The Mummy Chronicles

Greetings from that Rice a Roni Town

2008-07-19T20:07:00.002-04:00

Am not dead. Though I swear by the dark circles heavily draping under my eyes I look it. No matter how many free makeovers I score it is not helping.

After a five hour plane ride seated, I kid you not, totally surrounded by toddlers I landed in this busy city by the bay. Seriously, that kid in Seat 14B needed a diaper change for about 90% of the flight and I thought I might just scoop her up myself and change her right there in the seat if her mother didn't finally do it. Geez! The stench of Cheerios hung heavily in the air as I made my way across the country to BlogHer. My shuttle driver felt that for some reason having two pregnant women on board meant he had to slam on the brakes at each stop versus just driving like a normal person.

I'm finding the whole BlogHer experience to be a positive one that I highly recommend. I've learned so much, felt inundated, pissy about not drinking (though I think H has had himself a fine time drinking at home without me. Grr.), and generally have met some of the most interesting, informative and fun people I could ever imagine.

I've geeked out enough the last two days that I'm good for a bit.

Crap! I forgot to pack my fat pants!

2008-07-16T10:02:00.005-04:00

I'm headed to BlogHer tomorrow. It's my first time. Be gentle with me. I realized this morning amidst my cramming in other blogging stuff and figuring out what to pack that the last time I was in lovely and chilly San Fran I had to buy fat pants to board the plane.

That's right. You heard me. FAT PANTS. I think it deserves the all caps.

Never before had I gained weight like that so fast. Two weeks in S.F. eating at Mel's, on Bay Street, The Garlic Rose and more and all I came back with was a taste for fine food and an expanded waist line. I remember trying to squeeze into my jeans and having to head to the nearest Gap in horror as I bought a pair of men's drawstring cargo pants. I still own them too dammit and that was back in the year 2000. I use them as snow pants now so I can layer up.

This go round? It's a new type of fat pants complete with an elasticized waist of what feels like steel. Maternity pants. Yippie damn shippymacflippyshadippy. I keep reading all these posts about what to wear and pack for BlogHer and all I can think is, do maternity capris count? If I wear an extra pound of make up and mousse in my hair maybe it will distract others from the fact that my shoes no longer fit and I only wear flip flops now? As for keeping warm in the colder climes of NoCal (is that a word?) I have a light sweater. I possess my own furnace right now and am hardly cold. If anything I might shove someone for simply standing too close and sucking heat off me.

I'm nice I swear.

I smile sometimes too. Just ask these fine ladies.

Speaking of traveling, MPR is holding a giveaway of some handy dandy road trip products- Blink Smudge wipes, Prestone fuel cleaner and more! Go ahead - you know you want to enter!

What's in a Name?

2008-07-15T09:31:00.003-04:00

Dash Two's arrival is a mere four months away and when I think of all the things we have yet to do I become positively dizzy. It's not just getting T.D. into a new room and washing old baby clothes and gear but also naming this kid. We are officially stumped. Sure, we have a list of possible monikers but as of yet, nothing is standing out or is yelling, "SOLD!"

I think part of the problem is when you name a kid you run into all sorts of comments and criticisms such as:

A. If it is a girl- many people will say, "That sounds like a stripper!"
B. "Your kid will get beat up with a name like that!"
C. "Poor kid's destined to be a dork now".
D. "Do you want your kid to be a psycho killer who murders you in your sleep?"
or
E. All of the above.

So while we have searched websites, books, films and family trees we are kind of at a loss right now. If we don't watch out our kid will end up with a name like Couch Manhattan or Tuberose Splenda. Hm... I wonder if I could get some Splenda cash for that last one.

In all seriousness, here are some of the possible name choices- feel free to weigh in with ideas and your own "precious" nuggets of wisdom/comments.

Addison Grace
Charlotte
Reese
Madeline (I can't help it, "and the smallest one was Madeline...")
Genevieve (say it with me, 'zhawn-vee-evuh')

And I'm spent. Seriously, last night after my third wake-up by a potty needing T.D. I just lay there reviewing names of characters from favorite novels. Somehow names like Suellen and Careen don't quite make the final cut and neither does Lily.

The New Thirty Day Challenge- Winner!!

2008-07-14T09:01:00.004-04:00

After much deliberating I have chosen a winner for 'The New Thirty Day Challenge'. It wasn't easy either. You people are a creative and funny lot, expletives and all. I am happy to hear that this has inspired some of you to jump on the wagon with me too. With that being said, here is the winning entry-

Jacqueline from Atlanta wrote:
About two months ago I made a little sign for my desk.
It says:Use it up.Don't replace it.Keep it neat.First things first.
The use it up referred to my tendency to stockpile stuff, like your beauty products. If it's a really good sale (can you say, "Bath & Body Works Semi-Annual Clearance Sale?) I buy three!The don't replace it referred to not stockpiling junk anymore.Keep it neat was mainly for my desk.First things first means to do the important things in the day right off the bat and do the one chore you are dreading the most first and get it out of the way so you can enjoy the rest of the day.First things first also refers to long term planning, such as putting aside money for retirement or kids' college before buying doodles.Which is all a long-winded way of saying, "I feel your pain." (read that in a half-choked voice)Call it:SA: Shopaholics Anonymous - 30 Days on the Wagon that Isn't Headed to the Mall.

