Yesterday was the 16th Valentine's Day Jason and I have spent together. Sixteenth. Shortly before our first Valentine's Day together, on our very first date, this happened: You can read the full story behind this newspaper clipping here. Highly recommended reading, especially if you've never dug that far back (2005!) into my blog archives. I would love to say oh, isn't it funny how much I relied on CAPS LOCK and run-on sentences for humor back then, but that would probably spark some kind of existential "LOOK AT YOUR LIFE. LOOK AT YOUR CHOICES."-type crisis that I've been yammering on for over nine years and have still not managed to grow as a writer in the slightest, and it's only 11 am and thus too early to start drinking and hurling glasses at walls because I CAN'T QUIT YOU CAPS-LOOOOOOOOCCCCCKKKK. Short version, though, for anybody who ain't got time for that: On our first date (that I did not realize was a date), Jason suggested we try to see the newly re-released version of the original Star Wars, even though he knew full well it would be sold out. (Thus "forcing" us to buy tickets for the following weekend, thus... Read more →


Hey! Remember when Thanksgiving happened? I do the same thing every year: I intend to ROCK OUT with a whole slew of Thanksgiving-related blog posts. I make such a big goddamn deal out of the holiday in real life that you'd think my blog would reflect that. Maybe take a yearly dive into recipe blogging and 500-word entries about napkins. Show you the real depths of my vintage glassware obsession. (It's deep, man. Like The Descent, only with more bowls.) Instead, I completely freak out over EVERYTHING that needs to be done in preparation for Thanksgiving that my blog basically sits silent while its author runs around like a headless turkey hopped up on coffee brine in the distant background. Then I gorge myself on challah-bread stuffing and sleep for four days straight. IN OTHER WORDS, will y'all please indulge me and look at some pictures? You actually don't have to really look at them — I'll never know if you keep your Minecraft window open — just type a fake-appreciative mmm-hmmm in the comments and I'll be happy. First: Something old. Or, well. A lot of somethings old. I have cobbled... Read more →


I Want To Belieeeeeeeeve

I have no idea how we got on the subject of Bloody Mary -- the ghosty sleepover dare, not the drink -- but somehow, we did. A little vodka may have been involved, but I am definitely sure that tomato juice and celery were not. Jason and I both grew up in very, very religious households, and because of this, had both achieved adulthood without ever -- EVER -- attempting the Bloody Mary game. We believed that just by THINKING about Satan or evil things, one was technically inviting demonic influence, or even full-on possession. That shit was real, man, in an incredibly literal sense, and the idea of actively baiting a ghost/demon/evil spirit like that was a genuinely terrifying prospect that neither of us would ever mess with. I have a vague memory of standing in a darkened bathroom after first hearing the story from my friends...and THINKING about maybe giving it a try, and the very second the idea popped into my head, a car drove down the street and a glimmer of the headlights flashed in the mirror and I freaked out and ran back to my room, hid under the covers and prayed for forgiveness and... Read more →


I had a really nice Valentine's Day, thank you for not asking, but allowing me to pretend that you did. We're all organic and conversational up in this bitch! For the first time in years, I was thoroughly pleased with my own gift-and-card-related offerings for Jason: Geeky Han-and-Leia bracelets from Spiffing Jewelry. Super-highly-mature card from Wit and Whistle. Usually I get completely out-gifted by my thoughtful, creative husband while I'm like: Here's a sweater? It's red? I bought you some chocolates but I ated them? Not that Jason did too shabbily himself, or anything. But he's an established pro at Valentine's Day -- gifts! flowers! candy! pampering! home-cooked gourmet meals and champagne! -- so I'm usually just happy to not suck too badly at it. Since the babysitter works on Tuesdays, we played hooky had a lunch date together at a restaurant nearby, a place we've gone several times with ALL OF THE CHILDREN in tow, and the hostess gave us a suspicious side-eye when she sat us, like "aren't you the ones wot show up with all them kids usually? where's your baby? oh dear God, did you leave him in the car?" Then we both went to the... Read more →


Shh, shh. Let's not talk about any further unpleasantness. Let's all just cross our fingers and hope that things continue in their current state, which is fine. And dead. As in, the scalp in question is fine, and all the unpleasantness that we are NOT TALKING ABOUT are dead. I think, should this blogging thing not work out, that I may have found my calling as an Obsessive Scalp Comber. I am ruthless and thorough. I am the Nit Whisperer. I am...talking about the thing I JUST SAID I didn't want to talk about anymore. Let's change the subject. Lookit! Pitchers! Last Christmas, the lovely and patient Isabel sent me a gift card for the lovely and patient Blue Lily Photography. I was pregnant, AS YOU MAY RECALL AS I THINK I MENTIONED IT ONCE OR TWICE OR A BAJILLION TIMES, and I went ahead and signed up for a shoot in October, knowing in my head that there would be five of us. That there would be a baby there. And that baby would be four months old. Basically, an eternity and a half away. And then suddenly. BOOM. October. BOOM. Five of us. One. Two. Three, omg. (FourFive.)... Read more →


