Any tips for REAL (poor) women?

So, I just received my issue of People magazine..... you may have seen it at the grocery store... on the cover are huge letters declaring "WOW! BODY AFTER BABY!" and photos of post-partum (and skinny) Denise Richards and Britney Spears. The sub-caption is "STARS SHARE SECRETS OF THEIR AMAZING SLIMDOWNS"

Well, I'm always in the market for a way to lose the last few pounds, so I flip to the article. Let me help you save your newstand price.... there are no reasonable secrets in her. Denise Richards has a personal trainer come to her house four-to-six times per week -- and, depsite the fact that she prepares meals for her two children -- Denise's meals are prepared and delivered to her house by a nutritionist. Debra Messing had celebrity trainer, Gunnar Peterson help her lose her baby-weight and Holly Robinson Peete had a celebrity trainer and Zone-diet meals prepared and delivered to her home.

Although all of these options sound appealing...... I'll be paying my mortgage this month instead.

Magnificent Seven

Because the Big Dubya asked so nicely......

7 Things To Do Before I Die

1. Lose this Damn Baby Weight (okay, maybe all of it is not from the baby)
2. Get out of debt and not worry about money all the time
3. Travel to all the countries I like reading about
4. Show ‘lil Dubya where his Granny & Grandad grew up
5. Raise the ‘lil guy to be a gentleman
6. Own a vacation home
7. Learn the concept of portion control (see #1)

7 Things I Cannot Do

1. Watch Golf on TV (sorry, honey)
2. Have just one
3. Not finish the whole bottle of wine (see #2)….
4. Dance without being drunk… not that I can dance when I am drunk, but the ineptitude seems to bother me a lot less
5. Sing
6. Iron (thank God the Big Dubya is gifted in this area)
7. Resist good pub food (refer to previous list)
   

7 Things That Attract Me to the Opposite Sex

1. Ability to laugh at oneself
2. Ability to laugh with me and not necessarily at me and my oddness
3. Love and patience with children
4. Ability to throw down beers, yet still look like a man when sipping wine – and knowing which is appropriate when
5. Willingness to say I love you…. Even in front of other people
6. Intelligence
7. Tolerance

7 Things I Say Most Often

1. C’mon ‘Lil Dubya, please go to sleep
2. Look at all the pee-pees in your diaper
3. You stink-a-poo! How can someone so small & cute smell so bad!
4. I can’t wait until _________
5. Is this something I should make again?
6. How’s my ‘lil man?
7. (to the Big Dubya) Can you do me a favor?

7 Celebrity Crushes – don’t really have any….. but in the spirit of the game, I picked a few people who have attractive qualities

1. Lee Majors -- yes, I know I’ll get shit for this one, but…. his voice! He could just talk to me all day…
2. Bruce Willis -- again, I know I’ll get shit – but I’ve never once heard him bad-mouth his ex, and in an industry that expected him to get a rug….. he opted to embrace his baldness – that’s pretty cool
3. Teddy Bruschi – not that I think he’s particularly attractive, but in a profession (football, a profession?) that has so many jackasses – he seems particularly sweet and genuine – particularly when you see him like this.
4. Matthew McConaughey – I saw some special on VH1, MTV or maybe it was E, but this guy is a total nutjob – and he just seems like he’d be cool to hang out with for an afternoon
5. Bobby Flay – Yes, he seems like an arrogant jerk – but his food looks amazing – I think I could put the arrogance aside and let him feed me
6. Rob Lowe – Granted, he is a tree-hugging liberal – but, he really is pretty
7. Dermot Mulroney -- he's pretty and he has a good voice

7 Others Who Should Take the Plunge – Like Cape Buffalo…. I don’t know anybody that reads my blog, so….. if you are reading…. Tag, your it!

It's in the air.....

