Marley and the Delicate Art of Parental Manipulation

Marley is quite the independent little 2-and-a-half year old. Every morning, she wakes up with the sun...usually well before 7am, which means Ian and I are still fast asleep. (But not for long.)

The first thing she does is go to the kitchen to get her morning sippy cup of milk, which we leave for her in the fridge. (Usually the first thing we hear in the morning is the door of the fridge slam.) Then she'll take off her diaper that she wears to sleep and throw it in the kitchen trash. Finally, we'll hear her plod up the stairs to our room, and soon we'll feel her warm, 33 pound body nestled in bed between us, happily slurping down her milk. She'll either accept the fact that both of her parents are delirious with sleep and lay quietly between us (though wide awake), or, if she's feeling feisty, she'll demand that we turn the Disney morning cartoons.

That's how we roll.

But this morning it went down a little differently. Instead of hearing the usual sounds, I heard, "Mommy, I went wee-wee in my diaper and in my pants!" Yup...that was my little munchkin, calling me from her room at 6:45am. Marley still wears a diaper to bed, and frequently goes potty in it during the night. Occasionally, she'll pee through her diaper and pants, which can make things a little messy.

"It's OK Marley," I called down, not ready to get out of bed just yet. "Just take off your diaper and bring up some new jammie pants upstairs. I'll help you put on new pants."

"NOOOO Mommy," she replied. "There is wee-wee in my PANTS!"

"It's OK," I said again. "Just bring some new pants up here and I'll help you!"

"NOOO Mommy, I went wee-wee AND poo-poo in my pants." Now this got my attention. I sat up in bed. She hasn't pooped in her sleepy-time diaper in months.-

"You went poo-poo in your diaper?" I called down, bewildered. This was new.

"YES. I went poo-poo in my pants, it's everywhere, it's REALLY GROSS."

Hmmm. Now I had no choice but to go downstairs and check things out.  As I slowly rolled out of bed, (apparently, far too slowly) an impatient Marley decided to share some new information to up the ante.

"AND MOMMY...I threw up too. There's throw up everywhere. All over my room. Wee-wee, poo-poo and throw up, all over my bed and pants. It's REALLY REALLY GROSS."

That got me moving. I scurried downstairs to her room expecting to find all kinds of destruction and carnage. But what I found was...Marley, sitting up in bed, smiling at me. No poo-poo. No throw up. Just a happy little girl, who had already removed her wet sleepy-time diaper, who appeared very pleased she had managed to get her mommy to come downstairs with this fabricated threat of explosive bodily functions.
"Marley," I said. "Why did you say that there was poo-poo and throw up everywhere?"

She smiled. "I wanted to snuggle mommy in my bed," she replied, with a twinkle in her eye.

Uh...yeah. My daughter is now officially smarter than me, and knows how to push all my buttons to get what she wants. Super. If she's this smart at two, what the hell is going to happen when she is a teenager?

Does anyone else have a master manipulator on their hands? If so, please share!

Top 10 Reasons I'm Glad I Haven't Had my Baby Yet

So my doctor has been vacationing in the South of France. I haven't seen him 2 weeks. I was super excited to see him this week, hoping that he would have some good news...mainly, that I am super dilated and effaced, and that my body is ripe to have my baby! (I am ready to have my baby, God knows.)

Last week, when I saw another doctor, she told me that I was 2 centimeters dilated and 50% effaced. And since then, I've had TONS of contractions, so I was confident that things were moving along nicely.

"Well, you're maybe one centimeter dilated, and about 50% effaced," my doctor told me after he checked things out.

"What?" I asked. "Dr. Pattengill said I was two centimeters and 50% last week...so I have to be more now!"

"Nope," he answered. "About one centimeter."

So. Needless to say, I am not having my baby right this second. Or probably anytime soon. It could be closer to my actual due date on June 6...or...God forbid...a little later.

This is a big problem because I have NOTHING to wear. I am so huge that even my maternity stuff doesn't fit me. (And what's the purpose in buying new shit to wear now?) So I am looking like a complete slob in my husband's XL Star Wars t-shirts that barely cover my giant belly. I look like crap.

Anyway, I was pretty disappointed. I was really hoping to have Baby Holland sooner rather than later. To cheer myself up, I have come up with the Top 10 Reasons Why I'm Glad I Haven't Had my Baby Yet.

