So first of all, this is the second time I've written this entry, since I somehow managed to close my browser AS I SCROLLED THE MOUSE UP TO THE PUBLISH BUTTON, so please attribute any anger to that, and not the subject matter. The first version contained a shocking amount of non-bitterness, and really demonstrated my growth as a person, and while we're at it, let's just say it was the greatest thing ever written in the history of the English language, and this version is going to suck because GAR BLAM ANGRY. Second of all: thank you. Thank you to everybody who commented on my last entry. Your responses were all so reasoned and diverse and thoughtful, and while it did get a little overwhelming at times, overall they made for excellent reading yesterday while I LAID AROUND IN BED WITH A GROSSLY SWOLLEN MOUTH FROM HAVING MULTIPLE CAVITIES DRILLED AND ALSO THEY SOOTHED THE PAIN IN MY HEART FROM THE DENTAL BILL I PAID. A DENTAL BILL THAT INCLUDED A COMMA. Oy. But that's a different entry o' bitching. Today's entry is about y'all, and how much I appreciate the time you took to write about something so... Read more →

We went to Chipotle for lunch on Sunday. Jason stood in line while I snagged an empty table. As I tried to navigate Noah and a high chair across the crowded restaurant, hoping to not whack anybody in the ankles, I felt the weight of the high chair vanish. A young man wordlessly took it from me and carried it to my table, while I thanked him repeatedly, surprised at the unexpected help -- and also at how surprised I was about the unexpected help. He sat down at his own table, bowed his head and prayed silently over his burrito. I remember how my family used to pray over meals in restaurants. I remember not caring for a lot of years, and then I remember caring so very much. I remember my face flushing with embarassment as my parents prayed aloud over burgers and fries at Friendly's, while our waitress hovered nearby, unsure whether placing the ketchup bottle on the table would disturb our communion with the Lord Father in Heaven. A few minutes later a family asked the man if they could join him at his oversized table since there weren't any other seats. They were obviously eating... Read more →

I tried to tell Bunny that the fucking zoo fucking sucks, but she didn't believe me. She'd been to the fucking zoo and had a perfectly lovely time, save for the somewhat chilly March weather (she's from California, and thinks we're all nuts for living on this coast, where your car gets snowed in and you have to wear jackets and whatever the hell). So I allowed myself to be talked into going back to the fucking zoo. We'd go during the week! In the morning! Noah is old enough now! The pandas aren't such a big fucking deal anymore! It's gonna be great! So we packed up snacks and sippy cups and loaded up the offroading strollers and drove to the fucking zoo. The beginning of the day. Full of promise and hope and overwhelming skepticism. That arrow, by the way, led us to a non-stroller accessible walkway with a bazillion stairs. That was possibly in the jungle. Where those screeching ink-shooting dinosaurs that killed Newman probably live. We opted to hike up a small hill to a different entrance. About halfway up the hill I started wheezing. And sweating. And cursing at Bunny in foreign languages that I... Read more →

We're going to the fucking zoo. Fuck. I am wearing my most ugliest comfortable walking shoes, and yet I still inexplicably felt compelled to shave my legs. Noah appears to be preemptively underwhelmed. I will report back from the other side, no doubt with a broken spirit and several blisters. Read more →

Today's post is guest-authored by my six-year-old neighbor, who composed it while standing on her recycle bin so she could talk to me over the fence, as she does every day, whenever possible. I think she has a strong and unique voice for the blogosphere and a innate sense of storytelling. Mostly I admire her knack for the run-on sentence. Hi! I am tall, see how I can see you now? This is better for my toes than just the fence plus I am only a foot away from our trampoline did you know we had a trampoline? and so if I fall like whoa! I will fall on the trampoline but only if I don't fall less than a foot which would be bad my mom says we are having chicken for dinner. We made up a game you wanna know how to play it? It's called cracking the egg because we go like this and then we go POW like this and stand up and we make it up all by ourselves my brothers and me and my brother said we should call it cracking the egg and that's what we call it your dog is taking a... Read more →

