My Weekend

*Update: Just to prove that I have “Monday brain” I forgot to title this post. Doh. I have now given it the most creative title I could muster. You’re most welcome. 

Good morning. I hope you all had a great weekend. I know I did. It was lazy, and we didn’t do much, so basically, it was perfect. And now. Now it is Monday. And here is how I feel about that:

Also, this:

So, what did we do this weekend? Well, if you’re a college student, or you know, anyone that doesn’t have kids, I suggest you stop reading, because you will be bored out of your skull. If you’re a Mommy or someone like me (even before I had a baby and husband), then read on:

Friday: I got a text from the husband asking if I wanted to go to Costco after he got home from work. You have to understand that going to Costco, for us, is the equivalent of  going bar hopping (is that even a thing?) on a Friday night. We freaking love Costco. It is so much fun. You never know what you’re going to find. Pretty soon I am sure that we will all be outfitted from head to toe in clothes bought at Costco, eating hundred packs of string cheese, while putting away our economy size toilet paper. Also, awesome about Costco? THE SAMPLES. But you already knew that. The best thing ever is that our Costco has gelato at the food bar. I had never seen this before at any other Costco, so my dance that I did the first time I saw this was completely justified. Anyway… we went to Costco, but only bought 36 eggs (which will be gone by this Friday; we’ve already eaten 18), spinach, potatoes, avocados, and I think that’s it? But I’m not really sure. No impulse buys. Two weeks ago we had a major impulse buy of my new camera (yes, honey, it is mine… right?), so we were trying to keep the impulse buys to a minimum. After Costco we went to Vietnamese food to get pho, because in our family pho is the cure for all. Seriously, for everything. And, since Rose was sick we had to go, right? Right.

We’re like this, except with pho.

So, yeah. That was our Friday. It was awesome.

Saturday: Rose and I actually didn’t go anywhere on Saturday. The husband went to Wal Mart and Costco, after making us breakfast. He unclogged our upstairs bath (seriously, that was probably the highlight of my weekend- that thing was driving me cray cray). Rose and I stayed home and watched football (go niners!). Oh, oh, oh!! I forgot to mention one of the most exciting things about the weekend; we had Showtime for free (I just googled if there is a ‘w’ in the channel’s name…), which meant that we watched Weeds, Californication, and Dexter all night. Twas awesome.

Sunday: Rose slept past seven (yesssss!), and I woke up all confused. I was convinced it was Monday. Once I realized it was still the weekend I was so excited I started doing shots. Okay, not really; it was coffee (wouldn’t it be funny if I did, though?). We let the husband sleep in. Rose ate cheerios out of a container while I drank a whole pot of coffee. By the time the husband woke up I was in full on song and dance mode, which, I am sure is what he loves to wake up to. He made us breakfast again (and was even considerate enough to make enough potatoes for breakfast today). I really think Sunday was my favorite day this week. We went to Trader Joe’s (my love, in store form) and Wal Mart (not so much love, but it is useful, I guess). We came home, ate lunch, and Rose went down for a nap. Tim went out to play disc golf, and I went down for a nap as well. Rose napped FOREVER, which meant that I did too. It was AWESOME. We hung out, watched football (no Golden Globes over here… although I may have tried to sneak some in while Tim was doing his fantasy NHL draft), gave Rose dinner, played a bit, and put Rose down to bed. Just in time for my favorite show; Girls. I may have been a little bit abusive to my husband at this point, because in addition to making him watch Girls with me, I told him if he talked that I would punch him in the face. He said one word and I smacked him, just to show I wasn’t kidding. I feel really bad about that. Anyway… We ended the night with the newest episode of Californication, and I had a tortilla with avocado and string cheese for dinner.

And just because it kind of fits with my night (but not really…)

And another Girls reference. Because you can never have too many and Girls was probably the highlight of my whole week. So pathetic.

So… that was our weekend. Now that I’ve written it out, I kinda feel bad for making you read through all of this. Not bad enough that I won’t post it, but bad enough that I feel like I should apologize. The weekend was awesome. The six loads of laundry that are waiting to be folded are not. Sigh. Oh, well, at least I can watch last night’s Downton Abbey (nobody ruin it for me- including those of you that are lucky enough to live in a country that has already aired this season).


