Mommy Wants Vodka

…Or A Mail-Order Bride

Because The Last Thing The World Needs Is Another Whiny Pregnant Lady


In light of a real post today, as my poor joints are getting so swollen that I’m having a terrible time typing (also: what the hell is happening to my body? Inquiring minds want to know), rather than complaining bitterly about annoying crap because as the name implies, is annoying, I’ve decided to make a list of things that are full of The Awesome.

*The kindness of (relative) strangers. In the past month or two, I have gotten some amazing baby stuff from my online home-girls , Miss Emily from Wheels on the Bus, DD, Guilty Noodles (no, it’s sadly not her real name), Rebel, and Shinny. And I’m telling you, I’m one lucky bitch.

*Emails like this:

I love your blog and I think you would appreciate my sense of humor. If I link to your blog on my blog is there any way you could return the favor? I am trying to get more exposure.

(actual email).

And no, no I won’t return the favor. Especially since you don’t even use my name or my blog address. Because my blog is not your platform. But seriously, I have had more fun with this sort of email. Hilarious. Especially since the blog in question was not remotely funny.

Isn’t this sort of grabby behavior a blogging faux paus?

*Actual non-grabby emails from my readers always make my day, even though I often suck at replying to them. I’m crappy that way, and it’s not intentional and I’m trying like crazy to get better about it, because it’s rude to NOT reply.

And no, you’re not stalking me if you write me an email. Sadly, you’re not stalking me. I could use more stalkers, you know.

*Tyler Candles, which I discovered years ago while poking around some chic shops (obviously before Baby #2 was born and I was somehow outlawed from said shops, even if only by my own choice.Because babies do not enjoy chic shops, no matter how expensive or trendy.

But anyway.

So these candles beat the snot out of Yankee Candles, they’re affordable and they all smell fucking amazing. Seriously, if you like heavily scented candles, try some of these.

(This was a free! endorsement because I like them so much. The only real endorsements I get emailed are for things like sex toys. Which I will TOTALLY be reviewing once I’m not eleventy-hundred months pregnant. Because nothing screams “I don’t want to think about you in that way” like being gummy-bear shaped).

*The return of American Idol, partially because Simon makes me a little weak-kneed, and partially because when first pregnant, I remember thinking “When American Idol comes on, I’ll be almost ready to give birth.” Which made my then nauseous ass happy.

*Ickle tiny pink baby clothes in my own house. Because, obviously.

*Diet coke, o! sweet nectar of the gods, because coffee cannot be tolerated any longer by my pathetically delicate digestive system.

*The fact that it has snowed more to date than we here in Illinois normally see all year. Oh wait, this was supposed to be things that I was HAPPY about. Never mind. Scratch this one out.

*Reading the hilarious comments of my readers always brightens up my day. I’m sorry that I haven’t been able to comment as much on YOUR blogs, but my fingers and joints are unhappy as hell with me. And writing on the computer only exacerbates this. Damn you, late pregnancy weirdness (seriously did this happen to anyone else?)!

Your turn, fair reader! What is bringing you joy today (no matter how small)?

Christmas As An Old Fart


For as long as I can remember, my father has bought my mother the same pair of running shoes for every Christmas. Well, no, technically SHE is the one who buys the shoes and probably wraps them too, and maybe she even signs the card, I don’t know. In turn, my father buys himself something or another for his computer from her, wraps it himself and stashes it under the tree.

Opening gifts with them was always kind of horrifying, not because they weren’t totally happy with what they were getting but because they were. It was like looking into the Ghosts Of Christmases To Come.

Someday, some year, Christmas would become all about the Practical, Sensible and Boring. Someday I too would reach thrilling new heights of glee when I unwrapped a brand new toilet brush set with matching toilet seat cover. I might even get tearful if my name were monogrammed right there, because how thoughtful and yet practical at the same time!

Or maybe it was just my boring parents. Maybe other people’s parents weren’t so dull and drab. Maybe they’d open new baubles from Tiffany & Co while sipping mimosas on their yachts. Sure, my parents SWORE that they were young and hip at one point in time, but I distinctly remember stories of “calculus class” and “beanies” neither of which screams “I am cool.”

Now I’m scared.

This year, after I couldn’t come up with anything frivolous that I absolutely NEEDEDfor Christmas, I was left with a startlingly small list of things that I wanted for Christmas. And then, for the first time in, well, ever, I PUT THAT LIST ON PAPER. In order to get anything that I might actually use for Christmas, I made a Christmas list. I realize that most adult people people do this on a yearly basis, because they are smart, but I am not those people. Because writing a list means that I have to organize myself well enough to do this. Also, I am lazy.

I’ve learned, however, that if I do not direct people to items that I might want and use I will wind up with a whole host of things that I do not want and then I am stuck wondering what on earth to do with my brand-new case of expired powdered milk. While I always appreciate the gesture that accompanies the gifts I get, anything we don’t need is donated to charity right away.

I’m scared because this year, tired of finding homes for more things that we do not need, I have made a list of practical things that we’d like for Christmas. It’s disgusting how practical my list is. Pillow cases! I asked for PILLOWCASES! And a SPOTLIFTER! I mean, how much more boring–yet sensible–can one person get? If my former self could see me now, she’d be throwing up all over my mom jeans.

Gone are the days when I ask for a Coach purse! Farewell to diamond earrings and Movado watches! Adieu my collection of Jimmy Choos! Gone forever are the days of my impractical youth!

What’s even worse is that I’m sort of excited about getting them because it’s one less annoying thing to spend my money on and one less framed whimsical light-up Santa Claus paintingthat I have to lug over to the Salvation Army.

I’m becoming my parents.


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