Holy balls dudes.  I am feeling some aggression up in here today.  So I decided to rant about it on this here blog.  Take that mother fucking blog.  Take that and LIKE it.

In case you were wondering when your child starts to believe he is smarter than you, the answer is age 9.  Age 9 is when your son will scoff and roll his eyes because no, mom, 9×6 cannot possibly be 54.  DUHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!  Also, mom, did you even know, or have any clue whatsoever,  that Bob Marley stole that song from a guy who came and sang it at my SCHOOL??  How did Bob Marley do that???

I realize that California is awesome.  I love to visit it and shit, but what is with you Californians moving to other places and then talking shit about where you live and how you can’t wait to get back to Cali?  Is this like something they teach you in Cali schools?  And if it’s so awesome, why did you ever leave?

My Fitness Pal is a gigantic whore.  She’s not my pal at all.  She spends all day monitoring what I eat and telling me I only have a few calories left.  And at the end of the day, she tells me that I’m going to weigh a ridiculous amount in 5 weeks.  Unless I don’t eat all the calories, and then she tells me a glorious amount I’m going to weigh in 5 weeks.  Although one time, I forgot to log my food all day and she told me I would lose like a gazillion pounds in the next 5 weeks and I literally said, out loud, “I will not you stupid whore.  I’d be DEAD if I didn’t eat for 5 weeks.”  Fucking idiot.

Tiny Dancer has decided that anything other than breast milk is unacceptable.  She is 7 months old and I cannot get her to eat ANYTHING.  When the spoon comes out, her mouth clamps shut.  So my nipples are basically leather at this point and I am feeding her about every 3 hours.  She is also waking up twice a night again, which probably explains today’s aggression.  Well, most definitely explains it.  I’m fucking tired dudes.  

Now on to the good stuff.  Hubs and I finally booked a vacation!  Woo hoo!!  We decided to go with some other friends as well because while at a beach, I generally want to lie on said beach and drink alcoholic beverages, and that is basically like torture to him.  So this plan involves guy time golfing and whatnot, and girl time drunk on beach.  

Despite complaining about the whore MFP, I have lost about 18 pounds so far.  My goal weight is about 7-10 pounds away and I think I can pull that off by the end of the summer.  Then I can start gaining my winter weight back.  It’s nice to feel better about my body and not so self conscious anymore.  It’s also been great to reach some fitness goals.  I started running when I was 12 years old and have done it on and off since then.  Once you stop, it’s hard to get back into it because it’s fucking hard.  But once you get to the point where you can finally run a couple of miles without feeling like you’re going to die, you remember what it’s like.  Your feet hitting the pavement, steady breath, quick heartbeat and it is glorious.  I love it.  I really do.  I’m only up to about 25 minute runs but that is about 25 minutes more than I was doing 6 months ago.  





It’s Organic, Of Course

Have you noticed this new trend of people identifying their dinner/lunch/snack/fruit/vegetable/onesie/diaper/tampon/ etc. etc. etc. as “organic?”  I mean, I think organic is totally the way to go too, and I do it when I can (although I’m not all crazy sauce about it.)  But come on.  I mean, when you post a pic of your dinner on IG (GAG!  BTW, nobody wants to see that) and then you say, “Just eating my ORGANIC rice and veggie and no fat, artificial anything nonsense humina humina, did I mention it’s ORGANIC?”  

Well, real ladies of the world, I’m here to tell you something.  I drink DIET Pepsi.  That’s right.  DIET.  With the evil, terrible, no good aspartame.  It gives rats cancer if they eat 5 pounds of it a day.  And I think it’s fucking delicious.  And sometimes, oh yes, I’m saying it, sometimes I drink TWO diet pepsis in one day.  And maybe some day I’ll get the aspartame cancer and regret writing this.  But for those other mothers out there who celebrate small victories (like being able to shower today) with a little bit of diet cola, I say, with gusto, you are not alone! 

Get this.  Sometimes, I take my kids to McDonald’s.  Not a lot, but occasionally, it happens.  And they fucking love it.  And they really only want the 49 cent toy, but they eat the chicken nuggets and the cow lard fried potatoes.  And they fucking love it.  Because some days, I have to do things.  Like leave my house and go places.  And some days I don’t have time to pack a bento box of healthy snacks and my kids are crying in the car about how hungry they are and they don’t care about pink slime and they just want a god damn chicken nugget and some chocolate milk with corn syrup in it.  It happens.  