Congratulations Jacqueline!!! Email me (veamason AT gmail DOT com) soon so I can get in touch with you!! You'll be receiving the surprise pack of products shortly. It will be mailed before I leave for BlogHer on Thursday, I swear!

You can read more about the SA- The 30 day challenge over at this site too- I'm updating it frequently with my progress and hope you'll join me in climbing on the wagon that isn't going to the mall. Easier said than done, I know.

A new review of Hanes Kidswear is going up today at MPR. Check it out- I'm giving away a whole outfit, plus more free stuff to one lucky winner.

Come on in! The waters great!

2008-07-11T08:23:00.003-04:00

So, um... we all know that kids who are potty training can fall in the toilet right?

And I pretty much thought that H was trained to leave the seat down and all...

Then I got home, from a rather late girls night excursion and do I need to say anymore?

My "electric white ass" as H calls it, fell right in. If the bathroom counter did not exist in such close approximation to the toilet I'm not sure I would have ever found my way out.

Head over to MPR today. I'm featuring Flaky Friends by Sarah from Hollywood Flakes. If anything you need to see the stuffed rabbit with the hook for a hand. She's offering 20% off for all TMC and MPR readers and an additional $5 off until the end of the July. Hurry! They go fast!

Keep those contest entries coming in for the Thirty Day Challenge- you have until Sunday! I've done an update on my progress here.

The Force is Strong in This One

2008-07-10T07:35:00.003-04:00

Yes, I just quoted Darth Vader. Shut it. I happened to want to be Darth Vader as a kid. Princess Leia held no sway with me.

Ever since we got back from our vacation I've noticed something. I'm in full-on nesting mode and it's months early. I don't even remember having any of this with T.D. Sure, I was organized but to this capacity? No way.

First, I felt the house needed to be cleaned. I vacuumed, dusted and scrubbed. Mirrors were cleaned. Bathrooms were shined up and floors were mopped. I febreezed every fabric in sight. I did laundry and organized the hall closet. I should have felt content.

But, on no... not this woman. Hauling around the extra weight I've gained I felt compelled to go through and organize all of T.D.'s toys and her closet and draws. ALL OF THEM in the WHOLE house. In ONE day. As if I weren't crazy enough I further propelled by burgeoning belly into the crawl space/storage area of our house. Crawling through its Alice in Wonderland door into its unair-conditioned space I hauled out every bag of baby clothes I could find.

All five of them. And I was miffed there were not more. Apparently, those newborn clothes are all at Nana's waiting for the sorting fairy to go through them. Next up, is either paint some furniture for T.D.'s room or organize the old baby gear and figure out what exactly we have. Or, and just thinking about it makes me almost dizzy with nesting excitement, I could tackle all the old baby toys and go through them.

Yup, I'm a little insane. I figure if I can't buy anything for this kid I may as well get what we have all spiffed up and feel productive.

The force is indeed strong in this one.

Check out my latest review with PBN. I took the Savvy quiz on the left and was amazed. You will be too.

The New Thirty Day Challenge

2008-07-09T08:17:00.004-04:00

As you all know, H was laid off last month and I the lowly, if ever paid writer am feeling the pinch. Every time I consider buying something I am consumed with guilt. But hey, at least our pantry isn't so full of crap anymore and I only bought one pack of cookies for my pregnant belly to consume this week. Less consuming has become even more of a theme in our house these days.

All that being said I've decided to institute a thirty day challenge upon myself. Being the product junkie that I am, I have a hard time resisting organic, green or other earth friendly products at the new Wegmans nearby or even Drugstore.com. I'm just silly for clickable nail polish, aromatherapy candles, body lotions of all degrees and hair removing products. It is a disease people. An addiction. Neiman Marcus holds their bi-annual beauty events for me alone. Then you add in the fact that under every sink in my house there is a wealth of products half-used or barely opened I really do not need to shop.

So here it is- For the next thirty days I will not buy anything. I will make use of what I have. This will be particularly hard when I have to travel to BlogHer next week and won't get to buy any tiny toiletries for my bag, but it should be worth it for a couple of reasons.

1. Less buying and consuming equals less waste.

2. I'll finally be wading through the four million deodorants, numerous bottles of sunblock, body lotion, facial cleanser and shampoo I have lurking in my bathroom. Come to think of it thirty days might not be enough time!

3. It will help us save money. I'm even instituting the rule on T.D. who has so much detangler in the house and baby lotion that I'm quite sure I'm good for even Dash Two.

There it is- for the next thirty days this product whore will rely only on what she has. No new stuff unless it is free stuff for a review. You think I am kidding, but you have no idea how much I love trolling the Internet, local Tarzhay or CVS for undiscovered products. I am like the Christopher Columbus of product scouting. PR agents and companies have only scratched the surface of my avarice and greed.

Heaven help us all when the four million deodorant nubs all run out.

If you want to help me name this Thirty Day Challenge I'll be willing to part with a surprise box of products - just comment here and leave me a way to get in touch with you if you are the winnah! Deadline is Sunday, July 13.

At Least Someone is Working

2008-07-08T08:07:00.003-04:00

Hello from the unemployed front! We are in week two of all being under the same roof all the time. And while H has turned his job search into a full time job and I'm plugging away at all my little unpaid, ahem! someone throw me a bone here!, gigs we are for all intensive purposes a dual no-income household. Kick ass.

