January 20, 2010

What the Heck? Wednesday: Yes, I’m Still Blond

I’m sure that most of you know that about a month ago, I went out on a limb and finally ditched the blond hair I’d sported for a good 15 years or so and decided it was time for my darker side to come out. I have to admit, I am really enjoying my new look. It just seems to fit me so much better than the blond these days and is such a welcome change. However, I may officially be a brunette, but that doesn’t mean that I’ve lost all of my blond qualities.

First of all, I may not have the blond hair to go with it, but I’m still having more fun. In fact, I’ve been having a blast lately and I am just absolutely loving the whole vibe that 2010 is putting out so far. I feel like there are changes happening for the better in my little corner of the world, and they are really welcome changes, and I feel like things in my life are finally starting to fall into place and make sense.

Second, my hair may be brown, but apparently that doesn’t excuse me from continuing to have “blond moments” once in a while.

My little guy has been very sick this week with a terrible cough and fever. On Monday, I made an appointment to take him back to the doctor to hopefully get some antibiotics that he so desperately needed. (I pretty much had to hit the doctor over the head with a frying pan to get the prescription, but that’s another story for another post). I got my son all bundled up in his coat and hat for the appointment, put him in the car, went around to the driver’s side, got in my car, and pressed the little button on the remote to open the garage door. Then I turned on the engine and my seat warmer, and backed out of the garage. And that is when I heard a huge crash. And that is when I realized that I’d backed out of the garage before the garage door was all the way up. And that is when I realized that part of that garage door may or may not be hanging from the roof of my Jeep Liberty. And that is when I started to panic a little. What the heck?

I turned the engine off and told my son to “hang in there because Mommy needed to go check something out”, and went to inspect the damage I’d done. I was so relieved to find that the door was not hanging from the roof of my car, but it wasn’t exactly all the way up either and it looked kinda bent in the middle. I hit the button again to see if I could get it to lift, and that is when I discovered that I had knocked it off the track and that it was permanently stuck about halfway up, which meant that there was no way in hell that I was going to be able to back out of the garage, which meant that there was no way in hell that I was going to get my son to his doctor’s appointment, which meant there was no way in hell I was going to get him any drugs. What the heck?

I immediately went into “Mama Bear” mode at that moment because I was getting my son to that doctor’s appointment come hell or high water, or in this case, come hell or busted garage door. I saw in the bottom left corner where this metal pin had come out of whatever hole it was supposed to be in, so I went to work trying to bang it back into place and shove it back into the hole. Long story short, I eventually got it back in there enough where the door would go up and I could at least get out of the garage and get my son to the pediatrician, and I figured that the hubster could just deal with the residual damage when he got home that night. The guy loves a good project, so I figured I was actually doing him a favor (at least that’s what I told myself).

I was SO proud of myself for temporarily fixing the door that I kind of jumped up and down and did a little dance and was all set to hop in the car and get on my way, when I realized that my hands were completely covered in grease and my palms were totally black. I had visions of walking into the ped’s office and the receptionist seeing my filth and immediately telling me to “have a seat ma’am” and then shutting that little window separating her from the waiting room and picking up the phone and calling DCS on my ass. I may or may not have started to cry a little at that point, and I raced back into the house and into the half-bath and tried washing the grease off with the bright green Kan-doo soap that my son uses. When that failed (it didn’t even make a dent), I grabbed the container of hand scrub that I love using all winter that exfoliates and conditions at the same time and makes my hands silky soft (I may or may not sell the stuff part-time on the side at craft-fairs and such), scooped out a big gob of it, and started scrubbing away. And that’s when I felt the burning and stinging. You see, this miracle scrub is a salt based scrub, and when you get salt in an open wound, it hurts like hell. That’s when I looked down and realized that during my frantic attempt to do a half-assed repair of the garage door, I’d totally cut my fingers up. What the heck?

I didn’t get all of the grease off, but I figured that I looked clean enough and I did finally manage to make it to my son’s appointment on time. And the receptionist actually laughed at my little story and gave me some super-cool Daffy Duck band-aids for my mangled fingers. Of course, before we left the house, I couldn’t get the garage door to shut all the way, so I absolutely expected to find some sort of little “critter” hiding out in my garage and possibly picking through the trash cans waiting for me when I got home. What the heck?

(In case you were wondering, I got lucky on that one. The garage remained critter free and the hubster was able to fix the door no problem).

I’m happy to report that after two days of those antibiotics that I had to practically sell my soul for, the little man is doing so much better and is finally starting to act like himself again. I made the decision to keep him out of preschool yesterday since I’m not one of those moms who sends a sick kid to school to infect all of the other kids in his class, (although I may or may not have brought my son to a birthday party last weekend knowing full well that he had a cough and that it may or may not be the best idea, but that past Friday the doc had assured me that it was just post-nasal drip and that he wasn’t contagious. Hmmm…I think I may be in the market for a new pediatrician because now two of the kids from the party have the same thing as my son and their sympathetic, kind mother assured me that her kids did not catch the cough from my kid, but from her because she is a teacher and probably brought it home to them because so many kids in her class are sick right now. God I love her)!

