Monday, November 30, 2009

Being a mother is tough work. Sometimes you need to sit your kids down and teach them some of life's lessons and this isn't always easy or comfortable. Sometimes, it's impossible not to contradict yourself. You just need to hope that you're raising a kid who has enough common sense to know what's what.

For example. It's important to teach your daughters that they need to love and accept themselves just as they are. That it's what's in the inside that counts. Aww... That's nice.

But you could potentially be doing your daughter a great disservice if you don't casually let her know that some people do need to wear makeup. Very much so. If you've done your job right, like this baby's mother did, she'll come to the right conclusions on her own.

TWINS: two babies, one bone.

That's all for now.

Saturday, November 28, 2009

I had a great morning. My dependent and I went to a friends house for breakfast. I also had a great night's sleep and woke up refreshed, ready to face the day. Last week, my silent partner and I went on a date and Spawn spent the night at her Grandmother's and we slept in the next morning.


Luckily, I'll be able to take up drinking again.

Friday, November 27, 2009

My day so far has been something else.
I got to sleep in until 9:3o and woke up to pancakes and coffee. Then, we went and test drove a... mini van. I know. Who the hell am I?! Since when do I consider 9:30 sleeping in???

Thursday, November 26, 2009


About a third of the way through my second pregnancy, I realized that something wasn't normal. From hearing about other peoples' experiences, I figured out that I was getting an inordinate amount of internal exams at my monthly pre natal visits. Like, every single appointment actually. According to everyone else on the planet, they were only subjected to internals at the end of their pregnancies. What the hell?? I don't get a bad touch vibe from my doctor, so I was left assuming that he was just very thorough. That's good, I guess. Right? Two appointments ago, the internals stopped. Neither of us talked about it. It was like all the other ones never happened. Then, I had an appointment today.
The nurse showed me into the room. She changed the paper on the table. She laid the too-small blanket out and left. It occurred to me that she didn't give me any instructions about what to do; what to take off. I took my boots off and stood there for a minute and all of a sudden, I was struck with the most horrifying realization, maybe of my entire life. SHE NEVER TOLD ME TO UNDRESS BEFORE! I just did it! And I guess, so I wouldn't be uncomfortable, the doctor 'examined' me as I seemed to want him to. Until, two visits ago, I finally realized that she didn't tell me to undress and so I didn't and then it was just a regular visit. It's like if my associate went to the doctors, dropped trou without warning and bent over, and so to be polite, the doctor did a prostate exam. I'm dying.

Monday, November 23, 2009

While waiting in a line tonight, I took advantage of a seat that opened up. I looked around to see if there were any old people who should sit too/instead. I saw one lady that was getting up there. It made me wonder: does pregnant trump old? And what about pregnant and with a toddler? Does that beat old? I guess maybe it's not so black and white. Like, if you have a cane, you're standing. You can lean! That's almost as good as sitting. Me? I've got nothing but dead weight dragging me down (metaphorically speaking).

Sunday, November 22, 2009

Praise Jesus.

I past by a Baptist church today and their signage informed me that they have Sunday school at 10am. That's perfect timing. Enough time to wake up, get breakfast, putter around, get Spawn dressed and leave for Sunday school. Now, it's important to note that we're not Baptists. We're not anything, really. I was unknowingly Jewish, habitually Catholic, momentarily Jahova Witness and lived on campus at a school of theology but still, I'm not really anything. But I am a lady who likes to brunch. And who am I to deny my child the joy of knowing the Lord? What's the worst that could happen? It's not like they try to sell prayers to get out of purgatory anymore. I'm sold! Not my soul but on the idea of putting Spawn in free Sunday school! I wonder if they have toddler classes? More importantly, I can just drop her off and go to a coffee shop, right? Ahh, it's not a deal breaker.I'd go to church, if I had to. Kid free time is kid free time, you know?

Saturday, November 21, 2009

My mother basically told me that I'm her favorite child. I'm sooo excited! I can't wait to find out which one of my kids I like best! I'll totally admit it to you, too. I might tell each of them separately that they're my favorite. It'll make them feel special.
Wait just a minute. Maybe that's what my mother's up to? Oooh. Well played. I've learned from the best.

Friday, November 20, 2009

If you are pregnant or have had a baby, I highly suggest you visit this site. WOW.

Some things are better left as childhood memories. Like pepto bismol and banana flavoured penicillin. I used to sneak swigs of pepto and banana penicillin. They don't do it for me like the used to. I guess they were just gateway drugs. One of my first 'chapter book' reads was Tina Turner's autobiography. It was a little inappropriate for early elementary and my teacher actually sent a concerned note home to my mother when I brought it in as my show and share. I was just so proud of myself for ploughing through such dense material. Things were a little, um, lax at my house so I probably could of read the kama sutra and brought it in for show and share just as easily. My school pictures were always a complete disaster. Hair unbelievably messy and just generally unkempt. I can't believe that a teacher didn't take me aside and pin my hair down?? It takes a village, people! Some things are better forgotten altogether. Even through the eyes of a child, some memories can't be gussied up.

Wednesday, November 18, 2009

Being a mompreneur has its ups and downs. The logistics of how it'll all work when BabyB arrives stresses me out. But as things begin to progress in the business department, I feel a little less stressed about the unknown and look forward to what's coming next... Here are some pieces that we did for Katelyn Fraser's new photography studio. The studio space is white and she wanted bright, fun pieces. We're working on some more for her but here is what we've done so far! To see more pictures of our stuff and all of Katelyn's beautiful pictures, check out her blog:
Is there a doctor in the house?
Parenting in public is different than parenting at home and people need to remember that. Some people may let their kids get away with more in public because they don't want to appear high strung or as angry as they probably are. I get annoyed if my dependent makes me look bad. I especially hate when someone says, "remember when your kid did this really annoying/bad thing?" I don't like to be reminded. But typically I like parenting in public better. It's easier because there are more distractions for her. Also, I can give her bigger chunks of food because someone is bound to know the heimlich maneuver.

Sunday, November 15, 2009

Sometimes people ask me if I forget that I'm pregnant.
I'm almost unreasonably bitchy, I pee when I sneeze, I'm practically narcoleptic, and I'm fat as hell. So, no. I don't forget that I'm pregnant.

Thursday, November 12, 2009


I have to pee so bad. So bad it hurts. But the bathroom is right beside Spawn's room. I would rather suffer the humiliation of peeing my pants (because who am I to keep that comedy gold to myself?) than risk prematurely ending her nap. I think the Government needs to install first floor half baths for parents. Put your money where your mouth is, Gov. Do you care about the kids, or not? Do you want them well rested, or not? I don't know about you but come next election, I am going to make sure that this issue gets the attention it deserves. Also, silencers for all dogs. And no children playing outside when my kid is sleeping. That's it! Is this not a democracy?!

Wednesday, November 11, 2009

won't anyone think of the children?

Isn’t it just so sad when a famous couples’ kid isn’t cute?

Sad. But satisfying.

