Survivor

Two years ago yesterday my Grandmother, Nanny, survived a stroke. Actually, if we're going to get right down to it, she survived a lot of mini strokes from the afternoon the first one happened until late into the night. I will always remember that day, like 9/11, and the emotions I had surrounding that day. A day that started happy and joyful became sad and traumatic and horrible and, miraculously, ended on a high note.

If it were not for our family friend, who happens to be a doctor, who stayed at the hospital with us and made the lifesaving recommendation to her doctor about performing a very dangerous procedure on her - she wouldn't be alive today. So dangerous that a waiver had to be signed to even do it because of the mortality associated with it. A true fighter, the procedure worked and she spent no more than a few days in the hospital. And best of all - she has no lasting effects from the strokes. 

Now, two years later she has not only been able to see me get married, but my younger brother as well, and the birth of Baby Sister and many, many more celebrations to come. A true miracle.

I love you, Nanny!!

I thank God every day for her survival.

Grey/Gray

While yes, this does describe my mood as of late; no, that's not what this post is about. It's about appropriate work out/running errands pants. Here's a little experiment to get my point across ...

1. Put on a pair of gray pants
2. Pee your pants
3. You're not going anywhere without changing your pants are you?

Case and point. So, if you want to wear your grey pants to run errands and it's not nine billiondy degrees read: no threat of swamp ass go ahead. But if you want to wear your gray pants to go work out or, better yet, work out and then run errands well, don't say I didn't warn you. 

Gray has a way of showing EVERYTHING. It's not as forgiving as black or white or dark green or navy ... which hide most everything. A very select, few, group of people can get away with "working out" in grey pants cause their definition of "working out" is just that ... exercise that deserves quotation marks around it. Cause it's more about reading US Weekly than it is about actually, working out. 

You want me to tell you when you have something in your teeth, right? Well. I'd certainly hope that if you looked like you peed your pants when you didn't you'd want me to tell you that too.

Pet Peeves 101

Pet Peeve: Tights as Leggings/Pants.

Ladies, ladies, LADIES (!!!). You're killing me. Below outlines not only a pet peeve but a fashion faux pas. Memorize, chant, repeat over and over, make this your mantra, whatever. Just get it in your brain: 

So, what this means is that ... it's NEVER okay to wear tights with a shirt that doesn't cover your ass. Still not getting it? It's NEVER okay to wear tights as leggings with tops that don't cover your ass. In fact, go to your closet. Move the tights out of the "pants" pile. Good. 

I'm gonna go out on a limb here and say that the ONLY instance where this is acceptable is if you're a dancer coming or going to dance class. Or if you're Natalie Portman portraying a dancer in a film. That's it. The only time. Otherwise, wear your tights, as they are intended - under dresses or tunics that cover your precious ass. Because when you don't, you see, you take VPL's to a whole. new. level. And it makes me vomit in my mouth. 

Leggings. These are also intended to be worn with shirts, tunics, cardigans, wraps, etc. that cover your hiney. What's especially disgusting, is when you wear thread bear leggings with shirts, sweaters, etc. that don't cover said hiney. And I'm sorry, but that shit ain't right. You're just asking for your husband/boyfriend/sig other to voluntarily throw themselves in front of a moving car. Can you blame them? 

Solution: Just don't do this. Just don't. And if you think you might, invest in a full length mirror. But here's the kicker - you have to actually uuuussssse it. 

Pet Peeve: Wearing Sunglasses Indoors

This one's easy ... 

Solution Part 1: Are you blind? Is your name Stevie Wonder or Ray Charles?

Solution Part 2: Do NOT then opt for Transitions ... cause that's the creepy solution. 

Ummm ... Would we call that, attractive???

You can read every What to Expect When You're blahblahblah book and they will tell you that there's NOTHING more beautiful and precious and desirable than being pregnant. And that everything is glorious about it eeeven if you're throwing up your life every morning. It's fine. Means the babe is healthy.

Well. Guess what's NOT attractive? Blood shot eyes + trying not to purge at work + drinking lukewarm water = I feel sooo beautiful!!

I've gone ahead and put together a list of some other "attractive" qualities in pregnancy.


Dinner Plates. - Cause we all aspire for our areolas to look like this:

Actual size during pregnancy.

Oh, and what's that? It's because the baby needs to able to see them when they're breast feeding. Awesome. Cause I'm pretty sure s/he could SEE them through a bra AND a black shirt. From a mile away. Just saying.

WARNING: Wide Load. - No matter how cute you are in the front. Turn around and take a peek at that rear ... 

Actual reaction.

A literal "OMG." But I don't think one exclamation point is enough.

Pizza. - I'm hungry ... for your face. Which looks like a 13 year old boy's or a hearty pepperoni pizza. Loves the acne. That crystal clear skin?? It's a What To Expect When You're Pregnant in Heaven lie. A pregnancy trap lie.

