Monthly Archives: October 2012

Hitched

Las Vegas, Nevada

Fremont Street, the site of the ZIP!

Well, we did it, internet! We went to Las Vegas and got hitched! And yes, Elvis walked me down the aisle and sang to Baby L. And it was so effing awesome. Obviously, when you’re in Vegas, there is an Elvis on every corner and the odds of getting a good one are, well, kind of slim in my opinion. And I don’t think we got the best Elvis there was (I am pretty sure he used shoe polish to paint on some of his hair), but I didn’t even care about that. Because the wedding was exactly what I had hoped: Lighthearted. Fun. A good story to tell the grandkids .A good amount of cheesiness. It was definitely all of those things. We laughed our faces off and we left the chapel a legit married couple. And, really, what more could I ask for?

Baby L was an angel on the flights to and from Vegas. There were only a couple of points where she started to spaz a little. And who could be mad at that? I kind of felt like screaming my face off a couple of times, myself. Because, seriously, sitting in a tiny seat for 5 hours and not being able to move AT ALL makes my body hurt. (Thanks, Baby L, for destroying my hips and making it impossible for me to sit/stand/walk/lie down for any extended period of time.) And having strangers breathing on me, well, that isn’t really one of my favorite things either…

I wasn’t able to do a lot of things that I wanted to while I was in Vegas. Mainly because, the day that we got there, my throat started hurting like I had attempted to swallow sandpaper (gotta love germy, enclosed spaces!). I spent a lot of time with my mom, sister, and Baby L in the condo while MB and his brother and sister explored the strip. Which didn’t really bother me, because I had already seen it and they hadn’t. But I did a little gambling, I ate a little deliciousness, I walked a whole lot in and around beautiful, ornate hotels, and I visited the top of the Eiffel Tower. Oh, and I fucking ziplined! (I can’t believe I almost forgot that!) I felt pretty accomplished, being that I am not usually one to try flying through the air, attached to a wire, but I figured that I had to do it. After all, MB’s brother and sister bungee jumped off of the Stratosphere. And comparatively, I still suck.

Here are a few highlights:

1. MB’s brother started out as his normal self: A douche canoe. But eventually joined the land of the un-douchey and we ended up not killing each other, and, on the contrary are right back on track. (I’ve known him about ten years longer than I have known MB and we were friends quite a long time before the douchiness started. But I suppose that depends on who you ask. I have some friends who might say I was just blind to it all those years. Until we knew we were going to be family.) This was really a relief. Because the last thing that I wanted was for MB to feel like he couldn’t spend time with his wife and brother at the same time. That is just stupid. I think he was less inclined to be douchey because his ridiculous girlfriend wasn’t there. She tends to bring out the worst in everyone.

2. Baby L saw the Las Vegas strip! She was totally in awe of everything and she was just amazing (until she got tired and we were sitting in a burger place inside the Paris hotel and she started screaming her face off. But, Daddy has the magic touch.) Granted, she won’t remember this. But she will have a picture with Elvis to commemorate. MB and I might be really embarrassing parents.

3. Speaking of Daddy’s magic touch: MB somehow contracted MRSA while we were gone and cannot touch ANYTHING or ANYONE until otherwise advised by a doctor. I am not going to get into how skeeved out the idea of MRSA is to me. And I’m not going to admit to how many loads of laundry I have done in the past 48 hours. But I will tell you, having baby duty 24 hours a day without even so much as someone to HOLD her, on top of being sick myself? NO FUN. I’m hoping that MB’s nastiness clears up soon so that I can get a little help. But also, you know, so he doesn’t die.

4. My mom is obsessed with El Pollo Loco and I am pretty sure that the only reason she goes to Las Vegas is to eat chicken. Fast food chicken.

5. MB bought a guitar to fill with alcohol and carry around the strip. I obviously was not present when this was purchased. But mission accomplished. HAMMERED MB.

6. My sister, MB and I stumbled into a bar at three in the morning one night, where we may have been the only tourists. It was totally creepy. And a weird bunch of people bought us shots. We were fairly certain that, if we didn’t leave immediately, we would wake up in a meth den or something. We escaped. Then we ate Fat Burgers.

7. My hair stayed curly for several days in Las Vegas. I was fairly certain it would be as it is in Florida, and curl beautifully, stay for 13.5 minutes and then, before you can blink, return to stick straight. I told the hairdresser that if my hair stayed, I would move to Las Vegas. And two days later, I was almost in tears because I had to finally wash it.

8. My good friend Ricky was able to make the trip from San Diego and hang out with us during and after the wedding. I had a GREAT time with him and was SO glad that at least ONE of my friends could make the trip!

9. MB has the travel bug now. He’s already trying to plan our next getaway. This time, it will most likely NOT involve that amount of alcohol. Any siblings. Or a fillable guitar.

