Yup...Marley and I are Famous (Sort of)

I don't know how to put this, but I'm kind of a big deal! They used my quote in this month's Parenting Magazine...SHAZAM! Check it out below.

Since we are now famous, Marley and I are anxiously awaiting our celebrity endorsements. It would be great if the folks at Serena and Lily wanted to sponsor us--like, they could hook us up with Holland's crib bedding so I don't have to spend $395 plus $40 shipping to furnish my second born's nursery. Or, Target could endorse us and ship us the rocking chair.

Seriously though, I do feel super cool that the nice editors at Parenting Mag chose to use our submission. If you haven't read the magazine lately, it's actually pretty awesome. I also friended them on Facebook because their posts are helpful and funny and not annoying.

Now, I'm just waiting for someone (oh, I don't know, like Parenting Magazine) to invite me to be a highly-paid celebrity guest blogger. Then, inevitably, someone will want to make my blog into a book, written by me of course. Naturally it will get turned into a screenplay and an Oscar award-winning film, starring Sandra Bullock. Then I could actually afford to buy the condo we are renting, join the HOA, go head-to-head with my lame neighbor and get the dumb rule overturned that says NO PRETTY AND CLASSY WHITE LIGHTS OR COOL LANTERNS ARE ALLOWED TO BE HUNG FROM YOUR BALCONY.

I digress. This is all besides the point. Thanks Parenting Mag for making me feel cool!

The Stay-at-Home Mom's Affair with a Juicy Tracksuit

I have a brown one. I have a blue one. I have a turquoise one. I even have the fake ones they sell at the Closet in Sports Arena for $10 a pop.

I admit it: I'm a sucker for Juicy tracksuits. Yes, they are kinda cheesy and lame, and are probably going the way of the Christian Audigier line after Jon started getting his photo snapped in Ed Hardy t-shirts, talking on his cell phone to skanky younger chicks.

Yes, when I think of the Juicy tracksuit, I think of Poway stay-at-home moms with big boobs and collagen lips. (No offense to any Poway moms with big boobs...but the collagen lips, really?) But the thing is, Juicy tracksuits are just...so...comfortable! And, as a stay-at-home mom myself, there is something wonderfully soothing about them.

I can throw one on and not WORRY about trying to match because it ALREADY MATCHES! I can wear one to Stroller Strides, go straight to music class and the grocery store without ever changing clothes. I can wear them with UGGs, flip flops, or tennies.

They make me feel young and spry. They put a little spring in my step. They even make me harbor the secret delusion that my butt is what is stamped across it...JUICY. They are playful and frisky, like the PT Cruisers of lounge wear.

Also, I don't have to suck in. I can even wear them pregnant because the pants ride so low...although I'm for sure stretching out the zip up hoodies!

Although I would never, ever advocate paying full price (hello, $200 for a TRACKSUIT, people?) I certainly have no problem buying them on discount at Nordstrom Rack, Loehmans, and my all-time fav, TJ Max.

Come on, admit it. You know you have one. What do YOU love about your Juicy tracksuit?

Ian's Funky Salami

This is a true story.



My dear husband, after a long day of work, decided to come home last night and cook up one of his famous homemade pizzas. God bless him!



Last night's dish was super doughy and garlic-y, with yummy sauce and delicious salami. Or so I thought.



As I polish off the last slice, Ian turns to me and casually says, "You know, you really need to zip up the plastic wrap better around the salami. It wasn't zipped all the way and it didn't look so good. In fact, I think you should take the meat off of Marley's slice."



Mind you, this is AFTER I have consumed three pieces of pizza with generous portions of the suspect salami. Oh yeah, and I'm SIX MONTHS PREGNANT.



I say, "Are you seriously telling me the salami I've just eaten is BAD?"



"Well, it's cooked, so it's probably okay, but you really need to ziplock the meat bag better," he says.



"What, so this is MY fault?" I ask, now bewildered and panicky.

Ian, "Yes, you need to zip up the meat better. And if it was bad, why was it in the fridge?"



"Dude, if it was BAD, why in the hell did you put it on our DINNER?" I ask.



As if this wasn't bad enough, after we do the dishes--just to rub it in--Ian says, "Let me show you something," and takes the bag of bad salami out of the fridge. Sure enough, it has turned a funky brown color. I start to gag.



"You put this meat on our PIZZA, then SHOWED it to me? Are you CRAZY?" I ask.



