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(Spoiler Alert: No, There Isn't.) (Also Known As: Inexplicable Photo Essay Number 7,895: In Which My Children Have Disastrously Short Careers As Male Models) (Also Also Known As: Wow, Amy, You've Already Used An Ungodly Number Of Colons) WHERE IS MY VITAMIN WATER? SERIOUSLY, IF MY ASSISTANT IS NOT BACK HERE IN FIVE MINUTES WITH VITAMIN WATER, I WILL PUNCH SOMEONE IN THE NECK. I'm sorry I was wack. Now I shall pose. But have you noticed how insanely long my legs are all of a sudden? You do not want to get into a walk-off with me. And I'm done. Now someone please fire off a press release about my "exhaustion." (Confidential to Catherine: PET MAH LIZAAAARD!) Hey. What up? No Vitamin Water theatrics from me, as I'm new on the scene. Young. Fresh. Hungry. So....very...hungry. Haven't...eaten...in...minutes... NOM NOM NOM AAAHHGRGRAAAASHHLURP. What? Like it's my fault I'm so good-looking that even my reflection is delicious. Read more →


DAY THREE, SATURDAY Part One: They Vacuum Carpets, Don't They? The baby's breakfast consisted of a couple handfuls of swag bag fruit puffs tossed on the floor of the hotel room. Part Two: It Takes A Village I once again attempted to attend an actual panel at the actual conference that I had paid actual money for -- this time with the Vaginally Challenged Men of Blogher. When I walked in, Ezra was asleep, but oh, no, that did not last very long at all. Luckily, there were plenty of women around us willing to offer us various forms of baby-amusement: toys from their swag bags, handfuls of Quaker cereal, their noses. The first time he squawked an emphatic "EEEEEEEHHHHHHHHAAAAA," it was funny, and all the faces that spun around to stare at us were sympathetic and amused. By the third or fourth time, not so much, and when I caught a definite glare of "ENTITLED MOMMYBLOGGER" from a few rows up, we got up and left. Which was a shame, because it was a good panel, except that apparently NO ONE on that panel was sleeping with ANYONE in the audience, except for like, THEIR WIFE, or whatever. Booooring!... Read more →


DAY TWO, FRIDAY Part One: I've Made A Huge Mistake Of Bluthian Proportions The next morning Jodi texted me and offered to sneak the baby and I into the Club Level for the free breakfast. I wrote back that I wasn't showered yet, but then decided that I didn't really care, and went up anyway, only to immediately bump into a crew of immaculately coiffed and professionally dressed women from MomCentral. Stacy DeBroff fed Ezra a banana while I blearily caffeinated myself and by my third sip my brain suddenly turned on and I realized that I was out in public -- at a professional blogging conference, where people take pictures and blog and stuff -- in pajama bottoms and no makeup and gross oily hair. And my nipples were showing through my nursing tank. I ate a croissant and fled. Part Two: All Better Down at the actual conference, I learned that with Ezra in the Ergo's back-carry position, my hands were truly free to carry both a cup of coffee AND a complimentary bloody mary. I started meeting people and recognizing people and being recognized by other people, reuniting with Linda, fangirling at Alexa, awkwardly screaming after Kate... Read more →


(Wow. So I originally planned to write about the entire conference in one post. HOURS AGO, I planned that. HOURS, I have been writing this and it really gets away from me at the end and I think I use the word "community" in a totally unironic sense and basically I'm going to publish this and write more tomorrow, because now I have to go punch myself in the neck.) DAY ONE, THURSDAY Part One: Not Off To A Real Brain-Trust-Like Start I woke up at...oh, 4 A.M. in a dread pirate panic over things I had forgotten to pack. I should point out that I was still at home. And had many, many hours left before my flight to pack these things. No matter, I clearly needed to get out of bed and pack them RIGHT THAT SECOND, or ALL WOULD BE LOST. If a blogger goes to Blogher without her business cards, is she really at there? Does she cease to exist? These are the deep thoughts I had at 4:30 A.M. when I found out that not one, but BOTH of my babysitting leads had fallen through, and that I didn't have a confirmed sitter for the... Read more →


Quick. And Hurry.