10. Thanks to all of YOU for the congratulations! I’m so happy to be home and so happy to have officially married my best friend!

That was the longest/shortest vacation of my life. And the only souvenirs I returned with are an empty Eiffel Tower which used to hold frozen drink deliciousness and a defective husband! Okay, maybe not defective. But definitely diseased. Gross.

Related articles

20121021-134412.jpg

Thou Shalt Not Cut (Your Mother)

Very, very soon, MB, Baby L and I will be on vacation in Las Vegas, staying at a condo with my mom. My mom has graciously assumed the role of designated baby watcher while we are there, considering that MB and I will not only be on our first vacation, but also kind of on our honeymoon. I am super grateful that she has offered to do this. And that she will be there, because I for one, could definitely NOT leave and go on vacation WITHOUT Baby L because I would be stricken with guilt the whole time. And I would miss her little cheeks so much, I’m sure I would be on the first flight back home. That said, there are some things that worry me about my mom watching the baby. Not because she isn’t totally capable and competent, but because this baby is MINE. And I, like my mother, am sort of a crazy control freak. (To my credit, however, I don’t think I am quite as bad as my mom. If I were, I wouldn’t be able to hack my current living situation with the grace that I have thus far.) But two crazy control freaks, in one place, with one defenseless little lady…well, this could be bad. But I know my baby better than my mom does. Whether or not she raised two kids already. That was a bazillion years ago, mom, and my baby is an INDIVIDUAL.

20121011-102107.jpgFor instance, when we started rice cereal a few weeks ago, you first told me that I should mix it in with her bottle at night and it would help her sleep. A couple of things:

1. The doctor advised against giving her cereal in the bottle and suggested I spoon feed because there is less chance that she will aspirate cereal. Aspirating cereal does not sound like fun. Especially for a baby, who cannot say, “HELP! I have aspirated cereal!”

2. Cereal does not help this baby sleep. Infact, quite the opposite. MY baby likes to stay awake for 4 hours AFTER nighttime cereal. Did you hear that, Mom?! FOUR HOURS. For the love of all that is holy, PLEASE DO NOT GIVE MY BABY CEREAL AT NIGHT. I will murder you.

I am sure that when I advise my mom of this, she will not take my word for it but decide that she needs to see for herself. Then Baby L will be up at 3am, squirming around and NOT SLEEPING. And then my mom will bitch all of the next day because she didn’t get any sleep.

And then I will cut her.

The end.

Mommy Needs a Patio

I remember days before all this motherhood stuff when I used to get to do things. Like, take naps. And drink wine at lunch. And wake up at noon. And skip laundry because there wasn’t any baby puke all over it. I remember times when I could sit down and watch an episode of “Dexter” without having to pause 15 times to get a bottle or rinse of a pacifier or change a diaper.

I’ve been feeling…in a rut. My days, although fulfilling in ways I never could have imagined, have become sort of monotonous. I sleep until I am awoken, not by an alarm, but by the whimper of a hungry baby. I shower only when MB is free to give me the 20 minutes of peace to do so. I leave the house to run errands but not without a giant diaper bag and massive stroller. I’m stressed in a way that I can’t even explain. Before baby, stress was brought about by too many things on my plate. By having to be too many places at once. By never having enough time. And it is almost the same now, but in some sort of weird way, I miss the time when stress came from having two parties to attend in one night. Or because I wasn’t sure I would be able to make it to happy hour on time because my hair appointment was taking a bit longer than expected.

Can I remember my last hair appointment? Sort of.

We’ve moved so far away from the world I am used to that my social life involves talking to a four-month-old about what an idiot Mitt Romney is. And though she is becoming a hell of a conversationalist, I can’t really decipher her political belief system yet.

There are those moments when I just want a break. Like one where no one wakes me up. Or asks me about feeding schedules. I want to drink beer on a patio somewhere. I want to feel free for a moment.

I’m holding tight to the idea that in just a few days, we will be on vacation. That I might get a few moments, unchained. To drink beer. maybe even on a patio somewhere. But I worry that, even on vacation, I will feel exhausted. Tied down. Alone.

I’m not saying that I don’t enjoy every second of time with Baby L. Or that I don’t cherish every little thing she does. I really do. Because she is the best thing ever. But I’m tired, you guys.

And mommy needs a patio.

Growing Together

Today, for the first time, I woke up at 5:30 am and NOT because the baby was hungry and starting to cry her little face off. Nope, I woke up, out of the blue and I could NOT go back to sleep. And, of course, I wrote a blog post in my head. And it was a really good one. And then I got up and fixed breakfast, ate, had some coffee, got the baby fed…and then the blog post was gone. GONE. (This is not unusual. I do my best, most articulate writing when I am half asleep and unable to reach my computer. Usually right before I fall asleep or when I wake up at an ungodly hour of the morning and am desperately fighting being awake. Go figure.)

