Mind Your Own Business, Mommy?

When it comes to relating to other moms, I realize that there’s a big difference between being nosy and judgmental and being a caring, concerned friend. For example, while the judgemental mom might make her mommy friend feel guilty for not properly bundling up her child on an outing to the park in cold weather, the concerned but caring mom would simply offer an extra blanket if she had one to spare.

However, I often find that the line between being judgmental and being concerned is not always so easy to judge....[read on]

Great stocking stuffer!

Once in a great long while, I'll get random e-mails from people I don't know asking me to review a product or check out a new website. I hardly ever get an offer to review anything that fabulous so I usually just ignore the e-mail, figuring it's not really worth the time.

Until today.

Today, I finally got something worthy of a shout out on my blog. Finally.



The Muscle Man Switch Plate

You know you want one.

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Have you read a post this month that had you rolling on the floor laughing? If you would like to nominate a blogger for October's ROFL Awards, e-mail me by November 13th with the link to the post and the link to your blog.

Second Fiddle

I get that when you have a baby, you really are put second. No one cares about you anymore. They just care about the baby. It's like when I go visit my parents - it's totally obvious who they're all excited to see when we arrive and they quickly shove me aside, make a grab for Little Guy, and whisk him away with a flurry of hugs and kisses, leaving me at the door holding the diaper bag.

Yes, immediately after I had Little Guy, it became clear that I was no longer important. When he's around, all eyes are on him. And, really, that's how it should be. I'm OK with it.

But is it too much to ask that when you take a picture of me with Little Guy, that you...

get my whole...

friggin' head
in the shot?

I mean is it really that much to ask? My baby book wants to know.

With love, C

I've never had a lot of friends. That's not to say I've been friendless or a loner. I've just never had a huge, giganto group of friends. I've always had a few close friends and a best friend and that's been enough. But somehow, as I get older, I've found that even some of these close friendships have gone by the wayside. Maybe it's because I'm too busy to give them the attention and nuturing that all friendships need to thrive. Maybe it's because when you grow older you sometimes also grow apart. Maybe it's that people move around so much that it can be hard to sustain long-distance friendships. Whatever the case may be, I can count my good friends on one hand - maybe even one hand minus a pinky finger.

And yet, once in a while I will meet someone and think, this person and I have the potential to be great friends. And I get excited. (Because like I said, I can count my friends on one hand minus a pinky finger.)

When I met A a few years ago, I knew we would become friends.

I know you don't know A, but if you did know her, you would like her. I know it. First of all, she is just a nice, nice person. And lemme tell you, nice people - sincerely nice people - can be hard to come by. She is so nice that at first I thought it was an act. But as I got to know her, I realized that it wasn't an act, she is just, honest-to-goodness nice. She's the type of person you know would never say one mean word behind your back or behind anyone else's back. You can trust her, and that means a lot to me.

Secondly, she's a fantastic mom and gives me great mothering advice without being all preachy. And she only gives out the advice when I ask for it. And she runs her own daycare out of her home so she can stay home with her two kiddies. That fact alone qualifies her for Mom of the Year in my book.

Third, we always seem to be on the same page with stuff. Take politics. She thinks that this site is awesome. And so do I. 'Nuff said.

And finally, she can make me laugh, which is imperative in a good friend. Case in point: Read this, which she e-mailed me today. Really, go read it. You will be laughing. Hard. Guaranteed.*

But I must say that despite all of her good qualities, there is one reason I don't like A. And I hate to hate such a nice person, but here's the thing - just as we're getting to be good friends, just as I'm starting to visualize our little boys growing up together and us getting together regularly for coffees and talking about our relationships and doing fun no-husband-or-kids-allowed girly things like pedicures and stuff, just when I'm starting to settle in to a really nice, cozy friendship...

she fucking leaves me.

Yeah, that's right, she leaves. Moves clear across the country with her husband, two kids, and her cat to find affordable fucking housing. As if it's soooo important to have a roof over your head. Sheesh, some people! And in the meantime, what about ME? What about our coffees and our pedicures and our little boys growing up together?? What about that? Huh?

But in reality, it's OK, cuz I wouldn't want her stuck here in an apartment with two kiddies, a cat, and a husband just so she could be close to me. And I'm sooo glad she didn't do that. (Cuz I just know she was tempted. I know it.) But really, I WANT her to have a house she can afford. It just sucks that she had to go to another state to find one. But we do still keep in touch and try to do the long-distance friend thing. So it's really OK.