1. Labor is painful. I'm not in labor right now, therefore I am not in pain. This is a good thing.
2. I can continue to eat like a total fatass. Arby's Roast Beef, anyone?
3. I can continue to dress like a total and complete slob. This is NOT my fault. Nothing fits.
4. I can't really work because I have nothing to wear. I can't show property naked or in Ian's Star Wars t-shirt. It's best for everyone that I am at home, watching reality T.V. Really.
5. I have an excuse for being a total sarcastic bitch. My hormones are raging!
6. It's completely acceptable for me to space out, or act a little deranged. Everyone just feels sorry for me.
7. I can blame excessive amounts of online shopping on temporary confusion. When boxes show up at the door, I can just play dumb and act completely shocked.
8. Braxton Hicks contractions are fun...whoohoo!
9. I'll get more opportunities to pee my pants in public. Good times.
10. I get to spend more time with my cute little family of three...before we grow into a family of four.  I'm trying to savor these last few days or (gulp) weeks with my beautiful little girl and my handsome, wonderful husband. Soon this journey will end and a new one will begin!

Thanks for reading. Leave a comment while you're here! Anything else I should be doing before I pop out baby #2????

My First Passion Party

Possibly the best thing about not going into labor yet is that I got to attend my very first Passion Party. My friend Ann Marie hosted the shin-dig the other night at her house down in the Cays.

In case you haven't been to a Passion Party, it's basically a girlie get-together where they showcase and sell all sorts of adult toys and lotions and lubes to spice things up in the bedroom. (Not that there's anything for me to spice up these days...at 37 weeks pregnant, that's the last thing I'm looking for.)

Still, I was super excited to check out all the stuff--for future use. I was sure there was something great and fun for me to buy! I would emerge from this party uninhibited...a liberated sexual goddess, ready to explore new boundaries!  (just as soon as I get Baby Holland out and I'm sufficiently healed...let's say in the next 2 months.)

First, the sales rep introduced the edible lotions and massage oils. We got to sample, smell and lick. All good stuff, but we seem to already have plenty of this stuff at home.

Then came out the toys. It was a parade of battery-operated items for all manner of titaltion and stimulation. Internal, external, you name it.

But I couldn't help but wonder...do people really need this much help in the bedroom? (Not that there's anything wrong with mixing it up a bit.) But are the batteries really necessary? What's wrong with good, old fashioned sex?

Then out came the Bunny Bliss. The Bunny is apparantly the mecca of battery-powered bliss. This dual-action contraption had everything from vibrating ears to rotating beads.

Well, this would definitely do the trick, I thought as I held the Bunny in my hands, testing out all TEN different speeds and pulse patterns. But wouldn't this thing render Ian and his appendage sort of...obsolete?

"I think maybe this is for single people," said my friend Jesi when I quietly posed the question to her.

Anyway, after inspecting all the items in their spinning, vibrating, pulsing and synthetic glory, from the Plush Bendie to the Blossom Bliss, I decided to bring home...a scented candle.

That's right. Clearly, I'm a total prude.  But at least I didn't bring home a big, black dick. That was an option. (Technically, it's called the Chocolate Thriller.)

To be fair, the candle is a special massage candle, called the Soy Seduction Candle.

"Look baby," I said when I got home from the party. Ian was laying in bed, watching TV. "I got us something from the Passion Party. It's a scented candle! Smell it, it smells sooo good!"

"I can't smell anything right now," he said to me. That's right, I forgot. He had a sinus infection. I left him at home with Marley while he was sick so I could attend the party.

"Well, anyway, it smells really nice." I noticed Ian was smirking at me a little bit.  "There was all kinds of stuff there, but you know what? I don't think we need any of it! I mean, what's the point of all the toys and stuff when things seem to be working out just fine without them?"

"I told you those parties were lame," he said.

But I noticed he was smiling.

Thanks for reading! Leave a comment while you're here.

Facebook Friend...Why Hath Thou Forsaken Me?

Maybe it’s because I’m in my 37th week of pregnancy. Maybe it’s because I’ve gained more than 40 pounds. Maybe it’s because--although I'm excited--I’m tired and frustrated, and want more than anything for Baby Holland to come out and join us in the world.

But it’s true. I have been using the “F” word lately. A lot. With anything and everything that presents itself, I can find a reason to use it. I use it when I'm driving. I use it when I spill my green tea. I even use it out of joy, as in, "That's f-cking awesome!"

I’ve also been a little more snarky and sarcastic...less lady-like than usual. No doubt this is reflected in my latest blog posts, like “Top 8 Things Strangers Say to Me About My Huge Pregnant Belly” and “Up the Butt on my Birthday.” I used the F-word numerous times in the "Top 8" post, and…well… “Up the Butt on my Birthday"....let’s just let that post speak for itself.

