Field of Shame: When Soccer Practice Attacks!

I was at Marley's soccer practice, and I was already feeling like sort of a douchebag.

I signed her up for the Coronado Soccer League at four-years-old, thinking it would be pretty awesome to get her on a team sport. The kids look soooo darn cute in their little soccer outfits. And how awesome would the GAMES be? Four-year-olds playing eachother? Hilarious! I envisioned quaint team practices with the mommies trading parenting secrets, and Saturday mornings drinking Bailey's and coffee out of plastic cups while our delightful offspring scored goals in matching hair ribbons.

Um...yeah.

On the first day of practice, I showed up 30 minutes early with both girls in the Double-Bob to find no less than 8 different groups of 4-to-5-year olds practicing soccer at Tidelands Park. I felt like a big ass trying to find her group. "Are you with the Coronado Soccer League?" I'd ask. "Yes, I think all of us are." "Oh....I'm trying to find our group...it starts at 4:30?" "Oh, well, that's 30 minutes away...they probably aren't here yet!"

Finally I did find her group, and I was a little bewildered to find that there were only 3 other girls on the team, and one of the girls was like a 3-foot-tall-David Beckham with pigtails. These kids knew how to PASS THE BALL. They knew how to TRAP THE BALL. They knew how to STEAL THE BALL from other kids and SCORE A GOAL.These kids were 4 and 5 years old. What the fuck?

Now Marley's played soccer before, with Little Rascalz, which is a different program entirely. They talk about taking the "shark food" (soccer balls) and bringing it to the "shark cave" (the goal.) Now I felt like a child abuser, throwing her in the midst of such talent and skill, such sportsmanship and synergy, such...well, real SOCCER.

To be fair, Marley did great. She stepped her game, kicked the ball, and had fun with the other kids. I, on the otherhand, was a little bit of a mess--chasing after 15-month-old Holland as she trolled from stroller to stroller, digging around for snacks like a drug dealer looking for drugs--and on some occasions scoring (I found her with half a granola bar in her mouth and a bag of Cheetos when my back was turned.) But Marley was amazing.

Until today.  Our third practice. We were two minutes late. Marley does NOT like to be late. I know this, and always get to everything early. But today, I couldn't get organized, couldn't get the snacks packed fast enough, the water bottles full enough, or the diapers and wipes in the stroller quickly enough.  And we were late.

Marley arrived on the scene and the kids were already kicking the ball around. Marley was NOT PLEASED.
"Mommy, my finger hurts, I can't play soccer today," she said.
"Marley, you can totally play soccer, you played at the playground all morning.Your finger is fine," I said.
"I have a hang nail!"  she protested.
"Marley, you play soccer with your feet, not with your hands. Go play!"
After some reluctance, Marley reported for practice out on the field. By the grace of God, they started with a game of "Duck Duck Goose," her favorite.
Finally some kid picked Marley and she raced after them until....SMACK! She fell on the ground.
"WAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!" She screamed and ran torwards me.
"It's OK Honey," I said, giving her a big hug and comforting her.
"WAHHHHHHH!!!" screamed Marley. Now everyone was staring at us. No matter, I told myself. She's only four, shit happens.
"OK Marley, it's time to go back out," I said.
"NOOO!! My head hurts! My belly hurts! My eye hurts!!!!" she screamed.
"Marley, you are fine, let's go play again," I said, walking her back to the field.
"NOOOOOOO!!!!! AGGHHHHHHH!!!!!!" She yelled.
"This is NOT OK," said my mom who had joined us for practice. "She is FINE, and she's making a huge scene! This is just EMBARASSING."
""Come on Marley, time to get back out," I said.
"WAAAAHHHHHHHH MY HEAD MY EYE MY BELLY!!!!" Screamed Marley.
The coach came over. "Come on back, Marley,. we're going to play a new game! It's super fun, come and play!" he said.
"WAAAAAAAAAA NOOOOO!" Screamed Marley. By now parents from other soccer practices are watching us from across the field.
"You HAVE TO MAKE HER GO, "said my mom. "She has to learn the world does not revolve around her!"
"I KNOW!" I hissed. "Marley, I know you fell, but you are OK. You are going back onto the field RIGHT NOW!"
"NOOOOO!!!!" screamed Marley.
I grab Marleys hand and drag her out to the field kicking and screaming the whole way. She runs back after me.
That's it! It was time to pull out the big guns.
"If you don't go, you don't get to play MarioKart ALL DAY TOMORROW. Do you hear me? NO MARIOKART!"
Marley turned and looked at me. "Mommy, I don't CARE about MarioKart. And I don't CARE if you take away ice cream either. No matter what you do or what you take away, I'M NOT PLAYING SOCCER TODAY."
"Fine," I said. This is IT! "I'm putting Holland in the stroller and we're LEAVING YOU HERE BY YOURSELF." I pick up Holland (who promptly starts screaming because I've removed her from a bag of soccer balls she was trying to chew on.) I start walking away with Holland in the double stroller.
"NOOOO MAMAMA!!!!!" Marley starts screaming a shrill scream and runs after me, dragging onto the stroller and throwing her body around like a possesed demon. Ok clearly this approach was not working.
"Marley, you are acting like a BIG BABY and you are EMBARASSING THE FAMILY," says my mom. "GET OUT THERE NOW." And my mom drags Marley out to the field.

