Okay, so this is random and possibly a little creepy, but are any local readers out there currently expecting a baby boy? Because... I have somehow mysteriously managed to acquire a metric buttload of baby boy clothing over the years. The plan was to pass most of it along to a friend of mine who was pregnant, but she had a girl. Then another friend got pregnant but SHE'S having a girl. Everybody everywhere, with the girls. I guess it's because I HOGGED ALL THE BOYS. THE UNIVERSE IS TAPPED OUT OF PENISES. Sorry, ladies. (Okay, that's kind of a lie. I did have one friend who had a boy last winter. And I was all, "I SHALL GIVE YOU ALL THE CLOTHES!" But that was before everything was sorted and boxed up all neatly-like and it turned out I was way, WAY too disorganized to make that promise.) (And also emotionally unprepared, as I got predictably sentimental and hoard-y about the newborn clothing. The pile of "special" and "meaningful" outfits kept growing and growing, as I suddenly couldn't bear the thought of parting with a single itty-bitty Circo-brand onesie or factory-outlet footie sleeper. I feel more ready now. Kind... Read more →

Ezra, on the other hand, has one more week of summer vacation before he goes back to school. He didn't realize this. He was so disappointed. Back to the manual labor grind, then. (He takes this task very seriously, in case you couldn't tell. We have the watered-est garden in at least three counties, I'd reckon.) Ezra will be four years old soon, which is weird. Not in the "OMG FOURRRR?" sense, but in the sense that...really? He's not already four? Or five? I sometimes forget that he's only three, usually right up until the moment when he suddenly lets his three-ness show through in the most spectacular three-like fashion. And then I remember how small he still really is, and how relatively easy we've had it with him. He wants to please and help and do things and make us happy. He waters the garden, he helps with the dishes, he cuts Ike's banana into perfect slices for him every morning, he puts groceries away. He is the reason I found a brand-new container of chicken stock in the freezer, frozen solid. He gets jealous of Ike, naturally — if you stop to coo over him in public you... Read more →

On Friday I took Noah to his school's Open House. We met his new teachers, checked out his classrooms, and I was completely thrilled to see that the school assigned him to the teachers of his dreams, to exactly the kind of teachers Noah has historically responded best to and worked hardest to please. (Young, babyfaced-types with gobs of enthusiasm and no fear of Bribery With Snacks.) (I am about 99% sure his special ed teacher from last year hand-picked them for us.) Before we left, Noah insisted on visiting every former teacher and classroom. There were big hugs and high fives and marveling over his missing front teeth from his kindergarten teachers (and yes, Hot Teacher Is Still Hot, Only Now More Tan And How Did I Not Notice The Tattoos Oh My God), and then we stopped in to visit his preschool teacher. He had the same teacher for two full years of the Preschool Education Program (PEP), though it already feels like forever ago. Noah ran in and gave her a hug and they chatted about his summer (BEACH WATERSLIDES BEACH AND 14 MILLION HOURS OF LEGO), and I stood there and stupidly beamed at him, all... Read more →

I woke up on day three with three immediate thoughts: 1) Jason had already left for a business trip and would be away until the next day, oh dear God. 2) If I even SUSPECTED that I was taking my mood/hunger/whatever out on my children again, I would stop that very instant. That. Very. Instant. 3) Hot christ on a ham sandwich, I feel hungover. I don't know if it was belated caffeine withdrawal or what, but I had a terrible headache. (And it only NOW just occurred to me that I didn't even consider taking anything for it. I don't know why, as I'm usually hitting the Advil or Excedrin at the first twinge of head-discomfort. More evidence of juice-related Stockholm Syndrome, maybe?) The boys would be with a babysitter all morning, so I decided I could safely keep going before switching to Bitch-Mood High-Alert Mode. Despite the headache, I actually really WANTED to finish the cleanse and not quit — especially once I got on the scale and realized I was down over three pounds. (I started at 13 pounds above my goal weight, 18 above the "ideal" [bleeeeaaarrrrgh nevergoingtohappen] weight for my height/frame. Thanks third pregnancy and... Read more →

I woke up on day two of the godforsaken motherfucking juice cleanse fully expecting to feel sub-human. I'd read at least a dozen bloggers' experiences with three-day cleanses and it seemed like day two was the day you broke out, leached toxins out your liver and fingernails, sprouted gills and breathed fire...you know, stuff like that. Especially since prevailing pseudo-wisdom seems to be that the more "toxic" you are when you start, the worse you feel as your body rids itself of all the toxins and garbage and the persistent coating of congealed Velveeta in your colon. So I was surprised to realize that I felt totally fine. I didn't even feel hungry. Maybe it wasn't working? Maybe it was all a load of horseshit, perhaps? (IMAGINE THAT!) Either way, I was determined to go on, if only to have something to blog about. FOR THE BLOG! TO THE JUICE! Day two started out much, much easier. It helped that I had that dermatologist appointment to suck up most of the morning and keep my mind off the clock-watching and idle-snack-obsessing. (Getting your Rare Congenital Ear Lump photographed by the Inventor of Accutane does make for a pretty amusing morning.)... Read more →