But I was thinking about how much my feelings about being a mom have changed. And how they have changed me. And I was remembering the time when I was pregnant and how I thought I might never feel a real bond with my kid and how sad that would be,

While I was pregnant, the whole thing seemed surreal. Like I would never get to that point where pregnant women get all full of joy or whatever. And I guess I eventually got there. Somewhat. I mean, I HATED being pregnant. I hated every little thing about how I felt. But I do remember every once in awhile, feeling Baby L kick and being totally excited, if only for that moment. But then terrified again.

The terror didn’t really go away for a little while after she was born either. I mean, you hear all these women talk about how they instantly felt this bond with this little meatloaf that they just pushed out of their bodies, and you expect to feel that right away. But the reality is, some women need a minute. Or a couple. I was one of those women. And I think there are more of us than will admit it, because I know I felt a bit of shame in this department.

I instantly loved Baby L. Duh. I mean, I carried her around for so long that she was PART of me. But I didn’t feel this instant bond. And I felt awful about it. I felt like I was a bad mother right away. I felt scared to leave her and instantly protective, which I suppose is that motherly instinct thing that I was hearing so much about. But I didn’t feel…IN LOVE at first. I felt bizarre. Like on those old TV shows where they teach kids about having kids by giving them an EGG to care for, for like a week (pretty sure this happened on “Saved by the Bell“.). And they can’t break it or lose it or whatever. (I never understood how an EGG compares to a BABY. I could DEFINITELY take care of an EGG for a week, people. I have twelve of them, perfectly safe, in the fridge right NOW.) But even though I loved this little egg, I wasn’t sure where the hell I was supposed to go from there.

But I was reading, shortly after leaving the hospital, a book called “Secrets from the Baby Whisperer” and the author made the point that your baby is a person. And it might take a little while to get to know him/her. Just like anyone else. Because, lets face it people, you don’t instantly LOVE people when you meet them. (I mean, maybe you HAVE, but how rare is that?!) Then I didn’t feel so bad about having to really work at this whole bonding thing. I had to get to KNOW Baby L. And she had to get to know me.

And that’s okay.

And now, nearly five months have passed, And Baby L is my whole life. She is beautiful and smart and hilarious. And she sings to her toys. And her little smiles melt my heart. And we’re totally BFFs.

* The title of this post was going to be “Bondage” but I was really worried about the kind madness that might attract. I don’t have much to say about that. This is a mommy blog, you guys.

 

Airplane Panic

Diaper Change in the Sky

Diaper Change in the Sky (Photo credit: andycarvin)

In less than a week, MB, Baby L and I will be taking our first vacation as a family. Am I super excited? Hell yes. Am I freaking out a little? Hell YES.

This might come as a shock to you, given how much I loved kids before I had one, but I have never traveled with an infant before. Before I had Baby L, I’d never even driven with one in my car. And the anxiety I had about that alone was astonishing. Now I get to bring my tiny person to the airport and through security and on an airplane. And OH MY GOD, the anxiety. As competent as I feel now as a mom, I just know that I will forget something important. Like, formula. I will be so concerned about remembering my toothbrush that I will forget that this little lady has to eat.

Not to mention the three hour time difference. Baby L is going to be asleep by 7 pm and wide awake and ready to play at 4 in the morning. Because it seems that, even though all of the adults will be running around like crazy people, it would be right to let her keep Florida time so that when we get home, she isn’t all messed up with the sleep thing. Because we all know how important sleep is to mommies.

I feel sort of insane with all the lists I have floating around the house and in my head. Lists of things to do before we leave. Lists of things to pack for Baby L. Lists of regular, every day things that I am most likely to forget. Lists of reasons to be nice to MB’s brother while we’re there, even though I want to punch him in his nether-region. Lists of restaurants in Las Vegas that don’t allow smoking. LIST after LIST after LIST, internet.

I feel like my mom.

For those of you who have traveled with your little ones, any words of wisdom?

Related articles

Serenity (Felicity) Now

Now that my internet is working and I have a brand new computer which actually, you know, DOES STUFF, I feel like I am SUPERWOMAN, you guys. I can read blogs and catch up on the news and do really inane things like play games on Facebook. Which hasn’t happened in, like, forever. Also, and I am sort of ashamed of this, but I am watching reruns of “Felicity” on Netflix. Because reruns of “Felicity” make me calm. Because I don’t really care what happens because I’ve seen them all. And while sometimes I feel like Felicity should have been punched more, she generally is just so boring it makes all the diapers and teething seem a little bit less like work. And I used to have a huge crush on Scott Foley. Not Speedman. Because he was the obvious one to have a crush on.