We threw our first honest-to-God actual dinner party in the new house this weekend -- a party where we invited multiple people whom we are not related to, where we cooked multiple courses and I was in the basement frantically ironing dinner napkins as our first guests arrived because heavens! To Betsy, even! WRINKLED DINNER NAPKINS = FAILURE AT ADULTHOOD. And here is some more math for you: Seven adults - not enough chairs + three designated drivers x one pregnant woman + two toddler moms who drank all the wine and would not stop talking about birth and labor and mucus plugs + two toddlers + one tumble off the back deck and another damn bloody mouth in front of the SAME PEOPLE who saw the LAST bloody mouth and who now think parenthood is pretty much one bloody mouth after another. And also mucus plugs, which the poor pregnant woman never even heard of until last night but now knows everything you could possibly know about mucus plugs, including the size, color and consistency = ONE FREAKING AWESOME DINNER PARTY. (Seriously, that equation totally adds up right. Just carry the one.) He will hike up his shorts leg... Read more →

ABEAD! BEAD BEAD BEAD! Great. Because "bead" comes in so handy in so many conversations. SAY MAMA. SAY MAMA ALREADY GODDAMMIT. Wait. Shit. Oh, please don't let his next word be goddammit. Oh, please hell no. Read more →

(It's a pun!) Jason and I had a long talk this weekend about this. (That's a lot of this for one small sentence.) We've done a lot of talking about this, but since there's no easy answer we tend to just change the subject after a couple minutes and move on to simpler topics. (Like, shall we open more wine? Why, yes, please!) (Just call us the Wine Vikings.) This time I cut through all the crazy what-ifs and hypotheticals and layers (specialty of the house! onion parfait!) and just asked Jason what his gut was telling him. We put a lot of trust in Jason's gut around here, as it has never once led us wrong. Unlike my gut, which is impulsive and reactionary and usually craving burritos. Jason took a moment to listen to his gut. He cocked his head and everything. "I think we should wait." "Ohgoodmetoo." I breathed a sigh of relief. And my ambivalence was suddenly obvious, and I confessed to feeling supremely overwhelmed by the thought of dealing with morning sickness and pregnancy and a newborn and breastfeeding and two kids in diapers in the immediate future, and choosing it ON PURPOSE. It turns... Read more →

Not so much of a vacation as technical difficulties, as we've gone from a busted keyboard to a busted power cord and I was completely laptopless for most of the weekend and yesterday: Luckily, I managed to keep myself occupied. SOMEHOW: Happy Mother's Day! Now everybody get the hell away from me so I can concentrate on mah show. Oh, but bring me another mimosa first. *** I mowed a lawn for the first time in my entire life on Saturday. I nearly took a chunk out of my flip-flop with the weed whacker, but otherwise the entire operation took place without incident. I just feel the need to document this important event in the Suburbification of Amalah. *** We also said goodbye to Heather this weekend. I have nothing to say about this except that she is a whore and I hate her. Also that I cried and hugged her a lot. You will never guess what her goodbye present to Noah was. I am posting this one because I know it will break her heart, and I am vindictive. *** In other news, I went to the dentist this morning, which is always fine holiday fun, especially when... Read more →

This morning Noah and I played our game of Gimme Kisses. I tell him to gimme kisses, please. He shakes his head no, and then I swoop in for a kiss anyway, while making a big, exaggerated mmmmmmmmmmmmmMWA sound. Then he giggles. This morning I stopped playing after a few kisses. He started humming. "Mmmmmm." He reached up and put his hands on my cheeks and leaned in. "MWA!" he shrieked, covering my face with kisses. Then we both giggled. Yeah. I gotta get me another one of these. *** Two things I said I'd never do again: 1) Have another child. 2) Take Clomid. They went together pretty nicely, I thought. But like a lot things I swore I'd never do (suburbs! yard! skinny jeans! hotdogs for lunch!), I changed my mind about Number One. I want another baby. WE want another baby. The five of you who read the ClubMom blog know that Jason and I have been trying for awhile now. I don't know how long, exactly. Maybe since Noah's first birthday? Maybe even before that? I seem to remember using the BlogHer swag bag condom at some point, but honestly, we've never really used birth control... Read more →