God, isn't BlogHer just the worst? First, we all bore our readers with ZOMG I'M GOING TO BLOGHER posts. Then we go to BlogHer and don't post anything because we're so busy and crazy or can't get on the hotel wifi or are basically, just drunk as shit the whole time. Then we come home and don't post anything because we're so tired out from BlogHer. Or if we do post anything, it's all, "ZOMG I'M SO TIRED FROM BLOGHER." And then followed by some random crappy photos we took with our phone that don't make any sense because you totally had to be there and stuff. Ugh. I hate when bloggers do that. *** This is a photo I took of my roommate taking a photo of the leftover room service cart full of half-eaten breakfast items that we pushed in of Jason Mayo and TwoBusy's room across the hall from ours. Because. I don't know. WE HAD TO. The morning after Sparklecorn. Still covered in eye makeup, glitter, unicorn tattoos and a vague sense that I embarassed myself and future generations in a wide variety of ways, the least of which was climbing on a table and taking... Read more →


Okay, blah, fine. Birth stories and hospital/breastfeeding drama are all well and good, but AMY! THE SWING! WHAT ABOUT THE SWING, AMY? The swing was still in pieces on the day Ike was born, which was also coincidentally the day we discovered that indeed, Ike was easily comforted by swinging/swaying/rocking movements. Jason commented on this and I said NOTHING, though I did shoot him a DRAMATIC PRAIRIE DOG look. He got the point. "I'll fix the swing." He went up in the attic but alas! The missing connector piece was nowhere to be found. He waited until the next day to confess this to me, via text message from the aisles of Target, where he was contemplating buying a new swing. "WAIT WAIT Internet can help! Commenters offered to send part!" I texted back. But it was too late. My husband -- who does not generally get too worked up or involved over baby gear* -- had spotted A Swing. The Swing. It rocks! Sways! Bounces! Simulates the ocean waves while offering a wide variety of white-noise options! It's oblong and minimalist and all kinds of SPACE-AGEY. It's like somebody attached a cradle seat to an iPad and taught it... Read more →


(SPOILER ALERT: No baby yet.) You know, I've been making fun of my husband a lot around here. And honestly, he probably only deserves...eh, let's say about a third of it. (THE SWING. THE SWINNNNNNGGGGGG.) The rest is a combination of good-natured ribbing and the natural reaction to seeing your partner up and relatively spry and able to function like a normal human being while you loll around on the couch, grunting like a beached whale, wishing you had the ability to whip other people into a nesting-like frenzy using only the power of your MIND, like, seriously? Would it kill you to install the car seat already? I know you SAY it can wait until the baby is born and you'll do it on the way to pick us up at the hospital but I WOULD FEEL BETTER IF I COULD SEE IT DONE AHEAD OF TIME SO THAT I MAY FUSS AT AND CRITICIZE YOUR ABILITIES IN THE PRIVACY OF OUR OWN DRIVEWAY. But really, Jason has been so, so great. Flowers for no reason. A constantly replenished stash of my favorite bath thingies from Lush. Back rubs and belly kisses and moving heaven and earth to make... Read more →


Swing Low Sweet Crazy Person

AMY: Thanks for getting the baby swing down from the attic... JASON: No problem. AMY: *under breath* ...three freaking months after I originally asked you to but whatever. JASON: What? AMY: Nothing! AMY: *busies herself with refastening freshly-washed cover to baby swing* AMY: *tries to attach swing seat to swing frame, makes horrible discovery* AMY: THE SWING IS MISSING A PART! JASON: What? AMY: MISSING! A PART! THIS WON'T ATTACH! THE LITTLE THINGS THAT GO ON THE OTHER THING AND KIND OF...POP? OUT? THOSE THINGS! OR WAS IT A SCREW? EITHER WAY! THERE IS SOME ESSENTIAL MISSING THING! JASON: *looks* Yeah, you're right. I'll look up in the attic again, I guess. AMY: Okay. AMY: *waits* AMY: ... AMY: *waits more* JASON: What? AMY: OH MY FUCKING GOD. (PS. NO BABY YET.) (PPS. OR WORKING SWING.) Read more →