Sexy Can I? - Pit stains? Swamp ass? Hot. Literally. In fact during pregnancy you sweat so much that you start to think you have glandular issue.

Victoria's Secret. - Skinny bitches.

Stop sending me your magazines while I'm pregnant k? And while you're at it. Eat a mayonnaise sandwich. And for the record - my boobs are bigger than your chicken cutlet push up boobs. So. Suck it.

OK, OK that was more of a vent. A totally legit vent.

You'll start showing "sooner" with the second. - Liars!! I've looked like I was 5 months pregnant since the day I took a pregnancy test. How much "sooner" than that does it get?!?

Stoma's. - You're going to immediately be whisked into trach surgery after you deliver from all the heartburn. And nothing says to your husband that you're ready for a little romance like the voice of Stephen Hawking to seduce him.

Yes. Being pregnant is a miracle. But no, it's not pretty. Happy Easter all!!

Lovie aka Hell Boy.

Lovie is going to be 4 this year. FOUR. Can you believe it? Seems like just yesterday he looked like this:

I want to eat him alive.

And now that he's all grown up and four, he looks like this:

Too bad you can't see how cute his hammies are.

However, don't let that cute little smile and those sweet as pie crossed leggies fool you. We're going through hell a stage right now. And "we" is actually very fitting, as many days Mike and I feel like we're at our wits end and have actually reasoned why locking ourselves in a closet wouldn't be such a BAD thing?!? It'd be fine.

Apparently, what we have on our hands ladies and gentlemen, is a very stubborn and smart and hard headed little guy. Routines that used to be ... err routine ... are now a battle. From getting dressed in the morning, to pouring and subsequently eating cereal, to tucking our shirt in just so, to wanting to wet the bed at night not wanting to wear a pull-up to bed ... I could go on.

On more than one occasion it's made me consider myself the worst mother in the world. What kind of mother can I be if I apparently have no control over my child? Who in God's heaven of decision makers thought it'd be a good idea to bless me with a SECOND child OMG we're having a second child when I have done such an apparently horrible job with the first? What kind of cruel joke is this?

But alas not all days are bad thank you Baby Jesus and we've found that the closer we keep him to a schedule and the more strict, firm and consistent WE are with him the better HE is. I have heard from more than one parent that this is a stage that will pass and as long as we are firm with him things will get better. I've also found that giving him more independence and freedom work wonders for this little guy. He loves making choices on his own and he loves doing things on his own. So, we've tried to incorporate more choosing and doing. And I guess there's the whole I love him to teeny tiny pieces even when he's possessed by the devil going through this stage.

What also makes this stage so hard is that 3 was SUCH a good stage for us. Oh it was a dream and so far my absolute favorite. He was talking up a storm, potty trained, and just an over all little ham of a man. He was such a little buddy. And this stage is just so opposite. I'm looking forward to coming out of whatever this is and moving on to the next one. I know they evolve and change so I hope these are all steps forward. If there's one thing he's been from the get go it's been feisty and full of personality. Boy. Is that ever true.

*sigh* As I tell him every day, "Thank heavens you're cute."

Another thing I'm scared of...

Is accidentally eating a staple. Totally. If you've ever had Chinese food you'll understand. Not because I think that the lovely Chinese restaurant people cook with staples. But, because those good crunchy noodle things, that make your egg drop soup taste better and more cholesteroly, have staples all over the top. So does the bag that your food comes in, so do the fortune cookies. If you're even remotely hungry you're going to rip open the bags to get to your food. Right? And there's probably a pretty good chance that one of those staples could find their way into your food. Right? What I'm afraid of is that I'll be paying so much attention to something on TV or to one of my family members that I'd miss the staple in my food and eat it. Then I'm sure I'd scratch my throat pretty good or it'd get stuck in my throat and I'd die because hello!?!?, the Heimlich isn't powerful enough to get a staple out. It'd prolly settle in nice cozy like in my throatal cavity. Then they'd have to do an emergency tracheotomy. By "they" I mean "family member;" Which would be a disaster because no one in my family is a doctor. So, they'd probably do it in the wrong spot. Then, if I somehow managed to survive I'd have a huge hole in my chin. Which would be cute, but I'd be alive at least. I guess all those years of developing a "good personality" would really have to come in handy, right? Another way you could swallow a staple accidentally is if you were at work and when you took staples out of things you sometimes put them on the floor not realizing that you put them there but yeah you kinda did realize it. And then you drop a mint. You go to pick it up and a staple gets caught in your finger nail. You throw the mint away but somehow the angle you had your hand at didn't release the staple with it. Then you reach into your bag of chips or candy and THAT's when the staple decides to fall out. Right. Into. Your. Mouf. DEAD. Gone. Right there at work. And that's why I don't like staples. The End.