Here it is, Ladies! The latest Giveaway!

Alright, ladies, here it is! The moment you’ve all been waiting for! The new giveaway announcement is here!

I have teamed up with the LOVELY Kathy at The Jamlife with Kathy for this one and we are excited to share this amazing giveaway with you! Kathy is a long-time friend of mine and she is not only amazing in real life, but she is also a fabulous Jamberry consultant!

Ladies, meet my dear friend Kathy:

My life is nothing but crazy chaos every single day. I am a 7th grade teacher and a mommy of a 5-year old and 2-year old. I know….What the heck was I thinking.  I see nothing but kids EVERYDAY!! Between the attitudes of pre-teens and the constant screaming of “MINE” from my kids at home, I wonder why I am not in a straight jacket. I will say that the kisses, hugs, and I love yous (from my little ones) make my days seem better. Don’t get it twisted….I still like to tell the whole truth to those who are looking to jump into the deep end that is the pool of parenthood. If you jump,  make sure you bring you coffee and wine!!!! You will need it. 
I also lead an alternate life as a Jamberry Independent Consultant. I love the fact that I GET PAID TO HAVE PRETTY NAILS. Since I have no time to get my nails done at the nail salon. I apply my Jamberry wraps after the kids go to bed. Once they are on I don’t have to worry about drying or smudging. I can go to bed and rest easy that my nails won’t look like crap when I wake up. On top of that, they last up to 2 weeks on fingers and 6-8 weeks on toes.
I have just recently started using these nail wraps, after winning a giveaway at one of Kathy’s Facebook parties (which, by the way, are awesome because you literally just get all the perks of having a consultant explaining things to you without having to get out of your yoga pants. And you know, I don’t get out of my yoga pants…) They are INCREDIBLE. No kidding. I have spent years NOT doing my nails because I have to wash my hands 4,073 times per day (because toddlers) and I don’t want to deal with all that chipping bullshit that happens. ALL THE CHIPPING, you guys. Anyway, they’re durable. No drying. Literally, NO WORK at ALL. I love. So, Kathy and I are sharing!
Here’s what you can win!
Jamberry Mini Heater –  Provides the right amount of heat for Jamberry nail wrap application.
Application Kit – Everything you need for the perfect manicure. Kit includes: • 2 alcohol wipes• 1 pair of nail scissors•
1 pair of nail clippers• 1 buffer block• 2 orange sticks• 1 rubber cuticle pusher1 nail file
App Kit
 White and Pink Tint Tip wraps – The French Tip collection has something for everyone. Whether you want to be classically chic or super trendy, you’ll find the right tips for you. Lasts up to 2 weeks on fingernails and 4 weeks on toenails.
Pink Tint
Sunday Brunch Wraps – The Garden Party collection features any and all things garden inspired and feminine. From floral to lace, these designs embrace femininity.
Sunday Brunch
This is over a $60 value! You will NEVER go back!
To enter: “Like” Broken Condoms Blog and The JamLife with Kathy on Facebook. (Must be a US resident.) Contest starts at midnight! Winner will be announced on March 1, 2015!!! Mobile friendly entry HERE:

On Not Getting Hit with Golf Clubs. And Some Other Shit.

Dancing bears

Dancing bears (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Baby L has been a pretty bad blogger lately. It might have something to do with the fact that she has been busy trying to stand on her own and furiously trying to crawl. (She can crawl, but usually does more backwards crawling and when trying to go forward, either flops over onto her side or just lets her arms give out and starts to fuss about it. What a baby, I know…sheesh.) She’s really letting the blogosphere down. I tried to tell her that people are going to stop reading and that everyone is getting really pissed that she is so selfishly ignoring this blog. She said she’s sorry, you guys. Don’t give up on her. After all, she is just a baby.

Oh, you guys were under the impression that I was going to blog…Right. About that…Well, a lot has happened in the past few weeks. For starters, (and I know I will forget something, because I TOTALLY have pregnancy brain and am having trouble remembering pretty much everything. Especially if I have to remember it for more than 30 seconds) MB, Baby L and I moved into a new place. Before you get all excited for us and our new status as homeowners, just don’t get excited. Because we aren’t. And I am okay with it. We are renting a three bedroom house with a giant yard for a fraction of what I would have expected to pay for a place this size. Is it on the side of town that I was hoping for? No. Is the rent going to be too much for our single-income family? Shockingly? NO! Go, Team Oopsie!