Ok, getting back to that missed day of preschool for my little man. I made the mistake last week of telling him that Tuesday was going to be “the best day ever” at school because they were going to read Dr. Seuss and make Green Eggs and Ham!! For real, they actually make Green Eggs and Ham on this special day, and I know this for a fact because when my son and I went to visit this preschool last year, we happened to show up on Green Eggs and Ham day. I will never forget those cute little kids sitting around the circle and watching the teacher in complete awe of how she made those eggs green. And I just couldn’t wait for my little guy to experience it. And neither could he. And because of his stinkin’ cough he didn’t get to go yesterday. What the heck?

Maybe I’ll go out and buy some green food coloring today to try and make up for it.

A couple weeks ago, the hubster and I started the South Beach diet and I was really hoping to shed the seven pounds that I gained over the holidays so that my clothes would somewhat fit again. I got about four off, and then everything sort of came to a halt. Apparently I just have no self-control this month, so South Beach has gone completely out the window in favor of whatever this hogfest is that I seem to be indulging in. I spent half the day yesterday searching through my closet, drawers, and the laundry room for my favorite pair of “fat jeans” from Old Navy. They even have gold embellishments on the back pockets and look almost designer when paired with the right cropped blazer.

(photo courtesy of OldNavy.com)

As I sit here and type this post this morning, I still have no idea where in the hell those jeans are. Yesterday’s frantic quest to locate them was not successful. And it’s killing me. And it just isn’t fair after the week I’ve had. I think I’ll go make some Eggo waffles to console my grief over the loss of those jeans. What the heck?



17 Comments
Posted Under: What the Heck? Wednesday
January 18, 2010

Excuse Me? You Want me to do WHAT?

Well, I guess it was bound to happen sooner or later, but I definitely didn’t expect the little present that my son gave me last Friday night. The hubster and I were happily enjoying two delicious cuts of filet mignon and some grilled asparagus, when we heard a little voice perk up from the living room. “Mommy! Daddy! Look what I found!” I glanced over to the other side of the couch where the little man was standing, and he was holding what appeared to be a dried up ball of playdoh in his hands. I was a bit suspicious as to why he found this playdoh so interesting, so I went over to investigate. I picked it up (with a napkin, of course, because after almost 4 years of parenting a boy I’m not a complete and total idiot) and gave it a good sniff check to confirm its origin. My suspicions were correct. It wasn’t a piece of playdoh. It was indeed, a turd.

I immediately burst into uncontrollable laughter when I looked at my son to inquire where this particular turd had come from, and he looked at me and said, “From my bum!” (DUH! Stupid Mommy)! It was a pretty tiny little turd and it seemed like an isolated incident, so I threw the poop contaminated napkin away, washed my hands, and went right back to eating my steak. Not two minutes later, the little man started to walk into the kitchen and another tiny little turd fell out of the pant leg of his jeans. At this point, I decided that I probably needed to check things out a little more to make sure that there were no more turds lurking around in his britches. I stripped him down and everything seemed clean and clear and turd free, so again, I went back to eating my steak.

I’m still kind of puzzled as to what in the hell is going on with my little man’s butt these days, because for some reason, it seems to be the topic of conversation at the dinner table every night. I’m pretty sure that the poop incident was due to the fact that he was in the middle of looking at a book and just didn’t feel like going to the bathroom, so he tried to hold those turds in with all his might and a couple just happened to escape. He hasn’t pooped himself in ages, so I’m hoping that this isn’t some new trend that is starting. The butt scratching, (actually, digging to be exact) however, is another story.

Earlier last Friday afternoon, I wound up bringing my son to the doctor to get him checked out because he’d developed a bit of a nasty cough mid-week. I wanted to have it looked at before we headed into the weekend. Turns out, it was all in his throat and nothing that a little Tylenol Cold and Cough wouldn’t help, so that was a relief. After the doctor was done examining him, he looked at me and asked if there was anything else I wanted to talk about before I left. I thought about it and decided that since the butt-digging had been going on for a good couple of weeks, it was probably time to see what the doc had to say about it. Needless to say, this is a conversation that I never imagined having with my son’s pediatrician. Our doctor/patient relationship went to a whole new level following that discussion. It went something like this:

Me: “Um, well, yeah…there is one more thing that I wanted to ask you about. Lately the little guy seems to have one hand constantly down his pants and is sort of digging around in his little tush area.”

Doc: “Well, he is a fidgety kid and he may just be looking for something to do and somehow he got into the habit of sticking his hand down there. Let me ask you, do you notice this happening at night or during the day?”

Me: “It’s pretty much during the day, but like ALL day.”

Doc: “Well, there is this little thing called pinworm that kids can contract. Is he in day care?”

Me: “No, but he does go to preschool two days a week.”