Yes, I make healthy dinners.  And yes, sometimes I can get my kids to eat them.  But sometimes I can’t and sometimes I take the easy way out.  And sometimes peoples’ condescending bull shit about what a terrible mother I am if I let my kid eat Lucky Charms for breakfast gets on my nerves.  (They also watch tv and play video games.)

Look, I realize this annoyance is probably my own issue.  Ok, it is.  Some days I wish I could do better and be a better mom.  But most days, I’m pretty damn good at it.  So if sometimes I have to make a rotten choice to make one day a little easier, it doesn’t make me a bad mom.  Or a bad person.  So my point is that I wanted you to know that if you do that too, you’re not alone.  Or a bad mom.  Or a bad person.  Just a little public service announcement from me to you.  The end.


I think it’s a pretty bad sign when you go to blog and realize that you have forgotten your blogging password.  This just happened to me.  Don’t worry, I got it back.

Things in my world are BUSY.  Some days I think about how I should have never taken the job that I am currently doing, but then I remember how bat shit crazy I was going when I wasn’t working and realize that yes, it is a good thing.  I just might need some help soon.  I’ve gone through the whole rigmarole of hiring some friend here or there to help me, but we all know how that story ends.  What I need is an EMPLOYEE.  One I can boss around and make feel really guilty if they don’t show up one day.  That’s coming.  

Now, about my children.  Somehow Bugs has had the nerve to almost be done with third grade already.  That means, my lovelies, that he will be 10 at the end of this year.  That’s double digits dudes.  That’s a whole fucking decade of him being alive.  What. The.  Fuck.  L has also decided that he is going to turn 2 this month, which I mean, is pretty selfish if you think about it.  He was just a baby like yesterday.  Speaking of babies, Tiny Dancer is getting to be less of one too.  She is six months this week and she is trying her damndest to sit up on her own.  She also does a mean cobra pose on her belly which tells me it won’t be long until she’s up on her hands and knees trying to crawl.  My god is she cute.

As for me, I’ve been doing my best to get skinnier and you guys, it’s working.  I have lost a total of around 15 pounds since TD was born.  I mean, this includes all the weight I came home with from the hospital because you know I weighed myself when I got home.  I’m sadistic like that.  But it does allow me to tell myself I’ve lost 15 pounds.  I’m below my pre-preggo weight but still about 13 or 14 pounds away from bikini weight.  I’m doing this the old fashioned way by counting calories and working out.  Also, when I say “old fashioned” I mean I am tracking everything on apps on my iphone.  Currently I’m using a calorie tracker, a running map, and a couch to 5k program.  I’m also doing some Jillian Michaels workouts and am still trying to make it to pilates as much as possible.  It’s hard work, but the results are coming so it’s super motivating.  End goal is a size 8 with no muffin top and right now I am comfortable in size 10 jeans.  WOO!!!!

She Lives

Hey dudes, in case you were wondering if I was hit by a bus, I wasn’t.  Well not a literal one, but the month of no blog posts should tell you that figuratively, I was hit by a mother fucking BUS.  Oh you weren’t wondering.  Hmm weird.

Anyway, first the good news.  I have discovered that morning coffee time is the best part of the day.  It’s a struggle in everyone’s life to take time to live in the present.  I wish I could say that I am excellent at it, but I am a worrier so I am usually focused on something stupid I have done or some decision I have to make hoping it doesn’t turn into something stupid that I’ve done.  BUT, coffee time… well, coffee time rocks (are people still saying rocks?)  First of all, I have this latte maker that kicks a whole lot of ass (A-WHOLE) and I have perfected the ratio of milk to coffee to peppermint hot chocolate in order to make the world’s best peppermint mocha.  That’s right, I said it, WORLD’S BEST.  If you’re ever in my neck o’ the woods, I’ll make you one.  After this perfect cup of coffee is made, I sit on my couch and adore my children for about 15 minutes.  I just sit there.  And watch them.  And enjoy my morning.  It’s magic.