Anyway, as I was writing these posts, I knew that I was being a little more hard-core than usual.  I knew it was a risk. And, today, when I checked out my Questionable Parenting Facebook Page and the number of my “Facebook” likes, my suspicions were confirmed…I have ONE LESS FACEBOOK LIKE! Somebody UNLIKED my Facebook page!

Was it the cussing? Was it the "up-the-butt" post? Or am I just unfunny and lame? Oh Facebook friend, why hath thou forsaken me???? Why???

In my defense, I can assure you all that I am actually a very classy individual. I'm a lady, allright? At least where (and when) it counts. All of my friends can vouch for this. (Right friends?) So I apologize if my sarcasm and bad language have offended you. I will try to start cussing less. I can’t promise anything, but I will fucking try.

Thanks for reading! Leave a comment while you're here!

Top 8 Things Strangers Say to Me About My Huge Pregnant Belly

Here I am at 36 weeks. Yee-ha! Needless to say, the glory of my huge pregnant belly is attracting all sorts of strangers and their witty comments. Here are the Top 8 Things Strangers Say to Me About my Huge Pregnant Belly.

1. Are you having twins? Fuck you. This comment is so fucking unoriginal that I won't even glorify it with a response.
2. There's something in there that wants to get OUT! This one was actually kinda funny, because I was in Rubio's buying a burrito, and the guy that said it had a southern accent.
3. When are you due? Today? Ha ha ha. No, actually in a few weeks, but since you're so fucking hilarious I'll save you some of the afterbirth.
4. You must be soooo uncomfortable. No, not really. But come a little closer and I'll show you uncomfortable...watch me kick you in the shins!
5. I can't even tell you're pregnant from behind! Apparently this is a compliment, but it just underscores the fact that the only place I have gained weight is my belly, which means that my baby is going to be HUGE.
6. Is your husband a big guy? Again, insinuating that my baby will be HUGE and I must have a Neanderthal husband in order to create such a large baby. (For the record, at 5'11 and 180, I don't consider Ian a particularly "big guy.")
7. You're having a c-section, right? As a matter of fact I'm not. I am going to attempt to push this baby out, risking my vagina's life in the process. Thanks for reminding me!
8. You're having a healthy baby, so there's a lot of fluid in there. This comment was from my friend Barbie in book club. This comment actually made me feel sooo much better, because YES, I am having a very healthy baby, and with healthy babies come a LOT of fluid! So it's not all baby in there, it's just a lot of fluid. And it doesn't hurt when fluid comes out. Yay!!!

So next time someone asks me what's going on with my belly, I'm going to say, "Back off. Obviously, there's a lot of FLUID in there. GAW."

Anyway. I'm more than a little scared of this birthing experience. May the force be with me! (And lots of drugs.)

Anyone else here push out baby #2? Was it easier, faster, or less painful in any way? If so, please share!

Up the Butt on my Birthday

During my last doctor's appointment, I was informed that it was time for the Strep B test. I totally forget what this is for, but I do know that it involves the doctor sticking something up my butt. "Great," I grumbled to myself as the nurse told me to disrobe from the waist down. As if--with all that's been going on down there lately--I really want something up, or even NEAR my butt area.

But strip down I did, and luckily my doctor was speedy and painless in collecting the specimen.  Whew...glad that was over!

Today, I showed up at the doctor's again for yet another appoinment. (I'm 37 weeks so I go every week now.) Actually, my real doctor is on vacation drinking wine in the South of France, so this was another doctor. 

"Well, it's time for your Group B Strep test," the nurse announced as I got comfortable on the table. "Please disrobe from the waist down."

"Hey, wait a second," I objected. "I already got that test. I got it last week with Dr. Nystul."

"You did?" she asked. "Hmm...the computer doesn't show ANY record of it!"

"Well, I got it," I said. "And I'm really not anxious to do that one again. Besides, it's my birthday!" This is true. Today is my birthday. I am 34 years old today.

The nurse apologized and said she would look into it. Well, turns out the results were "lost" somewhere in the lab, and I had to repeat the test.  GEEZ!

Luckily, this doctor was also fast and efficient, so it wasn't too uncomfortable, but STILL. No one wants something stuck up their butt on their birthday!

The good news is, I am 3 centimeters dialted and 50% effaced, so it looks like Baby Holland MIGHT arrive prior to her due date on June 6. Happy with this bit of information, I practically skipped out of the office, immediately forgetting the prior molestation.

I was almost home when my cell phone rang. "This is the nurse from Dr. Pattengill's office," the voice said. "I am soooo sorry to do this to you, but we have to ask you to come back and do another Group Strep B test. I used the wrong culture, so we need to re-test. I'm so sorry."

