I'm changin' lives

One race at a time.  In October I will complete my FIFTH team in training event--The Nike Women's (1/2) Marathon.  I run to save lives.  I run in honor of those who have lost their battle.  I run so that other people don't have to cure cancer some day.  Lets do it now!

Please help me (or at least send a little encouragement for this out of shape mama!) by donating.  Even $5 will make a difference, then again, so will $2500... should you feel so inclined :)

Check out my fundraising page and be prepared for my out of shape stories, stories of chub rub, and needing to poo on the run.  (What, that doesn't happen to you?)

Thanks!

Spanx a lot.

I do not love spanx.  I like the theory of them, but in practice, they make me feel as if I cannot breathe.  At all.  They do hold a flask securely against your thigh,  though.  I mean, should you be reading this and in college.  It was ingenious at the time.  Right?  Except for the fact that you were pouring alcohol in a bathroom stall.  Gross.

Anyway, today I purchased a spanx swimsuit at target.  Hot, right?  I mean, once I'm in it, it's kind of ok.  Getting into it looks as if I am trying to stuff a sausage into a casing.  (when I take it off it is the can of biscuits effect.)  Or an over sized pillow into a "european" pillow case.  It isn't pretty.  It causes me to sweat.  I'm not entirely sure I can sit down once it's on, but it looks ok... for mom swimwear.

I'm one Tina Fey and Amy Poehler skit away from losing all credibility with kids these days.  Thoughhhh please go back to the top and reference how cool I USED to be.

10 months

Griffin turned 10 months on Sunday.  Can you believe it?  I can't.  At all.  He is the sweetest, happiest baby (except, you know... when he's not.  Like in the car.)  He's fast.  And funny.  And wants me to chase him.  And wants to pull up on everything.  He likes to eat.  He loves him some strawberries.  He still wakes up once a night to nurse... though the last week it's been twice a night.  I'm hoping it's just a growth spurt and that goes away.  He does the biggest cheesy grin.  It makes me giggle every time.  Today he saw someone on tv clap and he clapped, too.  He also spent 5 minutes at bed time giving me big open mouth kisses on my cheeks.  It's hard to put him down when he's doing that... so I didn't for a while.  He says "mama" really often.  He claps.  He says "ball".  He love love loves dogs.  My mom is convinced he says, "glammy" but it just sounds like squealing to me.  In the last month he's started to really love his lambie lovie.  We have 3 so that they can be on rotation.  If you put it on your shoulder at bed time he lays his head down and snuggles up.  It's the sweetest.  He woke up the other morning at 5.  I ignored and he stayed awake so I went to get him and put him in bed with me.  He snuggled up beside me and slept until 8.  I know why people have lots of babies.  I love him.  He needs a haircut-even with that receding hairline that's hanging on.  His feet are super tickleish and if I put them in my mouth--even more so.  He will sit behind a chair and play peekaboo with me and laugh big ol' belly laughs.  Adorable.  He gets upset if I put him in the bouncer or the pack n play so I can run to the bathroom or do something.  It can bring tears. I can't imagine a time when he's not my baby, but I know that the toddler stage is coming soon.  But for now I seriously just love alllllllllllll over him.  Kiss him all of the time and tell him I love him every five minutes.  Maybe more.  And that... is just a small small fraction of every bit of him.

2 nights

I'm going on two nights in a row of cheese and crackers.  And it's amazing.  Not amazing is that Ben's flight has been delayed.  So not sure when he'll make it back to the ATX.  I would have gladly given up my boring meals to normal ones if he would just get home!

I also dusted the top of our fridge.

We are dirty and disgusting people.

Porn 'stache

Ok, I just wanted to grab your attention.  Well, that and my dad has an 80's stache which I think back then was just a stache.  It isn't QUITE as dark anymore...

So do you think G$ looks like me?

so you know how...