Is this my dream house? No. But there are a few things that I absolutely LOVE about it. Like, for instance, the yard is seriously gigantic. This makes me super happy because pretty soon it will be summertime. And Baby L will be frolicking about in cutesy little sundresses and I will be prancing with my giant preggo-beast belly to Grateful Dead songs. Okay, probably this won’t happen. I mean, who wants to prance with a preggo-beast belly? And I feel like Grateful Dead prancing should only happen after a lot of cocktails or hallucinogens. Neither of which I am really allowed to partake in currently. (I mean, not that I would take any hallucinogens anyway. At least, not anymore. Don’t judge me. I was a teenager once, OKAY? I digress…there probably won’t be prancing.)

The house is pretty old, so it has that awesome built-in shelving in it. I have always loved that, because I hate putting up shelves. So I just don’t. And then I wind up with a bunch of framed pictures and barnyard animal figurines all over everything. (Okay, not so much the figurines, but I wanted to make sure you got the visual of a ridiculous and tacky clutter. Mission accomplished? I think so.)

Also, and this might be a pro AND a con for us: NO CARPET. Only hard wood! OH. MY. SWEET. BABY. JESUS. I love hard wood floors. I mean, do I really have to say anything else about it? I don’t think so.

One of the best things, though, just kind of fell into my lap. When we were looking at this house, the landlord was having a broker show it. And the broker, well, lets just say he was sort of flighty and weird and I didn’t like him. And he stood us up a couple of times before we actually got to see the place. And then, once we finally saw it and MB had decided that, not only was the price right, but that he wanted to go ahead and get it ASAP, the dude couldn’t locate our former landlord and couldn’t get a reference. When I offered to speak with the potential landlord, she mentioned that her father (who has dementia) is living alone in a house right next door and that she is not only looking for a tenant, but also someone to spend a couple of hours per week with him to cook meals and give him medications. Naturally, I mentioned that I am not currently working and that I used to work with dementia patients at a nursing home. This won her over, apparently, and we got the house the next day. And then, a week later, I had a job. Not a substantial one, but one that will help out with our bills and one that will provide me with a little purpose. You know, of the outside of the house variety. SCORE!

So, now I am employed. And, call me crazy, but I really like working with dementia patients. He tends to cuss a lot at me when I put in his eyedrops but I was warned about this. And cussing, you guys, I can totally handle. I mean, fuck, I am a sailor-mouthed mommy blogger. As long as he doesn’t bite me or hit me with a golf club, I can handle him.

So, we are no longer living with a disobedient five-year-old. And we have hard wood floors. And a huge yard. And I cook eggs and bacon for a dementia patient and try to avoid getting hit with golfclubs for several hours per week. So, that’s the news.

I don’t think that I have to tell you that I want a GIANT FUCKING BEER. Or that I still hate being pregnant and can’t wait until this shit is over. And I probably don’t need to inform you of the copious amount of ice cream I have ingested over the last month. Or that my belly is officially giant and I want to hide from the world until this kid makes his grand entrance. Because, you guys can probably guess how that is all going over. I mean, I just did this. You guys might remember all the fun that was had.

I will be posting my open letter to Baby L (9 months, totally late. Shut up.) very shortly. I just haven’t had a lot of time to write about her being 9 months old because I have been busy dealing with a 9-month-old. But I have a little more free time now that we are out of our previous living situation and now that I am not currently cleaning up after 4 adults all the time. You know…because that shit sucked the blogging right out of me.

I shall return. And sooner than you may expect.


Peace OUT!


Broken Condoms…Reloaded (Alternately Titled “Holy Shitballs” Which Seems to be the Common Response)

Seriously, I know the title sounds a little gross. And I also know that I might get some serious weirdos starting to hang around…but I will have to deal with it. Because I am too tired to think of a clever title that fits this post. Because, internet, I’m knocked up again.

And yes. You read that right. I, Broken Condoms lady, reluctant mommy blogger, is knocked up AGAIN. And before you all start dropping like flies with the sheer shock of it all, let me go ahead and clear everything up for you. Please feel free to let me know if I leave anything out…

1. Yes. I was taking birth control pills. And yes, we were also using condoms on the rare occasion that I actually let my husband touch me. Because pregnancy was enough to scare me into wearing a titanium suit around him if I had to. None of this worked, evidently. Hence this post. (Grrr…)

