A New Mantra

A couple of years ago, I was all bent out of shape about turning 35, you know, because it marked the end of my early 30s — a time which had been stamped into my brain as the last “hoorah,” or whatever as far as being remotely awesome goes.

Long story short, I was totally in a funk. And I knew it. And I knew what was causing it and it had nothing to do with turning 35.

Fast forward to a little more than 2 years later at the ripe old age of 37, and things have changed quite a bit, to say the least. I’m in my late 30s, and 40 is staring me right in the face — and I don’t give a shit. I’m out of my funk. Because I’ve started living authentically instead of sticking with the status quo and putting up with the funk.

For the first time in my entire life, I have my priorities in line and know EXACTLY who I am. And if only said priorities had been the same when I was say … 25, as they are now, I probably wouldn’t feel the need to write this blog post.

Life doesn’t always turn out the way you’d hoped. And you know what? That’s OK. And sometimes things are a hell of a lot more interesting when they don’t go according to plan, even if it means you get knocked down a time or two. (Or seven.)

On that note, I’m moving on to a new philosophy in life. It probably wouldn’t kill you to adopt the same mantra when the going gets tough.

 

 

(And yes, I have a dog now, so this is totally legit.)

A Life’s Manual For New Dads: (Read This If You Ever Want To Get Laid Again)

A couple of months ago I wrote a “Life’s Manual For Not Quite-Preggo Gals” to give future moms a little insight as to what they should do before they have kids. I have yet to publish my “Life’s Manual For New Moms”, but I assure you it’s on the way in the future. In the meantime, here’s a little light reading for brand new dads. I suggest that you print this out for your husband if he ever plans on getting laid again.

A Life’s Manual For New Dads Who Really Want To Get Laid


1. Don’t expect sex from your wife a few weeks after she gives birth. Need a little more perspective than that? Imagine someone taking your nut sack and trying to separate each testicle and tuck each one behind your ears. Would you still want to get busy? I didn’t think so.

2. You know that advice your mother gave you about what and what not to do with the new baby? NEWS FLASH: Your wife doesn’t give a shit. Let her do things HER way and take her side when she asks you which way you think is better. Remember who you’re married to.

3. Do not under any circumstances make a comment about the mesh panties your wife wore home from the hospital, or the Tuck’s medicated pad that’s squished between her butt cheeks. She’s never felt less sexy in her entire life, and she doesn’t need any reminders from you about the funky shit that is still going on in her nether regions. Make it a point to remind her that you still think she’s the hottest bitch on the block.

4. Invest in a good pair of ear plugs, because you’re gonna need them. And the number one reason you’re gonna need them is not because of incessant crying from your newborn. It’s to drown out the insults and exclamations of hate that will likely come from your wife’s mouth. And no, she really doesn’t think that you’re a complete and total asshat. She’s just overwhelmed, exhausted, and may I reiterate that either her cha-cha was nearly split in two or she had her stomach muscles sliced open while delivering your kid. Suck it up and take it like a man.

5. When in doubt and you have no idea what in the hell to say to whatever ridiculous thing your wife has just told you, all you need to remember are two words, “Yes, dear.” Don’t say anything more or anything less, otherwise you run the risk of her bringing it up while discussing whether or not to have sex at a later date. And I’m assuming that you want to have sex, otherwise you wouldn’t be reading this post.

6. Want to be named “New Dad of the Year?” Offer to get up with the baby at night a few times a week so that your wife can get some extra sleep. And after you’ve been up with the baby, bounce right out of bed the next morning singing the “Good Morning” song and act like you aren’t tired at all. Trust me…she will NOT forget this. (Do this and you may even get laid twice in one night once she’s feeling like her old self again).

7. Make sure to have a take-out menu handy from every restaurant in a ten mile radius. A sure fire way to kill her desire to play hide the sausage is by asking, “Honey, what’s for dinner?” Use that statement too many times and you definitely won’t be getting any “dessert.”

8. Yet another NEWS FLASH: Babies SHIT. They shit A LOT. And it’s only half-true that baby shit doesn’t stink when it comes out of your kid. Don’t act like you’ve just discovered the lost city of Atlantis when your baby has a blow-out and you open the diaper. Don’t ask your wife to come see what just came out of your baby’s ass…trust me…she KNOWS. She actually knew way ahead of time and that’s why she told you it was your turn to change junior. Just strap a sack on and focus on the task at hand.