Doc: “Yeah, it can be contracted at preschools too. He may have it, but it is very hard to prove and usually parents complain about the constant scratching happening at night. It usually keeps the child up and he can’t get to sleep. Have you noticed that at all?”

Me: “Nope, he’s been sleeping just fine.”

Doc: “Well, I really don’t think he has it, but if you are concerned about it, here is what you need to do. What you can do is go into his room about two to three hours after he falls asleep. Then pull down his pants, and get a flashlight and a magnifying glass and look right in the hole. If he has pinworm, you aren’t going to see worms. What you will see are these teeny tiny little dots sort of moving around. They like to come out at night. If you notice this, then give me a call on Monday and I’ll call in a pill to the pharmacy for you. It’s just one pill and it gets rid of it very quickly. You can also ask around at preschool to see if any other kids have been scratching around down there (yeah right…that would go over SO well with the other preschool moms who love me so much).”

Ok, I don’t even remember the rest of the conversation and I’m pretty sure that I didn’t even hear much of anything that the doctor said after he told me to spread my poor little boys ass cheeks open, WHILE he was fast asleep no doubt, and to look inside his butt hole with a magnifying glass. (Um, excuse me? WTF)?

On the car ride home, I kind of laughed a little bit, because I pictured what I like to call “Operation Ass Watch” commencing that evening after my boy was asleep. I pictured the hubby and I tiptoeing into our son’s room, pulling down his pants, the hubster putting on his headlamp flashlight that I’m still not quite sure why he feels he has to own, and me spreading the little guy’s cheeks apart as the hubby got down in there with the magnifying glass. Then I pictured us not being able to control our laughter while doing it. Then I pictured the poor little guy waking up out of a dead sleep to find that Mommy was spreading his ass cheeks apart and that Daddy was wearing a headlamp and looking at his butt hole with a magnifying glass. Then I pictured him being completely traumatized and scarred for life and winding up in therapy for a good twenty years or so. Then I decided that there was just no way in HELL that we were going to subject our son to such humiliating treatment.

I decided that the best thing to do was to just keep an eye on the little guy for the weekend and watch and document any butt scratching that went on, so “Operation Ass Watch” continued. I figured that if the tush digging was still going on through Monday, that I’d go ahead and call the doctor and have him call in the pill. Better safe than sorry, right? And it sure beats the alternative. Come to think of it, I don’t even think that we own a magnifying glass.

That brings us to 7:00am this morning. I’m pleased to report that “Operation Ass Watch” was successful and the hubster and I seem to have debunked the problem, and no, it’s not pinworm. Our son’s skin gets extremely dry in these cold New England winter months, so a few weeks ago, we started bathing him every other night instead of every single night in an effort to try and help heal his poor little alligator skin covered body. It worked. Unfortunately, we’re also pretty sure that it resulted in an incessant bout of ass scratching on our little guy’s part due to (there’s really no polite way of saying this) the ever-dreaded sweaty butt-crack. The hubster and I are pretty good when we put our heads together, and after back to back nights of baths, the little man has pretty much left his butt alone. Let’s hope the streak continues.

The Mommyologist’s Last Word: “Well, we’re headed back to the doctor today because that “oh, don’t worry, it’s nothing” little cough he had has turned into a full-on hack-fest complete with a 102 temperature. Poor little guy. At least I won’t have to discuss his rear end with the doc today though!”

58 Comments
Posted Under: bum, poop
January 15, 2010

And Here’s Seven More…

Looks like it’s time to close another week! It’s been a great one for me and I hope it has for you too! I’m looking forward to a quiet weekend with my boys, plus a birthday party thrown in on Saturday!

I was delighted the other day when I stopped over at Theta Mom’s blog and realized that she had tagged me in her latest post: My Seven. I absolutely love her blog because she is so down to earth and provides such a wonderful sense of community for other mom bloggers. I think of her as a role model in the blog world and I hope that my blog is half as good as hers someday! I really enjoyed reading this post because it gave me the chance to get to know more about her.

Now that I’ve been tagged, I’m supposed to list seven things that describe me, and these seven things should be things that my readers probably don’t know about me. I know that I did a 20 random things post recently, but I figured coming up with another seven wouldn’t be too difficult! What girl doesn’t like to talk about herself, right? Here it goes…

1. I wear my sunglasses each and every single day, even if it’s raining. I actually go into a mild state of panic and feel completely naked if I realize I’ve left the house without them. It’s almost like I think my eyeballs are going to pop out of my head if I don’t have them on. The weirdest part? The obsession seems to run in my family. My great-grandfather was known for wearing his sunglasses in the house, and even in the dark, and now my grandfather is getting the same way! I’m not to the point of wearing them indoors yet, but I’m sure it’s coming. I do wear them on airplanes if it’s too bright though…does that count? Somehow I’ve also gotten my little guy into the same habit. He’s a totally hip dude with his shades on.

