Lost in Translation…Salut!

This guest post comes from City Momma who has a 7 month old baby boy and just started her blog last month. She’s someone who has a talent for writing and I’m very happy to say that she is also part of a big announcement that I have coming soon.

Get to know more about City Momma here in her introduction. You must check out her post Visiting for Dummies which I’m sure a lot of us can relate to (ahem, attention my in-laws) and I love her post Every Day Superheros.

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Q and A with City Momma.

Elle: If the zombie apocalypse happened tomorrow, which weapon would you want to have to fight these brain eaters?

A. a flame thrower.

B. an unlimited supply of ninja throwing stars.

C. a chainsaw.

D. a shoelace because you’re bad ass.

E. other and what would it be?

F. none of the above, I want to be a damn zombie!

City Momma: I’d go with D. Not because I’m a bad ass though, more because my ass would be running so quickly, I’d definitely need a back up.

Elle: If you could drop everything and go anywhere (real or fantasy) in the world, where would it be?

City Momma: I’m about to out myself as a huge computer game nerd but there’s this game series, Myst, and the world is amazing. I could gush on and on about it forever but I don’t want to embarrass myself 🙂 Here’s a picture instead:

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Elle: What’s a favorite book that you like to read to your kids?

City Momma: Harry Potter. The beauty of having a baby that is so young is that I can read him pretty much anything I damn well please, and it counts!

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Lost in Translation. Very Lost.

By City Momma

When I was 19, I spent three months on the island of La Reunion, and it was amazing. I was with my now ex, staying in his parents’ amazing home while they were off in Bali doing business. Being French, they weren’t thrilled with the thought of an American girl dating their son, and the sooner it came to their return home, the more nervous I got.

When they finally got back, things were good. They were great, even! I mean, I think they were at least. They didn’t speak a lick of English (although his dad did once ask me, “What’s shakin'”), so I guess I can’t be too sure.

My ex soon began to return to work at the bar next door. Yes, a bar. Next door. It was where I tried violet flavored rum. It was disgusting by the way. Anyway, the more time he spent at work, the more time I spent with his parents. Sunday lunches outside with wine, cheese, bread, and tons of other amazing things.

Now, to begin to explain exactly what happened, I have to tell you all that although my french wasn’t so bad, it wasn’t so good either. A lot nodding and smiling happened in those 3 months. I did know the basics though. I could use about 3 swear words and have a basic conversation. “Bonjour” obviously means “Hello,” but for a less formal greeting, “salut” is appropriate (it’s translated into “hi”). One day, I decided that I felt comfortable enough to begin to use “salut” rather than “bonjour,” so I did.

His father was home most of that day, so it must have been a Sunday. My ex’s mother had been out at the markets, so it was just the two of us. Awkward!! What could I possibly do to make it less awkward? I hid. I spent time outside, I spent time in the bedroom where I was staying, I did anything to avoid running into him, but when I did, I made sure to say, “salut” and smile.

After the sun set, and as my ex and I were preparing for bed, he had asked me how my day was. I told him that it had been great. I thought it was. Boy, was I wrong. Apparently, my accent got in the way of the enthusiastic greeting that I had been throwing around all day.

Instead of hearing “salut” like I had intended for, my ex FIL heard, “salope” which translates perfectly into “bitch”. Needless to say, I became much more comfortable using “bonjour” for the rest of my trip.

That, ladies and gentlemen is how for one day I made my ex FIL my “bitch” and why I never, ever use the word, “salut” when I run into a french person.

Comments { 2 }

Embarrassing moments: Eau De Pee.

Here’s a great guest post from Feyella aka Clueless Mom from Parenting…smh who’s a hardworking mama to boys and she loves DIY projects and decorating. You can also catch her on Twitter @parentingsmh.

Here are some great posts to check out from her; There Is No Mommy. There Is Only Zool, Bringing Mom Sexy Back, and 3 Worst Toys To Have In Your Home.

Q and A with Feyella.

Elle: If the zombie apocalypse happened tomorrow, which weapon would you want to have to fight these brain eaters?

Feyella: E. Other and what would it be? Okay, I’m gonna let my inner tech geek show. I’m a huge anime fan so I’d have to get wicked with a combo attack hitting em with long range ninja stars until I can get up close for the kill with my hattori hanzo sword or unleash some ridiculous super power with a zanpakuto (Bleach style). And I’m back. What were you saying?