After having a conversation with a stranger about how luxurious my son’s hair is, I decided to re-gift the boy’s hand- me- down coat she’s been sporting. I promptly bought a bright pink coat for her and that’s that. I tried. I tried not to care. I tried to steer away from all the pinks, lilacs, and so on. I really don’t want to dress her in pink and other ‘girl’ colours exclusively. Actually, I think what bothers me the most is the fact that her blue coat was obviously a hand- me- down. I don’t care about the gender confusion, really. Ultimately, that’s Spawn’s cross to bear. I had acne when I was younger, you know? And my brother had scoliosis. There are no free passes.

Who am I kidding? I still have acne.

This ad makes me think about this whole H1N1 vaccination business. Sometimes ‘they’ tell you that certain things are fine when they aren’t fine. Like, letting your baby sleep under a tanning light. Let me tell you and I won’t say it again: do not attempt to tan your baby with a diaper on. Because of their fragile, new skin those tan lines will take forever to fade. Last night I gave Spawn a bath. She cried a little initially but I figured she was just fussing because it was her first bath ever. When I took her out later, it looked like she had pink tights on. Oops! I guess the water was a little too warm! Her boiled lobster lower half was too cute though. At least I can blame every and any behavioral problem that my kids have on the vaccination. Like Jenny McCarthy. And then I can sue the Government. I don’t need to set up an education fund after all. Awesome!

I’m not sure when it happens but thank God it does. How horrible would life be if we never grew out of the crazy sleep moves that babies have? Every time I check on my dependent she’s in a different corner of her crib. Sometimes she’s sleeping on her back, sometimes her face. If we kept these nocturnal aerobics up, we’d have to be like couples on sitcoms from the 1950’s and sleep in twin beds separated by a night stand. There would be no way that two people could share one bed. Why would my silent partner put the box spring wrong side up and yet still put our mattress on top of it? It took a couple months but finally, I am sleeping in a mattress valley. While I toss and turn in a rage while my neck seizes up, I think about stuff like: if we tried sleeping in twin beds, separated by a night stand, would we have to have three night stands in total? Because who would control the light if you had just the one table in the middle? And I like symmetry. The only options could be three side tables, the one in the middle or none. And ‘none’ is just ridiculous. Where the hell would my associate put the change from his pocket that I steal for over priced coffee? Anyway, kids sleep stupid.

Why have I been under the impression that other mothers with young children are the demographic I should be trying to spend time with? People with dogs are where it’s at! They have to walk them everyday. More than once, actually. And people with new dogs are the real deal because they still want to walk them all the time and Spawn and I can tag along. With moms, I have to work around their kid’s nap schedules, eating schedules, etc. Bonus: Spawn will grow very comfortable at seeing a smaller being wearing a leash and this is something I want her to be very familiar with. I still haven’t forgotten about the baby leash. It’s going to happen. Very soon.

I just saw the craziest story on TLC’s I Didn’t Know I Was Pregnant. This woman discovered she was pregnant when she went into labour. Although she never wanted children, she managed to go full term and delivered a daughter. She said that she felt ‘love at first site’ when she held her baby.

Can you imagine?! I mean, can you imagine that she felt love at first site! I mean, she learned she was pregnant and delivered a baby within a few short hours! And it made me feel like the worst mother. I already felt like I had an abnormally long detached period toward Spawn when she first arrived. But I attributed it to the traumatic torture I had endured and decided it was ‘normal’. But friends who’ve since had babies never seemed to have this warming up period? Maybe with the next one I’ll feel this fabled ‘love at first site’. That would mean I loved my second child best. Off to a good start! What a winner!

To vaccinate or not to vaccinate. That is the question. I’m sure there is a direct correlation between distrust of the media and apprehension surrounding the H1N1 vaccine. At any rate, I’ve decided to do it. I was wondering if North America’s up-tightness was about to explode when it comes to touching in an effort to avoid spreading or contracting the virus? Forget about the double cheek kiss. Say good-bye to the strong handshake. Next up: curt nod. At first, the social weirdo in me thought that was great. Then the scientist in me thought I would help mother nature do her business and separate the wheat from the chaff. I’m moving right into open mouth kisses, full body hugs and aggressive eye contact to round things off. If you survive, great! If not… It’s survival of the fittest, people.

On an unrelated note: I’m bathing Spawn in scalding water and hand sanitizer. And outfitting her in plastic wrap, head to toe.

I want to congratulate my good friend who just arrived home from the hospital with her brand new baby boy! He is very cute and I’m not just saying that because she’s my friend. I’m not even close to that nice. Anyway, he really is exceptionally cute. So, congratulations on not getting any stretch marks! WOW. Way to go on the creating life, too! xoxo

This beautiful picture was taken by the talented Katelyn Fraser. Check out her website: and blog:

It's not me, it's her.

I feel so bad! I owe myself a huge apology. Why would I ever question myself when it’s so obvious now that it’s Spawn who has the problem?! I love being home with my child. I thought because I had gone so long without a break that maybe it wasn’t for me after all but then I had a lot of brakes over a period of days and felt refreshed again. My first full day back with Spawn we stayed home all day. She was cranky by noon. She was bored and not so fun to be around. Then it dawned on me that I don’t have a problem being a stay at home mom. It’s Spawn who has the problem. She’s not meant to be a stay at home kid.

Oh. I love this Gnome hat. And I love Etsy. You can click on the picture to be directed to the Etsy store and then you can buy it for me (Spawn).


Here’s something awesome about pregnancy: you need to dramatically increase your water intake. If you don’t, I don’t know what might happen? Maybe you’ll be thirsty and slightly irritable all day? Maybe you’ll slip upstairs to poop and you’ll be missing for nearly three quarters of an hour with a shit the size of a sweet potato that you’d swear was a brick? Maybe you’ll start to panic when it makes an appearance but gets stage fright only to freeze neither in, nor out? Maybe you’ll have to walk around the bathroom and do squats in a vain attempt to finish things up even though deep down you know that what you really need to do is bear down and practice your breathing techniques? Maybe you’ll have to check to make sure it isn’t, in fact, a baby? Maybe you’ll contemplate a trip to the emergency room or maybe just living with this outie poop for the rest of your life? Maybe when it’s all said and done, you’ll be left with a hemorrhoid the size of a kalamata olive, the legacy, if you will, of your harrowing and traumatic experience? Maybe life is just harder to face if you don’t stay hydrated, O.K? What a fucking miracle.

Being a Domestic Scientist has its ups and downs.

PRO: I spend my associate’s money. Exclusively. Having no actual income of my own at present.

CON: I have no actual income of my own at present.

