Monday, April 13, 2015

Pliers, Ropes, Chain & Pokers

Forget pliers. Forget ropes, chains, red-hot eye pokers. The greatest form of psychological torture, sure to elicit screams of mercy from any terrorist on 24, is standing in a twenty-five person line at the post office and watching as two of the three clerks...who have been moving at speeds generally reserved for slowly eroding rock formations...put "closed" signs in their windows as they sit there, averting their eyes, typing on their computers.


Friday, April 3, 2015

Six Months

Lochlan was 6 months old on March 12th...

Six month stats ~ 15lbs 8oz and 26.25"

Five Months

Lochlan was 5 months old on February 12th...

Spanx Me

Standing in the bedroom, staring at my closet and bathroom counter, pondering the vast array of products specifically designed to improve our self-esteem and increase our confidence by hiding, correcting, fixing, or even eliminating our flaws.

For virtually every un-perfect body part, there are products enthusiastically promising to shove recalcitrant 40+-yr-old bodies backwards in time, so we can look more socially appealing (read: y-o-u-n-g-e-r). With minimal research, we can find products that push up our bosoms, firm our thighs, tighten our buttocks, reduce our cellulite, even our skin tone, shrink our waistlines, de-bloat our bellies, de-puff our eyes, lengthen our lashes, thicken our hair, smooth our wrinkles, plump our lips, and change our hair color from blah to bombshell in just 30 minutes. Wow.

Make no mistake. I am a BIG fan of these products. Being a sucker for anything that promises youthful beauty without having to join a gym or give up Pop Tarts and Lucky Charms, I tend to whip out my MasterCard on the first promise and I own a dizzying variety. Some work. Some don’t. Here’s my current list of my All-Time Products worthy of commentary:

1. Spanx. Designed to firm and smooth out everything from bust to ankles. Our mothers called these “girdles.” Be warned. They only work if you buy a size you can’t get into in less than 20 minutes and you’re prepared to break a sweat. And pee before. Once up, they’re on for the night.

2. DIY Hair Streaking Kits. Never understood this one. You’re paying to put white (gray) streaks in your hair that you’ll be paying to have removed when you realize you now look like your middle-school librarian (no, not the hot one).

3. Butt Pads. Very few things leave me speechless. Intentionally attaching something to your backside, specifically designed to make it look bigger… Nope, not for me.

4. Bosom Max. Promises to “lift and enhance bust size” with an electromagnetic pulse massaging bra. Awesome. The person who buys this probably also bought the Ab Roller and the Shake Weights. I can’t drink enough wine for this one. I’ve tried.

5. Rogaine for Women. Sounds like a good idea, until I read the side effects, which include “Possible extreme weight gain.” Seriously?? So it not only makes your hair thicker, it poofs up your a**?? See number 3.

6. Lip Augmentation. Quite possibly the stupidest trend since, well…ever. Channeling Daisy Duck is likely to result in friends and family questioning your decision-making processes on virtually every other issue in your life.

7. “Cleansing” Kits. Raved about by Hollywood celebrities, these teas and tablets promise to “cleanse toxins, reduce water retention, and flatten the tummy.” Our parents called these “laxatives.” Save on shipping. They’re available at any drugstore.

So yes, while it is true that we can alter or even eliminate dang near anything the good Lord gave us, it seems that confidence is best achieved by putting as much distance as possible between how we appear and what we actually look like. Having said that, I’m not quite ready to go natural. Maybe WonderBra could come out with a “PleasantlySurprisedBra”? I’ll take one in Nude and one in Black, please.

Wednesday, March 25, 2015

Wordless Wednesday

I dance to my own tune – you just cant hear it because the voices in my head are humming it.

Thursday, February 5, 2015

A Trip Down Memory Lane

Adulthood…not quite what you thought it would be, is it? All those years of waiting, making vows about how you were going to be (vastly different from the adults in your childhood life), planning a fabulous fun-filled, carefree existence which would start approximately two seconds after you were free of authority figures. You absolutely could not wait to be out on your own, and if someone had sat you down and said, “No, see, these are your true golden years, when someone else is responsible,” you’d have served him or her the full force of your derision, with a side of “what you talkin’ ‘bout, Willis?” because there was no way it wasn’t going to be so much cooler/better/more fun and fulfilling on every conceivable level to be “the boss of me.” If it would only hurry up and happen, already.

And then, wow, it did happen. Fast forward to now: your inner child sulks every time you have to take out the trash, do laundry, or go to work, only you don’t mention it most of the time, ‘cause now you’re a grown up. But, please. All these chores, plus a job? And hardly the expendable income you’d envisioned. This was not the game plan. When’s all the non-stop fun going to start?, because you kind of feel as if you were bypassed. Now that you think about it, it was kind of nice to have dinner be someone else’s decision, huh? And bill-paying. To never stop & think about all those yucky “r” words like ramifications and repercussions and rent. Those were sweet days.