Elle: Which would you rather win? An Oscar, a Grammy, or a Tony.

Feyella: Definitely a Grammy. For real, with the mess I hear on the radio sometimes, I know I have at least one hit in me. Come on Dre, Timberland, get at me dogs. 

I can freestyle with the best of them

let me give my testament

my skills you’re impressed with them

I’m the real mccoy

no specimen

What! (drops mic and walks of stage… sexual chocolate).

Elle: What song(s) makes you want to dance around your house and/or brings you back to your teen years?

Any hip hop, R&B, or reggae from the 90s.  It doesn’t even matter what it was because in my it was all HOT! Good times, you know when Sean Combs was Puffy and still wearing shiny suits.

Elle: What’s one of your favorite movies?

Feyella: My Cousin Vinny.  I swear it’s like an obsession.  If it’s on, I HAVE to watch it.

Elle: What kids cartoon or character makes you want to bang your head against a spike?

Feyella: That stupid spud from Bob The Builder. I can’t stand that fool, he even sounds like wino.

Elle: One more thing. Who’s the hottest mama out there who can kick Zombie ass while rapping and gift wrapping Jay-Z and Dre under the table until they go run and cry to their mommies?

Feyella: Why me of course.

Okay I didn’t really ask her that but Feyella mentioned making up my own answers to the questions and even though she was kidding, I couldn’t resist.

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Golden Showers bring May flowers?!

Remember being nineteen? Man, I bet you were hotties. I mean, I’d like to think I was. I strutted my stuff with the best of them and treated every day like I was on the runway. I was digging my independence  living away from home in the college dorms.

It was awesome.

I was definitely growing into my womanhood and becoming more and more confident every day.

After completing my sophomore year, I was back in NYC for Summer break and of course, to work. As soon as I was back home I hit the pavement searching for job so I could save up for my off campus apartment. For the first two weeks I had an interview every day and I was sharp. Dressed to the nines each time with either a pants suit, skirt suit, or a business casual dress.

I kept my interviews to one per day. I had a limited shelf life for travel during this particular time.

Why?

Well, that Summer, I came home with a little bit more than my clothes. Yup. A good old fashion UTI.

I know, most of us have had one or two in our lives, but I was young and dumb.  Sometimes travelling way too far for my interview and not stopping for bathroom breaks like I should have.

On one of my last interviews, I was particularly fashionable, wearing a green print summer dress with blazer, and my nine west wedge slides.

There I sat in the interview room awaiting the manager. I could feel that I needed to go, but it wasn’t bad. The manager came in and it was a great meeting. I had anecdotes to show off my experiences and knowledge of this and that, and spoke about my dreams and aspirations of what I would do after I graduated. He was impressed.

Even while I started to uncomfortably shift in my seat, I never broke a sweat and maintained my composure. As the interview went on, I increasingly became more aware of my discomfort. Now, I started to worry … leakage.

Oh good, we’re shaking hands.  Finally, the interview was over and of course I head straight for the restroom.

Phew!

Dodged a bullet that time. I was so relieved. I couldn’t wet myself right there in the interview room.

I headed home as quickly as I could.

After a 45 minute train ride I got off at my stop and began walking the five blocks to my home, only to realize I had to go. Again.

Thank goodness I was close to home so it was no big. I just had three more blocks to go. Besides, I looked sharp and was still strutting my stuff down 103 Avenue in Ozone Park Queens. The fellas, appreciated it too, honking horns and yelling out there windows, yup, “hey good looking”  or “what’s up chocolate?”. I kept strutting and smiling, like I was on the catwalk, but inside, I was thinking I couldn’t get home fast enough.

Which was the truth.

I. Couldn’t. Get home. Fast enough.

No.

I didn’t get home fast enough.

So while the dudes were catcalling, I kept strutting, and peeing. Head held high (even though I wanted to cry), I kept walking, and peeing.

So there.  What’s your embarrassing story?

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You know you want to join in.