2. I am not into things that people typically consider to be romantic. I’m not a jewelry girl, and flowers are nice, but I’d really just prefer something a little more subtle when it comes to being flattered by my man. My hubby and I have pretty much stopped giving each other material things as gifts. For our anniversary, we get a babysitter and go out for a fancy dinner. For Christmas this past year, we gave each other the gift of spending four kid-free days together in downtown St. Augustine, Florida. We walked around the city all day, went to museums, and went out for nice dinners every night. And to me this was the best Christmas gift I could’ve received. A necklace usually winds up shoved in a drawer and forgotten about. Memories of good experiences last forever. And the “little things” mean more to me than any bouquet of flowers. Earlier this week we had a problem with the shower head in our bathroom, so we’d been using the hall bath for a few days. Last night, the hubster got it fixed. (He’s good around the house like that thank GOD). This morning when I went to take a shower, I stopped by the hall bath first to retrieve my shampoo and conditioner to move it back to our bathroom. It wasn’t there. He had thought ahead and had already moved it back for me. This may be something that most people wouldn’t even notice, but to me it showed that he thought enough to realize that it would be so much more convenient for me to get ready this morning if that shampoo and conditioner were back where they belonged. It showed me that he appreciates me. It showed me that he loves me.

3. I get starstruck very easily. During my college days, I took a trip to Paris with some friends, and one night we were walking around Montmartre and I noticed this guy walking in our direction with his arm around a woman. They were both dressed in black from head to toe, and all of a sudden the guy and I made eye contact and I could see the panic on his face set in immediately. He KNEW I was American, and he was well aware that basically everyone in America in 1998 tuned in for “Friends” each week, and he could definitely tell from the look of shock on my face that I recognized him as Ross. That’s right…I passed David Schwimmer on the streets of Paris. I wish I’d had the nerve to say something, but I was just way too dumbfounded to know what to do. That’s my biggest celebrity sighting story, although I may or may not have a cousin who is married to a former teen heartthrob. And I may or may not get a little bit starstruck when I see her family photos. And her kids’ birthday parties may or may not have more interesting guests than my kid’s parties do. (No offense to my friends because you all know that I think you are very interesting and you are all celebrities in my book)!

4. I absolutely love to travel, and I absolutely love staying in hotels. The nicest hotel I’ve ever stayed at was on my honeymoon. We went to Little Palm Island in the Florida Keys for five days and it was nothing short of exquisite. All of the rooms are these little thatched roof bungalows that look like something out of Tommy Bahama inside. They all face the ocean and come equipped with jacuzzi tubs and outdoor showers and all sorts of other luxuries…and no TVs or telephones. Every afternoon on the beach, an attendant would come around with sorbet on a silver tray and lavender scented towels to cool you off. We’d order lunch every day on the beach as well and they would set up a little table for us with full linens and silver. And dinner on the beach every night? Nothing short of amazing. And the BEST conch chowder and key lime pie I’ve ever tasted. Oh how I wish I could hop a plane and go back right this second!

5. I was in labor for a good 24 hours with my son. I wound up being induced because he was getting so big and my doctor was worried that I wouldn’t be able to deliver him if he grew anymore, so 10 days before my due date, I checked into the hospital. They pumped me so full of pitocin that I looked like someone had hooked me up to an air pump and inflated me. Some people look all glowy and gorgeous after delivering a baby. I was definitely not part of this exclusive club. I looked like someone had given me two black eyes and left me on the side of the road for dead. And I gave new meaning to the word “cankles.” The swelling didn’t go down for at least 4 weeks, but it was more than worth it for the beautiful little boy I got in return.

6. Before I had my son, I had a great job as a meeting planner and I loved every minute of it. I even had dreams of starting my own wedding planning business someday specializing in destination weddings, since that’s what my husband and I had. Somewhere along the line I gave up this aspiration, and I’m kind of glad I did. The truth is, I don’t think I would’ve been very good at it. I mean, things would’ve been peachy keen if I had a sweet, in control of her temper bride each and every single time, but throw in one bridezilla and I am pretty positive that I would’ve lost it and wound up with some sort of lawsuit against me. I don’t deal well with whiners. And I’m pretty sure they don’t like dealing with me either.

7. The absolute stupidest thing that I’ve ever done in my whole life was picking up a hitchhiker. My BFF from high school was my accomplice, and to this day I have no idea what in the hell we were thinking. His name was Jeremy, and he was hitchhiking on Rt. 44 in Avon, CT trying to get back to Greenfield, MA. For whatever reason, both of us decided at the exact same moment that we should pick this guy up. He got into the car, and my BFF looked at him and said, “Ok, I have one rule. You CAN’T kill us.” (Again, what in the hell were we thinking)? We got very lucky that day, because Jeremy turned out to be a very nice guy and kept referring to us as his guardian angels. We took him back to my friend’s house, fed him some lunch, and then took him to the bus station and bought him a ticket back to Greenfield for $12. I know that picking up a hitchhiker is an insanely dumb move, but I still think that we did a good deed that day. I’m sure Jeremy never forgot that random act of kindness.

