Now that I'm not returning to work full-time and we're a single-income family, Doug has decided that I need to present him with...
a budget.
I'm thinking that this budget isn't going to allow for...
designer handbags
a new fall wardrobe
luxury spa treatments
or a Sephora shopping spree.
Bummer.
Although I have to say that I no longer shop 'til I drop. In fact, half the things I used to splurge on are now moot.
My handbags have been replaced by diaper bags.
My fall wardrobe now consists of sweats and more sweats, and anything I wear has to be machine washable.
I now consider a daily shower a luxury.
And since I no longer wear a trace of makeup I guess Sephora isn't worth my while.
Regardless, the request of a formal budget seemed, well, formal. I jokingly asked Doug if he was expecting a Power Point presentation. He sort of half laughed.
A blog entry will have to suffice.
Saturday, October 9, 2010
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
10 Things I Never Thought I'd Google
As I watched Doug change Mackenzie's diaper just days after she was born, I couldn't help but notice what appeared to be...
a second butt hole.
Yes, that's right..
A.
Second.
Butt.
Hole.
At first I thought maybe it was the pain medication going to my head, or the lack of sleep impairing my eyesight... and my judgment.
But no, right there in the middle of her lower back was an extra orifice.
Was I going crazy? What was going on around her little tushy?
I breathed a sigh of relief when Doug admitted that he had also wondered what that little black abyss was all about. Neither one of us wanted to ask the hospital pediatrician about it, but hey, a second butt hole? That would be cause for concern, no? Might want to check with the doctor and see what that's all about, right?
Turns out it was a small dimple that's common after babies are born. When poo manages to make its way in there it looks scarier than it really is. It's since disappeared and I'd almost forgotten all about it until I realized the other day that the black hole was just the start of an endless line of incredibly ridiculous and embarrassing questions we'd be asking doctors, nurses, and the # 1 source for ALL information...
THE INTERNET!
a second butt hole.
Yes, that's right..
A.
Second.
Butt.
Hole.
At first I thought maybe it was the pain medication going to my head, or the lack of sleep impairing my eyesight... and my judgment.
But no, right there in the middle of her lower back was an extra orifice.
Was I going crazy? What was going on around her little tushy?
I breathed a sigh of relief when Doug admitted that he had also wondered what that little black abyss was all about. Neither one of us wanted to ask the hospital pediatrician about it, but hey, a second butt hole? That would be cause for concern, no? Might want to check with the doctor and see what that's all about, right?
Turns out it was a small dimple that's common after babies are born. When poo manages to make its way in there it looks scarier than it really is. It's since disappeared and I'd almost forgotten all about it until I realized the other day that the black hole was just the start of an endless line of incredibly ridiculous and embarrassing questions we'd be asking doctors, nurses, and the # 1 source for ALL information...
THE INTERNET!
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Monday Morning Quarterback
An old friend recently posted the best status update I've seen in awhile.
Her Facebook page read, "I need a wife."
Her male friends had a field day with this one. Just the thought of this cute little mama with a wife gave them a lot to think about.
But my friend rained on their parade pretty quickly, explaining that she needed a wife to help her with all of her unglamorous mommy duties, including but not limited to scraping poop and puke off of baby onesies... Which is pretty much how I started my weekend.
Strip the crib, scrub the mattress pad, spray some Oxy, start a load of laundry.
Strip the crib, scrub the mattress pad, spray some Oxy... you get the picture.
I may not have a wife to help with the cleaning, but I do have Doug, who took Mackenzie downstairs after my first two rounds of "Scrape the Poo" so I could catch a few more Zs.
Our weekends used to entail sleeping in, having a big breakfast, and basically succumbing to the living room couch and our DVR.
Now we're up at sunrise with Mackenzie between us in bed, rubbing the sleepiness out of our eyes as we watch our daughter discover her fingers and toes. The next few hours resemble a choreographed dance in which we take turns occupying the baby, doing housework, paying bills, cutting coupons, going to the grocery store, and showering.
Her Facebook page read, "I need a wife."
Her male friends had a field day with this one. Just the thought of this cute little mama with a wife gave them a lot to think about.
But my friend rained on their parade pretty quickly, explaining that she needed a wife to help her with all of her unglamorous mommy duties, including but not limited to scraping poop and puke off of baby onesies... Which is pretty much how I started my weekend.
Strip the crib, scrub the mattress pad, spray some Oxy, start a load of laundry.
Strip the crib, scrub the mattress pad, spray some Oxy... you get the picture.
I may not have a wife to help with the cleaning, but I do have Doug, who took Mackenzie downstairs after my first two rounds of "Scrape the Poo" so I could catch a few more Zs.
Our weekends used to entail sleeping in, having a big breakfast, and basically succumbing to the living room couch and our DVR.