Except T.D.

She is apparently working. All the time. Whenever I ask her what she is doing, be it playing with Play-Doh or helping me sort laundry she tells me, "I'm working Mama! I'm working!" I don't have the heart to tell her we can't pay her for her services.

She thinks we are working too. Yesterday morning as I cleaned the shower she came over and inspected my workmanship, hands on hips and intoned, "Mama working. Mama is working..." Funny, I thought when I quit that motel maid job (apparently the place hasn't been cleaned since I worked there.) back in 1995 my days of being paid jack for scrubbing bathrooms was over.

Good-bye Afternoon Naps

2008-07-07T09:51:00.005-04:00

Oh, look- I'm home again. Jiggity Jig. After an uneventful car ride, seriously- I take back all I said about DVD players in cars for kids- that thing is a life-saver in the "WHAT?! We are not going back to Mem & Pep's house?!" meltdown moment that little portable player was a miracle worker- we arrived home safe and sound mid-day yesterday.

Some things I noticed-

I am back to eating fruit as a snack in under six hours. For some reason my parents house is a vortex for carb consuming. All I do is eat thigh thickening chips, ass-spreading brownies and more while I am there. I ingest fried foods as if I'm on shore leave and it cannot be stopped. Sure, I fall into many mid-morning and mid-afternoon, aw hell, mid-evening stupors more often than I care to admit, but I am powerless to stop it. The fruit bowl remains intact the entire time we visit save for those moments where I gorge myself on cherries or something.

I didn't walk at all or exercise at all while there. I guess that is truly a vacation?

Juice really is crack for toddlers and when Mem & Pep serve it at breakfast? Well, let's just say T.D. is already suffering from withdrawal.

My parents are obsessed with the turkey that comes into their yard each day at precisely four o'clock. Now T.D. is too. She has deemed the patch of dirt in their yard where it dusts itself as, "turkey dirt."

No matter what state you are in or what time of day it is McDonald's sucks my ass. They cannot get an order right for the life of them. Sure, give me two milks instead of one. Forget my apple slices and give my kid the fries. I care nothing about my sodium content clearly. And why are all the rest stops on 95 ALL THE SAME?! If I passed you up once Roy Rogers I am sure as hell going to pass you up again.

Jordan Marsh (or should I call them Jordin Mahsh) blueberry muffins do exsist. And they ROCK!

Things that NEVER Change-

Despite having Alzheimer's and being in her late 80's my grandmother still managed to tell me that T.D. was going to "poke her eye out" with her plastic fork at the family cook out. Like clockwork every year.

The top 40 radio station I listened to as a tween and teen is STILL the same. Truly, New Englanders resist change like a cats to water.

I will never stop laughing when I hear the announcements on the intercom at the local town beach, "Ahtenchun awl beach patrons, due to the instense fohg, please only go in the watah up to ya knees." I am usually the only one laughing.

My father now has an outdoor and indoor (they work in tandem) weather device. At any given time throughout the day he announces the wind velocity, precipitation level and current temp at the front and back of their house. It fascinates him.

My mother is queen of bussing. She hovers and cannot wait to bus your glass, plate or dish. She will even butter your english muffin without asking. I am still twelve and she still tells me how to work everything in the kitchen as if I might blow it up or set it on fire at any given time.

And now... it's back to the real world. Excuse me while I nurse my plants back to health, return emails, actually try and do some work and learn to live without the scent of the ocean, Del's lemonade, afternoon naps and reading on a front porch. Le Sigh... I miss it all already. Even the bussing.

Scenes from a Getaway

2008-07-03T09:26:00.003-04:00

Hey look! It's a pregnant lady eating ice cream. Go figure.

Gratuitous beach/cute kid shot.

Now that is a clamcake! Or fritter if you are like not from South County Rhode Island and want to be a weirdo or something. This is in no way a crab cake. It's all fried dough goodness. At last count I consumed about ten of them. Check out the classic scenic wood paneling on the walls. This place hasn't changed since the 1950s. My parents went on dates here and now T.D. climbs into her favorite chair like she's a regular. It does not get any better than that.

Overheards

2008-07-02T17:34:00.003-04:00

Scene: Guestroom at my parents house. H & I have become incredibly lazy taking long afternoon naps in the summer heat. We have holed ourselves up in this room like teenagers with paperbacks, wi-fi, drinks and snacks. The dog doesn't even enter this domain.

H: I'm thirsty. Go downstairs and get me water.

Me: Um... I'm thirsty too. I'm pregnant and dehydrated....

H: Ha! Get to it little woman!

Me: I'm on vacation!

H: Moms, don't get a vacation and your womanly duties are seriously lacking lately. You should be vacuuming and ironing my shirts or something...

Five minutes later, I have my water.

I'm not even going to discuss the amount of clamcakes I've consumed in the last few days and how yes, Mr.X they do exist. They are not and never will be RI crab cakes. Just ewww.

Let's Talk Graco, Shall We?

2008-06-30T10:40:00.004-04:00

While I think that Joeprah said it best and the most comprehensive and Kelcey and Sheila were very funny with their portrayals and photos, which I am ashamed to say, I have did not take. Many of you have asked- "Just what the sam hill were you doing over there in Hotlanta with Graco?!"