9. Your wife knows you work hard and she is eternally grateful for all you do for the family. But while you were at work, you also got to eat lunch, take a shit, and talk to another adult without being interrupted by a pint-size poop machine who may or may not have just barfed in your hair. When you get home from work, take the baby, and ask your wife if she wants to go lay down for a bit, take a shower, or just sit and stare at a blank wall for 20 minutes. Good grief…I’m getting all hot and bothered just thinking about a man doing that for me as a new mom. Do it for your wife and moms everywhere will want to fu*& you. (Wink, wink)!

10. Remember that your wife may be a mom now, but she’s also YOUR GIRL. She’s the girl that you couldn’t wait to kiss on your first date. She’s the girl you used to lay awake at night and think about. She’s the girl who you used to call at midnight, “just to say I love you one more time.” And just because there is a munchkin in the picture now doesn’t mean that girl has disappeared. She’s in there somewhere underneath the dark circles under her eyes, drool-soaked shirt, and all of the exhaustion. But as a mom, it’s easy for her to forget that she’s still “that girl.” And when you remind her that you haven’t forgotten who she is?

Bring on the horny.

I Speak English, A Little French, And I’m Fluent In Bullshit

Ok, so since I started this blog a little over a year ago…most of you have gotten to know me pretty well. You know that I’m not afraid of discussing shit at the dinner table. You know that shaking my ass is at the top of my list of extracurricular activities, and you also know that I get paid to talk about celebrity smut all day long.

What you probably don’t know about me is that in addition to speaking English and the tiny bit of French I’ve retained from high school, I’m also fluent in the language of bullshit. And I’m talking about the bullshit that parents put out there to try and make sense of the fact that their kids have completely turned their lives upside down and given them grey hairs in places where the sun don’t shine. You know…the LIES PARENTS TELL to hide what is really going on.

May I present…

The Mommyologist’s Parental Bullshit Translator

Bullshit Statement #1: “Our little angel never cries…ever!”

Translation: “Holy motherf*&ing SHIT. This kid never shuts up. EVER. Oh for the love of GOD…get me some friggin’ earplugs before I’m catatonic in the corner crying for my own mother. I can’t take it anymore.”

Bullshit Statement #2: “My hubby is an absolutely DREAM with the new baby! I never lift a finger and he gets up with her every night!”

Translation: “I seriously can’t believe I married this prick. He hasn’t done one middle-of-the-night feeding, or changed one shitty diaper since this kid came home from the hospital. Now I understand why people get divorced.”

Bullshit Statement #3: “I was back in my skinny jeans the day after I left the hospital with this little munchkin!”

Translation: “F*&k you, I’m skinny because I’m blessed with an incredibly perfect gene pool. But I’m insecure in other areas so I choose to boost my own self-esteem by making you feel like a Twinkie-loving cow.”

Bullshit Statement #4: “Tomorrow is our 6-week post-partum check up at the OBGYN! I hope he gives us the ok to have sex again!”

Translation: “Holy shit. Tomorrow is our 6-week post-partum check up. That means that this asshole I’m living with is going to expect sex again. I just spent over 24-hours pushing a living thing out of my cha-cha, and the last thing I want to do is stick something back in there again. Oh for the love of GOD. If I don’t have sex with him tomorrow night, then he’s going to expect something else. Help me.”

Bullshit Statement #5: “I guess I’m lucky…I’m one of those women who doesn’t get tired, so getting up three times a night doesn’t even phase me!”

Translation: “I’m hallucinating due to lack of sleep, and I’m speaking gibberish. Just ignore me.”

Bullshit Statement #6: “My little prince listens to every single word I say! He never talks back, and he always minds his manners, because that’s what I’ve taught him to do!”

Translation: “Earlier today, this little rugrat stuck his tongue out at me, called me a poopyhead, and then proceeded to shove his finger up his nose, pull out a fresh picked booger, and wipe it on my leg. Stick a fork in me…I’m DONE.”

Bullshit Statement #7: “My kids always eat their vegetables at every meal, and they have NEVER had one grain of sugar.”

Translation: “If you consider sweet potato flavored Gerber puffs to be vegetables, then my kids eat veggies at every meal. And last night, after they polished off a cansiter each of puffs as they were screaming and kicking each other under the table, I shoved a rice krispie treat in each of their mouths so that I could manage to make a thirty-second phone call to the hubby to tell him to pick up more vodka on his way home from work.”