Yesterday, I went to a certain department store and I picked out two items that I wanted needed. I handed the twelve year old cashier my silent partner’s credit card and she informed me that there was a ‘boy’s name’ on it. So? I asked. And she told me that she couldn’t put it through because it wasn’t my name and that ‘they’ are really strict about it. The injustice! This is how the exchange should have gone:

twelve year old cashier: This has a boy’s name on it.

me: No. It has a man’s name on it. My husband’s name to be precise (I don’t really need to go into details with her about this point. In this instance, it is convenient for me to give my boyfriend the title for free). I am the mother of both his children, a one year old daughter and one in utero child, gender unknown as of yet. Because of these circumstances I am unemployed and therefore, I need to live off of my husband’s earnings. That is why I am using his credit card. And while I’m not sure if he would approve of this purchase specifically (a very soft and useless blanket to replace a very soft blanket we already own and use), I assure you he is well aware that I am using the credit card. Because, you see twelve year old, when you’re a family, there really isn’t a “your’s” and “mine”, it’s “our’s” because we all make sacrifices for the greater good. Him: his money and credit. Me: my womb and figure. So, I’ll thank you to put the purchase through on the card and refrain from embarrassing other income-less stay-at-home mothers who already struggle with having to ask for money and who have to buy clothes at the grocery store so that purchase is camouflaged amongst the bread and milk. Have a nice day and shouldn’t you be at school?

This morning I literally laid on the floor and cried like a baby. I can’t really explain it. Spawn wouldn’t stop crying and I couldn’t face getting us both organized enough to go outside and actually do something. I think I’m the opposite of most moms. I feel guilty that my kid is not in day care. If she was at least there part time… She could learn about inukshuks, African drummers, social skills, etc. I’ve tried to do on line research to find out what I can do with her that would resemble ‘learning centres’ in day care but I can’t find much. That I want to do, I mean. For a couple days I was really worried that she was saying ‘Bo’ as in Bo on the Go, the cartoon. The thought that she was using some of her first words to say a t.v. show character shocked and terrified me. It turns out it was something that her Grandmother taught her and she was saying ‘boom’. In fact, it seems as though every time she comes back from a stint at her Grandmother’s, she’s learned a new word or skill of some description. I just hope that the benefits of hearing ‘I love you’ and getting hugs and kisses out weighs the inevitable brain atrophy she’ll experience from staying home with me.

“ It’s not as hard as last time! ”

I thought I would document every inappropriate comment thrown at me this during my second pregnancy. This comment came from a friend who noticed my growing belly, proceeded to poke it and then topped it all off with this lovely observation.

One friend was waitressing throughout her pregnancy and a customer asked her if she planned on having a ‘vaginal delivery’. I can’t think of any context that would justify someone you’re waiting on saying ‘vaginal’ to you? Can you say vagina without picturing one? Anyway, people stay stupid stuff to pregnant people and I’m keeping track. And I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t try to profit from this.


My new greatest fear is that my child will have reason to be on this show. It would be very humiliating. And inconvenient. I hate the emergency room. Spawn eating a D cell is pretty much the only way to get me to sit in that germ infested hell whole all night.

milestone: good timing

My child has reached yet another vital developmental milestone: good timing. I was initially bummed that Spawn (#1) threw one of her first tantrums in public. Tonight. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that I had completely missed the point!

Had she really wanted to piss me off, she would have lost it as soon as my food arrived or knocked my glass over or something. But she was a delight(ish) during dinner and it wasn’t until I picked her up out of the high chair that she decided to pitch a fit. I couldn’t make her stop and she even tried to ram my face with her’s (which makes me laugh, so nice try) and I gave up and quickly left the restaurant. In fact, I left so quickly that my brother had to pay for me. SCORE! My dependent is really starting to pay out!

You cannot teach that kind of timing, people.

Dare to dream

Someday. Someday… my Dependents will go to camp for two weeks. Someday… This is the one and only time that I will gladly pay for someone other than myself to go on a vacation. Talk about staycation!

How many peoples’ baby books actually go from hospital bracelet, to first hair cut, to first birthday, to first day of school? Not mine. Not my brother’s. And certainly not Spawn’s. I guess I’ll buy a baby book for Spawn 2 but I won’t be able to fill it out past 5 months or it will bite me in the ass later when they use it as proof that I love one more than the other. When I imagine that happening, I picture my ass being really firm and toned because after this baby, I vow to hit the gym. Hard. Back to my legacy of negligent parenting, I swore I’d finish Dependent’s baby book but I felt like I was back in university. One month would go by and I’d realize I didn’t write anything but would catch up later that night. Then two more months would go by and I’d have to cram, writing down half remembered milestones and maybe making up some stuff that I think she’d like to believe later on. Luckily, my good friend, Katelyn Fraser, just so happens to be a very talented professional photographer. I may not have documented Spawn’s first steps but she’s been professionally photographed at a Suri Cruise level. If it wasn’t for her, Spawn would probably bother me later on with allegations of kidnapping or secret adoption. Thanks Katelyn!

Check out her blog: and her website:

This just in: someone famous has a kid who is married to someone not famous and they are expecting their second baby! Ahhhhhhhhhh!

Now that you’ve recovered, on to the really important announcement: this pregnancy I will dress like this nobody. I have had people not once, not twice but three times tell me that when they picture me pregnant, they picture me in a certain blue dress that I guess I wore a lot. I then curse them with their own limited wardrobe when they’re pregnant. They know who they are. Back to me. I will own two or three pair of jeans that will magically always be a little bit roomy and a different coloured none blue top and different coloured none blue cardigan. I will be comfortable with an effortless sense of style. Alternately, I may be be a shut-in during this pregnancy because I suspect I’m really going to tip the scales this time. I can’t have that out there for people to see. It’s bad for my public image (as an eminent blogger and mompreneur). Oh, I’m also going to wear a good push up bra whether I leave the house or not. It sets the tone for your day.


While I do not have a fancy degree and I have not written books on child development, I have successfully survived the first year*. I thought I would pass on the wisdom I’ve acquired the hard way and hopefully you can avoid some of my mistakes or simply revel in my sophisticated parenting style. Let’s jump right in, shall?

One of my favorite and oft- quoted sayings is : don’t pee on my leg and tell me it’s raining. Which reminds me of today’s tip; if you have to pee, pee. Don’t put it off. This is not for your health but for your peace of mind. As soon as you realize that you’ve put off peeing to the last second, your very own Spawn will start to cry, decide to take his first steps, vomit all over herself, choke, sing the national anthem in it’s entirety (both official languages), or shit through his diaper and clothes. I also like: if my aunt had balls, she’d be my uncle. Anyway, you’re welcome.

*Disclaimer: I do have a regular degree and I write a blog, the poor man’s book, so…

It's official!

My mat leave has run out and yesterday I used a coupon for the first time. I am officially a stay at home mom.

click here to learn of one woman's personal hell.

The worst part of being a mother is feeding your kid. First of all, it needs to happen every day. At least three times. And then, she only has two teeth so I can’t just toss her a hunk of beef and go about my business.

Not all people are meal people. I wasn’t a meal person. And Associate does shift work and I’m not going to make a lasagna just for Spawn. It would take her a month to eat it and I’m not sure about month old meat. But this a la carte crap is really taxing. I thought nursing was a drag but there was way less prep and clean up.


Today I sneezed. And then I had to change my pants. What a fucking miracle.