Well, aside from being treated like a rock star or royalty, seriously this lowly blogger had no idea it would be that good, Graco and LBi could not have been more helpful, generous or easy-going while we did the whole Car Seat Campaign shebang. After a day of pampering and good eatin' we arrived on the set early on Wednesday morning. First things first, I got a bit of hair and make up done as well as a wardrobe change. I quickly found that while I don't know jack about installing my own car seat Graco was more than happy to teach me the in's and outs of their TurboBooster seat and its installation.

I can now install that sucker like a Price's Right model. Though really? I suck at latching. I had a lot of re-takes.

Next up, I did my voice-over so next time you log on to the Graco site and want to know how to install that booster seat you can not only see me clicking and locking it into place all easy-peasy like you can also hear me explaining it all to you and only you. How fun is that? It was loads of fun actually.

Finally, at the end of the day I did my interview. You know, the part where I discuss how our family gets on the road and travels to grandma's house. I waxed poetic about motherhood and how it has not made me all nurturing and such. Told funny stories (to H & I) about things T.D. has done in the car and then as quickly as I arrived in Hotlanta it was over. Poof! I was loaded in to a town car and Kelcey and I were headed back up North. In full make-up.

HD-TV style make-up. My on-screen gorgeous clearly did not translate well as I got quite a few startled looks from passengers on the plane and in the airport. I looked like Tammy Faye by the time I landed in DC. Complete with the mascara smudges and all.

The whole trip was tiring but a blast. I feel so honored to be a part of it and would LOVE to do it again. You hear that baby gear companies, car companies, whatever and where ever you are? I Would LOVE to DO IT AGAIN.

Since it's vacation time for this family I'll be back again soon. I'll post pics of my dangerous vacationing eating habits and make you wish you too had a clamcake to munch on. Until then, click on my ads- it's my only source of income right now. You think I'm kidding...

Dude, It's Just Heavy

2008-06-27T08:35:00.003-04:00

Focus.

Regroup.

Communicate.

All things that swirl around in my brain and that H and I need to do since his lay off last week. While it has only been a week in some ways it feels like a lifetime. The man is working his butt off on the job search and has come to the conclusion that he isn't sure if he wants to stay in his current field which leaves us to -

Focus, communicate and regroup.

We are going away this week for our planned vacation in sunny, beachy New England. While H feels incredibly guilty and embarrassed at the fact that he is taking a vacation while jobless this trip could not come at a better time. We'll be staying with my family so it's free and the grandparent childcare will give us the time we need to -

Regroup, communicate and focus

on what our next steps will be with our entire lives. Do we can the house flipping business for now? Does H stay in his current career? WTF is going on with mine and should I just cut myself some slack and take a bit of a breather? Enjoy the summer and this impending birth? Possibly so. I know that if I do that I need someone to tell me it is OK to do that. I can't seem to just make that decision myself without my Type-A persona kickin' my ass and telling me I'm a lazy so and so.

All this makes life incredibly heavy. Way heavy. The fact that no income is coming in makes life feel like a giant clock ticking away. The grains of sand in the hourglass are the days of our lives indeed. And insurance coverage.

As a couple we need to do the three things I keep discussing. Right now we are just not in sync with each other. Each one feeling that the other wants nothing to do with the other one. Each one feeling neglected and put upon. We are becoming scorekeepers and that is just not cool man. As H said, "It feels like too much effort right now." Isn't it that way in a relationship at various points? I believe so but that does not make it any easier when you are smack in the middle of that point in your relationship. I often think of Ronald Reagan's marriage advice, "A couple should be 50/50, but sometimes that is not possible and one partner will be doing 90 while the other 10. If a marriage is working both partners understand that inevitably that will flip flop and eventually right itself to 50/50 again." I'm para-phrasing but they didn't call that man the Great Communicator for nothing.

And Dash Two. My feelings about this new child have been a disaster of emotions from day one when I was excited beyond belief to the dismay and unbelievable hurt I've felt at the lack of excitement and downright disappointment this child has had in our extended family. Sorry, we don't make boys, but um... could you fake it perhaps? I already feel like a burden about having a kid while we are both not working. I don't need to feel that its not wanted. I want to be excited but its hard when I still get sick almost daily and am more tired than I've ever been in my life and feel that this child is an afterthought. To combat this, today I did what they say is such a faux-pas- I registered.

Yes, I know. No showers for second babies. Especially, if you have the same sex already. Bite me. This kid needs to be lauded and if making an online list helps me get excited and organized so that I can keep track of what we need, then so be it. While I can often be all about the etiquette there is also a time to break the rules. Now is that time.

Summer time and the livin's easy...I wish.

Ah, Reality!

2008-06-26T09:12:00.004-04:00

While Atlanta and all it's pampering was fantastic and Graco could not have treated us better, it is good to be back home.

OK, so maybe the immediate dose of reality as soon as I landed in D.C. was not actually what I was looking for but still... Did I really need to be reminded of H's job search and unemployment frustrations as soon as I got to baggage claim? I'm already well aware of them. It is all I think about. Note to self: Do not call home immediately. Take the route that H does when traveling and just show up at the front door. Much more relaxing.