"Well, like I said, if you don't zip it up right, it will go bad."



Yes, ladies and gentlemen. Clearly, it was all MY FAULT that my husband served me a pizza with skanky salami on it. WTF???

An Open Letter to Christine's Boobs

Dear Boobs,



I was going through my wedding pictures the other day, and there, snug in my low-cut wedding gown, I saw you! My old boobs! Old friends! How I miss you, old boobs. You were so happy and perky and full of bounce and vigor!



And then...I had a baby. You turned from simply a "nice rack" (as my husband would say) to a life-support system for a newborn infant, delivering nourishment and comfort around the clock. For nine months. And then, when your work was done, you disappeared! Where did you go? Why hath you forsaken me?



Tube tops and strapless dresses--once so flattering and sassy--are now a thing of the past. Even nightgowns don't hang right! Now I don't even THINK about leaving the house without my special Victoria's Secret bra that adds up to two cup sizes (and it does, thank God!)



My husband, well, although he is a self-proclaimed "boob man" and was always your biggest fan, has taken it pretty well. I can see he misses you sometimes, but sadly, not as much as I do.



I wonder, is anyone secretly happy with their boobs after breastfeeding? (And if you are still breastfeeding, don't even think about replying because you still have MILK in your boobs.) And spare me all the "Motherhood is beautiful, my boobs are beautiful because they fed my baby." Boobs, I'm proud that you fed my baby also, but that doesn't mean I'm stoked on your decision to ABANDON me! And, even scarier, now I will have a second baby to breastfeed. What will become of you then?



Then again, maybe I'm missing the point here. Boobs, I know your job is to have a specific function in our society--mainly feeding a child--and yet we turn you into an object of lust and vanity. Perhaps this is all my fault. You did your job, you fed my baby, I should be stoked on you and not complain about you. I should be happy that--what is left of you--is happy, healthy, and for goodness sakes, cancer-free. I should be applauding you, saying "Go Boobs!"



But still. I miss the way we were.



As a society in general, I know we are too quick to run to the surgeon's office to cure our self-image woes, risking pain, recovery time, and other drawbacks. But...still.



I want you back, old boobs! (Although they wouldn't REALLY be you, they would be part silicone or saline or whatever they use these days.) I want my old body back. And if I can afford it, why not? Or is that vain, fruitless, stupid, or even dangerous?



Boobs, I guess I will just have to wait and see what the future brings. But if you want to come back for a visit...even if it's just while I'm breastfeeding...that's OK with me. I'd love to see you again!



XOXO,

me

Why You Shouldn't Put Pillow Pets in the Dryer

It was a rainy day...which means it was time to spruce up Marley's nursery. I decided that all the Pillow Pets needed a good wash. Bade (her sheep), Panda Bear, Whale (her Dolphin) and Bee all got jammed in the washer for a good suds-ing.

I read the instructions. They said to wash each Pillow Pet separately in a white pillow case and let them air dry. But really...who has time for that? I don't even own a white pillow case. What could happen? Certainly no terrible calamity would befall the Pillow Pets during a routine wash. So into the washer and dryer they went!

They emerged from the dryer looking...not so soft. And a little...singed! Sorta crispy, really. And what was that burnt polyester smell radiating through the garage?

Needless to say, I was devastated to witness Marley's family of Pillow Pets go from soft, plush animals like this:

To frazzled, bumpy, and not-so-soft, like this:

And here's what happened to poor "Bade."

Luckily, Marley was relatively unfazed by it all. "It's okay Mommy," she said, patting my back. "Bade is still soft....a little. He's a little soft."

Anyway, if you have any Pillow Pets, be sure to follow the washing instructions. And for goodness sakes...don't put them in the dryer!

Wednesday is for...Websites I Love!

If you've read my posts on Gilt and Diapers.com, you know I'm a sucker for online shopping. What's not to love? Not only does it help you be beautiful and fashionable, but online shopping keeps you and your house smelling fresh and clean! (Hello, Soap.com.) And as any seasoned shopper knows, the intricate and mystical maze of cyberspace can lead you to deals GALORE! (Who likes a little sprinkle of Ebay with their coffee in the morning? I know I do.)

Since a penny saved is a penny earned, there is nothing more rewarding then scoring a fab deal online, in the comfort of your pajamas and morning breath...no matter what time of day!