I’ve been trying to expand my blog and while there are some things I plan on keeping, I think the best thing to do is start a blog with a group. This blog idea is still in its infancy and I’m not even sure of a name for it yet, maybe “The Mommyhood Zone” “Write Now with Mommyhood” “Braving Mommyhood” “Uncovering Mommyhood” Tagline ~ “Because we don’t know what we’re doing either” or “Welcome to the Jungle”. I’m not sure yet but I’m not feeling very creative with names right now.

I thought the cool thing about it is that it would take the pressure off of some who like blogging but maybe don’t do it that often or don’t have the time. It might possibly be only a post or two a month for each person.

I’m thinking of having things like creative writing, recipes, crafts (I’m looking at you Connie) and/or sewing, reviews of books and music for both adults and kids (Heather), and regular posts on mommyhood or anything else that comes to mind (I’m thinking of you Jennifer, City Momma, Chelle, Teri, Siggi of Maine, Elle P., Abby, and the Mrs.) I don’t want it to be just posts about motherhood. They can be humorous, serious, and in between.

I’m hoping that one of us will have some skills at CSS or know some blogging design (Yes, I’m looking at you Cheryl ;)). Maybe someone who knows of a good web designer.

I’m not looking on getting this blog up and running right away. I would like it to be something that will be around for a while so I want to make sure it’s done the right way. I know I wasn’t very subtle about dropping hints to people (heehee).

I’d love for anyone interested to email me and I would love to check out your blog if you have one. If you don’t then tell me what areas you’re interested in. I have plenty of others in mind that I’d love to be a part of this but the hummingbird is getting restless and we need to play some. Plus, I’m starting to tire of all the linking I’ve just done. 😉

If you’re interested then please email me at thisismommyhood at gmail dot com.

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Depression is an asshole and a scary rollercoaster ride of emotions.

*I started writing this before my miscarriage last month so this is sort of like a before and after.

*Updated to add. I hope I didn’t come off as teetering towards the edge of insanity. I was just feeling so vulnerable and sad when I wrote this and you know me, I overshare. I wanted to thank all of you for commenting and will reply soon. I know there are people who read my blog but I was hoping to know who the ones were that might not comment, out of my own curiosity, so thank you ladies. Mwah!

*Updated again to add. Chelle from Life On The Domestic Front is really fucking awesome and hilarious so if you haven’t checked out her blog yet then you should click on over there. I’ll share my howdy ho’s with her so drop a comment if you want.

Okay, I take that back. I won’t share my hos with her but give her a howdy ho for me. *bats eyelashes* Start with these posts The Ambien Wars and You Want To Talk About What???? then read all the rest. If you don’t want to Just Think Of All Of The Children!! Or Think Of All Of The Puppies!! Yeah, I don’t know what that means either but I thought I’d give it a shot. :^)

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After being on an antidepressant for the past 2 months along with another med to help “boost” it, I’m finally starting to feel more like myself. The better I’m starting to feel, the more I realize just how depressed I’ve been.

I still have good and bad days and never know how I’m going to feel when I wake up. I know you can’t just take a pill and *bam*, you’re cured. Depression and anxiety doesn’t work like that. There are days I’m feeling okay and actually don’t want to crawl back in bed and hide from the world, not that I can anyway with a certain hummingbird on the loose.

I’ll think I’m on my way to feeling more normal, whatever the hell “normal” is, and while I feel I’m having a good day, I get mindfucked with a panic attack and my irrational fears start flooding in.

One morning while my daughter was eating breakfast, she started to throw her food on the floor and I scolded her. I told her no and if she gets really pissed, she hits herself on the head occasionally since she’s too young to really verbalize what she wants to say or what her needs are.

I told her she shouldn’t hit herself but instead she needs to be gentle and love herself. She went on eating and I froze right there in the kitchen. Saying that to my daughter did a number on me.

I’m not gentle with myself. I’m really fucking hard on myself no matter what I do. As easy as it was to tell my little girl she needs to love herself, I know I haven’t been doing that with myself, if ever.

I never think I’m good enough and so many of these feelings go back to things that happened when I was younger. I have a beautiful and precious 2 year old daughter and she needs to see that whatever I do, I put my heart into it and even though it may not be perfection, it’s the best I can do. Hopefully some day soon she’ll see that while I’m far from perfect, I love myself as I am.