"Oh my gosh," I mutter to the moms sitting next to me. "This is crazy. What do you do when your kid does this?"
"It's hard," one mom answers. "Did you threaten to take away something she loves?"
"Yes," I sighed.
"Did you threaten to leave?"
"Yes," I confirmed.
"Well, you just have to do what your mom did...walk her out there and make her stay."
"Yeah, but there is NO WAY she is staying out there," I said. "Watch, Marley is going to come running back any second. She is so strong-willed."
I looked up, and saw my mom walking back.
And guess what? Marley stayed. In two minutes she's out kicking the ball around again, smiling and playing, not a care in the world.
"I'm proud of you!" one of the mom's said to my mom.
"Thanks," said my mom. "Now Christine, you just have to be more firm with her! I told her she had to stay, and she stayed!"
And now I'm feeling like a huge MEGA DOUCHE-BAG. I can't control my own children and have to rely on my mom, who is a bonafide senior citizen, to take charge.  I want to curl up in a ball and cry. I SUCK!!!

"Mom,"I say. "I could do that, but I'm always worried about what Holland's getting into, I have to watch her too you know. Watching two kids is hard!" I say, trying to salvage some self respect.
Wait, where IS Holland? I finally find her, she's climbed into someone else's stroller and is eating cheerios. Just then the stroller tips over with Holland inside.
"WAAAHHHHH!" She screams.
All I can think about is going home and drinking wine. I'M SUCH A LOSER!!!!

Anyone else have a strong-willed child who defies your every effort to take charge, and makes a huge ass out of you in public? Any advice, please?

Hello, Bliss.

I'm floating in a beautiful, serene silence. I don't hear anything around me except the rustling of palm tree fronds. Occasionally, the chirp of a small bird reminds me that I'm not alone. There's nothing to bind me, nothing to hasten me, nothing to stop me. I exist only in this moment of complete peace and harmony.

Where am I? Laying on the beach in Tahiti? Zenning out in yoga class? Tripping out on acid?

No, I am at HOME! Today is the FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL, Holland is NAPPING, and I am alone in my house of harmony!!! THE DAY HAS COME AT LAST!!!!

Now there are lots of things I COULD be doing. I could be paying our estimated taxes. I should empty the dishwasher. I could pick up Pekingese turds from our front patio area. I really, really, really need to clean out our kitchen pantry, the one that barfs out plastic utensils, flour, and dog treats every time I open it. (Sorry Ian, I will do the pantry tomorrow, I promise!)

But today...THIS moment, THIS nap time, THIS first day of school, this is MY TIME!!! I shall twirl through the house like a fairy! I will smooth out the covers on my bed! I will start the second book in the 50 Shades of Grey series! I will try on my new wrap-around-visor that was cheaper than the Helen Kaminski visor I wanted, but still pretty cute! I will TAKE A SHOWER!

Ahhhhh. Life is good. It is moments like this that make me very, very, very happy to be a stay-at-home mom.

Anyone else experiencing similar moments of back-to-school glory?

Top 7 Parenting Mistakes I Made This Summer

Yes, this was my FIRST summer being mommy to two mildly-functioning humans. Marley, 4 years old, and Holland, 15 months, are both little people now....there's some talking, a little walking, and a lot of pooping.