2. How do I feel about this whole mess, you ask? Well, internet, I feel a lot of things. I’ve been keeping this under wraps for awhile so a lot of that emotional shit, I have since come to terms with, but let me try and run you through what I have experienced thus far. First there was denial. I think that when your first child is 5.5 months old and you find out that you are, indeed, expecting again, the first thing that happens in your brain (especially if you have been taking any and every means of preventing this from happening) is that you decide that it can’t be true. It has to be some cruel joke that the Universe is playing on you. Wait, is it April Fools’ Day? You got me, Universe, you really, really got me. But then you start to vomit and you think, “Hey, I must have a stomach bug.” Seriously. I convinced myself for 4 days that the positive home pregnancy test was the Universe playing a joke and that the morning sickness was actually just a stomach bug. After I puked a few more times, though, I just started to have a little breakdown. I kept thinking about all the things I was about to have to do (AGAIN) that drove me so crazy the first time. You know, like the not sleeping (which I am, obviously, currently not doing anyway) and the back pain and the intense need for double cheeseburgers from McDonalds. And then I cried a lot. Daily. For a LONG TIME. I considered options. And I discussed everything with MB (who, by the way, was in support of whatever I decided even though he felt that we, as a couple, are strong enough to do this shit all over again. Curses.) I stared at my daughter for hours and contemplated the birth of our second child and what it would mean for us and our family. I reasoned with myself about eventually wanting to have another child in the next couple of years anyway and how having this baby would make me…well…DONE with childbearing. And that thought gave me solace. But then I cried some more. Because, holy crap, internet, the kids will only be a year apart! And how will I chase a child who will inevitably be starting to walk and carry a newborn around and not sleep all while MB is at work all day?! How will I manage?! But then I stared at my daughter some more. And I thought about how hopeless I felt when I found out I was pregnant with her. And how doubtful of my abilities I was before she was born. And I felt a little bit better. Because dammit, I am a fantastic mom. Am I necessarily ready to be the “mother of two”? No. But was I ready to be a “mother of one”? Hells no.

The acceptance part started after I had to go to the Health Center and get a proof of pregnancy again so I could start the medicaid process (because, though, MB and I are now married, my insurance did not start until January 1st) AGAIN. (Which, if you remember, was pretty much the worst thing EVER for me.) A week later, the crying had stopped, for the most part, and shockingly, the Health Department had my Medicaid set up before I showed up for my appointment. (I didn’t have to make a SINGLE PHONE CALL.) I saw that as a good omen. And then I was all set to hear the heartbeat of the baby (as it was estimated that I was about 14 weeks along at this point) and the PA couldn’t find it on the Doppler. And this might sound crazy. Or horrible. Or whatever…but I was actually relieved. I felt like this might be my “out”. She set me up with an Ultrasound (which was more than three weeks away) and sent me on my way. To panic some more. Needless to say, I started the processes all over again, thinking that it might just be a fluke. Hello, denial.

My ultrasound was yesterday afternoon. I told my sister-in-law in the morning what the situation was and she offered to come with me to the appointment in case MB couldn’t get home from work in time. MB made it home at the speed of light and the three of us trekked downtown and, just like that, I’m gonna have a little boy. Due June 6th, 2013.

3. So, yeah, I know I didn’t answer “how do you feel NOW?” in that monster paragraph up there. The truth is. I feel peaceful. Obviously, fat. And sleepy. And a little scared. But also a little relieved that this whole thing is already almost half-way over and no one could tell I was pregnant (SCORE!). I haven’t gained any weight. I haven’t been nearly as sick as last time. Things have been fairly uneventful. So, do I feel good about the whole thing? Ehhh…I don’t know if GOOD is the right adjective. But I feel okay. I am alive, I am healthy. My baby is healthy. And I still have a wonderful partner and a beautiful daughter to remind me that this is not the end of the world. (Because, in some intense moments, I feel like I could lose it.)

4. I haven’t told EVERYONE in the world yet. By that, I just mean that I haven’t announced the news on Facebook. And I probably won’t do a giant, “We’re pregnant!!!” post. Because the people who matter have either already been told or will be soon enough. I don’t need to tell 200 more of my closest friends. Also, I am still sorting out the fact that I feel sort of ashamed that I let this happen so soon after having Baby L. Yes, I know I did all I could to prevent it, internet. But it feels so…irresponsible. Seriously. I mean, come ON, internet. Who DOES this?

(As I type this, THIS is what is happening on my TV. How can I not be optimistic?!)

Anyway, so that’s what’s going on over here. And maybe why I have been sort of distant lately. Please don’t break up with me, internet. I can’t do this alone!


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.


Viva Las Vegas

So, as I mentioned before, (very vaguely, and in passing) MB and I are heading out to Las Vegas and gettin’ hitched, y’all!