Bullshit Statement #8: “I don’t drink” or “I have never even thought about drinking since I had a kid.”

Translation: “Fix me a friggin’ martini before I either break down and cry or piss my pants from total lack of control.”

Bullshit Statement #9: “We’re having so much fun figuring out this whole parenting thing together!!”

Translation: “This kid is four months old, and we still have no idea what in the hell we’re doing. And it’s a miracle that we’re still sleeping in the same bedroom. Oh my GOD…what in the hell happened to our lives??”

Bullshit Statement #10: “I felt SO sexy while I was giving birth!”

Translation: “How did I feel while I gave birth? How do you think I felt, genius? Everyone in the room was staring at my crotch, which hadn’t been shaved in like two months because my belly was too big for me to see what I was doing as far as grooming goes, I farted uncontrollably in front of the hot anesthesiologist, I almost shat on the table, and then there was that whole episiotomy thing. Yeah…I was one sexy bitch, alright!”

Blog Changes For The Better

For those of you who have been following my “What The Heck? Wednesday” series, I am sure you are probably asking yourself just where in the heck my post is this morning.  After much consideration, I have decided to do a little bit of rearranging and change a few things over here at The Mommyologist, and the first thing that I did was to officially give “What The Heck? Wednesday” the boot!

Lately, I have found myself suffering from complete and total blog overload. Basically, The Mommyologist is finally starting to take off and grow and no matter how fast I run I just can’t seem to manage to keep up the pace.  My blog is always a good two steps ahead of me, and if I don’t take action and try to catch up, then I’m bound to get left behind in the dust. And that is the absolute LAST thing that I want to happen!

One of the things that was most definitely slowing me down was trying to keep up with a weekly Meme.  My “What The Heck? Wednesday” posts were a lot of fun to write, but it was really starting to get tough for me to come up with content for them each week.  But the reason behind my lack of ideas for those posts is actually very positive.  Truth be told, I just really don’t have very much in my life to complain or bitch about these days!  I used the whole What The Heck? theme to sort of get stuff off my chest and vent a little, but right now I’m just so happy and content and blessed that I really can’t invent stuff to whine about each week!

And though I’m still not totally thrilled about the fact that Legos are trying to brainwash me and completely take over my life, if that is the biggest problem that I have, then I’m doing pretty damn well.  I remember my Dad telling me many years ago that, “People really don’t want to hear about other people’s problems.” And you know what?  He was RIGHT!  My readers are not visiting my blog to hear me bitching and moaning and being a total Debbie Downer, and I think that once in a while my “What The Heck? Wednesday” posts came across that way, and kicking that meme to the curb was absolutely the right decision.

I want to stick with my whole philosophy that The Mommyologist should be a place where people can come and LAUGH.  I want people to feel positive and inspired when they leave here.  And I can think of no better place to start than with putting a huge emphasis on my whole Mom Sexy revolution.

Seriously…how cute is my new button?  My blog design guru, Lauren at Restored316 Designs made it for me earlier this week, and I’m totally digging it.  At Bloggy Boot Camp back in March, they told us to “pick one or two memes and stick with it.”  Well, I’m officially picking Mom Sexy as my monthly meme for this blog.  If you missed the details, you can click here for the scoop.  I’m really hoping that bringing Mom Sexy back will inspire women to feel better about themselves inside and out.  Make sure and mark your calendars for Monday, April 26th for my first official Mom Sexy meme and for your chance to be my Mom Sexy Blogger of the Month for May.

If I’m going to stick with the whole positive vibe on my blog, then there is one more big change that I’m going to have to make.  As hard as it may be for me to hold back at times, I think I’m going to have to resist the urge to rip various celebrity moms to shreds when their bullshit filled stories appear on the cover of US Weekly.  I think that I’m just going to put a little more faith in the idea that most moms hopefully know that the tales of perfection that they try and sell us are nothing but a complete and total pile of crap, and that if we all had nannies and personal trainers and personal chefs and hair and makeup artists, that we’d probably be featured on magazine covers too.  (I’d SO be on one).