And so, I applaud you, the makers of Zulily.com, a freaken GREAT website for scoring amazing deals on stuff for you and your kids. It's kinda like a Gilt.com for babies and mommies. The website features different sales on different days, and like Gilt, the sooner you get there, the better chance you have of adding the choicest items to your cart. (Note: Zulily starts EARLY...at 7am Pacific Time, so it favors the early risers...er...the parents of early risers, because who wants to be UP that early?)

Today I found some awesome organic onesies for baby Holland (since many of Marley's hand-me-downs are poop-stained--I clearly needed them, it's not because they were cute and on sale) and I also got a sassy nursing bra for myself. (Who knew that they actually make sassy nursing bras? Black lace and all? Hello!)

And did I mention most of the stuff is 60% off? Check out the website and subscribe to their emails today. But don't be hoarding all the good stuff in your carts!!!

Sex Education for Girls: Part II

I know, I know...the timing is simply uncanny! On this Valentine's Day, I have decided to continue discussing my worries of raising two girls and teaching them to be sexually responsible. Because as a hormonal mom in her fifth month of pregnancy, it is never too soon to start worrying about this kind of stuff, right?

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As I mentioned in my other blog post, my own sex education was spotty at best. Following what I'll call a strict, La Grange-style, abstinence-only approach, I was assured that having sex before marriage would leave me pregnant, penniless, and ruined forever so no "nice" boy would ever want to touch me.

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Needless to say, these insightful teachings resulted in some scary close-calls and some supremely reckless behavior when I finally did start having sex...not until my 20s. Because I never bothered to get on the pill. Why? I don't know. It didn't occur to me. I only slept with serious boyfriends, and the pill was for other girls. Promiscuous girls. I was NOT promiscuous. I was a good girl! (Most of the time.)

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Until the dark day when I had to go to Planned Parenthood for the morning-after-pill. (I guess you can say our protection failed...as in, ripped in half.) The nice lady who gave me the morning- after-pill asked me what my current birth control methods were. "Uh...condoms?" I answered.

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"Hmm," she replied. "You know that condoms are only 85% effective, when they are used correctly? And mostly, they aren't."

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"Yes," I replied. I'd heard these statistics before. Hadn't everybody? But I guess I never thought about them in terms of my own peril and demise.

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"Wouldn't you feel better getting on a more reliable form of birth control, such as the pill?" asked the nurse.

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I had no good answer. Because there was only one answer. Yes, I needed to get on the pill. Why hadn't I done this before?

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So thank you Planned Parenthood Nurse for getting me on the pill. For this, I will always have a warm spot in my heart for you.

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Anywho, I am determined to do a better job preparing my girls for the consequences and responsibilities of sex better than my parents did. (Sorry Mom.) Though I don't want to be slipping condoms under their pillows in junior high (Oh God!), I don't want them to be afraid to come to me if they need to talk about sex.

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And I want them to fully understand the negative, dire, and life-changing consequences of having sex...on all levels.

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I asked my friends Susanne and Dan about this. They have a teenage daughter.

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"Marley will be smart, so you should engage her intellectually," said my friend Dan.

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Of course! Engage her intellectually? This I can do! And so, I have devised a fail-proof sex education plan to ensure that my girls will grow up as clean and pure as a first winter's snow. (Okay, so at least they put off having sex for AS LONG AS POSSIBLE, preferably for the rest of their lives, or until I am dead.)

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When my girls turn 13, hit puberty, or start getting invited to boy/girl dances (whatever happens first) they will be charged with a very special assignment. They will have to create a PowerPoint presentation entitled Pregnancy and STDs: Foul Aftermath and Food Stamps. They will have to complete said project and present it to me before they leave the house. EVER.

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As part of their assignment, they must outline in detail:

-The deadliest STD

-The grossest STD (with pictures)

-The most embarrassing STD, or the STD most likely to generate ridicule from others in gym class (with pictures)

-The most common STD

-The different types of STDs that, once contracted, you will have for the REST OF YOUR LIFE

-An overview of the failure rates of all protection.

-An overview of the lifestyle of teenage moms.

-The percentage of teenage moms currently on welfare.

-How much it costs a year to raise a baby.

-First hand accounts of grisly childbirths.

-What the inside of a homeless shelter looks like.

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I am pretty proud of my little plan here. What do you think? Anything else I should include? What else will scare the crap out of them?