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:

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!

Big News!

If you don’t follow Broken Condoms Blog on Facebook, you might not have heard that Baby L got her first tooth today! (And if you don’t follow me on Facebook, why the hell not? Go! Do that!) It is quite a relief.  At least…we thought it would be, unfortunately, it looks as though, she might not be done. Let the screaming continue!!! What is a mommy to do!?

Open Letter to Baby L at 5(ish) Months

Dear Lilah,

You are five months old already! (Okay, you are actually closer to six months old but things have been very busy around here and your mom is a slacker.)

You are growing like a total weed right now and have started to eat “solid” foods. I don’t know why these are called solid at all because they are really just mashed up things that used to be solid. But whatever. You like bananas! You love being out on the town with me and you love to be outside. In fact, sometimes, taking you outside is the only way to get you to stop fussing like a maniac. Because, dear Lilah, you are at a stage in your life where you are no longer content to lie down. Or be held. When I am holding you, you want to get down. When you are down, you want to sit up. When you are on your tummy, you want to GO. But you can’t really do these things on your own yet. So, you get super angry and frustrated and act like a psychopath. This usually happens when it is nap time.

Nap time is also interesting. When you were a tiny thing, you seemed to do nothing but eat and nap. You still love eating (as evidenced by your cheeks) but napping tends to be a little more difficult than before. You do it, but reluctantly. You tend to want me to lie down with you for a period of time beforehand, so that you can repeatedly slap me in the face or grab ahold of my bangs and pull like they are a life preserver and you are drowning. This behavior makes you very happy. I let you do it, but fear I may become bald soon.

During this past month, you took your first plane trip all the way across the country to Las Vegas, where you witnessed your father and I get married. You were so well behaved on the plane that strangers were commenting on what a wonderful baby you are. I was inclined to agree. You are sort of wonderful. Elvis walked me down the aisle at the wedding and sang songs to you and you were elated. Elvis said you are an angel. Again, I was inclined to agree. You toured the Las Vegas strip in your stroller and silently took in all the sights and voices of all the different people. We didn’t let you gamble though, because you have yet to get a job and earn your keep.  But I am sure that that will happen in time. Like, by the time you’re 3 or something.

You were also baptized, met my father and step-mom (your grandparents), your great-grandmother, and your great-aunt and uncle. You wore a frilly, white dress and you looked like you should have wings and a halo. You sing songs after you eat and when you are lying in your sleeper, waiting for me to pick you up. You got to spend a lot of time with your Aunt Fish Head and are slowly breaking her down and making her decide to have a baby of her own, because, yes, you are that awesome.

Last night, you and I watched the election coverage together. And we were elated to hear that President Barack Obama was re-elected. You did a little squeal of glee. (Actually, you squealed with glee for several hours while your father snored, both of you preventing me from sleep and forcing me to read all the hideousness people were posting on social networks regarding the election results. No bueno.) It was a big day for the United States. For the LBGT community. For women. And I am so glad to have been a part of it. And someday, when you’re older, I will tell you all about this day. But for now, I will just tell you that good things are happening. And I hope that, by the time you are old enough to read this, you will have the equality that we strive for now. But I won’t get all political on you now. You’re just a baby.

I am so glad that you are here and I cherish every day with you and I am so looking forward to all the progress that you will continue to make in life. I love you.

I LOVE YOU. (Just in case you didn’t get it the first time.)




Over the weekend, MB and I attempted to remedy some of the clutter that has started accumulating due to the abundance of new things we are acquiring for Baby L. We managed to clean out the closet in our bedroom and switch some things around, making more room in the spare bedroom and some other minor things, which was pretty satisfying. I have, despite the intense urge to organize, been so exhausted, that I have been unable to do little without MB’s help. That, my friends, is super frustrating. I wonder why the “nesting” part of this process can’t happen during the time when you aren’t narcoleptic and in severe pain. Who came up with this damn schedule? I feel frustrated with the progress (or lack thereof) that I feel we are making on things, but then I realize that I still have several weeks and will just have to start working at a pace that I can handle. And make lots of honey-do lists for MB. He doesn’t seem to mind cleaning things that I can’t reach. Or lifting boxes and moving them from one place to another. And he knows that soon, he will be assembling strange devices and massaging my calves, possibly simultaneously. The housecleaning thing has made me feel slightly more prepared, either way. I have a plan. And that is better than where I was two weeks ago.

Housecleaning is sort of liberating though. There is something really freeing about getting rid of old things and finding places for things that have sort of just lingered around for the past months. My urge to clean house is spreading to other areas of my life. Namely, Facebook. I will tell you, internet, Facebook housecleaning is more difficult than cleaning toilets, if only because I fear deleting friends will hurt feelings. And, well, to my knowledge, toilets are without feelings. I am, though, as I have mentioned before, very private about things and Facebook is one of those places where privacy is pretty hard to come by (duh, the internet). I can control what I post and who sees it, but I can’t control what people say to me on my page, therefore, trying to keep my personal life personal is a little difficult. To date, I have basically been managing my privacy settings on facebook by creating groups and adding people to a “restricted” list instead of deleting them. Why? Because I am a wuss. Do I want these people all up in my bidness? Evidently not. Can I delete them without the guilt of having done it? NO. Because I am a super-wuss.  But I’m just going to go ahead and rip off the band-aid. Because I really only want the people I actually care about to get to share my new life with me. Why is it so hard to passive-agressively tell people that they suck the life out of you and you don’t want them involved in the happy new life you’re leading? You would think that would be easy!

In other news, I have another sonogram next week and I am super excited about it. This should be the last time we see Baby L before she actually arrives. That’s kind of bittersweet, because I am already so tired of waiting but I am glad that we will at least get to see her one more time to hold us over. The last time I had an ultrasound, the tech said that the baby was breech and that “hopefully, she’ll turn before next time”, which, of course, made my mom a nervous wreck as I, too, was breech and premature and my mom has catastophic visions of everything because she is psycho. I’m not worried at this point, though, because I was only about 29 weeks at that point and I’ve read a lot that says that the baby will usually turn around 36 weeks. So, fingers are crossed there.

I also went ahead and scheduled our tour of the maternity suites at the hospital where I will deliver. I’ve been there before and am pretty sure that I know what I am getting into, I did choose to deliver there after all, but I am excited to do this with MB because every day he seems to be hit more and more with the “Holy shit, I’m gonna be a DAD!” realization. (Which, by the way, is super adorable.)

I know I am late in doing this, but we are still not signed up for a birthing class. The hospital where I am delivering offers several “marathon classes” which are held all in one day on a weekend so we are going to try and get into one of those in the next couple of weeks. They aren’t terribly expensive and I am pretty excited about attending. If you took a birthing class, how was your experience?

I think that’s about all that’s happening with me so far this week. You know, aside from trying to stay awake for more than two consecutive hours and not inhaling entire bags of Cheetos.