From now on, I will only feature celebrity moms in my posts if they are real and honest and somehow inspire the rest of us “regular moms” to be confident and happy in our lives.  And if you are shaking your head right now because you don’t think that there are any genuine ladies out there in La-La land, then don’t miss my post about Kendra Wilkinson. Because she is the real deal.  And she is totally Mom Sexy.  Stories like hers are what my readers need to hear…and I’m keeping my fingers crossed that I’ll have more wonderful ladies like Kendra to write about in the future.

I am also working on a new series for The Mommyologist right now.  I am not sure how soon it will debut because I still need to work out the details and figure out where the hell I’m going with it, but it’s something that I’m very excited about.  It’s something that will feature REAL women, with REAL stories, and with REAL laughs.  And I can’t wait.

The only thing that is certain in life is change.  And the only way that you can grow is through change.  Because CHANGE IS GOOD.

Dear Husbands Everywhere…

One night last week, I was skimming through all of the status updates in my Facebook news feed, and one of them literally had me almost peeing in my pants.  My dear friend Kim’s post read as follows:

“Dear husbands everywhere: while we genuinely appreciate you taking bathtime duties for the little ones, please do not have the misconstrued idea that those blissful 30 minutes are our “down time.” As hard as it is to believe, we would NOT mop the kitchen floor or dust the soffits during “me” time. Love, your adoring wives”.

I mean, seriously ladies…doesn’t that pretty much say it all?  Upon reading her update, I immediately commented on it and told her that I just might have to steal it for a blog post idea.  She’s one of the coolest chicks I know, so of course she said that it was no problem for me to use it!

With that being said, I just felt it completely and totally necessary to continue her “Dear Husbands” letter and write a few additions of my own.

(Disclosure:  The following little affirmations are about husbands in general, and my own dear husband may or may not have been involved in any of the behaviors that I’m choosing to discuss.  And even if he was my intended target in some of them, the fact that he lets me sleep in each and every single Saturday and Sunday completely cancels out the fact that he may or may not have driven me up the wall a time or two since our son was born.  And to any other dudes who may be reading this, consider these mini-letters as me doing you a huge favor.  And feel free to take notes).

Dear Husbands Everywhere…

“Despite what you may believe, we are not as stupid as you think.  Instead of waking up all bright eyed and bushy tailed and looking at us the next morning and wondering why in the hell we look like we’ve been run over by a semi-truck, please do not turn to us and ask if the baby was up last night.   And please do not tell us that you did not hear the baby monitor. You know very well that that kid was up half the night.  Just be honest and say that you heard the baby screaming bloody murder, but that you just really didn’t feel like getting up because you are worried that if you got up last night, that we’d expect you to get up each and every single night going forward.  And then go ahead and add in the fact that you are freakin’ exhausted too and it is very hard for you to get up in the middle of the night and then go to work the next day to deal with countless adult children.  And then get off your ass and go make us a strong pot of coffee before you head out the door.”

Love, your adoring wives.

Dear Husbands Everywhere…

“While we are well aware that you have more than a few “kids” at work to deal with, we feel no sympathy for you at all, so it’s really best not to play that card.  Here’s a little food for thought: the next time you are at work and walk down the hall to use the men’s room, take comfort in the realization that there is not a child crawling into your lap while you are trying to take a dump.  And consider yourself extremely privileged because there is a 99% chance that you don’t have someone yelling, “MOMMY! Your BUTT STINKS!” while you are trying to finish your business.”

Love, your adoring wives.

Dear Husbands Everywhere…

“The bathrooms in the house have doors on them for a reason.  Use them.”

Love, your adoring wives.

Dear Husbands Everywhere…

“Just because you put a ring on our finger and watched a human being shoot out of our cha-cha does not mean that a gateway has been opened as far as an “anything goes” concept for farting, snoring, hocking loogies, nose picking, or any other habit that you have picked up in the years since we first got hitched.  We are pretty confident that you did those things when you first married us, but you restrained yourself and didn’t do all of those things in front of us.  We consider the sudden emergence of said bad habits as false advertising on your part, and these little quirks should’ve been disclosed ahead of time so we’d at least know what we were signing up for.  For the record, we love you anyway, but the next time you decide to let a huge fart rip right after we get into bed and turn out the light, try and pretend that we are newlyweds for a minute or two and excuse yourself to the bathroom and cut the cheese in there instead.”

Love, your adoring wives.