So, that’s my seven! Now I’m supposed to tag seven other bloggers to write their own post. I’d really love to learn more about…

Things I Can’t Say

The Winey Mommy

WYSIWYG

This Mama Works It

The Stroller Ballet

Coupon Clippin’ Mommy

504 Main

25 Comments
Posted Under: random things
January 13, 2010

Heck Yeah! Wednesday

Good morning everyone! I’m taking a little detour from my usual What the Heck? Wednesday post this week because the past few days have been so awesome for me. I said, “HECK YEAH!” out loud more than once this week, that’s for sure. (Ok, you’re right, it was more like hell yeah, but I’m going with the whole “heck” theme and didn’t want to monkey with tradition).

First of all, my awesome blog buddy, Shell, over at Things I Can’t Say gave me the Lemonade Stand award. HECK YEAH! I’ve already received it and wasn’t sure if it was proper blog etiquette to accept it again, but she assured me that I wouldn’t land myself in blog prison if I did! If you haven’t stumbled upon her blog yet, quit reading the rest of this post and go click the link above right away. She is real, honest, and always gives me a much needed laugh. I’m so happy that I’ve become blog buddies with her and can’t wait to get to know her even better in the future!


The first time I received this award, I posted my famous (at least I think it’s famous) Crystal Light Martini recipe, which is my favorite treat on a hot day. If you’re interested, you can find that recipe here.

I am going to pass this award onto two blogs that I read on a regular basis. Both are mom blogs and are too cute! And both happen to be blogs of girls I’ve known for a good 20 years or so. I went to high school with Operation Sippy Cup…and Thou Shalt Not Whine is her younger sister! I haven’t seen either of them in years, but they are such great girls and I’m glad to be a part of the blogosphere with them.

For any of you who happened to catch my 20 Random Things post last week, you know that I am absolutely in love with Hanky Panky brand lingerie, in particular their thong collection. (Excuse me while I pause and sing a few lines from that old Sisco song). Here’s a little glimpse into what fills my underwear drawer these days:

I am a fan of Hanky Panky on Facebook, and the other day they asked their fans to comment on which style was their favorite. I left a comment letting them know that mine is the low rise lace thong, and I also mentioned that I’d given them a “shout out” on my blog that day. To my delight, they commented back and asked for the link to my blog. A couple days later…I got an email from someone at Hanky Panky asking permission to feature my story on their blog! Heck yeah!! Please check out Thong Diary: Obsession for The Mommyologist’s testimonial of how awesome these things are!
(Hanky Panky did not pay me to talk about how great I think they are. I wrote about them because of how much I love them and all opinions were my own. They are, however, sending me a free gift as a thank you for giving them permission to use my story in their Thong Diary. Heck yeah)!

Yesterday morning, my son woke me up a little after 7:00am, and we headed downstairs to start our normal routine, which consists of me setting him up on the couch with a little PBS Kids, juice, and cheerios, and me scurrying over to my computer to check all of my major outlets, meaning my blog, my email, and my Facebook page, in that order. I let out a huge HECK YEAH! when I saw that The Mommyologist had reached 100 followers overnight! This was a major milestone for me, and I would like to thank each and every one of my readers for making it happen. I absolutely LOVE writing this blog. It has made me feel more like “me” than I’ve felt in a long time. And I can’t believe that it took me this long to start writing it. And I just can’t wait to see where this journey takes me next.

Last, but certainly not least….

The other day my little man looked me in the eye and said, “Mommy, I think you’re the Mommyologist!”

HECK YEAH!!


22 Comments
Posted Under: Heck Yeah Wednesday
January 11, 2010

Did That Come Out of MY Mouth?

“QUIT digging in your bum!”

If I had a dollar for every time I’ve said that to my son in the past couple weeks, I’d probably be at some 5-star resort on a beach right now instead of sitting at the computer in my kitchen typing this blog. I honestly have no idea what in the hell is going on with my little guy’s bum these days, but for some reason he seems to have one hand permanently attached to it, or to be more exact, one hand shoved down the back of his pants and sort of digging around down there.

For quite some time now, I’ve had the intention of writing a post listing all of the funny little things that I say now that I’m a parent that I never imagined would come out of my mouth, or that I swore up and down would never come out of my mouth. After about the 100th bum comment to my son this weekend, I figured today was as good a time as any.

Things I’ve Said to my Son:

- “Quit digging in your bum! And quit smelling your finger after you do it! ” (WTF)?

- “Honey, let’s not pick our nose in the middle of IKEA.” (My son’s response, “Can I do it in the car”)?

- (Yelling this one down the hallway) “Make sure that the seat is all the way up before you start to pee so that it doesn’t fall down and smush your little wiener!”

- “Yes honey, that’s a great observation. Your wiener really does look like a mushroom!” (I had to give him extra credit for creativity on that one).