I can’t say enough that if you think you’re depressed and as scary or as difficult it can be to get help, don’t give up because you shouldn’t have to go through life going through the motions and getting by.

If anyone knows of better links, particularly for those who feel they need to see a therapist and/or get medication but might not have insurance and don’t have the means to pay for either one out of pocket, please feel free to put the links in the comment section and I’ll add it to this post.

The birth trauma association.

Understanding depression.

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I have been having this long pity party for myself since my miscarriage. My heart always went out to other women who had them but you really don’t know how it is until it happens to you. I knew something was going on with my body but with my depression, anxiety, and being a mom, I pushed it back in my mind.

Even though I knew I was pregnant for only 2 days (I’m pretty sure I was about a month or so into the pregnancy and I think it was instinct that had me figure it out early), I still feel like I should have known earlier because looking back there were signs but I was so occupied with other things. I’ve been blaming myself and have such guilt. I still keep thinking about all of the what ifs.

This happening combined with the depression I already had makes getting out of bed so difficult.  I just want to stay there with the covers over my head but yesterday I started getting annoyed with myself because of this 3 week-long pity party. I saw my therapist for the second time yesterday which made me feel a bit better.

So, please bear with me because while I’m not stopping my blog, I do have some awesome guest posters in the next few weeks. I still plan on writing but I also wanted to give myself some time to just deal with all of these things that have been getting me down, including other things that my family has been dealing with which I will talk about soon enough since they are totally fine with me writing about it.

I almost made a rash decision in the middle of this and thought just for a second or two about pulling the plug on my blog for the umpteenth time because I didn’t feel like I could write anymore with being so depressed over the loss I’ve had.

I want to give a HUGE Thank You to the lovely ladies who will be writing about their embarrassing moments in the coming weeks. And thank you to anyone out there who’s reading this rambling.

I got this idea from Sara from Sarah Without An H awhile ago. She wrote a post and asked people who have been reading her blog and maybe never commented to give a howdy ho. Okay, she didn’t ask for a howdy ho à la South Park’s Mr. Hankey but I’d love to just get a hi from whoever is out there.

Every now and then I feel like I’m sending what I write out into no man’s land so it would be nice to know who’s out there reading about my crazy ass life. To quote what I say in my comment section, “C’mon, don’t be shy”….

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My pity party playlist (some of the songs at least).

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Glen Hansard ~ Angel At My Table ~ One of the most amazing Irish musicians I’ve ever heard. Love this guy. If you haven’t seen the movie Once, it’s a must.

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The Verve Pipe ~ The Freshman

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Nine Inch Nails ~ Hurt

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Counting Crows ~ Colorblind

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Dixie Chicks ~ Let Him Fly ~ I don’t really listen to country music but I love these ladies.

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Sia ~ Breathe Me

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Damien Rice w/ Lisa Hannigan ~ Rootless Tree ~ Another one of my favorite Irish muscians. This song is dedicated to my depression….and my in-laws. P.S. There are a lot of f-bombs in this song but I’ve never heard fuck sound so beautiful before. 🙂

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A mighty wind blew off my shoe.

Well, I wasn’t going to write about any embarrassing moments that I’ve had because I get embarrassed so easily, especially since I have social anxiety, so the list could go on forever but here are two things that popped into my head.

I was 13 and had just moved back to California from Footloose to live with my sperm donor. I had quickly developed a crush on this skater boy named Dax but since I didn’t have what I thought were cool enough clothes, I would borrow some from a friend.

One day I really went all out to get this guy’s attention so I sprayed the hell out of my hair with Aqua Net, put on my friend’s jean mini skirt and tank top, and wore these slip on shoes she had. The problem was that her feet were a half-size bigger than my size and her feet were wider so they would slip off my feet easily.

I was determined to look like an idiot suffer in the name of fashion so I had to be careful when I walked and found after I had gotten to school that those suckers wouldn’t stay on my feet. Instead of walking I was sort of ice skating without the ice across campus by doing these long strides with my feet.

After an early morning class let out, I was gliding to the snack bar my school had to meet up with a friend when I saw Dax. Our eyes met, I started picking up my feet so he wouldn’t think wtf, and I knew this was it. He noticed me and we were making googly eyes at each other. As I was walking past him, our eyes still locked, my mind was racing about how we would be “going out” by lunch time.