But here's the news. The news I'm totally excited about.

She just started a blog. A blog!! She is my first actual in-the-flesh friend that has started a blog.

And here it is: Red Rollerskate

Please go pay her a visit. And tell her I said "Hi" and that housing prices are taking a dive in California so she should move back here immediately. Or else.

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This post was written in response to Chicky Chicky Baby's lovefest post in which she asked bloggers to write about a blogger they love.

*Edited to add: RR just informed that this was originally posted by Mom-o-Matic, another funny, funny blogger. Thank you for the laugh, M-o-M!

It Hurts to Type

It hurts to type.

It hurts to breathe.

It hurts to carry the kid.

It hurts to lie down.

It hurts to stand.

It hurts to sit.

It hurts to bend over.

It hurts to have sex.

It even hurts to sneeze. Actually, scratch that, I can't sneeze at all. When I take in a breath that deep, it feels like someone is stabbing me in the back with a knife and the sneeze just goes away. *Poof* Even my sneezes are scared.

Apparently, although I am still in my 20s (4 more glorious months left *sniff*), I am already way too old to think that I can just saunter into the gym and work out after having been completely inactive for two whole years. Apparently, I am also too lame to actually stretch before I do my work outs (duh) and now I am enjoying the consequences of my idiocy.

Because, although I haven't yet seen a doctor, it seems that I have pulled something. A muscle or muscles that I didn't know I had. Somewhere in the middle, right-half of my back.

Criminey, what have I done? I am just hoping it goes away in a couple of days.

Oh, and did I say *ouch*? Cuz, ouch.

If you thought my last post was depressing...

...just wait until you read my post over at the Imperfect Parent.

Keywords: Halloween, health, lead, lead poisoning, toxic, toys

I promise to come back with something a little cheerier next time.

Un-Adopted

Edited to add: I would like to thank everyone for the kind and supportive comments you left on this post. I would also like to apologize to anyone who may have attempted suicide after reading it because it was so damn depressing. On a lighter note, guess who came back last night? Cinco! Not sure if he's here to stay or not, but he came in around midnight to check in with us. I even got a few licks. Time will tell as to whether or not he's back for good.


Our cat has run away.

I can't tell you how sad I am. In the past, he's left for a couple days here and there, but he's never been gone this long. It's been four weeks.

The most horrible part about it is that I know why he left and that we are to blame, which makes it that much worse.

We got our cat about four years ago from the pound. Husband named him Cinco because we adopted him on our 5-year anniversary of having met. Cinco was scared of everything when we brought him home. He spent the first few hours in our house hiding in the window drapes. It was clear that although he was only a few months old, he had already been traumatized by people in some way because he was such a skittish and timid kitten.

Over time, we gained his trust until eventually he was part of our new family. When we left for work, he would stand at the window and watch us leave, his little, furry head peeking out from the drapes. I remember being teary-eyed on more than one occasion, thinking of him being home alone all day waiting for us to return. When we arrived home, he always greeted us at the door and when we scooped him up, he would give us wet kisses by licking us on the face. His favorite napping spot was Husband's chest.

You know, they say that people can't really "adopt" cats; that cats adopt people. And he had adopted us.

About three years later, we got a puppy. Husband had been begging me for one ever since we had gotten married and I had resisted for a long time, but when he brought me to see some Chow/Golden Retriever puppies, I caved. The cuteness was too much for me to resist. (I know, Mrs. Chicky, I know. This is not the reason to buy a dog. Lessons learned, my friend. Lessons learned.)

So we brought home our chowlet and named her Luna. Luna is a wonderful dog, but what we didn't bet on is that Cinco would not find her so wonderful. Luna and Cinco did not get along from the beginning. At all. Cinco was terrified of Luna. He hid under our bed for days to avoid her. But we were determined to make them friends. With the help of a dog behaviorist, we tried techniques to bring them together. But somehow everything we tried just seemed to further traumatize poor Cinco. Then, one day, Cinco literally lost control of his bowels when I tried to bring them close to each other. I decided I couldn't do that to him anymore.

So we developed a routine that worked for both of them. We kept them both, but they each developed their own territories in the house. Basically, Luna dominated the entire house and Cinco remained on our bed all day. It was hard to look at him and not feel that he was a prisoner in his own house. At night, Luna would sleep in the garage (which she loved to do by the way) and Cinco would come and go from the house as he pleased. It all worked out OK for the most part, but during the day, Cinco was like a captive. I felt bad, but there didn't seem to be any other way.