Dear Husbands Everywhere…

“I’m sure there are a few exceptions to this rule, but for the majority of us, when we put on a new outfit and ask you if our butt looks fat, we fully expect you to say NO!  We then expect you to go into some big long saga about how you are even more attracted to us now then you were  on our wedding day and how you think we are the most beautiful women you’ve ever seen and that no model on a magazine cover could ever compare to us in your eyes.  Again, we aren’t stupid, and the fact is that if we are taking the time to ask if our ass looks fat, then we probably already think that it DOES look fat, and if we are already under the notion that our butt looks fat, then we are probably having what is typically referred to as a “fat day”, which means that our self esteem is already in the gutter and we need a little reassurance from our loving husbands.  We typically don’t ask these sorts of questions on a skinny day.”

Love, your adoring wives.

Anyone have anything else that husbands everywhere need to know?  I’d love to hear your additions!

And thanks again Kim for the inspiration!





My Vision for 2020

On a particularly cold and windy day last week, I resorted to taking my son down to the basement to play on the new John Deere ride-on tractor we bought him for his birthday. As he did countless laps around the mile-high mounds of clutter, I found that I just couldn’t seem to resist the urge to start going through boxes of my old stuff. When I say old stuff, I mean the stuff that I packed up and brought with me when I married my husband and moved to Denver to be with him. And the bulk of that “stuff” consists mainly of old photos from college and even a few from high school. I won’t elaborate on those old college photos, but I will say that it’s a good thing that I never plan on running for office. Somehow I don’t think that frat party shenanigans and politics mix very well.

Amid the piles of snapshots, I found one single letter-sized envelope.  When I saw the return address, I immediately recognized it as a letter that I wrote to myself during the last months of my senior year of high school.  It was actually an assignment that one of our teachers gave us, and we were supposed to write a letter to ourselves detailing where we thought we’d be 10 years from our high school graduation.  After skimming through the first couple of sentences, I just knew that the letter fit perfectly with a post that I’d been tagged in by Ambitious Gurl.

In this post, we are supposed to write a little paragraph about where we think we’ll be 10 years from now, in the year 2020.  All I can say is that I hope that I have my head screwed on a little bit better than I did back in 1995.  Before I touch on where I hope to be 10 years from now, I’d like to go over that letter that I wrote in high school.  Things didn’t quite pan out the way my uber-inflated head expected.

Here’s a little excerpt:  (I’m warning you, I was one cocky little bitch back then, though I totally didn’t think so at the time).


“I want to be happy later in life, and I do want the finer things in life.  Eventually, I hope to marry a man with great ambition, and a boat would be nice too.  I’d love to marry someone who had something to do with sports, maybe a coach.  However, he’ll have to pass my tests.

1. Table manners

2. Does he know the 4 parts of a boat?

3. I WANT SOME CLASS!!

As I’m reading this 10 years later, I hope to be ready to go on vacation to the islands on a yacht, where I’ll stay at one of my beach houses.  If I’m not as well-off as I’d like to be, hey, a Bojangle’s biscuit would be nice right about now.”


Ok, I don’t exactly know who in the hell that arrogant little chickadee was, but I’d like to go back in time and hit her over the head with a frying pan, because things definitely did NOT pan out quite the way she’d hoped. (Although the hubster does indeed know the 4 parts of a boat because he used to be in the Coast Guard.  Total coincidence how that one came true).

Now, I know that we are past the 10 year mark and that I’ve actually been out of high school for almost 15 years, but according to my 18 year old self, you would think that if I had my own home on a private island after 10 years, then I’d probably own the whole damn island after 15.  Yeah…not so much!

Instead of setting sail on a yacht for the island of my wildest dreams, I was doing something a little different the other night.  I was sitting on my couch with my foot propped up on my knee and was filling my husband in on the wonderful experience I had at Bloggy Boot Camp in addition to trying to put together a “sea vehicle”, as my son referred to it, out of Legos.  I was also sipping a glass of wine and trying to relax a bit.

Now, you all know that my son has some serious butt issues.  Well, apparently they haven’t completely gone away and he has devised new methods of coping, because he’s sick and tired of me yelling at him to stop digging in his bum.

I raised my wine glass for a little Pinot Grigio action, and somewhere mid-sip, my son sort of backed up close to me, wedged my big toe into his butt crack, and proceeded to wiggle like it was his job.

That’s right!  Instead of getting a pedicure on some luxury yacht, my toe was now being held hostage in my son’s ass crack.