Also, when I plunked my bags down at the front door and Lex, the dog, shot out outside like a rocket? Yeah, that was a smack of reality right in the face. Especially when the town car driver narrowly missed running her over no less than two times. I had to run out the front door in my giant wedge-heeled shoes nearly breaking my neck on the front steps shouting, "WAIT! NO! STOP!!!", quite a few times before he did actually wait and come to a full stop. Meanwhile, Lex managed to narrowly miss his back tires as she sprinted across the street. Panting, breathless and fearful my maternity pants would end up at my knees I scooped her up and headed back inside thanking the driver for not inflicting a rather large vet bill on us at this particular time. Seriously. We won't have our own insurance soon we can't afford doggie insurance!

The reality of being home was much nicer when T.D., fresh from a bath, ran down the stairs shouting, "MOMMY!" while giggling and jumping up and down with her Nick Nolte hair all, well in place for the full Nick Nolte look.

So while I loved being pampered and treated like a rock star it is nice to be home. I'll fill you all in later with the details of my business with Graco. It was a blast!

I have to go clean up oatmeal off the floor, table, window and tackle the laundry monster. It's been sulking in the corner for a day or so. I think it missed me.

On a Car Seat Campaign

2008-06-25T07:07:00.003-04:00

Well, after being buffed, painted, massaged and fed many yummy treats (Can I eat just one more croissant? My thighs! Oh my pregnant touching thighs!) I am apparently going to get to work today. Graco has thoughtfully taken care of everything the last few days, and in quite a quick fashion I must say, and now it's time to get down to bizness.

I'll be installing a car seat for demonstration (um.. I don't even do this in my own life. If H is out of town I have to call a neighbor. For reals y'all. Ooh look I've turned southern after only two days in ATL.) and you'll all eventually get to hear my funny anecdotes and parenting "advice" or tips along with some other really cool bloggers.

Let's hope I don't hurl from the excitement. Really. I could and all over some lovely Graco gear.

Crikey, This is My Life?

2008-06-24T09:47:00.005-04:00

After a grueling flight filled with Lost episode one like turbulence and me almost puking up my gummi bears more than once. I am in Atlanta (Hey! Atlanta bloggers!). And really? I'm trying to relax. Because, um... it is all anyone can tell me to do and with the treatment I've been getting I should be able to but it just feels so foreign to have so much free time and pampering. I mean seriously.

A rundown...

Actually watching the Bachelorette in real time will eating french fries with creme brulee. It's a must try dish.

Reading more than one page in a book without being asked to do something or where something is? Unheard of. Am loving it.

Realizing that not all drivers who arrive at my house to take me to the airport and look like this are indeed not assasins and out to kill me. That's a nice bonus.

In-room massage? Yes, please!

Noticing how much crap is on TV in the early morning is not priceless just useless. Why is Al Roker reporting on celebrity Family Feud and since when are Dog the Bounty Hunter and his wife actually considered celebrities? If that is the case then um.. so am I and I should be on Family Feud any day now. Does anyone still watch Regis and Kelly? How? While I like cranky old men, I cannot stand the insipidness that is Ripa. Blech.

They are either working on the room upstairs and renovating it or someone really likes to travel with their saws, drills and roll billiard balls across the room.

Must stop thinking each time I get a massage that the masseuse is going to do a grab, twist, pull or five fingers of death move on me effectively ending my life. Am I paranoid or what?

I leave you with this. If you can get through the whole thing, you deserve a medal. To me, it sounds like a bag full of cats going through meth withdrawal.

Competition for the Cruises?

2008-06-21T08:13:00.006-04:00

The transformation was almost complete. Three inches had been lopped off my hair and the Gwyneth look was being ushered in. The bangs had indeed grown out. Just in time too because I'm headed to Atalanta this week for a work thang and wanted I my hair to look it's shiny best.

Then the unthinkable happened.

Fringe.

Just a bit. Um.. OK, that's fine I suppose until my stylist took out a large chunk by accident or what, I'm still confused. I screamed, "WHOA! WHOA! WHOOOAAAH! What are you doing?!?! WHAT just happened?!" She looked at me in horror and realized that she had gone and taken out too large of a chunk. She claimed she could fix it and I braced myself, white knuckled in the chair. I knew what was coming. Gone would be the cut I had taken a year to achieve. Ushered in would be the cut that I had painstainkingly grown out in the last year. The hair style I loathed the most. My BP escalated as I watched more fringe being cut in and my long hair now being reduced to just the back. Yick. I was left with what reminded me of the Florence Henderson 'do.

I would not cry.

Suddenly, it was clear. The only way to fix this mishap would be to just cut it all off. I would go from cutting off three inches to six. Oy. Not the look I was trying to achieve. There are a couple of reasons I'm uber-sensitive about my hair. Not only is it tough to grow out but my hair is like a talismn. When I was a gawky teen with longer hair I had some issues, shall we say? My hair was one way certain people exerted their control over me. I left the smallest state in the country to get away from this person and still with about eight states between us the problems continued. I promptly transferred to another university and spent the first week skipping around campus Julia Roberts-style a la Sleeping with the Enemy. It was then that I cut my hair. I turned myself into the platinum blonde cute (a term I loathe. I would rather be called a C. U. Next Tuesday) college coed.