True, I was a mommy of two last summer also. But that didn't really count. With a newborn, I was in a sleepless-haze-stupor and have no recollection of what transpired during those warm, dewy months of craziness. (I think I was just glad to have the baby out of my body. All I remember is the Darth Vader-esque haaaa phoooo, haaaa phoooo of the breast pump gathering precious drops of goodness from my leaky boobs.)

This summer though....oohhh...I was fully awake! Awake for all of the happy-face-plant in the sand-and-seaspray moments of ecstasy. I witnessed precious first steps, squeals of delight, and the budding bloom of a beautiful and colorful big sister/little sister relationship.

But I was ALSO awake for "let's rip our diaper off and take a shit in the park." I was introduced to "toddler negotiating" and privy to hours of loud squawking from the backseat when any car trip exceeded 2.5 minutes.

Now that the 80-degree heat has retreated and cooler air is breathing some fresh life into my bones, I can see what went wrong...

Here are the Top 7 Parenting Mistakes I made this Summer.
1.) I signed up for too many camps.I guess I was nervous. With school ending and the prospect of endless hours of entertaining two kids, I freaked out. I signed Marley up for 6 weeks of camp at our local community center. The problem? It was from 9am until 12pm. Too freaking short!!! Basically, I rushed to drop off Marley, was late for Stroller Strides at 9am, worked out, went to the store, rushed home to feed Holland, and then rushed to pick up Marley. Marley was starving, rushed home to feed her. Rushed to put Holland down for a nap so I could wake up her in 2 hours to go to Marley's swimming lessons. Which brings me to #2....
2.) Signing up for swim lessons 30 minutes away. What the f-ck was I thinking? OK, this one is actually my mom's fault. She sold me on the classes and promised to help me with the girls. I think she "helped" three times, and then I was on my own...driving 30 minutes each direction in rush-hour traffic and chasing Holland around the perimeter of the pool while Marley splashed around. We lasted 6 lessons until we found something local.
3.) Taking my kids on a week long boat trip on a 39 foot boat. AM I FREAKING CRAZY? I still cannot BELIEVE I did this. For this fiasco, I will blame my husband, Ian. "It will be fun! Live it up, don't be so afraid!" My husband is a yacht broker and has a company "retreat" in Catalina each year. My dad was going on the boat too. I was a little nervous about staying the entire week, but also nervous about leaving the island alone and wrangling both girls onto the ferry by myself. So I went. To be fair, the girls did great! They fell asleep during the 5-hour crossings to and from the island. They slept all night, every night. My dad had a great time. My husband had a great time. Still, I GOT MY ASS KICKED. There is nothing crappier than changing shitty diapers and watching your wild offspring bounce off the walls in cramped quarters. Or watching them figure out various ways to throw themselves off the boat into the ocean. Yes, we spent plenty of time on land, at the beach, getting sandy (I was getting drunk) while my husband took cell phone calls. (Not his fault, just work.) There were some beautiful, fun, amazing moments, but it took a year off my life. So next year...I will go again, but brave the ferry and stay only....3 nights!
4.) Having ANOTHER ginormous party for Marley's 4th birthday. This was the LAST TIME we will every have a huge party in the park. Mark my word. If I do it again, SHOOT ME IN THE HEAD. Yeah yeah, the bouncer was fun, the kids were great, grandparents pitched in and helped out, and most importantly Marley had a blast, but it's too much work. Done and done!
5.) Forgetting that summertime is my husbands busy season and I would feel like a single mom all summer. It's not Ian's fault people want to buy boats in the summer and sales is a round-the-clock job. It's my fault for forgetting it! In the months of July and August he had about 4 days off. 4 days off where he was with us--but not with us--constantly on the phone, the email, setting up a showing or trying to keep a deal together. Next summer I will hire a special summer nanny who will help my tired ass out!
6.) Overestimating my ability to handle stress. Yeah, I think I'm kinda a badass. Turns out...I'm NOT!
7.) Over scheduling everything and not having time to just BE. I screwed up big time on this one. The last week before school has been so slow and beautiful...lazy late afternoons at the beach, fun splashing at the pool, feeling so free and liberating because we didn't have to RUSH anywhere. Next summer we will keep schedules to a minimum and embrace those slow, lazy moments. I promise...