- (Whispering…) “Honey, I realize that one of the other little boys at school pooped his pants in class today, but you really don’t need to shout it out in front of the entire parking lot, especially when that little boy and his daddy are walking right in front of us!” (My son: Why Mommy)? (Kind of yelling…) “BECAUSE I SAID SO!” (then cowering away in total embarrassment because the dad has now turned around after hearing his son’s first and last name and the fact that he had an accident being yelled over and over through the preschool parking lot).


- “Sweetie, give that booger to Mommy please! Don’t wipe it on your shirt!” (Sometimes I think I could start a collection).


- (This one was actually said to my son by the hubster…just thought it was too good to leave off the list) “Uhhh…ummm…hmmm….wellllll, that isn’t moss buddy.” (My son: What is it)? “It’s what grown-ups get “down there” when they get bigger.” (Well done hubs)!


- “Don’t grab Mommy there!” (The little guy: Why not)? Because Mommy doesn’t like her boobies being touched.” (Insert foot in mouth…this one is going to resurface at a later date for sure).


- “I’m sorry that I forgot your Happy Meal sweetie, but Mommy is having a complete and total brain fart today.” (Again, inserting foot in mouth)….(and my son is yelling, “HA HA! Mommy farted)!


- (This one occurred the last time we were visiting my parents in Florida) “Hey DAD! Get in here…your grandson wants you to take a look at the HUGE poop he just did!” (Dad’s response after peering into the toilet bowl: “That would make a grown man proud!”).

Things I’ve Said to the Hubster:

- (Said with a diaper held up to my face) “Hey babe…does this poop smell right to you? And what about the color…does it look ok?”

- (Said over the phone) “Would you mind picking me up a fresh head of cabbage on your way home?” (Not for dinner…but to tear off the leaves and put them in my bra to ease the swelling of my rock-hard breasts).

- (On that very same phone call) “Oh yeah, and while you’re at it, would you mind picking me up a new tube of Preparation-H too? Thanks babe! Oh yeah, wait, don’t hang up! Get the cooling gel kind if they have it.”


- (Said in the recovery room of the maternity ward) “Um…I don’t think that’s a water bottle babe….it’s for uhhh…well, it’s for me to use to clean my uh…well…, you know?“

- (Said hobbling out of the hospital after delivering my son with the fattest cankles I’ve ever seen and trying not to fart while climbing into the car) “Honey, you still think I’m sexy, right?”

- “Hey babe…where in the hell are those stool softeners that they gave me at the hospital?” “What do you mean you don’t know?” (cue the hysterical crying)

- (Later that day…) “Hey babe…can you help me get off the toilet? I’m too sore to stand up.”

- (Said during my 9th month of pregnancy) “Hey babe, can I borrow one of your t-shirts? My maternity tops don’t fit anymore. No, I don’t care which one, just make sure it’s over-sized…like an XXL or something!”

- (Said in a local breakfast establishment) “Your son just pissed on me while we were in the bathroom. Happy Anniversary babe!”

- (On our way out the door…) “Is the foldable potty seat in your car somewhere? I can’t find it and for some reason it’s not in my purse.”

Random things I’ve said out loud…or even just thought out loud:

- (To the nice lady working at the Bosom Buddies store in Denver) “Ma’am, does this nursing bra come in any widths bigger than a 40? This thing is cutting into me and I can’t stand it!”

- (To one of my former co-workers) “No, I haven’t gained 10 pounds because I’ve had too many value meals lately. Didn’t you get the email that HR sent out telling everyone that I’m pregnant?”

- (This is one of those thinking out loud moments) “I wonder which one of the Imagination Movers is doing it with Nina. One of them has to be!” (I think it’s Scott by the way).

- (Said telepathically to a flight attendant) “Yes, I’m very aware that my toddler pooped while we were taking off and I wasn’t allowed to get out of my seat to change him so there’s not much I could do about it. And yes, I’m aware that he fell fast asleep somewhere between the time we took off and the time that the fasten seat belt sign was turned off. And no, I don’t have any intention of waking him up. I don’t smell anything, do you?” (click here for the rest of the story)

- (Said to my OBGYN after she left the table open for any questions I had) “What if I poop on the table during my delivery? Is that normal?”

- (Said as a very naive pregnant chick) “I don’t understand what the big deal is with epidurals. I mean, is it really gonna hurt that bad?” (Hell yes it HURT. And hell yes, that epidural rocked)!


- (Another thinking out loud instance) “I wonder if J. Lo had hemorrhoids worse than mine since she carried twins?”

- (I don’t know that I’ve actually said or thought this one out loud, but I’ve certainly wondered about it a million times and will eventually get the balls to ask) “Honestly, do women really still have sex when they’re 9 months pregnant? I mean, I just can’t figure out the logistics of that one.”

- (To a random mom at the park) “Does your baby poop every day?? REALLY? Like every single day? WOW!”