People who make children's toys without volume control should be taken away from any innocent children’s eyes, brought behind the factory and shot. Honestly. Or at least given a time out or whatever the hell you’re supposed to do these days. I think shooting has always been a faux pas, as far as discipline styles go? Anyway, loud kid toys drive me insane.

What a difference a baby makes.

The differences between the first pregnancy and the second are astounding. First, it’s a totally different experience in that it is not as all- encompassing as the first time and also I feel sick almost constantly. But more than that are the reactions from people. Family seems barely aware of the new pregnancy most of the time. I feel like I can’t complain or milk it in any way. The first time, people are really excited but the second time people act like you’re in a dysfunctional relationship that you keep going back to over and over again and they’re sick of hearing about it because now you’re just asking for the drama and what the hell did you expect to happen? Maybe that’s my hormones talking.

But the biggest difference is from friends and acquaintances. Sometimes I get a ‘congrats’ on its own but I almost always hear some kind of judgement or questioning of my mental health. To be fair, a cursory glance at my family’s mental health history warrants the questions but somehow I don’t think that’s what everyone’s getting at. I understand when people who don’t have kids think I’m “crazy!” or “insane!” or “completely insane!”’ or “crazy insane!” for having another so soon but I can’t believe how many people with kids say it? Are their kids terrorists? Are they in a dysfunctional relationship? I mean, is it so crazy to have kids 18 months apart? Or is it crazy to wait so long that you’re starting all over again, forgetting the things you managed to do right, and having babies and toddlers for years and years, stretched out so you never feel like you’re out of that phase??

You know what is crazy? Two summers in a row without one mojito.

It’s too hot to move. It’s too hot to eat. It’s too hot to be productive. In short, it’s too hot to parent.

Don’t tell social services, k?

Listen. Sometimes I just don’t have anything left to give. I could think of worse things to do than to turn on a Baby Einstein DVD. Seriously. I could think of way worse things.

I’m thinking 8 is the perfect age. For me, as a parent I mean. Kids can get themselves up, get their own cereal, turn on the tv… You don’t have to worry about sexting or drugs. Maybe the odd cigarette. I guess I’d have trouble sleeping in if I thought my daughter was getting herself up, going down to the kitchen and putting the coffee on, checking her email, then stepping out on to the deck to have a morning smoke and a cuppa. Morning smokes are the worst. Like not making your bed. It really sets a tone for your day.

I guess there is no perfect age. Maybe 40. Yeah. I can’t wait till she’s 40! I think I’ll be able to relax then.

“ I don’t know why you let me go to University. It’s like taking me to the top of the mountain and showing me the world, and then marching me back down, and saying, “That’s what you can’t have Benny, you silly great fat article. Here’s what you can have: Knockglen for the rest of your life and married to Sean bloody Walsh!” I’d rather be married to a bloody lizard! ”

Bernadette ‘Benny’ Hogan, “Circle Of Friends”, 1995

In the desperate race for winning my love my only ex-utero child is slipping behind. Sad to say. She had been sleeping in until 8 or later for the last couple weeks but yesterday and today she was up at 6. Shame on me. Shame on me for trusting a good pattern to last. Have I learned nothing in the last 11 months?! Anyway, as I lay awake in my bed, bitterly disappointed that Spawn was yelling my name, I was reminded of this scene from Cirle Of Friends. I hear you, Benny. I feel your pain.

When I was pregnant the first time, I was scared of all the baby junk that fills your house. You know when you watch home decorating shows and the entire living room looks like a 2 year old’s bedroom with a coffee table? I didn’t want that. But I’ve learned that the more baby junk there is, the merrier my life is. The baby can play while I do “very productive stuff” and the more crap she has to amuse herself with, the more time I have to focus on making lists, hydrating myself, reading parenting books, and growing my next Spawn. Now I want more baby crap! In fact, take my stuff to free up more space! I don’t need a three chairs for guests to sit on! I need another basket full of blocks and I want a kid’s mini kitchen!

Or I did until I came across this picture of a playhouse. Light bulb moment: I’ll move into this playhouse which is much nicer than my current place, thus freeing up more space for my Creation’s crap. Plus, absence makes the heart grow fonder. It’s important to learn that all families come in different packages. And everyone knows that if a mom doesn’t get enough ‘me time’, the whole family suffers.

Click on the photo to take you to Pretty Patrol’s site if you think you’d like to buy you or your kid a twenty thousand dollar playhouse.

mompreneur idea:

As I held my sleeping child and stared into her beautiful visage I thought: I wonder what she’d look like with a coat of mascara? And then it hit me: baby portraits! A little rouge, a little lip stick and some pearls? Why stop there? A little shiner and baby sized baseball glove? A bloody medical coat and a mini stethescope? Some five o’clock shadow and pint size brief case??!! You get the picture. I think this could really go somewhere. Drunken Sailor? Starbucks Barrista? Bearded Lady? Who wouldn’t want this for posterity? And who wouldn’t want to look back at themselves at ten months, posing as a secretary drunk at her Christmas staff party? My daughter will thank me.

I wonder when you stop worrying that your sleeping child has died in their sleep? If I still lived at home would my mom worry about it? Say if I slept in really late? Would she consider knocking on my door? Would she worry that I had stopped breathing? Well, would she wonder if I stopped breathing? Once your kids are out of the cute stage, maybe that’ s what happens? You don’t stop wondering about it, you just stop worrying about it.

Doesn’t this look so fun? I think so too. I’m sure everyone is wondering: when/where is my next baby shower?? You may be wondering: is it appropriate to have a baby shower for the second baby? Good question. And the answer is no. That’s why I won’t be having one. For the baby. Last time was all about the baby. What about me? Here are some fun ideas for any of my friends who read this and want to take it on (so I don’t have to pretend to be someone else, start a fake gmail account, and send out my own evites as someone else so it doesn’t look like I lamely planned my own shower. Again)

  • cocktail party with ice cubes shaped like fetuses. This is a post-delivery party, naturally.
  • each friend writes on a calendar which day they will be babysitting SpawnS. This will be a legally binding contract.
  • Since I am now self employed, mat leave is a thing of the past. Each friend can set up a tithe that goes directly to my bank account in order to help facilitate my mat leave. After all, it takes a village.
  • Blessingway: A circle of women gathering to wish the mother-to-be well in her journey through birth. Gifts are rarely exchanged, though guests may be asked to bring a candle, a bead or something small to make a gift for the mother at the ceremony. If in fact, I should be surprised by this option, I will know who my true friends are because my true friends would know that this option is NOT for me. Similar to my new life with two kids, this would be a test of love.
  • Everyone can just send me gifts, write and mail their own thank you cards to themselves, and then talk about how thoughtful I am and how cute Kid B is.

Now, don’t the bullet list scare you. There is absolutely no reason why all of the above options can’t be done! Minus, the bead-candle one.