I Should Have Seen it Coming

A veteran mom would have known. She would have caught it. She would have pulled out the humidifier, made soup, and begun pushing fluids. Alas, I am not a veteran mom, which is why my first sign that something was amiss came last night at 11:00. I heard a rustle over the monitor, and thought to myself; ‘oh crap, here we go again- another night without sleep.’ Then, there it was; the cough of doom. Just one. One little cute cough at eleven PM, and I knew. It had gotten us. We were infected. Throughout the night I heard many, many more coughs, but they didn’t seem to interrupt her sleep too much. Oh, but they interrupted mine. Not in the ‘holy geez this is annoying way,’ but in the really fun anxiety ridden way that I am prone to. Because we don’t do flu shots in this family. I don’t believe in them, and despite the pediatrician’s best effort to sneak one in (seriously, she tried) none of us have had one. But them, last night, suddenly, my brain was all ‘YOU MORON. WHO DOESN’T BELIEVE IN FLU SHOTS? WHHHHHYYY? WE SHOULD HAVE ALL GOTTEN FLU SHOTS. BUT NOW, BECAUSE OF YOU AND YOUR DARN BELIEFS WE ARE ALL GOING TO DIE BY MORNING.’ My brain kept screaming those sort of beautiful thoughts at me all night. A few little mucousy coughs, and I am questioning my beliefs. I mean, really, this is what I knew would happen if we didn’t get flu shots. If you don’t get flu shots, then you get sick. Duh. But suddenly, we were in Contagion or something, and this wasn’t just some little cold or flu; it was death knocking at my door. By morning, I was convinced that Rose had succumbed to this awful illness (she hadn’t coughed in, oh, thirty minutes), that my husband laying next to me was by now a corpse, and I could feel my throat closing in. The only way I knew the dog was a live was I could feel her breathing on me underneath the blanket (oh, your dog doesn’t sleep under the blankets in your bed? Makes for a great night sleep.), plus, she kept kicking me in the face and stomach.

But then, the weirdest thing happened. Morning came. And, like, Rose was babbling away in her crib (among the coughs) and was ALIVE. And I was all like:


And then, I got her from the crib, brought her into our bed, nursed her, and let her crawl on her daddy (who, by the way, I still assumed was a corpse, since he had yet to move- sleeps like the dead, that one), and guess what? HE WAS ALIVE TOO. I was alive. The dog was alive (but we all knew that- she’s got more lives than a freaking cat). So, I took my poor, sick daughter downstairs, ready for a day of cuddling, and an excuse to watch TV all day. But, little stinker, she’s really not all that sick (yet? I don’t know- can a veteran mom tell me if this is normal? Is it about to get worse?) She was happy to play while I drank my coffee. She proceeded to climb all over every piece of furniture in the living room, while I alternated between terror at her dangerous moves and glee that perhaps she won’t be a nervous Nelly like her mom (I love this stage, by the way, it seems that we are always a wrong move away from the ER). Then, I whipped up some smoothies (full of spinach and blueberries, because all the crazy hippie moms know that’s what keeps you healthy. Oh, and garlic. A lot of garlic), and burnt some eggs for my husband as well. Wait. Yes, you better go back and read that again, because along with some sound medical advice, I let you know that I cannot cook, because; I BURNT EGGS. You know, the food that is supposed to be foolproof? Burnt them. Then, worse still; I SERVED THEM TO MY HUSBAND. I really am a rare gem.

Me in a nutshell. Except (this is embarrassing) sometimes I like to clean.

So, yeah, that happened. And we’re alive. And Rose is like; “okay mom, enough we the liquid food already. Give me some cheese and peas, so my poop can stink and rhyme.” Sorry, little girl. Lunch is leftover tortilla soup. It does have black beans in it, though, so your poop will probably still stink, and, this is the best part; it is not burnt. YESSSSSSS. I WIN.

In addition to burning eggs, going upstairs 300 times only to forget what I needed, and generally losing my mind, here’s how I managed to strike out yesterday”

Strike one: put a load of laundry in the washer, complete with detergent. FORGOT TO TURN THE DAMN THING ON.

Strike two: made cookies. Put dough on cookie sheet. FORGOT TO PUT THE DAMN THINGS IN THE OVEN.

Strike three: decided after the last two strikes that coffee would help me get my act together. Pour a cup. Heat it in the microwave.  FORGOT I PUT IT IN THERE UNTIL AN HOUR LATER WHEN I DECIDED I WANTED ANOTHER CUP OF COFFEE. Oh, but then I really fail; I POURED ANOTHER CUP, ONLY TO OPEN THE MICROWAVE AND FIND MY CUP FROM THE HOUR BEFORE.

Annnnnddd she’s outta here; STRUCK. HER. OUT. Touche, mom brain, touche. Now I will go sit on the bench couch, and watch last night’s Grey’s Anatomy  while praying that Rose’s disease allows her to sleep for the whole thing. Crap. I think she’s up. In addition to being a gem of a wife, I am also one great mother. Not, but seriously, I love her, and sometimes, when her naps are too long, I just wish she would wake up and play. Right now, though, I just really, really want to watch Grey’s.

What the What?