So yes. It was a glorious, memorable summer, full of happy and joyful moments......but...oh hell, screw it.... I'm so glad this summer is over and school is starting!

Did you make any parenting mistakes this summer? Do tell!

Mommy Meltdown: When Birthday Parties Attack

Must we do this to ourselves? Must we?

Every year, I say, "That's it! No more complicated, expensive, stressful birthday parties for the kids. We're keeping it simple!"

And this year, I thought I was. For Holland's first birthday, we were keeping it cheap and chill! We decided to hold a picnic-style party at our local Coronado Concert-in-the-Park. It's basically a mellow night of music (played by musicians and bands of varying talents ranging from Pretty Good to Totally Shitty) on Sunday nights at our local park. Everyone brings wine and snacks,and the kids run around and cause a ruckus where the parents sip and pass judgement from a distance.

We would offer guests champagne and cupcakes, sing happy birthday, and that's it! Everyone would bring their own food and bevies, and they could hang and enjoy the music.

Could it be any chiller?  Why yes, it could.

Here is what the birthday girl's face looked like for the duration of the party:

Need I say more?

To be fair, this was not my fault, nor was it due to some grotesque error in party planning. Poor Holland (who is usually quite a jolly, happy little baby) decided to get her canine teeth in (or suffer the brunt of the pain) on the very day of her birthday. Her afternoon nap was short and screwy, and for some reason she decided to scream in horror whenever her beloved Gampy approached her at the party. WTF?

So yes, I was a STRESSED-OUT SPAZ at my child's birthday party.

I was already mildly stressed and tired from packing up all the champagne and cupcakes and trying to make sure that all needs would be accounted for in the park, while my husband decided to NAP ALL DAY.

And yes, Ian dutifully helped me load the car up and get things organized when it was time to go...but still...HE NAPPED ALL DAY. He shouldn't be allowed to do that while I'm packing up watermelon in tupperware and filling a cooler with juiceboxes and booze. He shouldn't be allowed to SLUMBER while I'm wondering, Do we have enough cups? What if no one comes? What if we run out of cupcakes? What if I slice off my finger cutting watermelon?

Thank goodness my mother-in-law was there to help me (and yes, Ian pulled through at the end) but I was still a spastic mess.

And, for whatever reason, this was the face we saw for most of the party. (I'm showing it to you again in case you missed it the first time.)

So I'm feeling like shit because my kid is clearly NOT enjoying her party. Whenever someone over 3-feet-tall approaches her to wish her a happy birthday, she bawls in horror.

Then big-sister-Marley, who was having a great time, representing for the family, spills the bubbles out of her bubble wand, then promptly sits down in the bubbly grass. She leaps up screaming "NOOKS AND CRANNIES!!!! MAMMA MY NOOKS AND CRANNIES! THEY ARE BURNING!!! MY NOOKS AND CRANNIES!!!  FIRE!!!" So we had to haul ass to the port-a-potties to make sure her nooks-and-crannies were ok, despite the stinging interlude with the bubbles (they were.)

Yeah. Well, it WAS great to see all my friends and their little kiddos, and Marley had a blast. Even Holland perked up when she got her cupcake.

But at the end of the night, I was sweaty, exhausted, pissed-off, and drunk from pounding champagne in plastic cups to block out the sound of Holland's crying.

Whew....anyone else do this? Get stressed out throwing their kiddos parties, even when they're trying to keep it all mellow and SIMPLE? GAW!!!

Top 10 Signs You Have an Online Shopping Problem

Wondering if you have an online shopping problem? Don't sweat it! I've done all the work for you. See the Top 10 Warning Signs below.