I am not one for traditional weddings. Not that they aren’t beautiful and touching and all that stuff…they are. And I respect people who want it to be all touching and stuff. But (and maybe you can tell this from this blog), I’m not really always all that serious. And sure, a marriage is serious business…but I don’t really think (and never have thought) that the wedding itself had to be so. So, I’ve always joked about having Elvis marry me (and whoever the lucky guy was to be) in Vegas. Despite the fact that I loathe Elvis. Because, well, I don’t know anyone who wouldn’t appreciate that story. Or being present to witness it. And if you’re anything like me, you might appreciate THAT more than getting dressed up to sit in a church. Or, a garden. Or whatever. (And, again, I’m not saying there’s anything WRONG with a church or a garden, but I’m not so much a church or garden kinda gal.) I thought it would be a neat story to tell the grandkids.

My grandparents have a timeshare condo in Las Vegas that they aren’t planning to use this year. And when my mom called and said, “Hey! Do you guys wanna get married in October? The timeshare is gonna be free!” I couldn’t say no. I mean, come ON, you guys. So, plans will be finalized this weekend. And I am super excited for so many reasons. 1. MB has never been to Vegas and he’s going to be awestruck 2. we haven’t taken a vacation since my 4th month of pregnancy and it was…lackluster… and 3. I get to marry my best friend. And Elvis will be there! And the pictures will be hilarious.

So, originally, a friend and her fiance were planning on coming and getting hitched at the same time (which was a super awesome plan too because, the more the merrier) and we were planning to wear 80’s prom attire. (I never went to prom. And I definitely never went to prom in the 80’s!) But that whole plan has fallen through. So now I’m trying to decide what I should wear. I don’t really like all that frilly white stuff (because I don’t want to look like a decorated cake) but I DO like vintage dresses (50’s and 60’s) and am a curvy, busty lady (moreso now than ever) so my question to you, dear readers, is: Do you know of any place I can find an affordable vintage style dress that does not make me look like a cake or cost an arm and a leg? (I’m still a stay-at-home-mom, remember.) It really doesn’t even have to be a wedding dress. Or white, for that matter. But I am looking for something ADORABLE. Any suggestions for the bride-to-be?

I Have Returned…

I’m not even going to discuss the fact that it took AT&T almost TWO WEEKS to make my internet work at the new place. Nope. Not gonna talk about that. Because, as tired and frustrated as I currently am, I would likely go batshit crazy if I had to think about it anymore. The only thing that matters is, the internet is on now. And I can finally update my BLOG!!! And, if you’ll forgive me, I’m not really even sure where to start…so…a LIST!

1. Two weeks ago, MB, Baby L and I moved across town into a house with the family. This has been mostly a positive experience. I love his family, we have a huge master bedroom and the much needed privacy that I was worried about not having, and I have help with Baby L pretty much whenever I need it. These are all positive things. But then there is the issue of living with another child. One who never, EVER sits down or stops jumping. This is definitely taking some getting used to. But I have learned to lock doors behind me to prevent any sort of unwanted child interaction and that seems to have worked. Most of the time.

2. Our giant master bedroom is completely insanely messy because, after we got all of our clothes hung up in the closet and boxes stacked on top, all of the closet shelves fell down. This has since been fixed. And then has fallen again, leaving a crazy pile of who knows what all over the floor and nowhere to put it until more shelving is installed. Needless to say, there are, because of lack of a closet, still boxes stacked in the room. And they are driving me INSANE. Because, internet, if I have to live in someone else’s house, I just need there to be a whole lot of order.

3. Baby L will be THREE WHOLE MONTHS OLD on Sunday and I can’t freaking believe it. She’s cooing and smiling and clutching things and being ridiculously cute and perfect and I still have days where I can’t believe I actually had a BABY. But, I have to say, it is so amazing to get to see all the new things she does and new facial expressions she makes. And I can’t help but love dressing her up in adorable little outfits. Dolls never appealed to me as a kid, but man, I love dressing this kid!


4. Is it weird that at almost three months, I can feel little tooth nubs in her mouth? Isn’t it quite early for that, y’all?

5. Wedding plans are in the works! And that’s all I am really going to say now, because I want to get it all planned out, but I will tell you this; will probably take place two months from today and will involve some bright lights and an Elvis or two. (Let the diet begin!!!)

That’s really all the time I have for now, internet, but I will be catching up on all of your blogs TODAY! Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a diaper to attend to. Not mine. Just clarifying.