Seriously??? On my birthday? So back I went. Of course, I called Ian to complain on the way over. "It's my birthday, and I have to get something shoved up my butt, not once, but TWICE."

"Well, it could be worse," he said.

"Really?" I asked. "What's worse then getting something stuck up your butt twice on your birthday?"

Ian laughed and admitted that he didn't know.

Anyway. So, to reward myself from getting poked up the butt TWICE on my birthday, I ordered this from Gilt.com. It's the Janet Tundra shoulder bag from Badgley Mischka.

Isn't it lovely? Except, instead of $498, I got it for $149 on SALE. In case you didn't know, that's a savings of $349, or 70% off. Did I NEED this new bag? No, I did not. But I think I deserve it after my day!

Kids and the Sickening Cycle of Sickness

Marley is sick. Again. For like, the third time in a month-and-a-half.

We wash our hands religiously. We disinfect like crazy. We take our vitamins. We juice carrots and kale every morning. And yet, sickness comes back to rain on our parade. Sometimes I feel like the days when she doesn't have a runny nose or a cough are an exception to the rules. A little break in the clouds of an otherwise overcast cycle of sickness.

Just yesterday morning, we had waited over an hour and a half in the doctor's office to hear the groundbreaking news that--WAIT FOR IT-- Marley has a COLD. No ear infection, no flu, no whooping cough, no lung infection. Just the common cold. Alas, it is a NEW cold, a different one from the last two she had. SUPER. It was recommended that we give her Tylenol, turn on the humidifier, and push fluids.


So glad I spent all morning exposing my child to scary viruses in the pediatrician's office to hear this shocking bit of advice.


Last night, after we put her to bed, Marley coughed so hard that she threw up. "Mommy, mommy, come look!" she yelled to me from her room. I walked in there to find some barf on her pillow.

"Mommy, I threw up!" shouted Marley, almost proudly. "I threw up like a BABY LION."

Now, I'm not sure where or when Marley witnessed a BABY LION throwing up, but she was pretty convincing. "Just like a BABY LION," she reiterated as Ian and I stripped the bed and threw the sheets in the washer.  Hmm. Yeah...good times!

Top 10 Things No One Told Me About Being a Mom

I hope everyone had a wonderful Mother's Day! Yesterday, on my 33rd month of being a mom, I found myself marveling at all the funny, weird, and wonderful little things that come along with motherhood.

Some of them were expected, but some of them...well, let's just call them surprises. So, without further ado, here are the Top 10 Things No One Told Me About Being a Mom.

1) That I would pee my pants a little bit every time I sneeze, laugh, or do a jumping jack.
2) That getting up at 7am is considered "sleeping in."
3) Kids birthday parties are actually FUN! (Bonus points for bouncers. Double bonus points for parents that provide on-site alcohol.)
4) From now on, going to the DMV by myself is "relaxing."
5) The distinct thrill that is giving my baby girl an enema.
6) That my tolerance would drop to zero...now two glasses of wine gets me WASTED!
7) That my 2 year old daughter would barge in on me while I'm in the bathroom, asking if I needed help with "the wipe."
8) That I would ever be happy to see Chuckles the Clown.
9) That it would be this crazy.
10) That it would be this awesome.

Thanks for reading. Do you have something to add? Leave a comment while you're here!

There Ain't No Dollar Sign on a Peace of Mind

Sometimes it's tempting. I sell real estate for goodness sakes...I know how good the conditions are for buyers right now! And yet, here we are...renting.

True, we own an "investment" property in Mission Hills we are currently renting out (although it hasn't proven to be such a great "investment" so far, considering we bought in the peak of the market.) But now, with prices and interest rates down so low, it's really, REALLY tempting to get back into the market.

Trouble is, we live in...Coronado! Probably the most expensive place to buy in San Diego. And I love it here! I don't want to move! And let's face it...there isn't a whole lot of inventory in Coronado under the $700k mark for a 3 bedroom dump. Could we buy something here? Sure...and with our commission-only jobs, we'd have a super-high mortgage payment and be stressed out and frazzled, and Ian would be crazed trying to sell boats every month to meet our expenses.

Doesn't sound like much of a life to me.