In this new 'do I seemed sunny on the outside but the angry, man-hating and fearing girl who was never anything more than cute (think 5 year-olds, bunnies, fluffy clouds, giant lollipops and the color pink.) was roiling away in a dark, twisted mess on the inside. I wanted a WWF style smackdown cage fight with the world. I raged often breaking glass in my sorority house parking lot just for the release. I went to group and one -on-one therapy. It too me years to get over that earlier mess. I felt like I had been through a war. I worked so hard to emerge a woman who had no bitterness and hate. A woman with self-esteem. What transpired was a the person I am today with longer hair. Hair that I could put in a ponytail if I so chose and no one was going to tell me to take it out and cover my face and neck with it. Hair that suddenly removed me from the realm of cute and illicited compliments of 'beautiful, or heavens to mercatroid! 'hot' and even 'sexy'. I felt transformed.

Cutting my hair back into the short hair cut I realized does not just make me frustrated that now I actually have to style it each day vs. putting it up when I need to be out the door quickly or like the average suburban housewife, it feels like I just killed a part of me that was very vital. I don't see the woman I've become in the mirror right now. I see the girl who fought so hard to get away from so much pain and misery. I don't like that too much, it reminds me of too many hard times.

What can I say? As pathetic as this may all sound, because I know it is just hair and it will grow back, I guess I really am like Tony Manero, "I work really hard on my hair."

But Katie Holmes and Suri Cruise?

You have some competition.

Now if I can only get it to look that good each day...

A Bit of a Bikini Rant

2008-06-20T07:55:00.006-04:00

After I had my suspicious mole last summer I was told by some that the bikini would be no more. At least for me. I balked at this. When the comment was quickly followed by the classic, "Besides you are a Mom now. You don't want to be one of those Moms who you see at the pool wearing a bikini...."

Excuse me what?! I wanted to breathe fire.

While I may not have the body I did when I was 24, I have spent a fare share of my time at the gym toning and cardioing my butt off well into my 30's and not just because I want to look swimsuit ready but because I like how I feel after a good episode of sweating. I refuse to go up a size with each child. Yes, I had a child and my body changed but I'm still a size six! I'm proud of that fact. Quite frankly I don't feel comfortable in a one piece. I'm long in the torso and I suspect that walking around the pool with a case of massive camel toe would be a bit worse than if I wore a two-piece and my thighs don't look like that of a 12 year-old girl or baby giraffe.

Besides, has anyone seen some of the teens at the pool lately? I hate to say it, but um... they could do with a dose of gym time and the total overhaul and tearing down of a body that pregnancy can do. Some of them need some tough gym love. I don't feel quite so bad about myself when I see that my stomach is far flatter after one kid than some of the teenage girls at the pool or even the lifeguards. So why can't I rock that bikini I ask?

Another thing while I'm at it, because for some reason I don't see this so much in my neck of the woods. I'm sort of small but curvy girl. I'm 4.5 months pregnant but my stomach is like a cantaloupe right now. I tried on that giant tent of a maternity swim suit. I bought it with good intentions. You know the kind that is supposed to mimic a tankini? No, I don't even wear that no matter how many times I'm told I could by other Moms. I loathe that wet suit feel on my stomach and I have abs - I'm showing them off dammit! That suit made me feel like a giant crow. I was covered and looked about 40 pounds heavier. I dug out my two-piece and felt much more comfortable. Yes, I was glaringly white and might have blinded a pool patron or two that first outing, but I was happy to note that for the first time I was asked when I was due by even the clueless male lifeguards. I was told by some of the rather nice Moms out there that I looked terrific and amazing too.

Now if that doesn't help a pregnant woman out what does?

And that's my rant in favor of the bikini.

Here I am in Jamaica seven months after having T.D. It's not a full body shot but it is the best I could do. Now really? Granted I'm much 'rounder' now but I still stand by my right to wear a bikini.

This post was written for Parent Bloggers Network as part of a sweepstakes sponsored by BOCA and their new Balanced Living group. It is all about eating better and living better, bikini lover or not.

These are the Days of Our Lives

2008-06-19T08:28:00.004-04:00

I have been trying to formulate in my head how to begin this post and nothing comes to me. I wrote about it here at DC Metro Moms first and it felt like a great release. It's scary times people and who knows what will come next.

Then, today as I was looking for blog fodder. Anything to post beyond what is actually going on in our little world, I took a trip to Christina's blog and read this post. Well, if that doesn't just beat all. My roomie for BlogHer is going through the same thing! Only their news hit their little world one day sooner than ours. This country is a mess right now is it not? Is this our generations version of the Depression? I'm beginning to think so. Everyone I know is affected from a waiter and actress in L.A. to friends and family in New England.

Bear with me in the next few days, weeks and months as I try to make light of our situation and find the humor in it all. Because, hey! it is hilarious to not have insurance when you are pregnant right? It is super fun to be frugal I'm told and while we've been living that way for a while I think it might be a bit different now. I'll try not to be too morose.

Maybe I'll just talk about my new and yes, late obsession with The Wire and bombard you with tales of the 'hooker' on my block. Who really I think is not a hooker at all but just a girl renting a room with a red streak in her hair and heaven help her for not looking like the rest of us. Either that or you'll just have to listen to me wax poetic about making casseroles from a potato, magic shell and six Frito chips.

