag for me because we're not at Costco, right? Bag up my stuff so I can get out of this hellish nightmare of a store please. The girl walks away, comes back, calls the next customer...okay I'm confused, why isn't she bagging up my stuff for me? Then the bitch asks me to move aside so the next customer can checkout. Just for some insight as to who I am, let me just tell you what I normally would have done if my child wasn't in front of me and I wasn't trying to set some kind of good example for him; I would have said, "Are you F***ing kidding me right now? Put my s*** in a bag you stupid whore. Why do you think I'm standing here in your s***** store, you loser?" BUT of course, I couldn't go that route in front of Bubu so instead I said, "Can I have a bag please?"

She didn't give me a bag by the way. She gave me a lame excuse that my baby wipe box would break through any bag she had, which was a false statement. I'm an engineer. I know these things. But so I left, with my extremely poor experience once again at Babies R Us.

Grass is Greener Disease

I've got this disease called Grassisgreener. There is no known cure for it and I believe it affects about 3 out of 4 individuals. The first major sign of it was when I got an Industrial engineering degree in college and then due to my disease I thought I should test out a different industry. Then after a few years in that I went back to engineering and I am trying to find a job in that field again. Needless to say my fractured experience was probably not the best idea I have ever had, but it wasn't my fault...I have a disease!

So now, I've interviewed for a couple jobs up here in my very pregnant state and if I had taped those interviews, we could have an episode of the Office ready to air on TBS. Of course, I didn't get either of those jobs but regardless, I feel my disease creeping into my bloodstream again. For as long as I can remember, I have said that I want to be a working mom. Get daycare, get a nanny, get someone else to brush the kid's teeth for them, and I would continue to pursue my career. Because I am a career woman. I even went so far as to go on an interview for a job 8 months pregnant, seriously, I'll give you a moment to imagine what that looks like. It's ridiculous. But my disease is telling me that anything would be better than cleaning poopy diapers or scraping leftover mac and cheese off the kitchen floor.

Then this past Sunday afternoon, something happened. My husband and I decided to go see a movie. We went to drop off Bubu to a little daytime drop off hourly daycare spot (don't worry, it's a clean, nice place) and for the first time he totally started crying when we were leaving. I'm talking bawling, screaming, with tears. I realize it's a normal case of separation anxiety, but it was absolutely heartbreaking. I don't know what movie we saw or what it was about, all I could think of was getting Bubu out of there for the entire 90 minutes we were gone.

Now I'm wondering, is the grass is really greener in the working mom world?

Five More Weeks...

It's dawned on me that I only have about 5 more weeks till the new baby's due date. So basically I could go into labor at any moment from this point forward. Have I packed my hospital bag? No. Do I have her first outfit picked out to wear home from the hospital? No. What am I doing? I'm actually looking up stuff online I need for Bubu. It's the weirdest thing, I can't seem to focus on the whole "two-kid" scenario yet. I'm still a "one-kid-mom" now and so I'm getting summertime jammies for him, shoes for him, toys for him, baby pool for him.

I think splitting my focus will prove difficult for me. Will it just automatically happen the moment she's born? In the meantime, I'll get her an outfit today to wear home from the hospital at least. It's a start, right?

The American Idol Critique

I started watching American Idol about 4 seasons ago. I love it. There's something magical about someone singing a song so well, that it moves you to tears. And, of course, the first elimination trials are pretty funny and a necessary reminder of how many crazy people there are out there. So anyways, this season, with the new judges, has disappointed me. Not one judge gives any real criticism. Why are they even there anymore?? They're worthless. And don't get me wrong, I really love Steven Tyler and J Lo but I truly believe at least one of the judges needs to be the "Simon" and just deal with getting booed. Someone needs to tell the truth for entertainment value as well as maintaining the integrity of the show. How did James get kicked off before the others? He should have made it to the final two, if not win outright And I love Scotty for being from Garner, NC which is 10 min from my parents house back home, but there are two country singers in the final 3? really?

I'll watch the last of this season regardless though, BUT I'm not sure about watching another season of lame judges.

Love Hate Relationships

   Today is housekeeper day. I have a love-hate relationship with housekeeper day. This is because I will spend my entire morning cleaning prior to her arrival. It seems silly, right? Well, to every guy out there like my husband, it doesn't make sense, but I'm sure every woman out there knows what I mean. I love the result of my clean house, yet there's something really super annoying about cleaning for the housekeeper.

   Since my son was born, I have a love-hate relationship with my dog too. I love him when he entertains Bubu (that's my son's nickname) for a few minutes here and there. I hate him all other times. When I feed him, Bubu tries to eat his dog food. When I give him water, Bubu dumps the bowl and spills water everywhere. When I tear Bubu away, he has a meltdown. I can't leave the dog in the house when we leave because he gets upset and pees on the carpet so there's always an added step to getting ready to leave the house to run to the store for 5 minutes. And to top it all off, our dog needs Cesar Milan. He goes absolutely nuts if we see another dog outside, like vicious, I'm going to kill you, type of barking. Oh, did I mention he's a little 12 lb Havanese? But at night when he's sleeping on the couch next to me, I love him.

Attack of the Orange Teeth

So, as I was getting my little boy ready for bed tonight, I caught a disturbing glimpse of his front teeth right next to the gums and they were orange. Yes, I said orange. Not because he had been chewing on an orange crayon either. And yes, I have him brush his teeth every day but just a note to all you first time moms who might not know exactly what you're doing all the time, don't let your 1 year old brush his own teeth.

The Explanation of Curry

"Curry not casino" is one of my variations of  the phrase "dot not feather" used to explain what "kind" of Indian I am. I guess it's actually kind of sad that I have to use these phrases, but you'd be surprised. I'd say 95% of the time I am asked the question about what my ethnic background is, I have to follow my answer of "Indian" with either "slurpee not casino" or "curry not casino" or if that's inappropriate I just say "Indian, like from India."

As an experiment, on occasion, I have refrained from offering my clarification and the 2nd question I receive is "oh, that's what I thought! So are you Cherokee?" Sometimes I wonder what's worse: A) me making fun of the fact that people still refer to Native Americans as Indians, even though it's derogatory? or B) that most Americans don't even realize that you shouldn't call Native American people "Indians".

Definitely option B.

Introducing Curry

So, this is my first blogging attempt. Very exciting!! I have the time it takes my 16 month old son to eat about 8 more blueberries to write so this may be a short intro. Granted, I have Curious George babysitting so I might have time for a few extra sentences. I haven't decided if I actually want anyone to read this, it's just cathartic for me as of right now. Currently, I am 8 months pregnant, have a toddler, am a wife, and live in California. I try to keep life in a mild state of chaos just for entertainment purposes so that's what I plan to write about. Just for fun...so don't take me too seriously.