Now comes the tragic part of my story, the bus, if you will.  My family has had every sickness going around.  That’s right, we’ve had influenza (except me, I had the flu shot) where everyone was snotting, sneezing, and coughing all over each other and fevers all over the place.  We’ve had a stomach bug in which Bugs actually threw up in his classroom, and L had diarrhea for 2 weeks straight.  Hubs and I were both afflicted with this one at the same time and luckily my parents came to the rescue and took the kids off our hands for the weekend so we could barf and shit all over the place.  Unfortunately, both my parents ended up getting it too.  Nothing says thank you like contagious diarrhea.  And currently we all have some other type of cold/sinus infection that basically has us hurling insults at each other because god damn it he coughs so loud it wakes the baby every time.  

There was also going to be some info about 2 broken down cars and getting fired in this post, but I guess it will have to wait because a baby is crying somewhere.  I meant here.  My baby is crying.  

Yes I’m Also Still Fat

I used to be kinda cute. Maybe even a little hot. I’ve always had a little belly but it was sometimes small enough to hide it.
I mean, I realize I just had a baby 2 months ago. I get it. It might take awhile. I just don’t want it to. I’ve been counting calories and working out. I’ve even passed up dessert several times. I just think if you’re a chubster the universe should give you a break and let you lose 10 pounds instantly for motivation. And then the Wii fit will stop tormenting you and telling you you’re overweight and that you should use their fitness tips more often. Damn you mocking video games!
One thing I’ve learned is that you can’t get skinny if you like booze. Or cookies. The cookies haven’t been too hard to give up but BU likes her some vodka. So the pursuit of the perfect lo-cal drink began. And ended. = vodka, soda, mio. = divine. = drunk.
I have lost a couple pounds. I’m going to keep going.

Transverse Abdominus

Remember how I was going to blog every day in November and then I didn’t because I am a lazy slut bag? Oops. Well in my defense, it was Thanksgiving and I was out of town and I was eating banana cream pie and mashed potatoes all day. Also I’m a lazy slut bag. When I’m all hopped up on mashed potatoes I tend to fall asleep sitting up while drooling all over myself.
But anyway, did I tell you dudes my Pilates plan? Well it’s cold here in these parts so taking up running again right now is just not for me. Also I pee my pants if I do any more than a tender footed tiptoe. There’s an amazing Pilates studio near me that I used to work out at before I was a fertile whore. So I went today and paid for 3 private lessons and a package of mat classes. You have to do the private lessons in order to do the equipment classes because they are money grubbing assholes. Or because they don’t want you to slow down the class or get injured, whatever. Anyway I think their sign actually says, “We will help you stop peeing your pants.” Ok I lied about that too, but the core of Pilates is your core. Get it? Core of Pilates? By the way, I’m not snooty enough to actually capitalize Pilates every time, that’s autocorrect for you.
I started tonight with my first private lesson and I’m signed up for a class and another private session this week. I’ve basically been pregnant forever so my abs are all, “What the fuck dude? How are we supposed to be lazy and flabbalicious if you do that shit to us?” To which I replied, “SHAZZAM!!! Take that bitches!!” Then we both cried. So, goal one: Pilates 3 days a week. Goal two: meet and walk home with Bugs every day (about a mile.) Goal three: stop peeing pants. Goal four: start jogging again in spring.


Hi friends.  Well, true to BU fashion this month, I am still crazy busy.  I am beginning to think that taking on these new clients is not going to work out.  I’ve been trying to decide if my feelings of overwhelming-ness are just because it’s all new and I’m working out a system or if it just actually is too much work for the part-time job I’m trying to make it.

My priority is my kids.  I want to be a work at home mom, but I also want it to be a very minor part of my life.  Right now, it is all consuming.  I’m giving it a couple more weeks to see if I can settle into a routine, but if that doesn’t happen, I have a backup plan that will free up more time.  So that’s my goal for the next few weeks: get into a routine, reevaluate and make a decision.

And last but not least, today is my 34th birthday.  Holy fucking shit.  Remember when 34 seemed so old?  I thought the 30 somethings were super mature and grown up.  And then today, in the car, Hubs and I were making up songs to see how many dirty words we could string together.  It went a little something like “dick suck, titty fuck, mother fucking 2 balled bitches.”  Super mature and grown up.  Except for now on my birthday I am blogging, ordering pizza, working, making macaroni and cheese.  Back when I was immature, I was getting drunk and making poor choices.  Ok, to be honest, I am drinking vodka (again.)


