Today's Smackdown comes with a warning: The sleep deprivation thing has hit me SO MOTHERFUCKING HARD. Would you like to know how hard? This hard: Yesterday I decided to go to one of those Reel Moms movie screenings. I decided to see Walk the Line. I decided to see it in Virginia. Except: I did not correctly read the location of the theater and assumed it was playing at this one mall in Tyson's Corner called the Galleria. Except: The mall I first went to? Was NOT the Galleria. So I got back in the car and drove to the Galleria. Except: The Galleria does not even have a movie theater. After another REALLY CONFUSED phone call to Jason, I asked him to look up the Reel Moms page on Lowe's website and tell me where in hell this fucking theater is, and hurry up, it's pouring down rain. And I may have cursed a little more than that, as I loaded the carseat back in the car and folded up the stroller for literally the FIFTH TIME IN A HALF HOUR. The theater was not even in a mall. Why did I think it was in a mall? Well,... Read more →

GOD. Where in the sam blessed hill have I been? Well, mostly I've been sitting around the house all slack-jawed and useless, because apparently I have just enough natural adrenaline to keep me functioning on very little sleep for exactly eight weeks. The whole sleep thing, it has hit me so hard. Along with the return of all sorts of crap that went away during pregnancy -- crap that I didn't even notice had gone away because I was too busy whining about other things. Crap like migraines, zits, oily hair, cracked dry skin and menstrual cramps. YES. YOU HEARD ME RIGHT ON THAT LAST ONE. THE BREASTFEEDING GODS, I CURSE THEE ONCE AGAIN. And today? Well. We have BOO BOOS, people. Tweety Bird says: Take THAT, polio. Noah weighs 12 pounds and is 24.5 inches long. That is one long, lean little baby. He's absolutely perfect, and (as we have all suspected lo these many weeks) absolutely brilliant. I mean, he TALKED to a QUILT hanging on the wall of the exam room. Not every baby out there is smart enough to talk to a quilt at two months old. (Translation: Highly verbal! Points for mom's genes! Get this... Read more →

In lieu of the Advice Smackdown, I present the Greatest Parenting Lesson Ever Learned: Driving to Pennsylvania in the pouring rain with a husband, a seven-week-old baby, a slightly broken rat dog and a huge-ass cat may make you momentarily ponder abandoning one or more of them at the next rest stop, and this doesn't make you a bad person, it just means you're human, at least that's what I'm telling myself. So I'm visiting family this week, because THE NON-STOP PARADE OF FAMILY THAT HAS MARCHED THROUGH MY HOUSE THE PAST TWO MONTHS OR SO HAS NOT BEEN ENOUGH TO FULLY DRIVE ME OUT OF MY MIND. OH NO, NOT AT ALL. (The caps lock, she is stubborn on this computer, this computer with DIAL. UP. DIIIIAAALLL UPPPP. I almost wish there was a super-caps-lock button I could hit to make that point even larger and cappier.) On the bright side, though, we're with family members determined to document Noah's every blessed breath, so I have a lot of pictures. No, A LOT. OMIGOD, HE'S SMILING! AGAIN! WHERE'S THE CAMERA! (Four different relatives go skittering off in four different directions to grab four different cameras.) Did you realize Jason... Read more →

Or, The Bitch Is Back Dear Attendees of the Old Ebbit Grill Oyster Riot on Saturday Night, which was a Big Night Out for Amy, and Definitely Reason Enough to Get Dressed Up All Good and Pretty, Learn how to fucking dress already, okay? Now, I don't claim to be some kind of total fashionista who always looks awesome and who has never worn something unfortunate -- I mean, honestly, I spent most of this year in elastic waistbands and flip flops. And I was extremely confused after Noah was born regarding what clothing was acceptable and how to look fashionable without looking like some kind of hobo bohemian bag lady and JESUS CHRIST, are people seriously wearing gaucho-style culottes? Like, non-ironically? Like, they honestly don't realize how awful those things look? They are perhaps the ugliest trend since the capelet, and man, capelets were really ugly. I'm also not here to make fun of people who can't afford designer labels because hell, I bought my outfit on sale and wore shoes that I got 50% off last season. And considering this event was like, $100 a head for the common, unwashed non-wine-competition-judging public, nobody there was poor, okay? In... Read more →