I like to complain about stupid things?  Like how my husband can sleep and I can't?  Or how Whole Foods has gone completely down hill?  Or how it's annoying when someone tries to walk in on me at work while I'm pumping?  Irrational, right?  I mean, whole foods--you are selling out (see you tomorrow, xoxo).  Though, safety in numbers, my sister can also get irrationally angry when her husband is sleeping in the middle of the night and she's up with the newborn.  I say it's a flaw in our genetics.  Whatever.  We have irrational anger about the sleeping, mouth noises, and entertain double standards.  You know, the ones where we are always right?  I mean, I'm not as right as my sister.  She is ALWAYS always right.  I'm just occasionally right.

But, since Ben is actually a better person than me I should let you know he's kind of fabulous.  I came home to a clean kitchen, he cleaned his side of the sink (thank you, Jesus), and he had purchased wine and fresh fruit.  Jackpot.  What more do I need than shells and cheese?  Nada.  And yes... he's away again.... every week since the last week of April.  Sigh.  Single parenting is tiring.

I'm also old because I didn't realize it was Memorial Day THIS weekend.  How did I not know that?  How do I not have plans for drinking on a lake somewhere?  I blame the 10 month old.  Though, no denying.  He's really cute.

Guess how many...

babies are in this picture?

Had so much fun at a friend (from growing up) baby shower today.  Congrats to Robin!  Piece of advice for her that I came up with while driving my 3.5ish hours home.... cherish going to the bathroom alone.  Especially while traveling with small companion.

If you guessed 4--you'd be correct.  One is in hiding for a few more weeks.

I used my baby to cover my double chins.  That's my other piece of advice--just came up with that now.

abandonment issues.

I have them.  For you blogs.  I feel bad, really.  I'll send flowers.  I didn't mean it.  I won't do it again.  (except maybe next week.) 

I have a reason this time.  I swear.  My sister had a baby and I had to leave pronto's (well, pronto after she had her, I worked 1/2 day and then drove 3.5 hours with a screaming child.)  She went into labor, got to the hospital around 8 pm on Tuesday night and baby Brooke Brooke was born at 10:55.  She's perfect and sweet and a lovely sleeper (aka, sleeps as much as my 10 month old.  I say 10 because he will be on SUNDAY!!!)  Brooklyn Claire is one cute baby who her brother calls "it."  As in...

"I want to hold it."

"Glammy, take it."  

So when do kids start doing what you tell them to do?

Get into my bed.

I neeeeeeeeeeed your help, internetz.  (I added that z so I could seem gangsta.  It's one of my special skilz.  Skillz?  I'm unclear if skilz has one l or 2?)

Anyway, to prove my street-ness I need help on finding a duvet cover or maybe a quilt?  some sort of bed covering. (yes, we can all ignore the irony.  It was intended.  We also call sesame street "the street" because we are gangsta like that.)  Anyway, when we got our new bed we just kept using our old queen sized duvet which has been fine because you know, we had to do things like have a baby, buy new tires for my car, get a new roof, and other exciting items like a 2001 volvo station wagon--because try as he may, I will not let Ben put our child in the Jeep.  Even for the few miles to France's house.  I'm really uptight like that.  I simply INSIST my kid get in a car with doors and that doesn't cause shaken baby syndrome.

Anywho, I bought this today--but I'm just not sold.

With these shams.

But I also really like this, from Target.

I don't want to spend a trillion dollars.  (That is the semi-truth I also can't, but out of principle I will say that I don't want to.)  I like greens, greys, turquoises, brown--lets be honest, my entire house is mostly green and brown or turquoise and brown.  Whatever.  I want to paint our bedroom a light grey-ish blue color.  Perhaps Serena and Lily, or Dwell, or Amy Butler will create something for me.  

Helpsies?

Are you looking at my package?

Or, simple facts of life.
Or, things that aren't fair.
Or, my husband got shoes and I got breast pads and milk storage bags.

Or, stop looking at my package.  That's just rude.

uh....blogger meltdown?