At some point last week, I got it into my head that I wanted to try one of those three-day juice cleanse things. And by "wanted" I mean, "wanted to spout idle Big Talk about possibly trying one of those three-day juice cleanse things, because come on." Our time at the beach was a week-long experiment in testing the limits of just how much garbage the human body can consume. Results: A LOT. After seven days of nothing but heavily processed cheese, carbs, sugar, meat and booze, I was desperately craving a salad and felt an acute need to just...reset. (Also: the scale. FUCK YOU SCALLLLLLE.) And so I convinced myself that a juice fast was just the fad-thing I needed to undo some of the damage and start fresh. Three days + 18 jars of juice (plus three "shots" of beet juice and one ginger) = the weirdest and possibly dumbest impulse buy of my life. I hauled it all home from a fancy local juice bar that I had never even set foot in before, arranged it neatly in our basement fridge...and then stared at it for awhile, while the imminent expiration dates mocked me, as there was... Read more →

I had a dermatologist appointment this morning — my super-exciting annual mole check. Sexy, right? Sorry to shatter any fantasies about what my hot, droopy mother-of-three body might look like in person, because seriously: I am covered in weird-ass moles. The good news is that none of my weird-ass moles are dangerously weird. They are all perfectly normal-weird. Hooray! (Though I still requested a quick liquid-nitrogen blast to the face for a normal-but-crazy-annoying sun spot I developed on my cheek during pregnancy. I go back in a month for another one, or possibly a follow-up with a laser. What a wonderful time to be alive! Nitrogen blasts at your convenience! Prescription-strength lasers! Botulism shots on a walk-in basis!) But then, there's my ear. My ear is apparently very, very weird. For about as long as I can remember, I've had a small lump in front of my right ear. It's under the skin, perfectly round, and not particularly hard OR soft. It never hurt or anything, it was just...well, weird. I remember going to a doctor about it when I was very young, but don't really remember what the diagnosis was. Extra cartilage? A benign cyst? No idea, and my... Read more →

We're back. Back to real life and all the procrastinating that comes with it (laundry! school orientations! haircuts! who needs shoes/pants/respectable-looking-underwear/etc.), which means oh hi look I got you some baby pictures. Much like McKayla Maroney, Baby Ike is not impressed. Nice try, Delaware. But I've been to Aruba. Wait. Hold up. WHAT JUST HAPPENED YOU GUYS Whoa. That was kind of a thing. (And! Then!) ERMAHGERD AH MAH GAH Bring it, ocean. And that's how Baby Ike spent his summer vacation. Just like that, over and over and over again, I don't care if you're tired and want to sit down, keep me in the magic water place with the squishy floor all day. Read more →

We're at the beach this week, with Tracey and fam and the life-size cardboard stand-up of Harry Potter we swiped from Sparklecorn for the express purpose of beach house shenanigans. Do not: 1) Turn corners. 2) Enter bathrooms. 3) Wonder what that shadow is out on the balcony HOLY SHIT, or... 4) Get into bed without checking to see if some asshole friend did this even though it stopped being funny four days ago, Christ. (I am kidding. IT IS SO STILL FUNNY.) Also, do not eat this. (This is pork carnitas tacos topped with Velveeta dip, green tomatillo salsa and microwaved White Castle burgers.) (I'm kidding. You should totally eat this. IT WAS HORRIBLY HIDEOUSLY DELICIOUS AND WE ARE ALL VERY ASHAMED.) Also, Baby Ike is so blond it's officially ridiculous. Officially! I'm getting a certificate drawn up and everything. Later. At some point. First we gotta go to the beach again. Sigh. AND STUFF. Read more →

So. Okay. Let's get this hideously embarrassing story over with already. I've been putting it off for some reason, like I am laboring under the delusional illusion that I have dignity or something. I broke my toe a couple weeks ago, as you may or may not recall. In retrospect, it was a pretty bad break. I think it may have involved a joint in my actual FOOT, not just the toe. So probably a break that should have been checked out and/or coddled for a week or two in a cast shoe or something. Instead of what I did, which was tape it up for a couple days and limp around while insisting I was okay, then going to New York City with a suitcase full of ridiculous shoes. Behold! A trifecta of dumbass! But you know. SHOES. VANITY. HUBRIS. A DESPERATE NEED TO MAKE MY CALVES LOOK SEXY. I knew I was in trouble on the very first night, when I "only" wore the pair of strappy wedges and realized that I was having a really hard walking in them. Not just from toe-pain (pshaw! I can medicate that right up with martinis), but from balance issues. I... Read more →