Insomnia and Putting a Ring On It

One of the things about pregnancy that I hate the most but also find the most useful is the insomnia. I am able to wake up at 4 am and accomplish things around the house before the Today show that I normally wouldn’t accomplish before noon. And while this annoys the bejesus out of me, I look forward to the afternoon naps. Oh, the naps.

I have been waking up at around 4 for about the entirety of my pregnancy. I find that the only way that I can sleep later is if we have a REALLY exhausting day and then I MIGHT make it until 7. And then I do a little jig. I wake up with a million thoughts running through my head. About cribs. And plans for moving. And car seats (because holy JESUS there are so many to choose from!). And my overwhelming desire to learn to knit. And, of course, how and where I am going to end up having this baby and whether or not I will ever get to see a doctor again. (This last one is still, obviously, making me a crazy person, but I am, with the help of the best man in the world, My Beloved, staying positive and angry. I find that anger helps me stay motivated to stick it to the man.) Over the weekend, MB and I went to a nearby outlet mall to spend his income tax return money on things that he has been putting off buying in the wake of all the crazy that has been going on at home like a new pair of glasses and new jeans (he has gained more weight throughout my pregnancy than I have. Anyone else’s significant other eating for him, you and the baby??). While we were there, I had a mini-meltdown about not knowing how we are going to swing this whole thing. And for the 67 millionth time, he reassured me that he will take care of me and the baby, no matter what. And that that’s what he is there for. And that he doesn’t feel obligated, but that he LOVES us. And that’s what you do when you love someone. You look out for them. And, of course, I am a spaz and everything will work out because “it always has”.

He’s right. And I need to learn to calm down and trust him. But I’m not really the trusting type. Even if I KNOW that he is serious and that I would do the same thing if the tables were turned, it is still hard to depend so much on someone else. You know, even if for nothing else than my sanity.

Pregnancy is hard.

But we are making it. And we will make it. And after we had this heart-to-heart over a breakfast for dinner meal at Denny’s (because nothing calms me the way that bacon does), we, totally on a whim and without discussing it at all, walked into a jewelry store and bought an engagement ring. We’ve known for a long time that we would be married some day, but we hadn’t really wanted to rush it. I want to elope somewhere beautiful and not be bothered with family and wedding planning and bridesmaids dresses, so naturally, the only thing really holding us back from “getting hitched” was the lack of funds. And then I got knocked up. And lost my job. So, seeing as we may never have money again, we figured he’d better at least put a ring on it.So, no, it wasn’t this romantic mome20120130-065632.jpg


nt where he got down on one knee and made a grand gesture. And it is nothing fancy, but simple and exactly what looks like it belongs on my finger. But I don’t need a grand gesture. Or a fancy-pants showy rock. I need a partner. And I have one. And he is the best thing that has ever happened to me. And every day is a grand gesture when you feel as loved and as cherished as I do.

So, there it is, he will make an honest woman out of me after all.


A Reality

Being knocked-up hasn’t been the easiest thing in the world for me to accept (yes, I know that you are all very surprised to hear this). It has been quite the process of coming to terms with things for me. I mean, I never wanted to have kids in the first place. The anxiety of the whole thing was almost too much for me at first. For someone who is really private about her personal life and seriously uncomfortable about letting just anyone in, it was quite the announcement to make that I was pregnant. (i.e.: “Hey! Guess what everyone! MB and I had sex a couple of months ago! And pretty soon, a child is going to come out of my lady parts!” Awkward.) Then, to top it all and add insult to injury, as soon as I felt confortable announcing my pregnancy to the masses and my employer, I was fired (coincidence? I think not.) from my job of almost four years! Naturally, this hasn’t been the best and brightest of experiences thus far. And I struggled so much with the reality of becoming a parent atop the loss of employment, insurance, stability, pride and many, many other things, that it was almost just easier to pretend it wasn’t happening to me. Even when I heard the baby’s heartbeat for the first time, six weeks ago, I was still kind of in denial. I cried my face off, worrying about how on earth I could do this whole motherhood thing. And for the first time, even despite all the vomit and heartburn and fatigue, it was actually starting to become a real thing. A REAL THING, ya’ll.

I can say that, through it all, most of my friends have been super fantastic. (I say most because some of the people who are my “best” friends have been little more than a faint memory since I told them about the pregnancy. And to them I say, “Screw you, bitches.”) They have kept me from slitting my wrists on more than one occasion and forced me to look at the positive aspects of having a baby.

