Colt’s arrival was somewhat traumatic.
An emergency C-section followed by a morphine reaction that left me hysterical and itching like a heroin addict.
I felt accomplished that we’d both made it out alive. I also felt completely insecure as a new mother.
It was my first “oxymoron” experience as a parent.
In the year that followed, a cloud of postpartum depression loomed over me. I didn’t sleep.
Lately Colt has been wearing this red beer koozie on his arm because it gives him “super powers.”
Funny, that koozie gives mommy super powers too.
Had a Fabulous Fourth of July weekend with my family in Tierra Verde (my super-cute sister pictured here.)
Hope you all did too!
Yesssssss! This must mean my kid is great!
Occasionally Todd and I will watch something weird on Netflix.
I especially like to watch shows documenting mental illness, obsessions, addictions, oh and any of those bizarre sex shows…
Last weekend, Todd and I watched like 4 straight hours of TLC’s Strange Sex.
Each episode more horrifying than the last.
One about a middle-aged couple using common kitchen utensils to beat, spank and prod each other –
I’m 6 days into the vomit bug from hell and feeling like death is imminent. This is with Zofran, Phenergan and a tanker of Gatorade at my side.
I have a new appreciation for those people in “Love and Cholera.”
All they had was love.
My son came down with this virus two weeks ago. It was the first time he’d thrown up in his young life,
Nothing makes you wanna kill yourself like shopping for a bathing suit.
Shortly after I had Colt, my mother convinced me to start shopping at Bealls Department Store. I guess she was implying that my days at Victoria’s Secret were over.
At Bealls, I found a cute coral one-piece that has been my go-to mommy suit for two years now.
But the elastic has dry-rotted, the seams are torn and the crotch is pilly.
“I have Jury Duty.”
You might as well tell your friends you have the Ebola Virus.
They will feel SO BAD for you… but will secretly celebrate that they don’t have it.
Quite honestly, I don’t mind jury “service.”
The term “service” has replaced “duty” (perhaps to sound less obligatory and more honorary?) But it’s kind of like a colonoscopy, you can call it whatever you want,
Today Colt visited The Holy Freaking Grail of Pediatric Dentists…
I remember my younger years at the dentist, vividly.
There was the exam chair – grey cracking pleather. The 20-year-old framed photo of hot air balloons on the wall.
And the many, many posters of Gingivitis gone wrong.
The woman missing half her jaw with the rotting roots and no tongue. The child with a clef palate and no right nostril.
Dear Man At the Gym who Keeps Talking to Me Even Though I Never Make Eye Contact with You,
Thank you for recommending that ab exercise that you think I should be doing.
Thank you for pointing out the fact that I’m running on the defective treadmill, and suggesting that I move to the treadmill closest to you.
Thank you for staring at my breasts – reminding me that I forgot to pack a sports bra today.