They lived together like this for three years. And then we had Little Guy. And moved. All within the same year. And along with this upheaval, I also decided to stop allowing Cinco in the house at night because I read that cats can suffocate babies in their cribs. (Note: even though the rational part of me said the whole suffocation thing was probably a wives' tale, the easily-freaked-out, irrational-new-mama side of me said better to be "safe than sorry.")

So that's where we found ourselves when, four weeks ago, he went missing.

After he'd been gone for a couple weeks, I began to fear that he may have been hurt - perhaps, run over by a car. There had to be some reason why he hadn't come back yet. We went to a couple of our neighbors to ask if they had seen him. No one had.

Then finally, last week, an elderly neighbor two doors down said he had seen him in his yard. At that point, three weeks had gone by and I wasn't convinced that it was Cinco at all. I mean, surely Cinco would have come home by now if he were well and only two doors down. I gave him some food to put out for the cat. Just in case it was Cinco, I at least wanted him to have access to some food in case he was starving.

Then finally, two nights ago, I saw him. Sure enough, he was hanging around our neighbor's yard. I carefully crept up to him, and though it took some coaxing, he came over to me. I petted him for about 10 minutes and examined his coat. I expected him to look frail and haggard, but he looked great. His coat was shiny and he looked like he had been eating. In fact, he looked better than before he left us.

And that's when it hit me. He looked better than before he left us. Not only had someone obviously been taking care of him, but they had been taking better care of him then we had.

I scooped him up and carried him home. He resisted the whole way, and when I got him inside he jumped from my arms, scampered into our bedroom, and immediately hid under our bed. I felt like I had brought him back to a prison. It felt horrible.

That night after Luna had been "put to bed" in the garage, I put out Cinco's food and water on our back porch and let him outside. As soon as I let him out, he dashed right past his food bowl, ran across the yard, and leapt over the fence, headed in the direction of our neighbor's yard.

He was gone. Again. But this time, I knew he had left because he wanted to. He left because he couldn't stand living with us anymore. Because we had let him down. Because we are bad parents and haven't been able to figure out how to give him a good life in our home.

And that's also when I realized that we've been un-adopted.

I can't blame him, but I have no idea what to do about it. Or if I should do anything about it. But I can tell you one thing, being un-adopted feels like shit. Complete and total shit.

Trick or Treat!

Deciding what to be for Halloween is always so difficult for me. There are just soooo many great costumes that I always find it hard to narrow it down. And this year I want to look especially good because we are new to the neighborhood and will be meeting some of our neighbors for the first time when we take Little Guy trick-or-treating.

So, can anyone help me out deciding on a costume? So far, I have it narrowed down to...

the Sexy Stud Finder Construction Worker Costume (batteries not included)













the Servin' it Hot Waitress Costume (because I think the "Wild Cherry Diner" name badge is just so adorable)












The tried and true Nun Costume (in honor of 12 years of Catholic School education) OR













The Little Miss Muffet Costume (because of how much I just loooved that nursery rhyme).












Anyone got a favorite? Remember, I want to make a good impression on the neighbors.

No Funnies Today

One of my favorite bloggers just announced that she's calling it quits. I've never met her in person or even talked to her on the phone, but I've been visiting her blog for several months now and she's visited mine, and it's weird but I feel like I'm losing someone who is a if-we-lived-in-the-same-town-we-would-have-definitely-made-a-coffee-date kinda blog friend. And she's leaving. For good. Kaput. Gone.

Part of the reason she's leaving is due to this whole Bitacle thing. If you haven't heard of it, read Andrea's post here. She does a great job of explaining what's happening. In a nutshell, these Bitacle people are stealing people's blog content, putting it on their site without permission, and making money off of ads placed aside our blog content. I found out that my entire blog is on their site, as is the content of many other bloggers that I read. Grrr. Makes me so mad!

So, no funnies today. I'm covering all the mirrors in my house and entering a state of blogger mourning.

I'll be coming by to visit you though. Sorry that I've been a bit behind on my commenting lately. Hopefully, you'll even have some good news for me when I stop in. Like you won the lottery and are going to take everyone on your blogroll to the Bahamas. That would sure cheer me up.