1. I can eat McDoubles often and without excessive guilt. (There is guilt, but it is outweighed by the pure joy that the satisfaction of a McDouble provides to “the baby”. Because, all of us preggos know that it isn’t actually US craving the disgusting food, it is “the baby”.)

2. I can take naps. And not only do I not feel guilty about naps, but I also feel justified in taking them. After all, there is a foreign parasite in my pelvis. It is sucking the life out of me.

3. I am going to have an actual baby. Like, one that I made. I MADE IT. Granted, I did not do this alone, but whoa. I have some effing talent, for REALS.

Over the Christmas holiday, MB and I were able, through a gift from his sister, to have our first sonogram. For the first time, we were able to see this weirdo thing we created, as it rolled around in my belly (which, by the way, is totally the weirdest feeling in the entire universe).  I have to say, while it was one of the most bizarre experiences of my life, it was also one of the most miraculous. Who knew that I would actually feel love for the squishy, little bean inside of me? Who knew that I would be so happy to see it wriggle around. I knew something was in there and I was reminded nightly when I lay down in my bed and felt the “quickening”, but it still wasn’t…real.


Well, internet…it is real. And it’s a GIRL! I’m gonna be a momma!



The Facebook announcement wasn’t as traumatic as I had expected. I did get a lot of support from my friends and family and it was welcomed and appreciated and I feel so much lighter. SO MUCH LIGHTER. Only one person from work, evidently, saw the post and responded and has mentioned it to me today. I am quite sure that there are others who know but have not said anything yet, which is annoying but sort of a relief. I just want to know that everyone knows and has gotten all the talk out of their systems so we can all move on. Many of my good friends (in fact, almost all of them) have kids already, so they have already proven to be a good resource for me. But I will tell you, I sort of feel, with the influx of all the advice, that my head might explode at any moment. How am I supposed to remember the names of all the contraptions that are a waste of money, or the ones that are baby must-haves? I could write these things down, I suppose, but I am so overwhelmed with the whole thing that I can’t manage to think fast enough to do that. And then, before I know it, I have forgotten and then find myself in a panic because I don’t know the name of that thing that does stuff that makes the kid sleep for HOURS and I NEED THAT THING. What IS it?!


Aside from my normal state of utter panic, I have been doing pretty well. I have managed to answer phone calls that I know will result in conversations about babies, which, two weeks ago, never would have happened. As it turns out, a good friend of mine is also pregnant right now and has not yet made the announcement, but is due two weeks after my due date. This is awesome for several reasons:

1. She will significantly reduce the amount of freaking out I have to do with regard to what to buy for this kid because she has a little one already and knows what is a necessity and what is a waste of too much money.

2. She will probably understand if I am a complete psychopath for the next few months and will probably still come with me to do a baby registry and stuff so I don’t drive my car off a bridge from the stress of it all.

3. I was really wishing that I had a pregnant friend who could hang out with me and NOT drink wine. And she loves wine as much as I do, so we can be bitter about it together. (I don’t think that she is as bitter as I am because she likes babies more than wine and I am still undecided and I believe that I will be until I hold this little alien and decide which is more rewarding: Pinot Grigio or “the baby smell”? Jury is still out.)

4. I desperately want someone to waddle with when the time comes. Waddling alone just sounds depressing.


I had been feeling little flutters from time to time, but nothing to write home about. In fact, I told My Beloved yesterday (and most days) that this baby needs to DO SOMETHING soon because I just feel fat. I feel hideous and obese and generally GROSS. I feel like all these changes are happening to my body, but so far, no real, hard evidence that it is for any good reason. And I am telling you, that is effing annoying. It has been really hard for me to accept all this extra discomfort (and belly mass) without being somehow rewarded.  But last night, or early this morning rather, I woke up for my 7th trip to the bathroom and returned to bed, half-asleep. I assumed my position, on my stomach, and started to actually feel something. And, this time, it wasn’t just that tiny little flit of something moving about, it was an honest-to-goodness, baby doing backflips kind of feeling and it went on for a good five minutes straight.


I was both excited and terrified about this. At first, I wasn’t sure that I had even felt it at all, or if I had been dreaming the whole thing.

But in the end, I guess the baby heard my request and decided to DO SOMETHING. And I am quite certain that this is an idication that he/she is both obedient and a genius. Oh, and possibly a gymnast.


Now I will await the first kicks, which I am sure will totally freak me out. I might need therapy. Or to call my fellow preggo friend (THANK HEAVENS!!!)


P.S. Speaking of kicks and whatnot, for future reading on the subject, go here!