When I could no longer look back his way I noticed that something was missing. My right shoe. Shit! That’s when his dick pickle (thanks for that awesome phrase, Marianna) friend noticed too and started laughing really obnoxiously. Dax hadn’t noticed but his friend was hitting him and pointing at me standing there with one shoe on.

I had no idea when the shoe came off my foot so I was scanning the cold concrete and there it was. Right in front of Dax. How the hell do I act all cool and slip on my lost shoe in front of him? I didn’t. By this time I was blushing so bad and his friend was still being a dick and laughing while I walked up to Dax and slipped the shoe back on my foot.

But the first time I did it my foot missed the shoe and knocked it over on its side. I tried to slip it on again but at this point because of his dickhead friend laughing, I was nervous and missed again.

That’s when I had to bend down, in a short short mini skirt, and pick up the shoe to put it back on my foot. By this time Dax was cracking up too but not in a making light of the situation way. More in an I’m a dick pickle way.

As embarrassed as I was, I put my shoe back on and glided off to meet my friend. Not long after when I got to know more people at school, I found I dodged a bullet when it came to Dax who was apparently a royal douchebag.

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The next one is sexual so I’m not sure if I should write this since this is a family blog after all. I kid! I kid!

I had this one boyfriend (it wasn’t my hubby) and we had been dating long enough to be comfortable with each other but not long enough where I would pee with the door open or do something like burp.

We were in bed one time and it was getting pretty steamy. Then there was a problem. I was feeling kind of gassy and him laying on top of me didn’t help. I was squirming around and trying to get in a more comfortable position.

That’s when he went, ahem, downtown and at first I thought I would be okay. While he was still downtown I clenched up. Not because it was orgasmic but because I felt something coming on. After a few more minutes of clenching, I let out what seemed like the longest and squeakiest fart ever known to man.

I was fucking mortified.

This fart just didn’t seem to know when to stop. Looking back I’m sure it wasn’t as long as it seemed to be in my mind but I still farted in my boyfriend’s face during oral sex.

He looked up at me and was like what in the hell babe? We ended up laughing about it but I was still so embarrassed. Even now after all these years, that was one of my most embarrassing moments. The one thing that’s changed is that I can now laugh about it.

*Update. This is why my mom is awesomesauce. Here’s her comment to this post.

Ok Elle, this is your mama. You had SEX before marriage???????? Just kidding. I was standing out on my porch last week. It was very late and I was very gassy. I looked around and didn’t see anyone. I let a tiny but VERY loud fart and someone across the complex started laughing. I made a mad dash back to my apartment also mortified. Guess you never know for sure if you are really alone.

Comments { 3 }

Ask Jamie: A rabid toddler werewolf, a little Barney, and baby Gaga.

Need some parentertaining advice? Ask Jamie from Life Is Better With Me In It. She has a child and family studies degree, she has absolutely adorable 6 month old twins, Scarlet and Clive, and what gives Jamie the ultimate qualification for giving out parenting advice is that she watches Teen Mom. Kapow! You can email Jamie your questions to askjamiequestions at gmail dot com.

Let’s get this show on the road….

Jamie,

My 2-year-old is acting possessed or has rabies but I know she hasn’t been around any strange dogs so I think it’s more likely that she’s possessed. There was this one time where it looked like she was foaming at the mouth *but* she was spitting her yogurt out. Supposedly.

She has also been keeping me up by not going to bed and while I didn’t tell my husband this, there were a few times when she was howling at the moon so she *could* be a possessed, rabid werewolf.

My question is since it’s 2011 and not the 1950’s, do I have to wait until after 5 pm to start drinking or can I just start carrying a flask around to deal with the terrible twos?

Come to think of it screw the flask, I just want to carry the bottle of vodka around. But I guess the flask might make it less obvious when we’re walking around our neighborhood.

I’m not really concerned if she’s a werewolf instead of it being the terrible twos but if she starts changing over during a playground visit, how should I go about explaining my possessed, rabid, toddler werewolf to the other moms?

Thanks!

Elle, I mean um, uh, Erin

Dear Elle Erin,

All I can say is why the hell have you been waiting till 5pm to drink? A good mommy knows that a happy mommy is one that is constantly self medicating.