I'm assuming that blogger got hacked by aliens and therefore has deleted my most recent posts. Which also annoys me. How rude. I mean, I can't keep track of all of my ranting and raving. That's why we have the internet. That and web shopping. At which I am very skilled.

Here's a video of my presh baby (and my super special baby voice--complete with accent). It makes me want to say "dance monkey dance" and act like he does things when I ask him to on video... but lets be honest people. Usually he just stares at me.

M-a-m-a How you think you got that way?

I know I'm not the only one. The one with unreasonably high expectations of holidays, birthday's, mother's day. I know this because I watch Bethenny Ever After on her 40th birthday where she talked about how she just couldn't be satisfied because you either do too much or you don't do enough. I'm not that extreme--but then again, I'm not taking over the world one low-cal margarita at a time. (I prefer to take over the world via intelligent sarcasm and pajama pants.)

My first mother's day. The only ever first mother's day I'll ever have. (Please set your mind to pity party--table for 1.) Ben was out of town (which is not a problem--just adds to my pity.) He gave me my gift the weekend before because we had finally had a weekend at home together. I drove up to see the fam (mom, dad, sis, BIL, Ell, and potentially Brooklyn. Brooklyn didn't show up though.) I also had some meetings while I was there. G was showered with love and attention from Glammy and Poppy. We went to the best mexican food place ever (where the margarita's are probably not low-cal but are rumored to be laced with everclear.) I had 2. We went to a friends Bday party (Cinco de Moser--complete with a mariachi band). I went to church with the 'rents came home and quickly ate, fed baby threw him in the car in hopes he would sleep on our drive back (about 3.5-4 hours). Husband told me Happy mother's day that morning--and that was it. So concluded my celebration complete with a child screaming in the car for 1.5 hours, me banging my head against the stearing wheel, feeling sorry for myself.

This day is supposed to be about MEEEEEE. MEEEEEEEEEE. MEEEEEEEEEEEE. I'm tired. I hate car trips with screaming children. They are hard to reason with... though I tried.

I guess in my high expectations I wanted my husband to keep telling me happy mother's day, what a great mom I am, and then list all of the ways that I am one, and all of the things I do around the house, and how we would live ina mess of dirty towels, diapers, dust, and dog hair if it weren't for me. (not that it should end there--it should also be mentioned that the first time I held our baby that he instantly knew that that is what I was meant for this.) Then the heavens would open up and petunia picklebottom would float on the wings of doves and land squarly in my hands and would be adorned with 2 carat diamond earrings. Oh, and a massage. And probably flowers. And probably some "just because" gifts for mother's day week. Something like that.

Ok, maybe just the telling me I'm a good mom and making me feel important without gifts would have been enough. (Though I don't mind a prezzie.)

So, there you have it. I'm self-centered like that. And needy. And need affirmation.

Then I feel guilty because I get to celebrate mother's day because I've been gifted with a baby. And that should be enough.

(and again... picasa won't let me move my pictures.)

Does anyone else (other than you bethenny--call me later) feel that way?

***Please note, my husband is actually pretty fabulous.

EXTRA large.

It's like large x2. I wear an XL in the little girls section. I just bought some items from the calypso Target line there. (I have a problem.)

They even fit the mama bazooms. Seriously. I'm sad for a little girl who has tata's this size.

Whatevs--super cute. I got this. And this. I might return the skirt... because I'm not sure what top to wear with it, but the top I wikky a wot. And it's $15 cheaper than the adult versions. Which, clearly, is why I got 2.

I also have had my life changed by Tina Fey's new book Bossypants. It is possibly the funniest thing I've ever read. I now even more whole heartedly believe that she and I would be BFF's should we meet on a cruise ship that is about to go down in flames. Or if I met her while trolling for girls at the bar. You know, because that's how adult ladies become friends. Or match.com for finding girlfriends? that are just friends. Dear Tina, call me? But I probs won't answer because 1. I don't answer unknown numbers. 2. I really don't talk on the phone that much (unless you are my sister, mom, or husband.) But, since we are BFF's you already know that so it's really not a situation.