So, when you’re waxing nostalgic, try to grasp at snippets of your old life, which is as close as you’ll ever get. This product provides a perfect example. Recreate the joyful sensation of the spit bath with 
MomSpit. Who can forget those wonderful moments when your mom would glance at your face, then pull out a Kleenex and do something so disgusting you hoped no one was watching? Sometimes she’d really scrub and it kind of hurt, adding injury to insult. You couldn't even believe she just did that. And for the rest of the day every time the wind hit you from a certain angle, you’d get that whiff of mom-breath. Momspit recreates this wonderful childhood experience, right down to the no-rinse instructions, and the “unscented” claim. 

Let it take you for a stroll down memory lane!

Wednesday, February 4, 2015

(Almost) Wordless Wednesday

If you assume all turtlenecks have sleeves, prepare to have your world rocked when this jacket comes off.

Tuesday, February 3, 2015

Sleep, Sommeil, SueƱo

“Sleep when the baby sleeps!”

I started hearing it the day Lochlan was born. Actually, I probably started hearing it way before then, but it’s likely that I didn't pay much attention. I just filed it under “obvious advice is obvious,” and thought nothing more of it. Of course I was going to sleep when the baby slept. Just like of course I was going to breastfeed like a champ and have a kid who slept through the night at six weeks. Because, unlike all the other moms in the world, I’d read all the right books, bought all the right products, and participated in a million online discussions about how not to mess up your kid. I was so set.

After Lochlan was born, people kept reminding me to sleep when he slept. But I didn't want to; I wanted to stay awake and just stare and stare at this amazingly tiny new human I’d just created. I’d just made an entire new person that had never existed could I be expected to sleep after doing that? Besides, I remember thinking, I’ll sleep later. Because, up until that moment in my life, there had always been a later. Whenever I’d had a long week at work, I’d been able to plan to sleep in on the weekend. I could grab catnaps together between fun activities. I’d always, always been been able to think ahead to a time when I would be able to catch up on my sleep, maybe even take some kind of sleeping aid to ensure maximum restfulness.

When you become a parent, there never seems to be a later when it comes to sleep. You either grab it when you can, or you go without. Not long after Loch was born, I learned the hard way that I couldn't do the former...when Loch slept, I was too anxious to rest, and when I did finally manage to fall asleep, I was awakened by every. single. tiny. noise he made. I don’t know if it was because I was so wacked up on hormones, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't sleep when he slept. And you know what’s the worst? Not being able to sleep when you are bone tired and you know that your kid is going to wake up screaming soon and then you won’t get to sit down for the next few hours.

And you know what sucks the most? Having people tell me that this is my fault. It's my fault that I haven’t done any sleep-training, haven’t tried too hard to night-wean and, at 4 ½ months old, still can’t really imagine being away from him overnight. Know why? Because I’m a wuss, that’s why. Every time I think about sleep-training Loch, I think of all the crying that will be involved, and I wince. I’m not the crying-it-out-will-ruin-your-kid-forever type, but you know what? I just can’t. I’m sorry, but I can’t. Hearing him cry makes me feel like every nerve in my body is on fire. And it’s one thing to hear my kid cry because he just dropped his favorite toy; it’s another when he’s crying because he just wants to be held, or sung to, or breastfed.

And that’s why my 4-month-old still sleeps in my room and still breastfeeds pretty much whenever he wants at night. Because I am too tired and too wussy to do anything about it...but you know what...I've never been happier!

Monday, February 2, 2015

Four Months

Hello dear friends, how are ya?

I'm still sleep deprived as hell and I feel like I’m on a mix of speed and downers, but otherwise we’re doing great in our little baby cocoon! I have many Lochlan updates to share but first, I want to get something out of the way. I've not been blogging regularly. I know, bad blogger. But here’s why...I’m kinda busy with this cute little critter below. I want to eventually have something called work/life balance but I’m finding it really fun not thinking about schedules and deadlines. I’m liking this whole chillax rollin’ with whatever the day brings lifestyle. It’s not how I usually roll, that’s for sure, but it is what it is right now. 

Little Man is now a whopping 4 ½ months old. I seriously can’t believe the changes that have taken place in the last couple of months. Everyday he gets stronger, bigger, sweeter, and even louder. At his four month check up he weighed 12 pounds, 9 ounces and, after consulting my bathroom scale, I have a sneaking suspicion he’ll be around 14 pounds by Valentine’s Day. Loch has been “talking” up a storm quite a bit. It’s so loud that you can’t hear anything over it. I’m interested to see if that translates to a talkative kid. I was very shy when I was younger, so it would be funny if we end up with a chatterbox on our hands.

I love the way he's changing and the way he's changed us. He's so much fun and fills our home with such love and joy with his playful spirit. My days with him are such a gift, each day Lochlan reminds me what life is about.

What about if life in your neck of the woods?

Wednesday, January 28, 2015

(Almost) Wordless Wednesday

Is it yoga if you wear sweatpants all day and then hunch over the kitchen sink as you eat a burrito?

