Still have not made a final decision about the nanny. Still have not even started to write an entry about the nanny. Decided to go to the pool instead. Here. Have some thighs. Does that make up for it? No? Then how about some delicious beefcake? We had a wonderful time. Noah adored everything about everything -- the water! the big kids! the community toys! -- and I forced myself and my HIGHLY DESIRABLE FRIENDSHIP on another mother with a boy Noah's age and then tried to poach some poor defenseless babysitter who was totally having none of it and the vending machine ate my quarters. (Universe to Amy: Karma!) We swam until we were pruney, which was precisely when Noah hit The Wall. The Wall of Nap. Woe! Agony! Turtles! Tomorrow: Nannies. Probably. I think. Maybe? Argh. Read more →

1. The Wednesday! Advice! Smackdown! 2. Speaking of the Smackdown, did you know that our own Intrepid Amalah Commenter and Friend of the Smackdown Real Girl has a book? An absolutely fabulous and delightful book? A book that you can buy from various reputable purveyors of books and book-like substances? She does! And you can! 3. Speaking of nothing-related-to-this-at-all, but as I mentioned over at the blog about blogs where I say the word blog a lot, I have been busy this week interviewing NANNIES. Nannies who will occasionally come to my house and look after my preshus baby so I can do important stuff, like write on teh Internets about how much I love my preshus baby. An entry about that will be coming soon, oh my holy hell. Read more →

So this weekend we continued our pattern of pawning off our young on the sober and attended the DC International Wine & Food Festival, which was very much about the wine, not so much about the food, although there was an entire table devoted to Irish butter, and I have never been so proud of my Irish heritage, because that shit was DELICIOUS. I am proud to say my wine snobbery has come a long way, as I was able to say shit like, "Hmm, I taste peach with a hint of earth, however, there's entirely too much alcohol on the finish," and people actually nodded instead of tossing their wine in my face and screaming "WRONG! TOTALLY WRONG! YOU COULD NOT BE MORE WRONG!" Of course, they could have just been being polite. Like Ted Allen also was. OMG! It's Queer Eye for the Drunk Girl! Iron Drunk America! We spotted him while waiting in the taxi line and I did my patented Amalah Shriek of Dorkitude, alarming Jason and our friends, who were so not impressed That Ted Allen Was Standing Right Over There, He's Totally On Television And Therefore Our Better. My friend Paul offered to just... Read more →

After noting Noah's affection for the remote control, we took the batteries out of a couple remotes we never use anymore (aside: what, do these things BREED or something? is the "Sanyo" remote the bastard lovechild of the Sony and Panasonic remotes? because we don't OWN anything by Sanyo. remotes! cease with your fornicating!) and gave them to Noah to play with. We thought this was terribly clever of us. This morning, Noah was chowing down on what I thought was one of the battery-less remotes until suddenly, the sounds of Dan Zanes' Catch That Train! (best kids-ish CD EVER, by the way, and you can officially add Mr. Zanes to my list of Bizarre Crushes On Men Whom I Love Merely For Their Remarkable Effect On My Child, like my elderly pediatrician and Joe from Blue's Clues) flooded the room. Noah and I both jumped and looked at each other, and besides the immediate thought of dude, nice fine motor skills, I was suddenly struck with the realization that Noah had his back to the CD player and the remote in his mouth, and that the trajectory of the...I don't know, remote control laser beam firepower had just traveled... Read more →

Baby! Laughing!* Like a total crazy drunk person! Noah Laughing on Vimeo Who knew? Baby dolls repeatedly plummeting to their deaths are the FUNNIEST THING EVER. I mean, it's funny, right? He's not going to be sticking their heads on pikes tomorrow or something, right? Should I maybe hide the Nirvana CDs? *Also! My bra strap! Like a total crazy homeless person! Read more →

One week ago today, I was in New York with my sister and my 11-week-old nephew Nicky. And I convinced her to take me and the two babies shopping in Soho. I know. I should probably go to jail or something. I am a threat to all of decent society. "I took Noah out all the time at Nicky's age!" I told her, clearly hallucinating about SOMEONE ELSE'S MATERNITY LEAVE, because unless Jason was around to carry the stroller and the diaper bag and...I don't know, a spare rubber band for my hair, while I staggered sloooowly behind, clutching my newborn against my chest with a vise-like grip on his thigh, I think I took Noah out exactly twice. And one of those times was just to the mailbox. But still. I decided that my sister needed to Get Out And Go Places And Get Over This Whole "Babies Are Haaaard" Thing. So we packed up our diaper bags, plopped Nicky in the Bjorn, stuck Noah in his B-stroller (B-stroller being the One We Bought That We Hate With The Heat Of Many Hot Suns, with the A-stroller being the One We Love, But Is Fucking Huge And Heavy And... Read more →