After all, I'm not a big breadwinner anymore...for now, I'm a mom first, and a real estate agent second...helping my mom (and partner) with marketing and internet stuff from home, roughly 10 hours a week. I also pick up brainless freelance writing gigs (as in brainless, I only take on writing I could do in my sleep). I know I'll get back into the game someday, but for now...well, you get the picture! Motherhood is exhausting enough...and for me, it's more rewarding than any job I've had. (Not to bag on any of my rockstar working mom friends...you ladies are amazing and sooooo talented, and boy do I admire your stamina! I mean, not only are these chicks wonderful mommies, but they run entire schools and are vice presidents of banks.)

I digress. If we were smart, we'd probably buy a house inland (OK, I call east of the 5 "inland") and we'd fix it up, let it appreciate over time, and sell, thus accumulating wealth. But then we have to worry about schools (there are great public schools in Coronado) and we'd give up our easy island lifestyle. Just doesn't sound very enticing!

Or, we could buy another investment property with 20%-30% down and rent it out. This would probably make more sense, but then there's that pesky problem of parting with the downpayment.

I don't know. Sometimes I wonder if if we're doing the right thing. We know we won't get rich this way--renting in great neighborhoods, not taking advantage of great buying conditions, and me barely working. 

The thing is...I think we FEEL rich now. We live a rich life. I see dolphins every day, for goodness sakes. We live a relatively stress-free life.  And if money can't buy you freedom, then what is the point of acquiring it? It's like that country song I love, "Chicken Fried." He says "There ain't no dollar sign on a peace of mind...this much I've come to know." And peace of mind doesn't necessarily have anything to do with a big bank account.

Still, sometimes I find myself wondering, are we doing the right thing for our family? Then I'm reminded that yes, we are.

Marley crawls into our bed every morning and snuggles with us as we wake up. I relish not having to haul ass off to work everyday and the privilege of enjoying our quiet mornings. While Ian snored on one side of the bed, I relaxed on the other and Marley was wedged in between us, she smiled, looked at us both and said "Nice family."

That's all I needed to hear. For today :)

My Dirty Laundry (in the Twilight Zone)

I run the dishwasher and do the laundry EVERY SINGLE DAY. But no matter what I do, my kitchen sink looks like this:

and my dishwasher looks like this:

My dirty laundry hamper looks like this:

and my washing machine looks like this:

And it's even HARDER to get all this crap done when outside, it looks like this:

But really. What the F? Does a small family of three (one of them pint-sized) really generate this much housework? We don't engage in multiple wardrobe changes (at least Ian and I don't) and we try to re-use our glasses and sippy cups. Must I continually, indefinitely, and incessantly run the dishwasher and clothes dryer to maintain the delicate balance of an unchaotic home?

What's going to happen when Baby Holland comes? When I have to start cleaning bottles and breastpump parts again? (Oh lord, the breast pump!)

Sometimes I feel like I'm in the Twilight Zone. I do the all the dishes and put them away, only to open the dishwasher and find it FULL of dirty dishes again! Wet towels and toddler pajamas leap out of the dirty laundry basket and haunt my every step.

It's just creepy, that's what it is.

Anyone else getting spooked by the ridiculous amount of dirty dishes and laundry created by your family?

Behold: Porn for New Moms!

My good friend Brie surprised me with a sweet little morsel of a gift the other day, a book that all moms should read. No, it's not What to Expect When You're Expecting or the Happiest Baby on the Block...this little treasure is called Porn for New Moms.

Porn for new moms? I was confused! But I must admit..my interest was immediately piqued. Porn for new moms? Really? What could this be? Did Brie really bring a book of pornographic materials into my house? Or was this a gag gift? Was it safe to look at around my daughter? Though innocent enough, the cover held a strange allure:

What was INSIDE? I just had to know.

I tore into the book. Inside I found pictures of hot men in various stage of Daddy-dom...changing diapers, cruising baby around in the Bjorn, vacuuming, and cooking dinner for Mommy...complete with funny quotes.
I found myself simultaneously laughing and excited by these pictures...lets face it, the guys are hot, and they all have such big, pulsing...hearts!

For your own...er....reading pleasure, I have included photos of a few of my favorite pages. Enjoy!

Turns out, there is a method to this madness...the pictures in this book are scientifically proven to get new moms all hot and bothered. The Cambridge Women's Pornography Cooperative (CWPC) actually spent months in a lab testing all sorts of titillation to see what turns new moms on. They brought in all sorts of men in various stage of undress in front of a group of new moms. The response? Lukewarm. But when they brought in daddies with newborn babies--and had them perform simple household tasks--the readings went off the charts!

Needless to say, I immediately ordered two more copies on Amazon and re-gifted the original to my friend Alicia, who had just given birth to her second daughter.

And husbands, are you getting this? If you want to get lucky tonight, help us take care of the baby and do some housework, for goodness sakes!