(Have you read Part One? Yeah. You probably want to read that one first.) The next few minutes were a blur. I stared at Noah, he stared back. I saw that he had hair and looked just like the 4D ultrasound. I'm pretty sure I cried some more. Everyone in the room was marveling over his size. My doctor talked about the nine pound, 10 ounce baby he'd delivered that morning (a scheduled caesarean) and how he figured that one would be the biggest of the day. Then he told the nurses that he didn't use staples -- he wanted stitches. I realized that my abdomen was still wide open. I started to shake, badly. My teeth chattered. The pediatrician came over to talk to me and said that everything went fine with suctioning the meconium and the cord hadn't caused him any additional distress and Noah looked just fine. "But we'll be testing his blood sugar in the recovery area," she went on. "Because babies just aren't supposed to be that big." The hell? Thanks! That's fucking reassuring, I thought to myself. Out loud, I chattered out a weak little, "Okay." After what seemed like FOREVER, I was ready... Read more →

My sincerest apologies for the lack of updates, but I've been kind of busy being driven ABSOLUTELY BATSHIT INSANE, THE KIND OF ABSOLUTELY BATSHIT INSANE THAT ONLY YOUR FAMILY CAN DRIVE YOU TO. I don't talk about my family all that much here, because 1) they know about the site, and 2) they are so crazy I would probably lose all credibility because y'all would say, "Whatever, she's just making shit up outright now, nobody's brother falls out of a helicopter in the army." Mine did. I also have another brother who has spent most of his life in and out of mental institutions and set our house on fire once, but you know, whatever. There are seven of us altogether: four boys, three girls. We're a blended Brady Bunch family kind of thing, except that everybody fucking HATED each other and instead of hitting your sister with a football, you tried to strangle her with a telephone cord while she ate melba toast in her high chair. Anyway. One of my sisters is visiting me this week, along with my mom, neither of whom are the ones driving me crazy, because they drink a lot of wine and are... Read more →

Six weeks ago today, I had a baby. (Just in case you hadn't noticed.) Today was also my six-week postpartum visit with my doctor, where I was given the all-clear for: 1) Sex and 2) Exercise Hilarious! And at the risk of inciting the ire and hatred of...well, everybody, I learned I'm officially back to my pre-pregnancy weight. 30 pounds on, 30 pounds off. I don't have a clue how I did it, so don't ask. Besides, oh, giving birth to a 10-pound baby and then lugging around a 10-pound baby and feeding a 10-pound baby and going six weeks without actually being able to sit down to a meal without a certain 10-pound baby suddenly deciding that gee, HE'D LIKE TO EAT NOW TOO WAH WAH WAH. That may have had something to do with it. To offset this obnoxious news, I came very close to photographing my abdomen to show you all that it doesn't matter WHAT the scale says, this poochy, squashy stretchmark shit ain't right. Pre-pregnancy weight does not equal pre-pregnancy shape, etc. I have since changed my mind about that. Instead: I LOST 30 POUNDS IN SIX WEEKS. BOO FUCKING YAH. Actually, I'm more proud... Read more →

The batteries in the baby swing died. I have no more batteries. My foot is getting really, really tired. Read more →

Oh man, I'm so torn. On the one hand, it's Wednesday, which means that logically, I should write an Advice Smackdown. On the other hand, I have a batch of what may be the most adorable, Internet-melting baby photos yet. I mean, for real: I wonder if I can somehow combine the substance of a Smackdown with the cheap thrill of a baby photo essay and create what could be the ULTIMATE ENTRY, one that would please the old-school readers AND the ones who curse any entry that is not a baby photo entry and who are still bitter that I haven't finished Part Two of Noah's Birth Story, which I KNOW, OKAY? I'll get it done before his first birthday, I swear. I thought it would be fun to write about my hospital stay and my Roommate From Hell Who Would Not Stop Discussing Her Diarrhea and how I got yelled at for sneaking Illegal Ice Chips, but it's turning out to be more boring than fun, and I only like fun things. Like big goofy baby smiles! GOD. Anyway, the first question in today's Smackdown is actually a big fat generic response to the dozens of questions I've... Read more →

Or, My Life on the D-List Or Or, My Dinner with Antonin Last night I shared an order of fried calimari with Supreme Court Justice Antonin Scalia. I know! Even I was thinking, "The hell?" So about a week ago, Jason and I were asked to be judges at the 2005 International Wine for Oysters Competition at Old Ebbitt Grill here in DC. (For the non-locals, every year Old Ebbitt throws this huge-ass party called the Oyster Riot and holds the wine competition ahead of time to determine 10 wines that will be paired with the oysters and, I assume, will get everyone tanked and properly riotous.) We were completely flattered and were all, "We are bona-fide local celebrities now! Riot!" Then Amy, the event organizer (who keeps ordering me not to write anything bad about her, which OF COURSE I WON'T, that would take valuable space away from discussions of my boobs), sent us the list of the OTHER judges. Scalia. Phyllis Richman. Food Network show hosts. Actual Media Professionals. And Other People Who Probably Know Way, Way More About Wine And Oysters Than Us. It was exceedingly clear that two judges had pulled out and we were the... Read more →