- (To the lady in the King Soopers parking lot in Highlands Ranch, CO who came up to my car window and started banging on it and yelling at me like some kind of maniac while I sat there helpless and crying like a baby) “Leavvvvve meeee allloonnneee! I’mmmm PREGGGNNNANT!” (I apparently thought the fact that I was preggo gave me the full right to flip this woman off in the parking lot because she started backing out of her space AFTER I did and came within an inch of backing right into me. What can I say? It was a reflex. A word of advice: Be careful who you flip off. There are a lot of nuts out there. And they don’t care if you’re pregnant).




The Mommyologist’s Last Word: “I’d love to hear any additions to this list! What are some things that you absolutely NEVER thought you’d say…until you became a parent?”








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January 8, 2010

I’m Pretty Sure I’ve Been Demoted

I am not quite sure of the exact moment when it happened, but somewhere along the line, I dropped from the #1 to the #2 spot of the most important people on the face of the Earth in my son’s eyes. To him, I’d always been at the top of the food chain, which always made me feel a little more special than I actually am, and even though once in a while I felt as though I may be slipping in the rankings a little bit, I was pretty sure that I’d safely secured the #1 spot. That is, until yesterday.

Yesterday morning, I heard him yelling out that it was 7:00am, like he does every single morning since for whatever reason, he hasn’t yet figured out that he can get out of his bed, open the door, and walk down the hall to the master bedroom. (I’m certainly not complaining about this, so please don’t misinterpret me). He happened to wake me up out of an incredibly deep dream sleep (probably since I broke down and had a couple glasses of wine the night before because this whole South Beach thing is for the birds), so I’m really not sure if I was fully awake when I opened the door to his room. In fact, I’m pretty sure that I had not yet figured out if I was in fact awake, or if I was still in attendance at the bizarre wedding that was occurring in my dream. I realized that my slumber was most definitely over when I walked in his room, and he immediately yelled, “NO! I WANT MY DADDY! DADDY IS THE ONLY ONE WHO CAN GET UP WITH ME AND I WANT YOU TO LEAVE THIS HOUSE!”, and then proceeded to cry his little eyes out.

Ok, I get the fact that my husband has been traveling quite a bit more lately since getting a promotion a few months ago, so I know that my little guy has been missing him, but I couldn’t help but feel like nothing more than a piece of gum that was stuck to the bottom of his shoe in that moment. I mean, no offense to the hubster because he is one hell of a Daddy and could probably win a prize for how much he helps me out these days and how good he is with our son, and I think that he does an amazing job and I’m not undermining the job he does at all, but I think that I’ve more than earned the credit that I deserve, and it is certainly more than being told to “get out of the house” by our three year old! I was so taken back by his little outburst, that I looked at him and said in a very calm voice, “Daddy is at work and he will be home later. Since you don’t want Mommy, I’m going back to bed. You can come and find me when you are ready to be a big boy and be a little bit nicer to me.”

I’m not gonna lie…I was really kind of hoping that he’d take the bait and stick to his guns and let me have another 15 minutes or so of rest in the hopes that I could find out what happened in the end of my bizarre wedding dream. No such luck. Apparently missing Daddy upsets this kid, but the idea of Mommy curling back up into a warm bed upsets him a whole lot more. I didn’t get two feet away from his bed before he was reaching for me and telling me that he was sorry and wanted me to hold him. And of course I went right over and picked him up knowing full well that I was only a consolation prize, and that he’d surrendered to me merely because he figured that was the only way that he was going to get downstairs to have apple juice and cheerios and watch a little PBS Kids before preschool. I always full-on accept any sort of affection he gives me with open arms and a smile, but after his initial protest of my presence in his room and declaration that he wanted no parts of anyone except DADDY, I knew that this time he was completely and totally settling for me since he’d finally figured out that his father was at work. I tried not to let it get to me as best I could. I mean, he was now clinging to me like glue with his little head on my shoulder and I couldn’t help but like it a little bit. Or a lot. Even though it may or may not have been an act.

By the time we got downstairs and I made my first cup of coffee, the little guy was in love with me again. He snuggled up next to me on the couch and sort of rubbed his little head on my arm and kept telling me how much he loved me over and over again and that I was the best mommy in the entire world. I nuzzled him back and told him how special he was and that he was just such a good boy and that I love him more than anything on the face of the earth and that he makes me so happy. I was in heaven.

A couple minutes later I asked him if he wanted his apple juice and cheerios. He wanted the apple juice, but instead of the cheerios he politely said, “I would like some Smart Puffs please.” I was so pleased with his good manners that I figured it wouldn’t kill the kid if I let him munch on some puffs even though it was only a little after seven o’clock in the morning. I mean, there are worse things that he could eat, right? After I got him his snack and drink, I stood back and watched him happily crunching away…and then noticed the sly little smile on his face. I couldn’t help but wonder whether he was smiling about how happy he was that he has such a wonderful mommy who just gave him a yummy treat…or if he was smiling about the fact that he knew that he’d totally duped me into getting those puffs for him. What do you think?

Oh hell, whatever the reason behind the smile was, I took it. As I’ve said many times before, I just can’t seem to resist this little guy. And most of the time he treats me like #1. That’s right…I said most of the time.