My silent partner and I have made a pack re: Kid B. We’ve decided that he gets to pick the name if it’s a boy, and I get to pick the name if it’s a girl and the doctor gets to pick the name if it’s a Hermaphrodite. This is risky. Well, not if I get a kick at the neonatal cat. Here are some top names that my associate has picked.

* Abraham. Alright, father of alllll the Jews. That’s fine.
* Izzard. A family name. Honest.
* Batman. A flawed superhero who must overcome his own demons in hopes to find true peace.
* Max Armstrong type names. Like Stone Danger and Rock Large Dick or something ridiculous.
* Wiley. Sigh. I can’t continue. No offense if you or someone you love is one of the aforementioned names. Well, if you’re name is Rock Large Dick you’ve probably developed a fairly thick skin by now.

Also, who the hell knows what the doctor would pick? Well, he’d probably just name it after himself, God complex and all.

Friday, November 6, 2009

For the life of me, I cannot understand what the hell she’s smiling for? If I had come accross this picture a little sooner… It would still be just Misc. Mom and Associate plus 1 Spawn. That’s not nearly as catchy of a title as Jon and Kate - marriage plus 8.

OH MY GOD. What have I done?


Maybe it’s because I couldn’t handle the new sense of freedom that I was experiencing from Spawn? Maybe it’s because I didn’t want to keep trying to lose those final pounds? Maybe it’s because I thought my Creation was getting too uppity with all the attention a baby gets? Or maybe it’s because biology has cornered me again? Either way, I’m having another baby! Finally, I will have the answer to the age old question, “can you love your children equally”? Here are some ideas I have to keep SpawnS on their toes:

* a chart that looks like a horse race track, each child being a horse and forever moving them forward one at a time depending on their goodness, helpfulness, talents, etc. The race track, of course, is a circle which really speaks to how they will always have to continue to try to be better than each other and win my love.
* picking days of the week for each child to be my favorite so that they each learn to try and please me and how see how bad second place feels.
* spearheading a Take Your Kids To Work plan at my Associate’s work so I can never be home alone, out numbered by SpawnS.
* Since my children will be about 1.5 years apart, I will expect, from day one, that kid #2 will be exactly like kid #1. It would just be easier to plan activities and meals that way.

That’s all I have for now but I have nine months and about one hour for labour and twenty mins for pushing to figure out the details.

The stretch marks on my stomach have finally faded. I no longer look like I fell into the lion’s cage at the zoo right before lunch. Well, I look like I fell into the lion’s cage at the zoo about a year ago. As I was looking at my stomach in the mirror today I saw my stretch marks in a new light. The light of day. Because I try very hard not to look at myself in daylight. I prefer to look in the mirror lit only by a couple tea lights. And only after a martini or two. But today was different! What I saw was beautiful. I asked my associate to take a look and please confirm that my stretch marks did indeed look like iridescent waves shimmering in the moonlight. He did not see this. After I reminded him that he never supports me and to love me is to love my shimmery sea scape, he realized that he did in fact see the ‘moon ocean thing’. My body is art!
My Creation never ceases to amaze me. Just when I thought she had reached the peak of her development for a couple of months, she did something completely out of no where: the oft overlooked developmental milestone known as Clapping. And thank God it happened. It would have been so awkward to take her to the theatre if the actors assumed she was refusing to applaud. But most important of all: the sarcastic, slow clap. Sometimes this genre of clap is the most efficient response to a bonehead move. Not to mention the supportive, building clap popular in teen films. I’d hate to know that her options to be sarcastic or a film extra were hindered because the part of her brain that told her to clap atrophied before her first bday. I applaud her development. Because I can.

Baby Bonus # 4

I can hide behind my Spawn! I can hold her right in front of me! That way I can let it allllll hang out. Also, since nobody talks to me about anything else anyway, I don’t have to worry about coming up with something witty to say. What a relief?

Of course, it’s the baby’s fault that I have anything to hide in the first place. Sigh…

Women are the new men.

I have to take the garbage out. And I do the majority of the BBQing. There’s something wrong with this picture.

Here are the choices I presented to my associate this morning:

1. marry me.
2. or pay for me to get a boob lift and a tummy tuck when I’m done having babies.

If there is anything to learn from this Jon and Kate Plus 8 debacle it’s that a gal needs an insurance policy because even having twins and sextuplets doesn’t guarantee you anything. If he should stray and leave me high and dry, I will have my rocking body to fall back on. Or, perhaps after investing so heavily in me, he will think twice re: infidelity. Or he can marry me and then ‘I’ll’ pay for the work. From our joint account. As I like to remind him: what’s his is mine and what’s mine is mine.

Ball is in his court.

good help is hard to find.

Mood: low. Like, junior high low.

My babysitter for tomorrow night has canceled. This is devastating. Obviously, paid help was my last option so now I’m s.o.l. Note to pregnant ladies: all those people who say they can’t wait to babysit your unborn child are full of crap. You will sit home alone. Now, if you’ll excuse me I’m just going to go lock myself in my closet and write in my diary about how stupid everyone is.

Hello, I am suffering from impaired cognitive abilities. Hi! I'm suffering from impaired cognitive abilities!

Click on the link to read the article about ‘baby brain’. It’s ligit! And that explains why I’ve forgotten to strap my baby in and simply placed her seat in the car, forgot to pay bills, forgot to put the cap back on after I actually remembered to put oil in the car, forgot to call people back, started the dishes and forgot to finish them, burned all or some of our dinner, lost the car keys right after I’ve unlocked the car, etc. I was actually starting to get a little depressed at how stupid and forgetful I’ve become but I am feeling better since I know it’s not my fault.

I’ll just add my brain to the list of parts of me that my baby has ruined.

I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE mat leave.

Why didn’t I do this sooner? Right. Because babies having babies is tough. Point is, I LOVE mat leave. Can I just break my day down for you?

  • slept in until 9:30am. Nice one, Associate! Still no ring on my finger though… but marriage is an antiquated waste of money or whatever.
  • did some light shopping, etc. while Grandma looked after the baby.
  • went to the driving range with my associate (my swing has dramatically improved).
  • visited friend, had a martini- dusty
  • dropped baby off at other Grandmother’s and went visiting, showering, etc.
  • picked up baby, put baby to bed.

the end. I mean, am I or am I not living the dream?

One of the things that excites me at all the most about parenting is starting my own traditions. My childhood was lacking in legal traditions and so I can’t wait to make some up for my family. I came across these dolls by projectgrabbag on Etsy and decided that I’ll get my daughter one for her first birthday and maybe a nice doll will be a birthday tradition. I would have liked that. Well, I would have liked to like that. In reality, I was a very nervous child and was very afraid of my dolls. I was nervous that they would rise up and kill me in the night and in an effort to appease them, I had a monthly sleep schedule written out so as to ensure that each doll had a chance to sleep in bed and no one was left out (and subsequently filled with a murderous rage).

Obviously, the system worked as I have survived to blog about it. Anyway, I hope she likes them. But more importantly, I hope they like her…

psst: clicking on the photo leads to projectgrabbag’s etsy store.

Gift horse, mouth.