Now we're up at sunrise with Mackenzie between us in bed, rubbing the sleepiness out of our eyes as we watch our daughter discover her fingers and toes. The next few hours resemble a choreographed dance in which we take turns occupying the baby, doing housework, paying bills, cutting coupons, going to the grocery store, and showering.
Friday, October 1, 2010
A Mommy's Top 10 List
10 Things I've Cursed Since Becoming A Mommy
1) snaps: whoever thought it would be wise to add a million of these tiny contraptions to baby clothes never wrestled my child
2) Sherwin Williams: for thinking it would be cute to name a paint color "Fussy Pink"; I blame the company for every sleepless night I've had
3) anything that plays one song over, and over, and over: 'nuf said
4)my husband my bathroom scale
1) snaps: whoever thought it would be wise to add a million of these tiny contraptions to baby clothes never wrestled my child
 |
| Mackenzie's "Fussy Pink" room |
3) anything that plays one song over, and over, and over: 'nuf said
4)
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
And You Thought I Was Cynical
On a recent trip to the grocery store during mommy prime time -- a.k.a Monday 11 a.m., also considered old people prime time -- I ran across a young woman who was dishing out parenting advice at the deli counter.
Naturally I had Mackenzie buried in the shopping cart surrounded by mounds of produce and nonperishables.
As I tried to weave my way through the dozen or so customers lollygagging around the case of Boar's Head ham, I was trapped by the grocery gabber.
"How old?" she asked pointing to the car seat.
"Almost 4 months," I replied, overestimating a bit since Mackenzie is a little plump for her age (90th percentile in weight, MUST SWITCH HER TO LIGHT BEER).
"Ohhh, you're still in the trenches," said my new friend.
Naturally I had Mackenzie buried in the shopping cart surrounded by mounds of produce and nonperishables.
As I tried to weave my way through the dozen or so customers lollygagging around the case of Boar's Head ham, I was trapped by the grocery gabber.
"How old?" she asked pointing to the car seat.
"Almost 4 months," I replied, overestimating a bit since Mackenzie is a little plump for her age (90th percentile in weight, MUST SWITCH HER TO LIGHT BEER).
"Ohhh, you're still in the trenches," said my new friend.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Not So Fast
If there's one thing I've learned as a new mother it's not to get too cocky.
Just when you think you've got it all figured out -- the 7 p.m. bedtime, the 2 a.m. diaper change, the 4-hour car ride -- the parenting gods come and poop all over your parade just to remind you that you're human and not infallible.
I've learned this the hard way, despite multiple warnings from both my father and a good girlfriend who cautioned against getting the least bit confident or comfortable.
After a brief taste of what it's like to get a good night's rest, I made the mistake of pronouncing my daughter a "great sleeper" as if she'd been training as a gymnast her entire life and had made it to the Olympics.
That night she was up every two hours like in the early weeks post-partem.
Just when you think you've got it all figured out -- the 7 p.m. bedtime, the 2 a.m. diaper change, the 4-hour car ride -- the parenting gods come and poop all over your parade just to remind you that you're human and not infallible.
I've learned this the hard way, despite multiple warnings from both my father and a good girlfriend who cautioned against getting the least bit confident or comfortable.
After a brief taste of what it's like to get a good night's rest, I made the mistake of pronouncing my daughter a "great sleeper" as if she'd been training as a gymnast her entire life and had made it to the Olympics.
That night she was up every two hours like in the early weeks post-partem.
Monday, September 6, 2010
"Sommmmmmebody's hunnnnnngry!!!!"
What is it with total strangers who think they know what's best for your baby?
On this beautiful Labor Day I found myself at - of all places - the mall.
In my book, pushing a stroller at a moderate pace constitutes as cardio no matter where you are... and as long as I was doing something healthy I could live with the fact that I wasn't enjoying a perfect day outside.
But I digress.
So here we are, on Labor Day, at the mall, and I of course have a total game plan.
Exchange some clothes I received for the baby that aren't seasonal or already don't fit.
In and out, real quick, boom, boom, boom.
But it nevvvver works that way with a lil' one in tow.
The baby serves as a huge distraction for anyone within a two foot radius.
They have to "oooh" and "ahhhh" and give their assessment of your child's physical, mental, and behavioral state.
On this beautiful Labor Day I found myself at - of all places - the mall.
In my book, pushing a stroller at a moderate pace constitutes as cardio no matter where you are... and as long as I was doing something healthy I could live with the fact that I wasn't enjoying a perfect day outside.
But I digress.
So here we are, on Labor Day, at the mall, and I of course have a total game plan.
Exchange some clothes I received for the baby that aren't seasonal or already don't fit.
In and out, real quick, boom, boom, boom.
But it nevvvver works that way with a lil' one in tow.
The baby serves as a huge distraction for anyone within a two foot radius.
They have to "oooh" and "ahhhh" and give their assessment of your child's physical, mental, and behavioral state.
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