Specifically, this hill: "SHUT UP. IT'S DECEPTIVELY SLOPEY." And specifically, I was this drunk: No. Really. Look at how cleverly ironic I thought I was: "Klassy! With a C! Or a K. I don't know. Whatever the fuck." We were at this vineyard: "Look! We're on the label! It's the Mythical Three Drunk Girls!" Please note the variety of spit receptacles available to us. We did not use them once, but lo, they were festive. This was my wound. From the hill. That I fell down. "Pour some wine on it!" I would write more, but I am too busy attempting to edit a financial newsletter which needed to go to print about 20 minutes ago, but as it turns out, a contoured changing pad actually DOESN'T make the greatest home office workspace, because even if your clients can't smell the Diaper Genie, YOU TOTALLY CAN. Please don't ask. (I really, truly am no longer drunk, I swear.) Read more →

I really can't write the entry y'all want me to write about the reunion. There are a million reasons: I have no anonymity among my classmates. My amalah.com email address is listed in the alumni directory. I have to assume everything I write will get back to pretty much everybody. But more than any of that, who the fuck do I think I am to judge anybody there? That's not to say that I didn't judge the hell out of everybody. I glanced through the directory and snickered at how so few of us ventured beyond the Bucks County cornfields. I was shocked at how many babies people have, and at how very close together they've been having those babies. I was taken aback at how many pastor's wives and how few career women my class produced. I was furious when people wouldn't let me finish my sentence about quitting my job to pursue a writing career before jumping in to tell me how wonderful staying home is. Ugh. It's a wonder anybody spoke to me at all. As I was getting dressed, about 30 minutes before we needed to leave for the reunion, I realized I'd left all the... Read more →

It's me! Redefining the phrase "OMFG!" So there I was, in a conference room at ClubMom, with my back to the door, yakking about blogs and bloggers and blawwwgs and out-of-the-box synergistic capstones, and when I finished talking I realized everyone was staring at me. So I thought, "I have enraptured them! I will KEEP TALKING." So I did, and then I kind of realized that they were actually staring at a point just behind my head. I turned around and BWAH. Andrew Shue was right there. I SHRIEKED, people. And it was not a cool shriek. It was a spastic, flip-out kind of shriek, like I had just in that very moment realized just how influential Melrose Place was in my young life, and I had to like, TAKE A MOMENT to put my head down on the table to breathe and get my burning red face back to a normal fleshy color. And then he sat next to me, and we talked about blogs, and...I don't know...stuff, and I kept stealing glances at him because photos will never prepare you for just how good-looking this man is in person, with the smoldering eyes and the cheekbones, and every... Read more →

Actual email that I sent to pretty much every person on the planet yesterday: From: Amalah Subject: omfg andrew! Andrew Shue likes my blawwwwwwwwwwwg! http://www.toptensources.com/topten/member/Andrew-Shue-Top-10/ Actual email I received regarding this Saturday's reunion: From: Person who was apparently our class president, although I don't remember voting Subject: Reminder! Class of 96! Reunion this Saturday! 6:30 pm! Attire: Casual - What you feel comfortable in - no fancy dresses or ties. *shakes fist* *twice* But...what if I AM comfortable in fancy dresses? What if my husband looks particularly hot and out-of-my-league in a tie? Bah. So after the reunion on Saturday, we're heading up to New York City for a few days to visit my sister and meet my newish little nephew. I'll also be meeting with ClubMom and AlphaMom and reveal myself to be a big dumb fraud who is really boring and stammer-y in person. Supposedly, Andrew Shue has been invited to the ClubMom meeting on Monday, but I really, REALLY won't be hurt if he doesn't attend, because I have a truly horrific track record when it comes to meeting even the most minor of celebrities. (A track record that includes 1) shrieking, 2) pointing rudely, 3) crying,... Read more →