It’s amazing how generous people are when you have your first child. The gifts are still rolling in. My silent partner and I only just started buying diapers. What a gift. One person, in particular, has been very generous. We’ve affectionately named him the Benefactor. It was Father Christmas but I thought that might eventually start to confuse the baby. Or ruin Christmas. Anyway, the Benefactor bought some cute clothes for the baby and included in the lot were two t-shirts that say “Big Sister”. Umm… hold the phone. My baby is only just beginning to crawl (much to my chagrin) and now I’m supposed to consider another? The Benefactor, being very benefactory, was sending more of a friendly reminder I think because the t-shirts were post dated for 24 months.

I guess two only makes sense. One can wash and one can dry.

No fair. Didn’t Claudia Schiffer marry a magician or something? How else could you explain her thighs or her daughter’s ability to hover over the ground? And how smug they are! Walking with her thighs and hovering over ground- right out in the open!

I yell out because I’ve hurt myself and the baby starts to cry and then I have to comfort her. This perfectly incapsulates motherhood.

Alright fine. I was getting my eyebrows waxed and I didn’t cry out but she did start to cry and I still felt worse for me but couldn’t show it. BTW, a baby does not mix with a day spa atmosphere. They aren’t always that zen.

Charles (Chuck, Charlie, Chaz, Chip, Chuckles, Charcoal) are the property of ME.

I have some pregnant friends and this unnerves me.

Do I tell them what names I have planned for my future children or do I let the chips fall where they may? Can I include names I like but might not use but would be sad if they used? You know, you always want the greener grass on the other side of the tracks? Or whatever. I think I’ll just be mature (since I’m a parent now) and email a list of names I like to every person I know. That way my bases are covered. Perhaps I’ll start a facebook group? And I’m pretty sure that makes it legally binding. I’m doing this for boy names for sure because good luck finding one of those…

Mompreneur Idea: I’m thinking of changing the name of my blog to the PampersHuggiesCheeriosGoodTime Blog. I’m looking for endoresments here. I’ve seen other mom bloggers and they have tons of ads and product placements.

Why doesn’t anyone send me things to talk about? I’ve been giving it away for free! Like Fetus Bites and Chatelaine Magazine? Those were mentioned out of the goodness of my heart. And as sure as I am that you can only love one of your children at a time, I’m sure that the PampersHuggiesCheeriosGoodTime Blog wouldn’t fail to come up in a Google search. There. I just gave Google one for free too!

I do like Pampers and Huggies and Cheerios are my favorite cereal. I’m no whore.

Eww. I can’t believe I called myself a mom blogger? I have no idea who I am anymore.

Baby Bonus!


Although their are some moms who are stronger then I am, I find it hard to maintain the social life I had pre-baby. Because Spawn insists on waking up before noon, I have had to drastically cut back on my wine and martini intake. So, baby bonus: I’m hung over a lot less. Plus, at my baby music class the moms and babes would have to get into tight circles at the end and I had to pretend that I found their babies so cute that I couldn’t stop smiling, making me unable to sing or talk and have them smell my booze breath from the night before. Trust me people, this only has to the happen once. After that, it’s all tea time and stolen Chatelaines. PTA, here I come.

I’ve become very interested in the show Jon and Kate plus 8. At first it was to watch in horror and awe at the mother raising sextuplet toddlers and twin daughters. This held my attention for a bit. Soon, the relationship between the parents became the main draw for me. If you’ve never watched the show it’s worth it just to see what a relationship in crisis looks like, you know, just to keep you vigilant. For example, I learned that if I am telling a little story on national television and my associate were to roll his eyes to the camera and then criticize me and say something sarcastic then the relationship may have hit a road block.

Having a baby can make or break a relationship and it takes two very committed people to get through the first years still happy and in love. Or it takes one very passive person. Or passive aggressive, in Jon’s case. Anyway, who can fault these two parents for being short with each other? Or constantly bickering or picking at each other? I wish I could go more in depth but my daughter kept bugging me to pay attention to her and even though I told her I was too busy to play because I was watching someone else raise their kids, she didn’t care.

I bet Kate has wicked stretch marks.


My friend is home sick from work. She’s so lucky! I wish I could go on vacation… Being sick is the only way to get a vacation from parenting. Or exercising. Or getting groceries. These vacations are lame.

Going on an actual vacation would be so different now. I’d see so much more of the place just by virtue of being awake for many more hours in the day, like the whole morning. The thought of taking Spawn on vacation reminds me of a previous question that hasn’t been answered: how far does a baby monitor reach and what are, if any, the laws surrounding its use?

One game I've grown weary of...

is that one where the kid throws stuff on the ground and then I pick it up and the she throws it on the ground, repeat, etc. This isn’t one of those activities that is fun for both “parent and child” like watching Oprah or going out for ladies’ lunch. Which reminds me of a question I’ve been dying to ask since I found out I was pregnant: when is it too early to start disciplining? Maybe I’ll just play around with it. Next time she throws stuff, I’ll take away her baby monitor privileges. Next to go: independent play time. Although… whose getting punished here? I’m thinking maybe of banking her punishments. And then WHAMO! When she turns 12, she’ll get a macaroni and construction paper card wishing her the best and a list of her bad deeds since, well labour should be the first one,explaining how she’s punished until she’s 18. And then she’s free to go. Nay, encouraged.

Look at me! Look at me!

Summer time isn’t all cold beer and BBQs. There is one summer time reality, and I don’t care who you are**, that is hard to face: popping your summer bathing suit cherry. That first time you have to take your shirt off and let your skirt fall to your ankles. In public. In broad daylight. Sober as a judge. All I can hope for is that any on-lookers are wearing sunglasses in order to avoid the glare from my lilly- white ass. The only thing worse than the great unveiling is that dreaded first walk from your towel to the surf.

The good news for me is that my cat scratches stretch marks should distract nicely from the paleness. Sigh… here’s a link to Fitness Magazine online.

**no, really. If this doesn’t bother you, I don’t care who you are. I don’t want to know you
What do you call you mother? I call mine ‘mom’. When I was little I called her ‘mother’ because I wanted to sound mature. Since I not only get to chose my kid’s name, I also get to chose what she calls me, I chose ‘maman’. I wanted to call her a French name but my associate wasn’t having it so instead I’ll have the French name. My mom always said that she hated being called ‘mother’ and now that I am one, I get it. Well, whatever your called, happy Mother’s Day!

You know what really grinds my gears? Seeing pictures of babies and dads sleeping together. There’s probably one of you as a baby sleeping on your dad’s chest. If you have a kid, there’s probably one of your kid sleeping on their dad’s chest. You’ll never see a picture of a mom and babe sleeping together like that. I don’t know if it’s because only moms think to take pictures of stuff like that or if it’s because the mom never sleeps? I can’t look at those pictures without thinking of the poor soul operating the camera with under-eye bags so large they could double as a camera bag. Maybe that’s why it’s always the mom taking the picture? The camera is just so handy.

Mother's Day is my day.