Anyway... that's that. I just had my first mother's day where G and B got me a charm with G's thumb print on it. Adorbs. Perfect. Lovely.

Dear Petunia Picklebottom Backpack--someday you will be mine.

Shiz just got real.--clarification

So I grew up in this church... the one my parents still go. Where moomsy plays the piana, (that's piano in the south) and my dad sings in the choir. The one where my membership still lies--since I was 6. Now that I'm thirty one that was some years ago.

I also work for a church related foundation. I have a masters in the divinity. (I say "the" because I believe in the one big G--for all people. Even the gays. I say "the" here because someone told me "the gays" did something once. And I was all... you mean ALL of them? He said yes. I shook my head in his ignorance.)

Yah, this post is alllllllll about a statement. (I'll write another one about how I just bought some calypso for target items in the girls section at a later point.)

Anyway, for Mother's Day I went to church with the 'rents. Took the G$. Dropped him off in the nursery, where moments later I could hear him screaming in the sanctuary--so could everyone else. So I went to get him. I brought him back in... and he decides to talk. So I take him back out. Here's the thing... I'm all about having kids in a service and out of a service. I think there is a certain age that they should be in the nursery and an age that they can sit in the service. I think kids have a place. I think their noises are precious. Not everyone agrees.

*****Note. I'm all about the nursery. I think that if a kid is SUPER distracting--go to the nursery. Which is why I got up and left--and why I took him there in the first place (before the screaming began) so I could enjoy church without worrying about entertaining my kid. I'm also for children's church. However--what I wasn't for was having a 7 year old in the nursery along with 2-3 year olds and my baby. The church is tiny so there weren't different rooms or the option for children's church. So if your baby is loud, can't sit still, etc get em out. A few peeps aren't a big deal. don't get upset that you aren't attracting young families when there are no young people there.

This church where they are trying to reach young people, have a young pastor with 2 kids (..... old enough to be in the congregation... maybe 8 and 6 in the nursery?) I was told, by one person, 2 times where I could find the nursery. Thank you. Not welcoming. Should I be visiting... I probably wouldn't again. I think it's sad.

Do we love the church more than we can love the point of it?

1996-1998

the GAP is resurrecting these years.

For these I simply ask, "why"?

I also owned this. It criss crossed in the back.

I also had an affinity for an overall. Loved them. A lot. Even the short-alls. In case you were wondering... you can totally wear a long sleeved button up shirt OVER these as if it is a jacket.

Water baby?

He LOVED the water. Even though it was cold. The better to cool my gums with.

I can do it myself.

And I like it.

Seriously, mom. By. My. Self.

And I like it.

And yes, it looks like I combed my hair with a pork chop.

mmmm

Me: So I think I'd like a martini.

Him: Sounds good. We don't have any ice to chill things. I'll go get some.

Ben makes me a martini... in a high ball glass.

Him: Ummmmmm so we don't have martini glasses anymore.

Me: Oh yah... we broke them all.

Me looking at the questionable drink with a skewer broken in half with 4 olives.

Him: Oh yah... we also don't have toothpicks.

Calypso

They just released Calypso for Target. I went to Calypso yesterday and walked out dejected and feeling poor. Then I saw that a friend posted on FB they were releasing Calypso for Target TODAY. Love love love love.

I got this. And this.

Everything is cute. I am working on a new wardrobe. (as evidenced by my returning 2 items to the Loft yesterday and coming home with 4.)

We also went to the pool for the first time yesterday. It was cold. I also put on a swimsuit that fit in the past, wrangled myself into it (that wasn't pretty. I did not let anyone witness this), thought it looked ok, until I saw pictures. It was inappropriate. Apparently my bazooms have become the size of national geographic boobs. Not appropriate for a community pool. At all. My husBen failed to warn me of the situation. Epic fail that was not noticed until looking at the pictures. I would have talked about me. I would not have told my wife, "that looks great!"

Look how blissfully unaware I am as I "pat pat pat" the water.