After reading your description of your 2 year old and her symptoms, I have diagnosed her with paininthebutitis. No need to explain this to other moms at play dates because 99% of kids develop it throughout their life.

Oh and it’s reoccurring, I know it sucks. There’s no reason to fear though because it’s not contagious if you drink enough, but if you don’t drink then you’ll slowly develop bitchyitis the adult version of the disease and it will wreak havoc on your life, similar to a zombie apocalypse.

As for carrying a bottle of vodka around that is completely acceptable for everyday occasions. If you’re going to a wedding, out to dinner, church, etc… you want to carry around a flask. After all you need to keep it classy.

Cheers and happy drinking!

Jamie

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Jamie,

I gave up on breastfeeding pretty quickly for a few reasons, one of them being that my nipples were on fire. Yes, fire. From thrush. From the antibiotics that they gave me after my c-section. My baby had it in her mouth, too – so, bonus.

The wonderful thing was that we kept passing it back and forth, like the last joint at the party. Or in the basement of the administration building. WHATEVER. I DON’T JUDGE PEOPLE BASED ON WHERE THEY SMOKE THEIR WEED.

Anyway, I went to a lactation consultant who told me that in addition to having thrush, I had a lot of milk and I was choking my baby from the abundance of nectar. So I had to wear these nipple guards.

We got more antibiotics (which, seemed counterintuitive because that is WHAT STARTED THIS FRESH HELL) and she also told me to paint my nipples with this purple dye stuff and then nurse my baby.

After my poor little baby started to look like Barney after each feeding I decided I couldn’t do it anymore because Barney is annoying and so is having a baby that had a purple face. Also, I was working and the only place to pump was in the bathroom.

Also, I say “also” a lot. What is my question again? Oh – did you have to do anything weird like this or was it just me? Tell me it wasn’t just me. Please.

Unrelated, I just burned my muffins typing this.

Teri (from Diary of a Mad Hatter. This post is a must read from her.)

Teri,

Let me start off by first saying, thank you for not judging people for where they smoke their weed! I can’t say my kids ever had a barney face, I only breastfed for 6 weeks, but I have had a few embarrassing parenting moments I’ve experienced to make you feel better.

When they were newborns I was beyond exhausted and I once forgot to put a diaper on Clive. I just snapped his little outfit together and of course he peed everywhere. As if that weren’t bad enough, I was too embarrassed to tell anyone I was losing it and my husband came home and sat in it before I could wipe it up. I told him I spilt water (sorry Tim).

Oh and the first time I took them to daycare I came to pick them up and discovered Scarlet had leaked out of her diaper and had ruined her teacher’s outfit. The poor lady had a massive poop stain on her dress from my daughter. And it happened again this morning, but this time she didn’t ruin her teacher’s dress, just her car seat. 

This is unrelated to parenting, but I literally had someone walk up to me this weekend and ask if I wanted a pill. I kindly said no thank you, I just drink a lot, and he said I look like the type of person who popped pills… I don’t know how to take that…

These are a few of the reasons I drink. Sorry about your muffins 🙁

Jamie

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Dear Jamie,

I was wondering if you have any creative clothing suggestions for when my baby soils his clothes in public and i don’t have any extra outfits with me?

I mean hypothetically, as if i was one of those mothers who is too scattered to remember basic things like a diaper bag when going to run errands. . . also what if you did finally remember the diaper bag but you forgot to put diapers in it, not that it would ever happen to me and my son of course, because we are awesome, but just in case, for the benefit of all the lesser moms with messy little boys out there.

Thanks!

Anna

Dear Anna,

As you have obviously seen, babies poop in the most inconvenient places and at the most inconvenient times. Most parents say to keep an extra tee shirt or blanket in the car and sure that’s fine for the practical know it all parents, but for all the forgetful parents all I can say is thank you God for Lady Gaga.

Because of Lady Gaga we can dress our babies in whatever we want and just call them Baby Gaga. For example, your baby needs a new outfit and you’re in the parking lot of a restaurant. Just go inside steal borrow some napkins and just tie them around their little waist.