I decided to put him in “lunch bunch” at preschool yesterday. Lunch bunch is an extended day program where the kids can stay till 1:00pm if you pack them a lunch and pay an extra $10. My son loves it and it is worth every single penny for the four hours of solitude that I get in exchange for that $10. I’d probably even pay $20 if they upped the price just because I get so much done while he’s there. I had a very productive four hours, and then headed back to the school to pick him up. The lunch bunch kids are always in a small room in the lower level of the church when I go to retrieve him. I went down the stairs and the door was open and that little bugger must’ve seen me coming out of his peripheral vision, because the minute I got within a few feet of that door, what did my little guy do? YEP! He walked over and shut the door right in my face. Not only did I take a back seat to the hubster yesterday, but I’m pretty sure that lunch bunch has bumped me down another notch on the favorite scale. I guess that puts me at #3. Oh well, I guess I should just take it with a grain of salt and as proof that I did pretty well in selecting a preschool for him if he loves it so much that he doesn’t want to leave and come home with me. Maybe the #3 spot ain’t all that bad?

The Mommyologist’s Last Word: I had hoped that my morning wake-up call yesterday was a one-time deal. Not quite. The little man did the same thing to me today, except he threw in an extra jab and declared that, “Daddy is the only one who got a promotion!” Maybe I need to stop discussing my blog content with the hubster while my little one is around? Apparently my three year old is hearing every word…and uses it for ammunition later on. Ok, maybe I should just be happy that he’s smart enough to pick up on what we are talking about? I’ll shut up now.

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Posted Under: mommy vs. daddy
January 6, 2010

My First Winner and What the Heck? Wednesday

I want to take a minute to thank each and every one of you who entered my very first giveaway for the Crystal Light variety pack! I’m hoping to do more reviews and giveaways in the future and I really appreciate all the support that I received on my premier attempt!

The winner was chosen from random.org, and it generated #2…and the #2 commenter was my dear friend Kimberly! Congrats Kim…your variety pack is on its way!

In the spirit of trying to get back into a normal routine…I’m bringing back What the Heck? Wednesday. I took a little break from my Wednesday posts over the holidays…so it’s time to get them back up and running!

What the Heck? Wednesday

I guess I knew that “it” was bound to happen sooner or later, but when I say sooner, I meant more like when my son was about eight or nine years old…not three and three quarters. Yesterday, I plopped the little guy down on my bed and turned the TV on so that I could throw on some clothes and wash my face before dropping him off at preschool. It only took me about five minutes to get ready, and that’s when I turned to the bed to let him know that it was time to go downstairs and put on his socks and shoes and hop in the car, and that’s when I saw “it” for the very first time. What is this “it” that I’m referring to? “It” was the sight of my perfect little angelic child laying on the bed, totally chillaxin’, with one hand halfway down his pants and a little smile on his face. That’s right, my son pulled his very first Al Bundy yesterday. And I’m not ashamed to admit that even though I know he is in fact, male, I couldn’t help but feel just a little bit mortified by what I saw. I mean, isn’t three and three quarters too young for my son to have discovered that putting his hand down his pants feels kinda nice? What the heck?

One day over the Christmas break, I went over to one of my best friend’s houses so that our kids could have a much needed play date. They are together all the time and really missed each other and just couldn’t wait to tell each other everything that they wanted from Santa. We are so lucky, because our kids are totally used to each other and play so well together. So well in fact that on this particular day, we decided it would be fun to go ahead and open a bottle of wine (It was after 4:00pm, which is perfectly acceptable in my book on any sort of break or vacation) and have a couple glasses and chit-chat and catch up while the kids played in the other room. We should’ve known that something was up when things started getting kinda quiet in the playroom, but we were way too busy congratulating ourselves on how independent our kids were and how great it was that we could sit and enjoy a little vino without them interrupting us. For the record, next time we’ll intervene a little sooner when things aren’t at a decibel that is consistent with three year olds.

Needless to say, cleaning this up was a real bitch. Good thing we’d had a couple drinks. What the heck?

Ok, so I know that in my New Year’s Resolutions I said that I wasn’t going to beat myself up about carrying a few extra pounds around my middle this year, and I’m still holding true to that. However, I am also down to about two or three pairs of jeans that actually fit me after indulging in every delectable treat that I could get my hands on during the Christmas holiday season. I don’t want to go nuts and beat myself up and completely deprive myself of everything I love, but I also can’t afford to go out and buy an entire new wardrobe at this point. The hubster and I started the South Beach diet on Monday and all I want is to get back to my pre-holiday weight. I’m pretty sure that I’ve given up on wedding weight for good, but pre-holiday weight will at least let me back into my closet again. I am down four pounds since Monday (definitely water weight), and I’ve got three more to go. And I’m not allowed to have alcohol for 12 more days. And I really miss my wine. In fact I could totally go for a glass this evening. What the heck?



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Posted Under: reviews & giveaways, What the Heck? Wednesday
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