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P.S. I have a new post up at The Imperfect Parent. I've even allowed them to put up a picture of me. Eeek. I had to take about 45 shots with my digital camera to get one that looked semi-decent. Luckily, half of my face is shadowed, which is why I chose it. Too bad there's no hiding my big nose. *sigh*

Fun with Fruit

As some of you may know, Husband doesn't read my blog. He knows I have a blog. He knows I spend a lot of time blogging. He knows what my blog is called. And yet he's never, ever visited my blog. Not once.

Totally weird of him, I know. I mean, what husband wouldn't want to visit his own wife's blog? I've asked him as much and he always gives me the same lame excuses like, "That's your private space, babe. I don't want to intrude." Or "I live our life. I don't need to read about it."

I don't get it, but whatever. After seven months of blogging, I had come to accept that Husband had no interest whatsoever in my blog. But then last night over dinner, this....

Husband: So, you don't think I should walk around naked eating Trix, eh?

Me: What???? Uh, what are you talking about?

Husband: I read your blog.

Me: *trapped*

Husband: Yeah, I read your blog and I read what you wrote.

Me: Oh, shit. Well, I just thought it was really funny that you said that. But funny in a cute way. Yeah, cute, I thought it was cute. And if you check out the comments on that entry, you'll even see that I said that it was cute. I wasn't making fun of you, I swear.

I don't know if he bought it, but it really was more like I was laughing with him not at him, you know? *ahem*

Anyway, I have no idea really how long he's been reading my blog, but all I do know is that I have to be damn careful what I write on here now. No more making fun of Husband on this blog!! I refuse to engage in any activities that could be misconstrued as making fun when I'm really just trying to show how cute he is.

Now, where was I? Oh, yeah. What post is complete without a picture?


Husband: Hey, you know what this fig looks like?.....Balls.

Me: WTF?

ROFL Awards – September

Izzy and I are pleased to announce the first-ever recipients of the ROFL Award! Thank you to everyone who participated this month and to all the others who have supported this endeavor. I can't wait to read these posts and share some laughs with you all each month!


Chicky Chicky Baby and Radioactive Girl awarded Ruthless in the Suburbs

Life, the Universe, and Everything awarded World of One Thousand Different Things

Bub and Pie awarded Home on the Fringe

Momish awarded Slacker-Moms-R-Us

Have a Great Rest of Your Day awarded The Shizzle

Slackermommy and Ramblings of Maggie awarded Jennyology

Jenny from Mama Drama awarded Mom-o-Matic

Stolen Moments awarded A Beautiful Mess

Scribbit awarded One Woman's World

Mommy has a Headache awarded Kevin Charnas

Jennster awarded Becky’s Blog

Mom/Ma'am/Me awarded Thought Concoction

Onward Bound awarded Single Mom in the City

i obsess awarded The Quest for Bacon



Do you have a post you'd like to recognize for the October Awards? Send me an e-mail by November 13th with a link to the post and a link to your blog. The button code will be sent out a few days prior to the deadline.

The Ultimate High

I've found it.

The ultimate high.

It's better than drugs.

Better than fame or money or seeing your name in print.

Better than sex or chocolate, or sex and chocolate.

Better than Starubucks Caramel Frappuccinos with whipped cream.

Better than a three-some with McDreamy and McVet.

Better than 1,000 comments on a blog post.

And it's free, and I have an unlimited supply.

My baby has started giving me hugs.




















Hug Version 26: The Bedtime Hug

Addictions of the Worst Kind

Just when I think there's nothing more addicting than blogging, I started watching this show. Which is starting right now as I type.

And which I must go watch. Immediately. Or risk having withdrawl convulsions of the worst kind.

I've even considered renting this and this just for old times sake.

P.S. I know he's a cheating bastard on the show, but he's just such a cute cheating bastard is the thing. Not that he's cuter than Husband or anything. Husband is by far the cutest man in my life...well, wait, Little Guy is the cutest man in my life, then Husband, and then Patrick Dempsey.

But I just want to be clear that I love Husband more than Patrick Dempsey. (Even when he's walking around naked eating Trix.)

Another WTF Moment Brought to You by MotR's Husband

Husband: I like the privacy of my own home because I can walk around naked, eat Trix, and watch movies.

Me: WTF?

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In other news....

The deadline for nominating a blog post for a September ROFL Award is October 9th. If you have a post you'd like to award, please e-mail me. I will be e-mailing out the button code soon with more details. Reminder: To nominate a blogger for this month's ROFL Award, the post has to have been written in September and it has to have made you laugh your ass off. No exceptions!