I’ve been thinking a lot about my daughter.  Of course I have.  Duh.  But more specifically, I’ve been thinking a lot about the things that I want to teach her.  To be honest, I feel some real live pressure.  Because dudes, she is going to be a bad ass chick.  I mean, she just has to be.  I don’t want to raise a daughter that’s mean or insecure or anything but really fucking awesome.  I feel a mountain of pressure on myself to get it right.  I never want to make her feel like less than she is.  I never want my husband to not show up for her.  And I never, ever want her to make bad decisions for herself because I taught her that.

It’s hard to explain without going into too much detail, so here’s the gist.  The Hubs and I had a date last night.  It didn’t go so well.  We ended up fighting, and he ended up saying some really mean things to me.  My brain was in overdrive and I kept thinking of all the reasons I should stay and try to make it right.  But the one reason that kept me from doing that was HER.  I thought to myself, and told him later, “If anyone ever talks to my daughter that way on a date, I hope she gets up and leaves.”  So that’s what I did.  In 12 years of being together, I have never EVER just left him like that.

It was heart wrenching and terrible.  And totally empowering.  And I know we will work it out and make it right.  And I hope it never happens again.  But I also hope that this new found empowerment continues and shows her just how she should be treated and the steps she can take to stand up for herself if that isn’t happening.  Because she is amazing.  And powerful.  And beautiful.  And anyone who doesn’t treat her that way doesn’t deserve her.

That is pure truth.  In a way I never realized before.

About the Birth Control

Dudes I have birth control. On purpose. That lasts 5 years. I got an IUD. And that feels weird. And awesome. I’m mostly excited about the prospect of possibly never having a period again. For those of you that don’t get periods, you might think this is weird. But I’ve basically had one every 3 weeks since I was 12 years old (except when pregnant obvs.) That’s 2 decades of the longest, most brutal weeks.
It’s also a weird sitch to think that I spent so many years trying to get pregnant and now I’m going to spend the rest of my life trying not to. Despite all of my complaining, I’m one of those weirdos that loves being pregnant. I love breastfeeding and I love having babies. It’s weird to think I’ll never do that again. But alas, lots of people in my life will be doing that in the near future so I can get my kicks from that.
While continuing to drink adult beverages and getting skinny again.


I’m going back to basics because I am so not cohesive enough to put together a real post.  So Thought Vomit Thursday is making it’s comeback.

1 – I am busy.  So so busy.  Like my phone is ringing off the hook all day.  If it’s not phone calls, it’s text messages, and somewhere in and around all the work I am actually doing, I have to respond to these calls or texts.  I kindof understood my husband’s reasoning for working all the time before, but now I really get it.  Some shit you just can’t let slide or lots and lots of people will be let down.  It’s exhausting.  I feel so lucky that I get to work from home.  It’s a nice break when I need it, but any time I want to I can come out of my office and squeeze my babies.  Or make a pot roast.

2 – Tiny Dancer and I are going to battle over sleep.  I started the sleep training a week or so ago and it’s going really great actually.  Until about 4:30 am.  I put her to bed somewhere between 9:30 and 10:30.  Sometimes she will go right down at 9:30 and other times, it takes a little more work.  She is pretty consistently sleeping until 4:30 am (SCORE!)  Sometimes she wakes up earlier, but I can pretty much coax her back to sleep with a pacifier until 4:30.  Which is basically against all sleep training rules, but at 2 am, I don’t give a fuck.  At 4:30 she is fucking over it and she yells out to FEED. ME. NOW.  I am still breastfeeding, so I get up and rock her and feed her.  She falls back to sleep and I lie her back down just in time for her to start barfing and farting all over.  She’s got some serious middle of the night tummy issues and it makes 4:30-7:30 not very pleasant.  Fortunately I’ve been drinking coffee every day (and vodka every night) so I don’t mind so much.  A couple of weeks from now you might see me on the news though.

3 – I am the worst blog friend ever.  I haven’t made it to very many of your blogs to comment, encourage or support.  Please know I check blogs every day, but am in just such a whirlwind of shit that I just haven’t commented.  I do read though and will be back someday to make you feel my love.  Usually when I read blogs it is when I’m nursing or driving (just kidding) and typing a comment on my phone with one finger is bull shit.

4 – I got shiny new birth control.  More on that tomorrow.  I hope.