This morning I awoke..... dreary and exhausted.... I have a cold, the Big Dubya has a cold, the 'Lil Dubya has a cold and he's teething.... nobody in our house is getting any sleep these days.... but life goes on and we've got to get to work. I stumbled across the room.... and down the stairs.... the Big Dubya forgot to shut off the light outside our front door before he came to bed last night..... better do that now.... approach the front door... No.... NO WAY.... it couldn't be.... it's only October.... not even Halloween yet.

Yes, my friends.... at 4:30 this morning, it was snowing at our house -- no accumulation of course, but it was snowing..... and coming down at a good clip too

Usually the first snow fall does little for me -- if anything it conjures images of shoveling and being cold. Somehow this time it was different..... 'cause this was the 'Lil Dubya's first snow.... and it made me think of how cute he'll look in his Winnie the Pooh snow suit, and how fun it'll be to buy him Christmas presents (that he won't understand) and we'll get to take his picture all dressed up in front of our Christmas tree -- in a couple of years we'll take him sledding and afterward we'll sip hot chocolate in front of the fireplace while our mittens dry

Somehow, this year.... the first snow doesn't seem so bad. I'm sure I'll be pissed about the shoveling when it snows again tomorrow

The need for speed

So, today I made the trek from CT to Boston to bring the 'lil Dubya to visit my parents (Granny & Grandad). It was all in all an uneventful trip -- the 'lil guy fell asleep as we pulled out of the driveway and didn't wake up until about 5 minutes before we arrived..... can't ask for much better.

Now, the MassPike is no stranger to me..... four years at the University of MA in Amherst, a year and a half of the Big Dubya living in the Berkshires while I lived in Boston and now two years of living in CT..... the Pike is like an old friend. I know where the rest stops are and I know where most of the speed traps are....... but my oh my have things changed.

Back in the day.... when I was a young and frisky college student -- dodging speed traps was like a sport. You would keep your eyes open for lights on top of a car...... sometimes you'd get tricked by ski racks, but.... it was a good system. Toward the end of college, the cars didn't have lights on the roof anymore -- the were now in the grill -- made things a little more challenging, but.... you could still discern the "staties" from the grandparents up from Florida.

But these days -- all sport is gone. I stopped counting all the people I saw pulled over on the pike today -- but they weren't stopped by the Crown Vic's -- oh no....... now it's Jeep Liberties, Mustang 5.0s and a f'ing YELLOW CORVETTE!!! -- Are you kidding me? That's not a fair fight -- no self respecting speeder is going to slow down when challenged by a corvette (even if it is bright yellow)

I managed to escape unscathed today -- probably because I'm more aware of my speed with the 'lil guy in the car, but still...... what is this world coming to?

Workplace etiquette

Okay, so we all know that in this politically correct world of ours…. there is the issue of workplace etiquette. The usual things come to mind…. reel in the dirty jokes, the foul language, references pertaining to race, sex, religion…or someone’s more obvious anatomical challenges – if you get down to it, the list goes on and on.

Here’s my question….. what about workplace bathroom etiquette? Why is it that some people insist on speaking to you while you are in the stall – a supposedly private place? I realize that the stalls are really just partitions (aptly named Hiny Hiders) but they are supposed to represent some semblance privacy…. an inner sanctum if you will. Yet, there are people who insist on chatting away while you are in there…… Hello people, I am trying to PEE!

The only thing worse….. and this happened here just this morning….. is the people who forget they are in a public place! I got stuck in horrendous traffic this morning – something about a big yellow thing in the sky -- shining brightly, and apparently making people forget how to drive. Of course the huge Dunkin Donuts coffee I treated myself to made this particular commute a little uncomfortable – so when I got to work, I didn’t even stop at my office – I headed straight to the ladies room, where apparently someone had just had a traumatic episode of their own.
Once in a while, I suppose I can understand someone’s lunch having adverse affects and being unable to contain said affects until someone gets home – but at 8:00 in the morning, a few mornings a week – I suspect this particular someone is no longer caught off guard when their ass explodes behind a private, but not scent-proof hiny hider. C’mon people…. It’s called the LADIES room….. my throat shouldn’t burn and my eyes shouldn’t water as soon as I open the door!