On the lighter side: MPR is holding a giveaway until Sunday, June 22. Just add a comment and you are entered to win a Soapier set of Lush body wash and body lotion!

Dash Two, We See You

2008-06-18T16:50:00.002-04:00

What is it about having that second child that makes you not just less neurotic (I did briefly worry about having a child with eight limbs, but that was only because the waiting room would not stop playing the story of the kid with eight limbs. Real helpful people! Real handy!) but also just even more forgetful if that is possible.

Consumed with the T.D. and trying to actually make an appointment on time I completely forgot to bring my handy doctor's slip saying it was A-OK for me to actually have that sonogram today. Just in case, I was thinking of hanging around the imaging office for kicks as we pregnant woman are wont to do. Luckily, H was able to drive home right quick and pick it off the fridge and skedaddle back to the doctor's office.

And another thing, I don't know about you, but why is that all customer service reps be it on the phone or in person no longer speak above a whisper? Seriously. Yesterday, at the bakery as I tried to order a cake the woman did not get my business because I could not hear my cakey options. I just ended up walking away. Same thing at my mute CVS pharmacy where no one dares speak any words of which we do not speak. Or anything at all for that matter. Then today, the receptionist at the sonogram place. The dude would not talk louder than a gnat with laryngitis.

Off my Andy Rooneyesque rant now, I do have news. For a full half hour or more we got to see this new bean. Dash Two didn't really feel like showing her face but in the end we got some very clear shots.

T.D. will now have some competition in her efforts to win world domination and H will be living in a sea of estrogen from here on out. He has already asked for a male dog and realized that the gaggle of teen girls he has seen being chaperoned at various places by a tired looking middle-aged man is now in his future.

The U.S. Economy is Kicking My Ass

2008-06-17T07:38:00.004-04:00

The hours between 1:30 and 4 a.m. are when I can typically be found lying awake wondering about all the 'What if's'. The 'Woulda, Shoulda, Coulda's' too.

When I think back to when H & I made the decision for me to quit my corporate job and jump off that career path (um... wait, was that a career path? It felt sort of empty and meaningless to me. Drone-like actually) and into full-time Mommyhood and a fledgling writing career I was full of optimism. That optimism can still be found most days when I get an award, such as this one, or I am asked to do something fun like fly to Atlanta or head to some other city for work and I am actually paid to do that work that I love so much.

I remember how at the time, it was my job or our marriage. I stay home and try to write and make a bit of money or we were headed towards statisticville. The Big D. It was not an ultimatum, but a choice we both made and we were happy to do. Now, almost five months pregnant, with little work on the horizon and this sucky economy that leaves many jobs hanging in the balance, I wonder if I made the right choices.

The What If's Include:

What if I kept working? Would we have been able to stay married and sucked up our existence or are H & I really that into not being part of the whole system? We are dreamers, both of us. I see that now. Dreamers have a hard time just having a job and punching that ol' clock. It's like putting a square into a circle. We can do it, but usually it is with disastrous results.

What if we just sucked it up?

What if I shopped at the Dollar Store and threw away my beliefs for a while and sucked up the toxic $1 chemically-laden products they sell there?

What if when H tells me that I should spend the day doing something fun and adventuresome with T.D. rather than looking for work or trying to work I listened? It is awful hard to do that when the grocery and gas bill just keeps escalating.

I can't even go on, it isn't between the hours of 1-4 a.m. so my mind can't handle this with only a minor amount of caffeine.

I do know this though. The birth of T.D. somehow gave me the ability and confidence I had previously lacked to pursue my dream of becoming a writer. It was in looking at her that I wanted to have that passion realized and let it come to fruition. It was not something I could continue to squelch.

The 'what if's' no matter how ugly and nagging are going to have to be put aside. Too bad pregnant women can't take sleeping pills, the ones with continuous release.

Unexpected Surprises

2008-06-16T08:22:00.002-04:00

This weekend was full of unexpected surprises.

From pee on the floor not once, not twice and no, not even thrice times! Ah, potty training in all its glory....

To family dropping (if you all had a blog, I would plug you!) by for a casual dinner and watching our girls play.

To Graco extending an offer I could not refuse. Details to come later.... is the suspense killing you? It is for me.

To Father's Day spent scouting out the sights at Mt. Vernon. Educational fun with sullen teens serving ice cream! Kick ass! Actually it kind of was. I thoroughly enjoyed visiting the father of our countries home- finally. I mean, I've lived 15 minutes from it for almost five years and never gone. Eesh! And to everyone that was there? I wasn't really going to push that old broad off the cliff to get a better shot of the Potomac. Really, I wasn't.

And lastly, the unexpected sonogram that kicked the whole weekend off. That last part was courtesy of a friend and neighbor. Turns out Care Net got some new equipment and whoa's them for not having any appointments that night so it was up to me to test out the new machines!

Dash Two? Let's just say we know who you are.

However, we are waiting until Wednesday to make it official. That's when I have my scheduled songoram with 4D! and my doctors. While T.D. and I did get a nice little preview of this new addition to the family (Sticking the tongue out at us and all, which leaves me already fearing another dictator.) H did not. He'll join me on this appointment and hopefully we will get the Full Monty.

Random Question # 172-'Burb Life Edition

2008-06-13T08:21:00.006-04:00

You know you live in Suburbia when you hear the following sentences uttered...