I started to do some light on-line research (wikipedia) about Mother’s Day. It was all very boring. Blah, blah, blah, I get presents from now until I die. And although my daughter is too young to know this now, I will make it a priority to teach her the importance of the perfect blend of thoughtful, homemade presents and good, store bought presents that I actually want. I figure I’ll have to sacrifice one of her birthdays and give her a card I’ve made out of macaroni and construction paper which I’ll sign in pencil, writing that she’s the best daughter in the world!!! and that ought to learn her. I will expect two gifts (per child, of course). One thoughtful macaroni card, etc., and one present from a Mother’s Day gift registry that I will direct her to (and subsequent children, of course) at an appropriate time. Probably after the New Year. I’m aware that she/ they will have to receive an allowance and I think that it’s a great opportunity to teach her/ them about the importance of giving. Giving good gifts. Because giving your boss a macaroni card will get you nowhere.

Sigh. See how difficult and selfless being a mother is? I have to take my day and use it to teach valuable life lessons. You might say that teaching is gift enough. And you would be wrong. I will be posting the link to my gift registry ASAP.

As if I would ever wear pants that tight but still, this picture reminds me of a lot about my new life. I don’t even know where to start?

Here is a list of things I feel I should be able to get out of because I have a baby:

  • student loan payments. At least I shouldn’t be penalized for paying late. They’re pretty lucky that I remember at all and should be grateful. Student Loans needs to start a gratitude journal.

You know, we need to get someone on the ‘inside’. If I knew someone who worked at the student loan call centre and had access to the files, I would find a group of people who wanted to go in on paying this agent to make our loans disappear. I could start a facebook group and everyone could post their SIN on the group wall. In fact….

Mompreneur idea: I will job shadow a computer hacker and then I can work from home while Spawn naps, hack into the student loan database and delete, delete, delete. For a small fee. Well, for a moderate fee because it would still be worth it to you to pay me a couple thousand dollars in order to never make a student loan payment again.

( does not condone any criminal activity and suggests everyone pay their student loan every month, without exception)

My baby dislikes me again. She did at first. Well, to be fair it was more disinterest than dislike. And to be honest, I wasn’t wild about her either. I was too traumatized to feel anything overwhelmingly positive. But now because she’s in a serious Sleep Therapy regiment, there’s no mistaking it: she’s not my biggest fan. I was telling this to a friend and she said that it’s not as bad as when I have to forbid her to date a guy. She’s right. And it made me think about the many layers to my new role as a mother. If I’m doing my job right, sometimes I’ll have to be the bad guy and sometimes she’s not going to like me. But I’ve also learned that I might be in trouble because to make up for the Sleep Therapy, I really kiss her ass all day. I just hope she doesn’t pick up on my crippling guilt and use it against me. Because I’d have to ground her only to further perpetuate the cycle.


I just remembered that I missed my baby’s latest check up. Great. Now I’ll look like a negligent parent and I’ll never know if she’s in the best percentiles for everything. And I was going to ask about the availability of some sort of organic, all natural baby tranquilizer. Another sleepless month, I guess.

Here is a picture of my cat from before my daughter was born. The album it was saved to is called ‘Fur baby’. A lot of people told me that as soon as I had my baby I wouldn’t care about my cat anymore. They were wrong. It wasn’t immediate, it took three days. I have not taken a single picture of him since her birth. He rarely hangs out in the living room or the bed rooms anymore. I just can’t pretend that I feel something that I don’t. So…

Is that how everyone feels about their first baby after they have their second? Does the first seem large and grotesque compared to the new bundle? I’m scared that this is the case. I’m sure I wouldn’t be like that though. I really love me baby. For now.

Here is a list of things I feel I should be able to get out of because I have a baby:

  • taxes
  • that’s all I have for now. Taxes are due tomorrow and I just can’t face it.

so…. are these politically correct yet? Because I think it would really come in handy. I’m trying not to encourage Spawn to crawl but if she insists on figuring it out for herself, I insist on being able to tie her to a pole when I’m sitting outside this summer. I’ll get too sweaty chasing her around. Look how happy this kid is! She loves this leash harness! And don’t we want to make our children happy, folks?

I like to wear head-to-toe black. It is only appropriate because a) it is slimming, b) red wine spills don’t show up, and c) it is the traditional colour to wear when in mourning, as I am (the loss of my wasted youth).
How can babies tell when you’ve decide to nap when they’re napping? They know. And then they adjust their nap time accordingly. Spawn never has 20 min. naps anymore unless I’ve decided to lie down too. This is why I don’t sleep when she’s sleeping. Tired is better than tired + rage. That’s why I’ve started this blog: to keep me awake.

Who is the boss? Because it’s not me. And I’m scared that I never will be the boss. I’m scared I’ll have to forever placate the Spawn just to keep the peace and quiet. My associate assures me that I’ll be the boss when she’s a toddler but I’m not so sure. Sometimes I think that I can’t wait to be able to discipline and reason with her but then I think about what toddlers are like and then I think about what ‘tweens’ are like then I think about what teenagers are like and then I think about what young adults are like and I’m pretty sure that I’ll never, ever be the boss. What have I gotten myself into?
Spawn waved good bye for the first time. It was very cute. It happened because my mother waved goodbye to her first. It seemed so natural… almost like she had done it before… many, many times… Wait a minute. I think she had done it before but I just didn’t notice because all I saw were arms flailing, nothing new there. I wonder when she actually did do it for the first time? It was cute but it’s not a big deal, right? Wrong. It’s HUGE. Imagine if she never mastered the wave? For the rest of her life she would leave people with the worst impression, too cold or lazy to give even a simple wave goodbye to show she cared. I can rest easy knowing that another milestone can be ticked off the list. Well, I can’t rest easy. She just mastered the goodbye wave, not the sleeping through the night milestone.

mompreneur idea: I wish my monitor worked both ways. It’s so unfair. She can yell all she wants and I have no way to retaliate. Imagine if I could talk back to her and a. sooth her without getting out of bed, and b. let her know what it’s like when someone starts yelling while she’s trying to sleep. I might sing to her or something. I could read her stories while we both lie in the comfort of our own beds. Or I could tell her about the awesome ideas that come to me in the middle of the night so she can remember them for me and hold me accountable the next day so I actually follow through with one of my mompreneur ideas. I might just wait until she can answer and hold a phone. Then we can just call each other and I can wake up to a nice ringtone before I get to the crying. Maybe Enya or something that isn’t too jarring. Walkie Talkies wouldn’t work because of that annoying static noise when you begin to talk. Maybe I should get her a gmail account and start writing to her now so she’ll have an inbox full of my thoughts, advice, and orders ready for her when she’s web savy? But I digress. I think I’ll get a bullhorn.
babies are kind of boring. Now I feel guilty. And bored.

Hiring one nanny: non smoker, bondable, must be available all weekends and from 12am-9am. Well, 12am-noon.