That girl from high school needs a total reality check.  I mean, there is just nothing less glamorous than a big stinky ass toe.  I went from imagining myself as some sort of yacht traveling princess to a personal butt scratcher to my 4-year old.  And I don’t live in the South anymore, so I can’t even have that Bojangle’s biscuit that I was willing to settle for as a consolation prize.  Yep, I was WAY off the mark on how glamorous my life would be at 32.

And this brings me to a new little phrase that I’m going to start using periodically in my posts to reiterate the fact that when you become a mother, YOU CHECK YOUR GLAMOUR AT THE DOOR. Forget having a reality check.  In this case, I need a GLAM CHECK!  I decided that it just wouldn’t be fair to keep the GLAM CHECK! to myself, so you can now find the cute little button that Lauren at Restored316Designs made me over on my left sidebar.  Feel free to grab it and use it where you see fit!


The GLAM CHECK! is also going to become a permanent feature in a new series that I’m working on.  It should debut in the next couple of weeks, so keep checking back!

I guess this brings me back to figuring out where I’d like to be in 10 years. I’m determined to avoid having another GLAM CHECK! in 2020, so here’s my more realistic version:

“Ten years from now, my son will be 14 years old (yikes)!  And I sincerely hope that by then his ass issue has corrected itself.  If it hasn’t, then I’m just praying that he will keep his butt-digging activities confined to the privacy of his own bedroom.  I’ll even let him lock the door.  And for the record son, I don’t care what other kind of games you play with your developing body in that room.  You are a boy, and yes, all boys “do that.”  Just please do me a favor and hide the smut magazines somewhere where the cleaning lady can’t find them.  I really don’t want to lose her.”

“And as for myself, I’m just really kind of hoping that 10 years from now someone has invented a cellulite cream that actually works, or that a magic pill has been invented.  Or that cellulite actually becomes all the rage and that it is totally hip and trendy to bare your cottage cheese on the beach.  The more, the better.  And it would be really nice if my husband and I are getting ready to set sail on a Caribbean cruise on some semi-fancy ship. I don’t need a private yacht.  But it would be nice if we could have a cabin with a balcony.  And it would be even nicer if one of my dear friends will let my 14-year old ass-diggin’ son stay with them for a week so that the hubster and I can get some alone time.  Or if that won’t work, can we please take your kid with us so that my son has someone to hang out with besides his totally embarrassing parents?  And I’m definitely over the whole Bojangle’s craze because I was over it back in 2010, but how about hookin’ me up with a fat order of McDonald’s fries?  (And don’t forget about that cellulite pill.  And if it’s not too much trouble, I’d like a bottle of Pinot Grigio to wash it down).

What a Difference Five Years Makes!

Happy Valentine’s Day Everyone!  I hope that you all have something special planned with your special someone…even if that means a night in with the kiddos watching the Disney Channel and eating popcorn!  They’ll go to bed eventually, right?

The hubster and I managed to score the babysitter this evening and are headed out to one of our favorite restaurants for martinis and dinner.  I was absolutely shocked that she was available and thought that there was no chance in hell of us getting out for a date tonight because she recently got engaged.  I’d like to say a huge thanks to her awesome fiance for letting us borrow her tonight so that my son can hang out with his favorite Valentine and so I can hang out with mine!

In thinking about how lucky we are that we are actually managing to have a Valentine’s Day date, I started thinking about how much this day has changed since our little man arrived.  I thought back to 2005, the year before his birth, and what would be our last Valentine’s Day as a married couple with no children.  We were living out in Denver then, and our favorite restaurant in the whole world was (and actually still is) Del Frisco’s.  I would always make the reservation a good month and a half in advance to make sure we secured a table for February 14th at the exact time we wanted, in order to allow enough time for us to have a stogie in the cigar lounge after dinner.  I don’t know about all you other ladies out there, but I love a good stogie once in a while.  There’s something about puffing on one of those bad boys that makes me feel kinda sexy, ya know?  And for whatever reason, I love the smell of cigar smoke.  Always have, always will.  I think it’s because it reminds me of my grandfather.

Anyhoo, here we are in 2010 jumping for joy because our babysitter was free tonight, and I thought it would be funny to point out some examples of just how much things have changed in five years!