Hello..... Anybody out there?

So, Aunt P and the Tall Guy (her fiancee.... although, Martha Stewart says you aren't really engaged until you have a wedding date, but I digress) went on a cruise last week..... the cruise ran from Sunday-Sunday, so they are back.... but does she return any of my calls or messages? NOOOOOO.

There are so many things I'm dying to tell her (and that she'd be dying to hear)..... yet, not a word.... not even a peep!

I mean, she'd want to know that our cousin and his wife finally had their much awaited baby, she'd be thrilled to hear that the 'lil Dubya went to the pediatrician on Friday and weighted in at an impressive 9lbs 13½ ounces and was 22 inches long, she'll care that while she was sipping tropical concoctions by the pool -- our poor parents had to commit uncle Chester to the loony bin (and that he has since checked himself out)...... and really, I want to know if she even suspected that Lucas on General Hospital is gay!.

So why wouldn't she call me back? I'm wondering if she's afraid.... but why would she be afraid..... UNLESS...dum, da, dum, dum, dum.... Unless she & the Tall Guy got swept up in some shipboard romantic moment and got married by Captain Stubing........ and she doesn't want to tell us...... hmmmmmmmmm so maybe Aunt P is no longer Aunt P....... maybe she's really Mrs Tall Guy?

If she ever freakin' calls me back, I'll let you know........

You win some, you lose some.....

So, we didn't win the powerball last night, but..... nobody else did either -- which means we live to fight another day. Granted, I've got to go to work tomorrow...... and the Big Dubya won't be cruisin' the hood in his tank, but...... we are happy, healthy and it's not raining.... things could be worse.

In other news, today is the anniversary of two momentous events...... 7 years ago today, the Big Dubya & I met and began dating..... and 5 years ago today we got engaged. My how far we've come......

If I had a million dollars....

So, the Powerball jackpot is up to $300 million...... I stopped and got my ticket this morning while the 'lil guy & I were in Super Stop & Shop. I know the chances are slim, but there is a chance mine could be the lucky ticket, right? I've got as good a chance as anybody else, don't I?

As I sit here watching the rain fall for something like the 100th consecutive day..... I fantasize about what I would do if I won all of that money. Of course the altruistic side of me comes out.... I'd take care of my parents, my siblings, the Big Dubya's parents & siblings.... set up college funds for the children of close friends..... hire somebody to clean my house.... (heck with $300 million you could throw your house away each time it got dirty), there are some charities I'd want to help..... our alma maters..... and then the nonsense comes out..... a new obnoxious car.... the Big Dubya would want a Hummer...... or maybe a tank..... he likes to reminisce about his army days.... and what better way than to drive around suburban Connecticut in a tank? Our liberal gas-conserving friends would probably not be amused, but we could pay them off..... I'd probably settle for a fancy SUV...... and a boat, what's life without a big fancy boat?

We could travel -- take our friends on much deserved vacations (our friends all work too hard for too little money, don't yours?) and they all need really huge ass TVs.... so they can watch the Red Sox and the Patriots in style..... heck, we could just get them all season tickets.

The Big Dubya could quit his job and finally write the novel he's been threatening to write since I met him.... I could stay at home with the little guy and not wonder how on earth we could afford to give him a sibling.....

Well dear readers, stop back tomorrow and I'll let you know if I won.....

It's like a chain letter......

The Big Dubya "tagged" me a week or so ago..... I'm supposed to recall the 5th sentence from my 23rd post....... well -- here it is:

Well, this time 'Lil Dubya's diaper was full, and I mean FULL of the good stuff.

It seems that could have been written just about any old day, but it was written about a day we ventured out onto the Mass Pike..... oh well, sorry it's not more exciting.....