I need ideas for things to keep a nine-month-old baby amused on an airplane that: 1) fit into a small diaper bag 2) do not make a shitload of jangly beepy noise 3) do not resemble some kind of sex toy and/or rudimentary weapon, thus arising suspicion at security, causing me to miss my flight while I explain that no, it's a spork. A SPORK! So far I've got: 1) food 2) toothbrushes 3) a sippy cup of booze.* *I may share. **Probably won't. ***Also, have you have seen my camera? ****Or my phone charger? *****These footnotes do not actually footnote anything, fail to cite sources, suggest a certain amount of procrastination is going on. ******GAAAAAH Read more →


How is it July? Like, the end-ish of July? What happened to June? And May? And that little squishy baby I had? Did this giant one here eat him, just like he ate the dog kibble last night? Repeatedly? Because my babyproofing knowledge is limited to saying "NO!" and then moving him across the room? Which is surprisingly ineffective? Anyway, I'm bringing this baby to Blogher. No need to vacuum, Sheraton, he'll take care of it. Yes, you can hold him. My arms and neck and back would very much like you to hold him. I will NOT, however, be bringing that drum. Fuck that drum. Vamanos, bebe! Cállate, tambor! Or that refrigerator, even though...oh, I love our new refrigerator. I do not love that we had to buy it, but now that it is here and I open the door and I can like, find stuff I need RIGHT THERE, RIGHT IN FRONT OF MY EYEBALLS, I am very happy about the new refrigerator. I'm sure I'll eventually be less happy with it, once it gets more full of food and crowded, but right now it's gloriously organized and spacious, mostly because I enjoy opening it and eating everything.... Read more →


Select Book Reviews From the Storch Family Library

FULL DISCLOSURE: I was not paid to do any of these reviews and I paid for all of these books with my own cash money, except for maybe one or two that I received as political campaign hush incentives Christmas presents from my mom. Also, these are not actually reviews at all, because whatever, like I care about giving you people useful content. I mean, really. Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What Do You See? Noah (at age 3 months to like, two years): Awesome! Eric Carle's finest work. A tour de force of meter and rhyme and bright colors and OMFG PURPLE CAT AAAHAAAA HAA HAAAAA. Ezra (like, always, and still): I hate this book. Stop reading me this book. Polar Bear, Polar Bear, What Do You Hear? Noah: *learns a very important lessons about the inevitable disappointment of sequels* Panda Bear, Panda Bear, What Do You See? Amy: "And that's how George Lucas and the Wachowski brothers ruined their franchises. The end. Goodnight, sweetie." Peek-a-Boo Baby Faces! Noah: Are you kidding me with this nonsense? Photos of stupid babies with one word of text per page? Honestly, Mother, I'm not sure what's worse: that you paid money for this... Read more →


Ezra had his nine-month well-baby appointment today, where it was brought to my attention that my baby is NINE FUCKING MONTHS OLD. I've now officially had him in my arms for as long as I had him in my womb. And during those first nine months, Jason would often rub my belly and talk to it, and mention his growing impatience with the whole gestating process (GET IN LINE, BUDDY), and his eagerness to meet "this little guy." Who was he, this new hypothetical boy? What would he be like, once he was here? We know those answers now, of course. He is our Mighty Ez, our Baby Zee, our Ezzie Man. He is awesome. Truly, honestly, just beyond awesome. He is a mimic, a charmer, and a flirt. He knows the power of his smile. He will wave and clap and tilt his head coyly to the side until you pay attention to him. If you ask for a kiss he will give you one, along with some tongue and a delighted giggle. Everywhere we go, people stop to stare at him, to talk to him, to delight in his cheerful good nature and marvel at his perfectly round... Read more →


I still remember my little backyard kiddie pool. I'm guessing I had more than one, as this photo shows a square Raggedy Ann pool but I seem to remember a round one with a generic fish pattern on it -- though the designs always faded to nothing by midsummer -- but I remember dragging the hard plastic shells from their spot propped up against the side of our house to the flattest section of our yard. I remember they used to leave wet spots against the brown paint until we had aluminum siding installed. I remember how cold the hose water would be at first, and then how it would slowly warm up to bathwater temperatures as the hours passed. I remember the disappointment of having to get out of the water -- even though my lips were blue and my nose was running and my eyelids were heavy -- but the disappointment was always tempered by the feeling of a dry towel, fresh clothes, the slow feeling of warmth returning. I remember licking peanut butter off my pruny fingers, dripping watermelon down my front, using the towel to erase a milk mustache while staring out the window, contemplating the... Read more →


About two weeks-ish ago, Kristen H commented that there's nothing like a pregnancy scare to REALLY help you figure out how you feel about having another baby. When I missed my period this weekend, my feelings were something like: oh hell oh shit oh fuck oh minivan. When I stopped at a drugstore near by parents' house in Pennsylvania for a pregnancy test, the girl ringing me up gave me a knowing sort of stinkeye, and I stared at my feet and felt awkward and...you know, SHAMEFUL. I shoved the bright pink package into my diaper bag and ignored it for the next several hours while Jason kept looking at me with his eyes bulging out of his head. Who was I and what had I done with the peestick-happy woman he'd married? What was I waiting for, already? "I don't have to pee yet," I whispered. Even though I did. Kind of. Let's just say I've peed on sticks with less. Finally I retreated to the bathroom and dug out the package. I opened up a stick -- careful not to destroy the wrapper, since I sure as hell wasn't leaving pregnancy-test debris in my parent's wastebasket -- and... Read more →