Date Nights in 2005 versus Date Nights in 2010

It Was So Romantic When…


2005: The hubster walked into the kitchen of our first home because he was drawn in by the wonderful smells of the delicious home cooked five-course meal I was making him.  He found me with mascara streaming down my cheeks from chopping onions all night, told me how beautiful I was, and handed me a tissue.

2010: The hubster walks into the kitchen and hands me a tissue because he’s just watched our son run up to me and hand me a giant booger that’s just been freshly picked out of his nose.

2005: The hubster wanted to do something thoughtful, so he picked me up a beautiful bouquet of flowers on his way home from work.

2010: The hubster wanted to do something thoughtful, so he picked me up a brand new package of Shick razors on his way home from work in the hopes that I’d take the hint.

2005: On a typical Friday night, the hubster and I would get about ten minutes into a movie and then have a full-blown make-out session on the couch for the rest of the flick.

2010: On a typical Friday night, the hubster usually falls asleep about thirty minutes into the movie, and I get a little giddy because I get to finish all of the popcorn in the bowl without any competition for those last few kernels.

2005: The hubster and I would go out for a fancy dinner complete with lots of wine, appetizers, entrees, and of course cigars….and then we’d come home to enjoy a little “dessert.”

2010: The hubster and I go out for dinner, have a drink or two because we don’t want to look trashed in front of the babysitter, and we come home, plop ourselves down on the couch and pig out on the to-go desserts that we brought home from the restaurant, which makes us both so full that we can barely move, so we head straight up to bed with no hopes of our bloated selves being able to pull off any sort of funny business. (Though we’re just as satisfied from the huge slices of cake we just consumed.  In fact, the cake is pretty damn close to complete ecstasy).


2005: The hubster and I made sure to pick out just the right cards for Valentine’s Day that accurately described how unique and special our love for each other was and how we could not stand the thought of being apart for one second. (I just threw up in my mouth a little bit).

2010: The hubster and I both have to try our hardest to resist the urge to pick out a Valentine’s Day card that includes a joke about farts.

2005: After a fabulous date night, the hubster and I were so hot for each other that we were lucky if we made it through the night and actually got some sleep, if you catch my drift.

2010: After a fabulous date night, the hubster and I are lucky if we make it through an entire night without one of us farting in our sleep. (There I go again with the farts).

2005: While out to dinner, the hubster and I would make sure to avoid any of the traditional items that you aren’t supposed to eat on a date, such as garlic, onions, etc.

2010: While out to dinner, the hubster and I chow down on every date night “no-no” food that we can get our hands on because after raising a small child, we’ve both smelled things way worse than garlic and onion breath.

2005: On date nights, I would get all gussied up in some slinky outfit that showed off my tight ass and flat belly.

2010: On date nights, I am usually scrambling to get dressed before the babysitter arrives and desperately hoping that I remembered to wash my fat pants because I don’t want anything digging into my waistline while indulging later that evening.

2005: While out on a dinner date with the hubster, I would look at him across the table and give him this sultry little smile and wink at him, and he knew this meant that I had chosen to go commando for the evening.

2010: While out on a dinner date with the hubster, I look at him across the table and smile and wink a little, but it’s because I’m proud that I actually used one of those razors out of the pack he brought home for me earlier in the week.  And if he’s really lucky, I’m wearing the new red gel padded bra that I bought from Target the previous day.  (I’ve got some sexy left in me)!


2005: The hubster and I would go out each Valentine’s Day and admire and point out all of the other happy and in-love couples who were at the restaurant and we’d comment on how adorable they were.

2010: The hubster and I will go out tonight for our Valentine’s date and look at those same happy and in-love (and young) couples, and then we’ll look at each other and laugh a little because we know that both of us are picturing that happy and in-love couple a few years down the road hovered over a changing table and fighting about what in the hell they are supposed to do to make their baby stop screaming while dodging projectile poop at the same time.  Yep, we were that cute couple once too.  But a baby changes EVERYTHING.  And I still wouldn’t go back to the adorable stage for all the money in the world.  And for the record, I still think we are a pretty cute couple.  And we’d definitely kick that other couple’s ass in a poop-dodging competition.

*To all of my wonderful followers, a couple people have pointed out that they have needed to un-follow and then re-follow me in order for my new posts to show up in their Google Reader since my big move over to WordPress.  I’d hate to lose touch with any of you, so if you wouldn’t mind doing the same thing, I’d really appreciate it!  Thanks everyone and have a wonderful Valentine’s Day!!*