1. At 6am, 8am and 9am you can be found fixated on your computer like a crazed maniac, dragging and dropping clothes, shoes, rainboots, and baby hairbows into your cart before you can say "free shipping on returns!" If--during sale times--you find yourself in a compromising situation (ie, changing a poopy diaper, tending to a sick child, driving, or otherwise unavailable) you break out into a cold sweat, your pupils dilate and your eyes shift in the direction of your iPad. You're missing something BIG. You just know it.
2. You let your baby cry alone in the closet while you buy shit online. Hey, you were trying to get her some of the latest Tea Collection dresses on SALE! It was for her well-being. What is more important than using fashion to boost early confidence?
3. You spastically hoard items in your cart, and play silly games to justify your purchase. For example, you might put a bunch of items in your cart, then leave the house to do some grocery shopping. You tell yourself, if the items are STILL IN YOUR CART when you get home, it was MEANT TO BE and they are YOURS TO PURCHASE. If they're gone, then you weren't meant to have them. (I'm not saying this because I actually DO this.)
4. You're on a first-name basis with your UPS delivery man.
5. It's not unusual to receive 3 or 4 packages on any given day.
6. You start to think your UPS delivery man is hot. What? He brings so many awesome packages!
7. You hide your purchases all over the house, like a drug dealer hides his drugs. Then you wait until your husband and kids are out of the house and you check out your loot. Sometimes you'll even release a small witch's cackle when you open up the boxes, just to celebrate the elegance of being so sneaky.
8. You've unsubscribed to Zulily, Gilt, and Ruelala sale emails a few times each so you won't be tempted to check out the sales. Then you re-subscribe because you hate missing the sales. What?
9. Sometimes at 8:59am you will sit on the Gilt page and hit "refresh" every 2 seconds to get the best chance of scoring some cool shit. No, I do not do this.
10, You're a stay-at-home mom. Yeah! You're f-cked. Online shopping was made for sleep-deprived suckers like you, who can't manage to take their crazy-ass kids to the mall because they will FREAK THE F-CK OUT and make you wish you'd never left the house.

If you exhibit any of the warning signs above, it's time to get OFF your iPad and stop buying shit! What, you think money grows on trees?

Do you have issues with online shopping? The first step is admitting you have a problem. Please share your story and help others heal.

WHATEVER. What cool sites am I missing? Help me score!

Top 9 Things I Wish I'd Done Differently in Childbirth

I had the honor of helping throw my good friend Gretchen's baby shower the other day, and it brought back such beautiful memories of having my first baby.  The feeling of holding her in my arms for the first time, the wonder of her tiny little fingers and toes, the sheer joy of knowing she was finally HERE...and the suffering, carnage, and sheer horror that was my birth experience.

Yeah. Good times.

Now, I wasn't trying for a natural birth, or hypno-birthing, or a V-back at home, or any other ballsy maneuvers my much braver and ballsier friends have been attempting these days . I'd resigned myself to taking drugs, and was just hoping to push my little baby out in relative peace. Not such a tall order in these modern times, was it?  It was.

Here, for your reading pleasure...

The Top 9 Things I Wish I'd Done Differently During Childbirth.
1. I really, really wish I hadn't eaten that giant burrito in the early stages of labor. I wasn't really hungry. But it was 2 in the morning and I was really, really tired of counting minutes between contractions, and that juicy bean-cheese-rice-and-guacamole burrito was just sitting there, so neat and tempting, all wrapped up in that crispy yellow paper.  What would it hurt, to just take a FEW bites of this tempting morsel of goodness? Fast forward ten minutes. I've eaten the entire burrito and I am REALLY cramping up. The contractions are getting harder and closer together and I know it's time to go to the hospital. But....I just ate this huge burrito. Holy crap, I had to try to poop it out! Otherwise I was going to be one of those pregnant horror stories pooping on the delivery room table. And...guess what? I was.

2. I wish I'd told my husband to hurry the f-ck UP! When I wrestled Ian from bed at 3am, he looked like he might move pretty fast. I was ready to go. Bags packed. Kneeling by the front door in pain. When I heard....the shower running? Yes, my beloved was TAKING A SHOWER to freshen up before the birthing of our daughter. SHUT THE FRONT DOOR. Then, when Ian, smelling of cologne and shampoo, finaally managed to head in the general direction of the exit, he paused for a moment to turn on the stereo and select the right station for our dog and cat, so "they'd feel comfortable" when we were gone. I sh-t you not.

3. I wish we didn't listen to the "Boys in the Hood" by NWA on the way to the hospital.  What once was a perfectly good -rap song is now tinged with pain and fear.