I don’t usually mind being housebound on weekends but this weekend I did. It was my friend’s birthday and I really wanted to go and celebrate it with her. It’s not that I don’t have options for babysitters, I do. But she wakes up so often and the few times that I’ve gone out and my co-pilot has stayed home with her, it did not end well. I wondered how far the monitor could reach? My friend’s place is only a couple blocks away… but decided against it. Then it hit me! A way to kill two birds with one stone: the Ferber method, AKA crying it out. While I’m out enjoying my Friday night my baby can work on her sleeping problems and hopefully by the time I get back she’ll have sorted herself out. If not, well, there’s always next weekend.

No amount of weight gain, unkempt hair, frumpy clothing or lack of make-up can make you feel as invisible to men as walking with a stroller. And I’m OK with that because of the weight gain, unkempt hair, frumpy clothing and lack of make up. I think it’s nature’s way of keeping a balance, giving women time to recoup.

I guess, in addition to being a supermodel, Heidi Klum is a contortionist?

I started exercising this week. I went to a class because it’s too embarrassing to quit half way through and leave. I figure this may be the key to my success. It was difficult. I’m pretty sure that I haven’t jumped in a year. Mostly I found it challenging to coordinate my body because my ass was in a different time zone the entire time. Nice of it to show up at all, I guess. Hopefully this won’t be a repeat of January: start exercising fairly often for two weeks and then a three month break. While that way was easy, the results were disappointing.

Follow this link to find out how Heidi Klum was able to be in a Victoria Secret show two months after having her third baby. I had to read the instructions three times because I thought it said to lie face down. I thought: if I can lie face down and hold a ball over my head at the same time I’m probably in better shape than I thought? Anyway. After I finish my cognac I’m going to try this one out!

In conclusion, I should add that I don’t judge Heidi for working outside of the home. I could do a lingerie show but I want to be there for my baby’s special moments. It’s just a personal choice.

Baby Bonus!


You always know where you stand with a baby. Sometimes this can be annoying and it would be more pleasant if they would just bury their emotions but mostly it is refreshing. You never have to wonder: does he like me? is he thinking about someone else? is he mad at me? he’s so distant, does he still love me? because they are more than happy to voice their discontent.

Sometimes I feel the need to remind people that my baby will be accompanying me to whatever social engagement I’ve been invited to. Maybe this goes without saying by now but I just want to make sure. Sometimes, when I don’t remind people that she’ll be with me, and then we show up somewhere, I wonder if I’m that friend who brings their boyfriend everywhere even though you just invited her out for drinks and then all of a sudden the dynamic is totally different and you need to watch what you say and how you say it? FUN! Don’t you hate when you go to say something about someone and then you realize that you’re actually talking to the person that you were just about to talk about? I guess moms aren’t supposed to be like that? Oops.

Lovers in a Dangerous Time, or Catholics don't like birth control

My maternal grandmother had seventeen children. My mom is the sixteenth. That is octo mom’s latest eight, plus John and Kate’s eight, plus Suri Cruise.

I literally cannot imagine having that many kids. She was pregnant for 12.75 years. I bet she stopped noticing that she was pregnant around the 14th. I bet sometimes one kid would pop into her head and she’d realize that she had completely forgotten that kid existed. I bet sometimes she really, really, really hated my grandfather. And you know what? She never ended up being taken care of by one of her kids when she was old. So, there goes that plan.


I went out for 2.5 hours the other night. I wore a maternity shirt. How sad is that? Pretty sad. But you know what’s even sadder? Wearing underwear that you wore when you were pregnant that aren’t actual maternity underwear but regular ones that have, as a result of wearing them when humungous, significantly stretched out. Umm… who would do that?

I don't want to brag but

My daughter can put her whole fist in her mouth.

I can't help but notice what is NOT on this list...

One word: hemorrhoids. I know why people don’t talk about this stuff. It’s because you don’t want someone to decide not to have kids and leave you all alone with your baby and your hemorrhoids. Hemorrhoids are the swelling of veins on your can and according to the Bible, hemorrhoids are God’s way of punishing you for having sex in the first place. And just in case you were considering having sex ever again, let me tell you what I was told when I asked how to get rid of them: you have to push. Them. Back. In. Into your ass! The fun never ends!

what is the scoop on poop?

I wonder when you stop talking about your kid’s poop? My associate and I talk about it daily. And affectionately.

Who am I?

The problem with husbands is that they aren’t wives. I’m not saying I want to be a polygamist. But I’m not saying I don’t. Nah. Forget it. But this is a good show.

Fetal Bites Cookie Cutter, eh? Hmm…

I LOVE IT! The potential for hilarity is nearly endless and delicious! What a great combo.

“ Dean and I are going to take a hiatus from having babies. But when we decide to have more, maybe I will be able to produce triplets! I’d like that. But that would be in the future - not right now. I am going to have a little break to raise the babies we have. But we definitely want more. Tori Spelling ”

People compare themselves to celebrities and usually feel like they come up short. Moms usually feel like they’re failing in some or every aspect of their lives. I thought that being a new mother and comparing myself to celebrities might be a bad idea but comparing myself to crazy ones might make me feel really great! I was right! I thought I’d start with Tori Spelling. Who thinks triplets is a good idea? Except maybe someone who doesn’t have any kids. She must be ca-razy. Tori: 0, Me: 1.

There are things that other mothers do that I thought I should start doing. Reading Chatelaine magazine seemed like something a Canadian mom should do. So, I stole it from the doctor’s office and tried to give it a fair chance. It wasn’t bad! I feel like a better mom already.

According to study: motherhood is only slightly better than housework, work, commuting.

I was feeling guilty about the quality of time that I spent with my baby and asked a friend how she spent her time with her baby. Specifically, I was wondering if she always played with her baby. She told me that she does. Umm. That’s… great. Because that’s what I’m like too.

So just for fun, I googled ‘how to play with your baby’ and ‘make my baby a genius’ and ‘how to make my baby better than other babies’ and was side tracked reading about how to lose the baby weight, learned about when it’s not considered ‘baby weight’ anymore, then wound up reading about a couple who have sex everynight as an ‘experiment’ and finally ended up finding this article.

See? It’s normal to want to look at pictures of your child instead of the real thing, be tempted to turn on cartoons, consider starting a distracting blog, or invest in an exersaucer. Just because I’m not like that doesn’t mean that I judge you if you are. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go practice cursive writing with my 7 month old.

PS: I did all my googling after my babe was fast asleep. And I like spending time with her WAY better than cleaning the toilet.

“ Have you met my Silent Partner? ”

I’m going to start introducing my sig. other this way. I think it efficiently sums up my expectations. I hate calling him my husband (as I did today) because it’s not fair that he gets that title for free and because I’m afraid I’ll be found out. I also hate boyfriend because it makes me feel twelve. Finally, I really hate partner. It’s just so cold. I may as well just say co-parent. Or associate. In fact, I think I will. At least until I get a ring.

labour is to pregnant women as sex is to new mothers: a terrifying and inevitable reality.

Who knew this game was actually preparing children for an important parenting skill? Babies don’t like to get their noses picked.


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