Happy almost weekend. I know some people think that stay-at-home moms’ lives are a constant weekend. False. We may absolutely adore what we do, and we do not get paid, but our lives are far from an extended weekend. I absolutely love spending everyday alone with Rose, but when the weekend comes around I cannot contain my excitement. Having my husband home from work for TWO WHOLE DAYS= BEST THING EVER. Seriously, I love spending my days with him and Rose. I love laying around the house, I love going to the store as a family (often the highlight of all of our weeks), I can run by myself, or take a nap when the baby is awake, and I love having another adult around the house. I’m not sure he loves it when I forget that he is, in fact, an adult, and I perform songs and dances that were meant for a ten month old, but he knew he was getting a whole lot of crazy when he married me. Also, I imagine that he could do without the constant Harry Potter references. For example; can’t afford airfare to California? Too bad we’re not wizards; we could use floo powder or apparate. (By the way, I asked my sister for floo powder for Christmas, and we had a three-hour text conversation about the shortage of floo powder and lack of apparation lessons at Hogwarts, due to the recent upheaval caused by Voldemort & Co.) I do things all week that would make the normal adult question my sanity- call my daughter cutie booty, sing songs about poo, dance along to my songs about poo- on the weekend, though, there is at least one adult to look at me like they think I should be committed to the asylum, and I can just hear them think; “what the what?” I’m not sure what the origin of the saying “what the what” is. I’m not even sure it makes sense, but I like thinking or saying it, so there. While other people are looking at me thinking “what the what,” here are a few things I’ve experienced lately that have made me say “what the what?’

1. Last night, I went to sleep at 10:30 (not unusual). Thirty minutes later, I hear cries on the baby monitor, which continue for fifteen minutes before I realize that Rose has no intention of going back to sleep without seeing me first. What the what? This never happens. She sleeps through the night, and if she does wake up, she always manages to coo herself back to sleep. With much cussing and protest, I roll my (extremely pissed off) self out of bed, grab my child out of bed, make sure she doesn’t have a fever, and pull her into bed with me to cuddle and calm down. Except she doesn’t. She had decided that it was time to play and party. She rolled around the bed, gave me kisses, pulled my hair, yanked on my chest, smacked my husband in the face, and looked around for “dog dog” (who, smart dog that she is peaced out the second that baby came into bed, and spent the next hour and a half in the hallway, only returning when the bed was a baby-free zone). I tried to put her down. Not having it. Tried to cuddle her. Nope. All she wanted to do was play. Finally, I nursed her, put her in her crib and let her cry it out, in desperate hopes that the would fall asleep in, oh, the next eight hours. And then, she screamed for eight minutes, and suddenly, it was SILENT. I was wide awake, and convinced that she probably had suffocated, but there was way I was going to risk checking on her, you know, in case she was alive and I woke her up. Luckily she lived. To calm myself down, I read the Honest Toddler‘s post; The Nap Window, and fell asleep chuckling. This whole thing would have been way cuter if she was an infant, but I’ve gotten used to my sleep, and if there is one thing that everyone that knows me is aware of, it is that YOU DO NOT MESS WITH MY SLEEP. Apparently my daughter has not gotten the message. Curse all those nights I stayed up with her, and made her think that I didn’t care about sleep.


Smoking Baby - sleep all day up at night

This was Rose yesterday

2. I think that the reason for #1 is perhaps the fact that she took two looooong naps yesterday; one was three hours and the other two. Seriously, what the what? That is FIVE HOURS OF NAPPING. And, I mean, it seemed like a long time to nap, but haven’t you ever heard the saying about not waking a crying baby? You do not do it. Plus, it was like a party over here while she slept. I drank a cup of coffee without her yanking on my arm, I only had the dog circling me like a vulture while I was eating my banana bread, plus, and this almost makes everything last night worth it; I watched “Real Housewives of Beverly Hills,” and read a few chapters in my book. I’m sure today is going to be the complete opposite, and she will take two fifteen minute naps. Oh, well, hopefully she sleeps tonight.

3. This text conversation with my sister-in-law yesterday (don’t kill me for sharing this; this shit is funny):

SIL: OMG Big Angel’s (she meant Ang- dumb auto-correct) voice twin works at Kohl’s!!!

ME: Omg. We must go on a pilgrimage to your kohls ASAP.

SIL: She’s an older white lady… like totally NOT who you would think to sound like that

In case you don’t know who Big Ang is, take a look (and listen) to this. I was super disappointed that she didn’t actually look like Big Ang, because, well: Big Ang at the Drunken Monkey on January 25th, 2012


I mean… where do you even start? I guess the voice is enough to make a trip to Kohl’s, but if this beaut worked there? I would have sprinted down the highway to see that business. But, seriously, I am so confused about Big Ang. And a older white woman with her voice? My mind is boggled. What the what?

As you can see, I live a very serious, important life where I contemplate all the big issues; reality TV and sleep training being two very important topics to me (and obviously the survival of all mankind). Have a good (almost) Friday, and don’t forget to stop and say “what the what?”