4. I wish I'd gotten to the hospital ahead of the annoying couple in line in front of us in Triage. (See #1 and #2 above for reasons we were late.) This couple was annoying. She wasn't even in labor. I was practically doubled over on the floor, and she was TEXTING people. B-tch should have MOVED OUT OF THE WAY.

5. I wish I hadn't wasted my time making the stupid goodie basket for the nurses. They probably didn't give a shit, and I had no business buying ribbon and a basket from Michaels at 39 weeks and stuffing it with cookies. NO ONE GIVES A SHIT.

6. I wish I had told them to give me the epidural SOONER. Waiting until you are about to rip the I.V. out of your arm and wheel your pregnant ass to the window to plunge headfirst into the parking lot five stories below in the hopes of ending it all is TOO LATE. Why, oh why, didn't I get the epidural at 5 centimeters when I had the chance? Getting it at 8 is no bueno!

7. I wish I hadn't let that Nazi nurse midwife boss me around. She wasn't even a DOCTOR and I let her turn my epidural down because I was a "poor pusher."

8. I wish I'd remembered to that I had a SPECIAL BUTTON to self-administer more drugs. I was in so much pain I forgot about the button. Ian forgot about the button. My mom forgot about the button. I was clutching it my hands the whole time, crying, screaming, and wishing I was dead. Why didn't SOMEONE remind me about the button?

9. I wish I could remember the exact moment that I pulled my baby girl into my arms. A moment that sweet and perfect eclipses all pain, suffering, and fear. I wish I could articulate to my friends, pregnant with their first babies, that it is OK...everything will turn out just fine. And despite our "perfect" birth plans, God has his own plan, and hopefully it involves a lot of drugs!

Thanks for reading. Anything you wish you'd done differently during childbirth? If so, please share!

Are You Frazzled and Frumpy, or Just Plain Nasty?

Look at me. Look closer. Do you see it in my eyes? Pupils dilated? Shifty? Unfocused? Is it hard to tell if I'm about to cry, dissolve into giggles, or start speaking in tongue? Do I look like I might have a deadly explosive tucked into my fake Coach backpack? (Or is that just a box of wet wipes?)

Look at me. Look into my eyes.

This is the look of the Frazzled Mom.

I used to see those moms on the street. I laughed at them. Pitied them, really.  Moms with crazy, jacked-up hair. Moms with mismatched socks. Stained shirts. Moms who were always dropping things...keys, phones, bottles. Moms whose makeup was....not present. Moms who looked like they hadn't seen a shower in weeks.

Didn't they care? Didn't they know how they looked or how strange they acted? They were so frazzled and frumpy!

No, that will NEVER be me, I told myself. I will always remember to moisturize. I will wash my hair, at least every other day. I will apply lipstick and eyeliner. I will diligently coordinate my outfits, and never emerge in tracksuits. I will drink enough fresh-brewed coffee each morning so I keep my shit together in the Albertsons checkout line. I won't leave my wallet in my car. I won't lock myself out of the house.

And I didn't.

I held it together pretty well after I had Marley. (She's now 3.5 years old.)  I took care of myself. I brushed my hair. I applied underarm deodorant. There were bad moments of course, but nothing crazy.

Enter, Baby #2.  And now...well, let's face it...I am one of those moms. I do dumb shit. I look like shit.  I do dumb shit (lock myself out of the house) and drop shit (phone and bottle) while I'm digging through shit (digging in the dirt and Pekingese poop for spare key) and looking like shit.

I am both frazzled and frumpy.

But now that Holland is nine months old...I have noticed an alarming trend. It's not getting any better. In fact... It's getting worse. I am crossing the threshold. Things have escalated beyond FRAZZLED and surpassed FRUMPY.  I am turning into something far worse....something I never planned on, or even imagined.
And now, for your reading pleasure....