Why are we talking about “Felicity”? Because, internet, I need to be calm. I need five minutes to think about nothing and revel in how boring she is.  Because in real life, I have to get my HERRRR DID for the wedding. And meet with a pastor about Baby L’s baptism. And get a pedicure. And find some shoes for the wedding. And find something borrowed. And decide whether we are having a dinner after the baptism or a small dinner reception. Or both. And where these things will take place. And OH. MY. GOD. I just need someone to do all of this for me. Because even though I finally have the internet back. And my car is fixed and sitting in the driveway. I feel like there is so much to do. And all “Felicity” has to do is obsess about boys and deal with that bitch Elana.

Like a Boss

Who's the Boss?

Who’s the Boss? (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Being a stay-at-home mom is really never anything I wanted to be. Mainly because the idea of having kids sort of scared/repulsed/annoyed the bejesus out of me in and of itself. And then, you know, there’s the whole cleaning up after everyone, feeding someone all the time, changing diapers…you know…that stuff… But you know, being a SAHM is sort of like having a job . And I love it. Like, more than any job I’ve ever had (it is up there with the Activities Director position I had at that nursing home where I got to play BINGO with Alzheimer’s patients for most of the day, but really, that wasn’t much different than having kids. And it was a BLAST.) But sometimes, internet, I just wish I had a JOB. It isn’t like I don’t currently have a boss. I have one. It’s just that she’s two feet tall. And she drools. You know, more than most bosses.

There are really a lot of things I miss about working. And some days, having no contact with anyone who can have a conversation can be a little overwhelming. And frustrating. But I mean, when you think about it, work has it’s share of ridiculousness that I don’t miss too.

At work, my boss could feed herself. I have to admit, this actually does shock me, considering what a fucking idiot she was. But she didn’t need me for that. Luckily.

At work, I didn’t have to change my boss’s diaper. I can’t really comment on whether or not she wore diapers. But if she did, I am sure they were all designer and stuff. Because she was fancy. (Read: really effing pretentious and horrible.)

At work, my boss didn’t cry when something didn’t go her way and didn’t need me to console her. However, she did not know how to use a fax machine.  And she did tend to call me from across the building to fax things for her on a regular basis. And the fax machine was literally FIVE STEPS from her office. So…there’s that.

At work, my sleep didn’t get interrupted because someone had gas. There are a few reasons for this. The obvious one is that I didn’t ever get to sleep at work. Because, obviously, they wouldn’t let me do that. And the other was because at work, other people’s gas was not my problem. Now, other peoples’s gas is most certainly my problem. And it causes crying.

Sometimes I think that in a few months, maybe I will get a part time job to just…get out of the house for a bit and talk to adults. But then I reconsider. Because adults are…well…not always all they are cracked up to be. And who wouldn’t want the opportunity to stay home with their spawn? Even if it IS a harder job than anything else I’ve done…

 

 

Related articles

The Haps…

Oh, internet, how I have missed you. Turns out, I needed a new modem. Which, of course, takes, like a bizzillion years to get. And then, you know, because I have all this money, I had to buy a new computer because mine was DONE with it all. And then my car wouldn’t start. So then I bought myself a new fuel pump too! Because I’m getting married and going on vacation in less than two weeks and don’t have ENOUGH to stress about.

So, there it is. That’s how I’ve been doing. How are YOU, internet?

It is looking like MB and I will not be having a reception when we return from Las Vegas. Not because we don’t want to celebrate with everyone, or anything, but because without the internet or a car during the day for a really long time, it is pretty difficult to scope out venues and find catering. And, even though my dad AND uncle are chefs and will be here for the festivities, I just don’t feel that making them cater would be very cool of me. You know, because they might want to celebrate too. And by celebrate, I mean drink a lot of beer. Since my dad is coming from out of the country, I really only have one weekend that I can have a party that he can attend. Which happens to be the weekend that Baby L will be baptized. I have to pile it all in there in two days and I just can’t figure out how to do it. So…it looks like we might just have to have a casual party later on down the road. One that won’t involve me pulling all of my hair out. And one, without my dad. Which sort of sucks.

I AM, getting super excited about the wedding. Well, not specifically the wedding, but the fun that we are about to have in Vegas. It has been SO long since I have been there…or had any kind of vacation, that I almost feel like something is going to happen and I won’t be able to go. Or someone is going to ruin it. (Which, if it were to happen, would be MB’s idiot brother who is coming to Vegas and, unfortunately staying in our timeshare with my family…Fuuuuuuuck.) But, I have already alerted everyone who will be there, that if he gets all stupid on me, I will a) kick him out of the condo and/or b) chop certain parts of his anatomy off and shove them into his face holes. The end.

I’m about to be a mom AND a wife. Holy shit, you guys, HOLY SHIT.

 

Related articles