Have you been to the new Wegman's yet? It's amazing! You must go! (This is akin to having a new Trader Joe's/Whole Foods/World Market opening in your 'hood. The giveaways, the samples, it is enough to make a person faint over dead in free basting oil.)

I LOVE tea parties! Let's have a tea party!!! (This is not said by anyone in the age 3-6 set who has a tiny Disney princess tea set. No, it is said by a grown woman.)

I think we have a hook, er, working girl living on our street... (seriously. We might.)

Did anyone have someone knock on their door at almost 9 p.m. the other night? Me too!!! Who does that? (It was then blamed on a John who must have been in the 'burb to see the hooker.)

The inevitable talk of paving stones, community pools, parking violations and patio umbrellas will shortly ensue.

What sentences scream 'burb life to you? What do you hear in your neighborhood? And uh, does anyone else have a lady of the night working their block or is it just us? And to think, our street looks and acts like Pleasantville.

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Pregnancy Hormones or a Case of "That's Life"?

2008-06-12T10:13:00.004-04:00

Next week we find out the gender of Dash Two and it could not come at a better time. OK, maybe today would have been good, but at this moment, it is needed.

I need to feel some sort of connection with this being who is for all intensive purposes the size of an apple. Sure, I have now heard the heartbeat, which puts me at ease, but I need to see it. To know that it is growing normally and all looks good. Once we know the gender we can assign a name and make it personal. I can plan and begin to get excited. Also known as soliciting companies to give my boy or girl new crap to review. Heh. I can no longer think of Dash Two as just the reason my breasts are now possibly a new wonder of the world or why my otherwise delectable coconut birthday cake makes me puke it up each time I attempted to eat it.

The second child is turning out to be vastly different from the first. I don't know if the world can handle two dictators in one house anyway. Can you imagine if Hitler and Mussolini had to be bunk mates at camp or share a trundle bed? Disaster. Pure and utter disaster. The pregnancy is different, the complaints are different and my enthusiasm level is wildly different. Almost wrong I feel because aside from the once a week blip of "Ooh another little 'us' in the house' moment, I'm feeling pretty ambivalent. H even remarked last night that he forgets that I'm pregnant.

Is it normal to just be a bit on the 'Meh' side with the second one? To just go through the motions? Or is it just the stress life has thrown at us lately? Paying more than one mortgageand dealing with a stagnant real estate market? Not so fun for the already sick pregnant lady. Your spouse talking about lay offs at work? Also, um... not so fun. In fact, it makes morning sickness downright festival like. Someone get me a stick for the pinata.

My midwife tells me to to learn to 'just be'. My friends tell me to take time for myself and go play. Sure thing ladies. Wish it were that simple but CPS frowns on leaving toddlers in cars while I sip a latte in the shade even if you crack a window, provide juice boxes and crayons. And what if you feel so stuck, so mired in the moment and what the future might hold that you are paralyzed by doubts and fears that even just being is hard. What if you don't know if it is just life and hormones or if you are actually full-on depressed?

I remember the suspect mole/cancer episode of last summer and think, "Pffttt... easy peasy folks. Cake walk." I'm trying to live in the moment. Enjoy these summer days and the last of our alone time with T.D. but life is coming at us in a way I don't know how to handle.

My big girl panties are chafing me but good.

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Tantrums- Dictator Style

2008-06-11T14:14:00.004-04:00

Oh, Internets...

How I long for the care free days when only once a week I felt like for maybe, five minutes, I felt like I might lose my mind. Those days are like the ones where you are sitting by a crystal blue pool looking toned and tanned while sipping some delicious treat of a drink.

Days like today? Days like I have been having for the past few weeks? They are more akin to lying naked after having gained an extra 80 lbs, been covered in honey, feathers, and maybe some saran wrap, sat on an ant hill that also happens to be hot asphalt covered with glass and have the entire Beltway's worth of traffic critique your fabulous body while you beg for some water that is just a centimeter or two away. Did I mention you have also been beaten to a pulp and some hot lava is just careening towards you?

Yup. That is how I feel. As if I've been put through the ringer. My OB/GYN appointment today was more therapy session than, "Let's hear the baby's heartbeat!" excitement. I think I cried no less than three times. I woke up crying today because no matter how hard I pray for things to change, to feel better, to enjoy this pregnancy and to have the strength I need to deal with all that life has thrown at us lately, I'm just done.

I'm tapped out.

When T.D. decides to throw no less than four terrific tantrums per day I feel like I might become a statistic. I have tried everything I can think of to quell them and nothing is working. She screams so loud it is as if she is being torn apart by wild dogs. I fear opening our windows in case someone hears her and calls CPS on us.

Why the tantrums? I wish I knew.

It is all, "NO! EAT LUNCH!" An hour or two later, "EAT LUNCH NOW!" Or my fave, "NO NAP!" "NOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" and then I lose all hearing and I try to find some inner calm as she writhes on the floor kicking everything that is nearby. All of them are accompanied with a blood curdling scream that is so horrific I fear Hollywood can hear her and might use her soon for their next slasher film. If only it were that amusing. Or that they would pay me some sum of money to have her meltdowns recorded.

I just know that I don't know how much more my jaw can take because I'm clenching it so hard these days my head pounds for hours on end.

These tantrums.

This life.

I fear I'm losing it.

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