Top Nine Signs You're a Frumpy, Frazzled Mom...and Quite Possibly NASTY.*
1. You have hairy, bushly legs and eyebrows. You're going native down South...and if you're NASTY, you have a pair of stinky, hairy pits. That's just sick, get out your razor!
2. You haven't washed your hair in over seven days. You have clumps of dry shampoo flaking off your head and mucking your bangs together. You probably have grey roots. If you're NASTY, you have dandruff.
3. You have dark circles under your eyes...and haven't bothered to properly apply concealer. Cover that sh-t up! Honeybadger don't give a f-ck about your sleepless nights. In the very least, you should be wearing tinted moisturizer, mascara, and lip gloss. GAW. If you don't put anything on your face you're NASTY.
4. You have spitup (or is that shit?) smeared on your Lululemon workout top. That's pretty disgusting, but least you're wearing Lululemon.  If you're wearing a lesser brand go ahead and punch yourself in the face. Pull yourself together, you're NASTY!
5. You just pulled a month-old banana from your double BOB. Yes, bananas will liquefy if you leave that shit in your stroller. You're NASTY!
6. You just left a stinky, poopy diaper and a shit-smeared onesie in the trashcan in the Trader Joe's bathroom at Liberty Station last weekend. You are so beyond nasty.
7. You leave a trail of white powder where ever you go. Stop spilling your Enfamil everywhere...people are going to think you have a drug problem! Mommy's little helper indeed!
8.  When your husband takes you to Vegas for a night away from the kids, you get so drunk at dinner that you try to sneak up to the room to go to sleep at 9pm. When your husband tells you that you have to meet friends out at the club, you cry and try to lock yourself in the bathroom. You forget why you're crying, and you manage to pull it together long enough to change into some sleazy tight pants then tramp around a club in wobbly 4-inch heels.  Yup...you're NASTY.
9. You try to give your baby cheerios before she is ready, so she gags and projectile vomits all over the dining room table. Congratulations, you're not only a crap mom... you're also NASTY!

*I'd like to reiterate that this list is in NO WAY a representation of who I am as a mother. I always, always shave my pits and never, ever leave shitty diapers in Trader Joe's.  Also, I don't drink.

Is there anything I missed? Any other signs that you're a frumpy, frazzled mom...and quite possibly NASTY? If so, please share!

Date Night Disaster!

Okay, so it wasn't exactly a disaster...but it wasn't your typical night out, either.

It started innocently enough. Ian and I were on our Friday Night Date. (Yes folks, I've finally hired a babysitter--that is not a family member--to watch our two little bundles of joy every other Friday night. Now hubs and I can actually have a conversation...with each other. For date nights, I get to apply eyeliner, perfume, and brush my hair. Sometimes I get crazy and put on earrings. But I digress...back to the story.)

We live within easy walking distance of some pretty great restaurants, so we decided to stop at a nice seafood spot for happy hour.

I was in heaven. Giant glasses of red wine, the tastiest selections on the happy hour menu, my awesome husband, and no children in my direct line of vision. Hoorah! Everything was perfect...until I picked up some sushi with my chopsticks, and...


...from underneath my sushi roll....OUT RAN....A ROACH!!!

"No FREAKING WAY!" I jumped. "Did that just happen? Did a roach just crawl out from under my sushi roll?"

"Uh...I think it did!" Ian laughed. The funny thing was, we weren't mad. We found it hilarious. I mean, how often does this actually HAPPEN in ones life, in a high class dining establishment? I wouldn't be shocked to find a short-n-curly on my Taco Bell, but a roach in my sushi roll? Well, that's taking it to the next level.

Luckily, we had Ian's iPhone with him, so we were able to take a photo of the little guy. There he is in all his glory, taking cover under a plate.

"Excuse me," I said when our server--a nice, tall surfer dude--came back to our table. "We have a little friend at our table." Ian lifted the plate to expose the roach.

"NO WAY!" he said. He swiftly scooped the roach off the table into his hands. "I'm so sorry!" He disappeared.

"We are SO getting this meal comped," I smirked to Ian, as we slurped down our next glass of wine.  "For sure," he said.

Then, we got our bill.

"I was able to get you a little discount, considering you had an extra guest at the table," the server said. Wait a second here, a discount?

We inspected the receipt, and we were awarded a TEN DOLLAR DISCOUNT. And it states the reason right there on the receipt...ROACH.

Of course we had to document the receipt. 

So now, you know...if you find a roach in your food at dinner, its good for a ten dollar discount.

I know, I know...we should've complained to the GM or something. But we were having such a great time, and we didn't want a little roach to cramp our style. So we moved onto Candela's for another glass of wine...in a presumably roach-free environment. Oy!

Anyone else had anything nasty crawl out from their dinner on date night? If so, please share!