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I have a new post up at the Imperfect Parent. Won't you stop by? Pleeeeeease? :)

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Last but not least, thank you to Much More than a Mom for honoring my blog as the Site of the Week this week. *blush*

Wherein Karma Bitch Slaps Me with Her Rubber Glove

I am a thief. There, I've said it. Last Friday at approximately 3:53pm I walked out of Target with this pine-colored barstool. Without paying for it.

I am soooo bad.

But. It wasn't intentional. I mean, not really. I happened to place a seat cushion atop the barstool. The cashier (bless her heart) scanned the tag for the seat cushion and forgot to scan the price tag for the actual barstool. So, I paid $4.98 on clearance for the seat cushion and got the $25 barstool for free. And somehow I got through the little security bar thingies without the alarm going off.

I knew I had gotten it for free and a better person would have pointed out her mistake, but I'm not a better person. I ran out of the store with my loot and made my gettaway.

However, the guilt began to set in that evening and by the following day, I was sure that Karma was going to pay me back big time for my transgression. And sure enough, Karma got me alright.

Cut to the next day.

Husband and I and Little Guy travelled 3 hours to San Jose for my friend's wedding. I was really looking forward to getting away for a mini-vacation. We would be staying in San Jose for the night and then going to Monterey the next day. Unfortunately, whatever could go wrong, did.

1. We stop for lunch in a drive through on the way there. My husband orders an extra large iced tea. He places it in the car cup holder next to me. As we drive away, the iced tea tips over and spills all over my dress. Luckily, my dress is black. But still.

2. We get to San Jose right on time and exit the freeway en route to the ceremony. We have about 10 minutes until the wedding starts and we are less than a mile from the Church. We are feeling good. And that's when we get lost. Yes, a mere mile away from the wedding ceremony we get lost for half an hour, causing us to miss half the ceremony. Thanks a bunch Yahoo Maps.

3. For comfort reasons, I wear my flip flops in the car and pack away my black strappy dress shoes. When we arrive at the Church (late and now really peeved), I run to the trunk to pull out my bag and find that there is no bag to pull out. Yes, folks, I've left my entire bag of clothing for the weekend at home. Including my shoes, underwear, nightclothes, etc. And so I am forced to wear these pink flip flops into Church. Fuck.

4. Due to the fact that I had planned to wear closed-toed heels to the wedding, I had not bothered to do my nails or pluck out the two unruly hairs that emerge on my big toes and which are now clearly going to be out there for all to see. Double fuck.

5. After the wedding, there is a two-hour break until the evening reception. I am slightly comforted by the fact that there is a factory outlet close by and race there to find some more appropriate shoes. I am quickly dismayed to find that not only are all of the black shoes on sale completely UGLY, they are also grossly overpriced and I cringe at having to hand over $59.99 for shoes I will never wear again. Karma, I shake my fist at you!

6. Karma gives me a break while we attend an absolutely fabulous reception at the $10 million dollar home of my friend's aunt, who by all accounts is into "real estate", but by the looks of her posh estate might have a few side "gigs" going on that we probably shouldn't know about. The women are all beautiful and hail from Columbia. The men look like they walked off the set of Scarface. I feel grossly out of place, but have a wonderful time anyway, eating lobster and fantasizing about what it would be like to live in such a place.

7. Upon arriving at the hotel later that evening, Karma decides to kick it into gear again when I find out that the reservation I made was for Friday night. Unfortunately for me, it is Saturday night. Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck. Somehow, we weasle our way into a room in the "almost sold out" hotel, but I have yet to see whether I will have to pay for both nights.

8. The following day, I don my wrinkled party dress and pink flip flops and we head to Monterey to check out the Aquarium and walk around Cannery Row. I notice that people are looking at me and I wonder if they're checking me out because I look so hot in my outfit. But then I realize they're probably just wondering what the hell I'm doing in a black dressy dress and flip flops in the middle of the Aquarium. Oh, and perhaps they noticed my white legs peppered with stubble. Because, of course, I had also left my razor at home.

9. Upon exiting the Aquarium, it begins to rain. 'Nuff said.

Despite it all, we arrived home safe and sound. Thank GOD. And I have no idea if this was really Karma getting me back for stealing that barstool. But one thing's for sure, I think I've paid my debt.

Now, on to more important matters: does anyone know whether Target takes returns without receipts? Because the barstool doesn't look quite right in my kitchen after all.