If anyone gives you a bad look call it Chanel couture and give them the finger (that’s what Lady Gaga would do). No napkins around? Garbage bags and toilet paper work just fine. Heck let them go nude and say they like being controversial. It doesn’t even matter anymore!

Now you no longer have to worry about being one of those moms who remembers and your baby will look fashionable.

Giving you the finger with love,

Jamie

Comments { 12 }

If it was Miley Cyrus that got run over by a bulldozer then this might not have been as embarrassing and people would be thanking me.

Yesterday I asked for some embarrassing moments and Elle P. from Spill The Beans, who is a mama to 3 boys, sure did deliver. She always makes me laugh to the point of peeing myself so make sure you have some towels handy.

Here are some great posts from Elle:

Devil Bird~these effers freak me out too and my husband gets the greatest enjoyment out of seeing my reaction whenever we come across one which thanfully isn’t that often.

Manic Monday~this is a post in which after reading, you’ll want to send Elle large quantites of alcohol. The Naked Cowboy~where she talks to the Naked Cowboy from Times Square.

Censoring the 4 Year Old~I know this day will be coming soon with the little hummingbird. Daytime Drama~Oy! I dread the day this happens even more.

Q and A with Elle P. 

Elle: If you could send any celebrity/reality star into space so you’d never had to hear about them again, who would it be?

Elle P: OMG, I would love to get rid of Miley Cyrus.  I can not stand the sight, nor the sound of her.  That chick CAN NOT SING and SHOULD NOT BE FAMOUS for anything, ever.

Elle: What song(s) makes you want to dance around your house and/or brings you back to your teen years?

Elle P: Moves like Jaggar by Maroon 5.  L-O-V-E love that song…. I don’t dance around my house too often I usually just jam out to it in my minivan.  Stop laughing!  My minivan RULES.  Oh who am I kidding- I call it The Loser Cruiser.

Elle: If the zombie apocalypse happened tomorrow, which weapon would you want to have to fight these brain eaters?

A. a flame thrower.

B. an unlimited supply of ninja throwing stars.

C. a chainsaw.

D. a shoelace because you’re bad ass.

E. other and what would it be?

F. none of the above, I want to be a damn zombie!

Elle P: E- Other.  I would choose garlic.  In Plants vs. Zombies, they hate the taste of garlic and move on to another plant.  So in real life?  I will fight them off with garlic and they will move onto other brains.  Like maybe Miley Cyrus’.  Bwahahahahahahahah!

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Birthday Cake Phobia.

It happened September 2nd in 2005, when my older boys were 5 and 3 1/2. That is when I developed an intense… hmmm… fear may be a little strong but I’m dramatic, so we’ll go with it… I developed an intense FEAR for childrens’ birthday parties, held in public places. Specifically, the birthday cakes.

My neighbor and I decided to take our kids to an indoor playground/moon bounce place. The kids were having a blast, running, jumping and playing. After awhile, I realized that I hadn’t seen them in a few minutes.

Just as I started to look for them, my friend’s daughter (also 3 1/2) runs over to me and says “Elle! Your boys are over there, with the birthday party and they are playing with the cake!!!!”

I ran toward where she was pointing and as I rounded the corner, I could hear them happily saying, “Vroom, vroom! Beep, beep, beep!  Errrr!”

They had found a cake similar to the one above and… you may need to sit down for this… were playing with the construction trucks ON TOP OF THE CAKE.  They had smeared the icing, with the tires of the trucks, all over the cake; including where it said “Happy Birthday”. 

Of course, I started shrieking and freaking out.  I then, red-faced and on the verge of tears, found the parents from the party and along with the boys, apologized.  They were understandably upset but very gracious. 

I begged them to let me pay for the cake, but they kindly refused.  Before leaving, I did find the owner of the moon bounce place, explained what happened and gave him money to put toward the party. 

I found out later that he redesigned the layout of his indoor play place, and had the birthday party area completely sectioned off and unavailable to the general public.  I wholeheartedly believe this was because of my children.

People of the Internet, there are no words to describe just how utterly and completely mortified I was.  Everyone who knows about this story assures me that someday I will laugh about it. 

It has been 4 years and I am so not there yet.  In fact, I have been thinking about asking my doctor for anti-anxiety meds to take only when attending children’s birthday parties.

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