Tuesday, January 27, 2015

An Anniversary of Sorts

Today, January 27th, was the twenty four year anniversary of my first kiss. At fifteen, I was a late bloomer.

I am a girl, so I remember these kinds of things. I remember that I had, after months of chicken-shit debate, made a $5 bet with a friend that I would finally kiss the object of my infatuation. I remember that I planned my outfit carefully: a blue and white shirtdress, my brand-new blue Reebok sneakers, my CoverGirl Lipslicks lip gloss. I remember looking at myself in the mirror before leaving the house with ridiculous gravitas: This, I remember thinking to myself, will change everything.

It wasn't a date, this kiss. It happened at his sisters birthday party. He was younger than me, but cocky for fourteen. We had been flirting steadily for a few months. He made my heart beat really fast.

Now I laugh, but that night I felt like a seductress in my Reeboks and Lipslicks. I remember playing with my food, giving him meaningful looks, twirling my unruly hair. When I was finished eating I put down my fork, looked pointedly at him, and told him I was going upstairs to his room. To this day I have not been so ballsy or breathless.

Up in his room, I waited, looking at his posters. He came upstairs a few minutes later, and we feigned interest in a photograph, making awkward conversation. I expected some dramatic build-up, some slow, movie-perfect moment of our faces moving closer and closer together, but instead he just kissed me, suddenly, mid-sentence. Like so many rites of passage, I barely remember what it felt like, as I was so distracted by the realization that it had finally happened.

I never did kiss that boy again. It turned out he had a girlfriend, and it turned out that I had a lot of growing up to do before I'd be ready for anything more than kissing. At the time, I felt painfully inexperienced, but now I can appreciate a nice, slow bloom.

Do you remember your first kiss?

Thursday, January 22, 2015

I Like You Not

Ahhhhhhhhhhhh! In case you didn’t know, that’s the sound of me screaming in terror. No, I wasn’t being chased by a masked serial killer or hunted for sport by a group of scientifically altered super monkeys. It’s so much worse - I saw a roach! It’s the second I’ve seen at the mall actually. It’s as if they know when I’m the most vulnerable and they strike and scare the crap out of me. Literally.

I am deathly afraid of (some) bugs, especially ones that I feel could take me in a fight. They’re gross, they’re creepy and I feel they bear me ill will. Now I know some of you may be thinking, "What’s the big deal? Bugs are important to our planet’s eco-system. We can all co-habitate peacefully together if we respect each other’s place in this world." Well, I say back to you..."You are a dirty hippie and no one wants to come to your house."

For those of you like myself who find even Jiminy Cricket to be threatening (a bug is even more terrifying when dressed in a top hat and dinner jacket), here is what you can do when you encounter a big-ass, scary ol’ bug:

Step One
Upon seeing the horrid creature, scream as if to wake the dead. If possible, continue to scream through the next six steps.

Step Two
Run from room where said horrid creature was spotted. Remember to shut and lock the door behind you. Careful, it is not scientifically proven* that roaches don’t have opposable thumbs with which to open doors *By “not scientifically proven”, I mean I haven’t Googled it yet but I’m pretty sure I’m right.

Step Three
Abandon your workplace/house/apartment and everything in it forever. Why prolong this terror any longer? If this is not possible for reasons I can’t imagine, proceed to step four.

Step Four
Slowly open door to the room where the bug lays in wait (I hope you’re still screaming). Throw something at it, like a loofah or a Tampax Pearl slender regular. Watch as it scurries to a corner of the room. Good, now you have him exactly where you want him. Ha! The predator is suddenly the predator-ee. That’s a word, right?

Step Five
Go get the bug spray. If you are like me and forgot to buy it at the store as you got distracted by the free samples of cookies, other sprays will suffice. My special formula includes a random mash-up of Finesse hair spray, tile cleaner, shaving gel and half a can of sunless tanning mist. The roach will still die, only he’ll move on to the next world with silky hair and a coppery but natural looking tan.

Step Six
Find someone  (guy or girl it doesn't matter) to pick up the deceased (but now oddly pretty) roach. Don’t try to do this yourself. If experience has taught me anything, you will only waste an entire roll of paper towels trying to pick it up and end up dropping it as you gag and scream. Call a boyfriend, husband, father, brother or creepy neighbour to do it for you. I’m as much a feminist as the next girl but I’d sooner give up my rights to vote than pick up a big ol’ roach carcass. All in all, it’ll take about three hours and cost you upwards of $60 bucks in beauty supplies, but it will be worth it because in the end...said like that little old lady from the movie Poltergeist...“Your house is cleaned.”

Copper Roach by Metal by Martin via Etsy
 What about you...are you afraid of bugs?

Wednesday, January 7, 2015

(Almost) Wordless Wednesday

You'd think that atoms bonding would mean they're being friendly to each other, but instead they steal each others electrons. How ionic.

Atomic Atom Molecule Art Print by Walkslee via Etsy

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...