Ode to Working From Home

Anybody who's even modestly successful in their career has worked from home.... officially or unofficially. Teachers grade papers, dream up assignments, read textbooks, come up with lesson plans..... people in my line of work (investment tax are always reading up on new legislation, investment instruments.... blah, blah, blah. So, working at home is not a new concept for me.... but, what I did learn today is that working at home and working from home are not the same thing. I've often taken work home with me so that I didn't have to stay at the office late, or spend my entire weekend there..... but this morning, I actually conducted a conference call from the very kitchen stool I am sitting on now..... I was in my jammies.... I wasn't wearing a bra!

I struck a deal with my boss (who doesn't believe non-traditional work arrangements work) that I could work from home on Fridays, but would make myself available to be in the office during our peak busy times (quarter-end, year-end....). So far, it's worked out okay..... I stayed home the first two Fridays, last Friday I went into the office because we were busy, and today I'm home. I thought it would be hard, but I think I actually get more work done at home. Granted, when the 'lil guy calls I have to put stuff aside, but..... I don't have the hour+ each way commute.... I don't have to spend time getting myself ready, dropping the 'lil guy off, and I don't get interrupted with phone calls or people stopping by with issues for me to deal with.

I'm not sure I could work at home full-time, but I'm wicked grateful my boss was willing to conduct this little experiment with me..... I think he's going to be pleased with the results (I hope!)

Attention all multi-taskers

As of October 1st there is a new law in Connecticut – no handheld cell phones while driving. Although I hate to admit it, this is probably for the best…. but I have to ask…. what about all the other dangerous distractions? aren’t those worthy of being banned?

For example…. how many times have you nearly wrapped your car around a tree because you were trying to drive while eating drive-thru food, applying make-up, lighting a cigarette, reading directions, fishing around for toll money, stopping your child from crying (or from beating the shit out of another child), finding a radio station, changing a CD, changing your clothes, tying you shoes, addressing an envelope, jotting down the number of a sign you just passed, fixing your coffee….. the list goes on and on. I’m guilty of all of the above …. well, not the cigarette one (I don’t smoke), but you get the picture. And, I’ve almost been killed by other cars with drivers trying to do all of those things and more. I’m also wondering why they limited it to hand-held phones…. the ones with headsets still need to be dialed and that’s the part that seems to distract me the most

It’s going to be a tough adjustment….. I’m a multi-tasker, I like to do multiple things at one time – and I used to catch up on all my phone correspondence while stuck in traffic…. now what will I do?

I got carded!

So, the Big Dubya is away on business.... leaving me and the little man to our own devices.

For the first time since he started "school" I got to be the one to pick him up in the evening.... and let me tell you, it's a hell of a lot more gratifying than dropping him off in the morning. I got there a little late (people drive stupid in the rain), and I saw him sitting over by the window laughing and smiling with one of the teachers..... it was a little sad to see another woman in his life, but.... I know I'm still #1. I went over and chatted with the teacher for a couple of minutes... I hadn't met this one before... she seemed nice enough -- just as the Big Dubya described her..... and then I went to take him from her and she resisted..... sheepishly, she explained that she needed to check with one of the other teachers. As it turns out..... the teachers who know me (the morning teachers) are all gone by the time the Big Dubya arrives..... so when she discovered that nobody in the place had met me yet, she needed some sort of confirmation that I was the 'lil guy's mother -- she asked to see my drivers license.

In fairness, I'm glad that they take such precautions -- I guess I just never thought I'd have to show ID to get my baby back

It was fun while it lasted.....

The 2005 RedSox season has come to a close..... we believed, and we were disappointed. But, fret not..... all is not lost. We have next year..... and we have the New England Patriots!

Are you f'ing kidding me?

All I have to say is that the RedSox better show up to play tomorrow night!

Girls are sports fans too

Why is it that people (men) assume that girls and women know nothing about sports? or aren't "true" fans?

I was chatting with my good friend Cape Buffalo on Saturday.... we were both watching the RedSox shit the bed against the Yankees (fortunately, they redeemed themselves on Sunday). I had called her because she's a Sox fan.... I knew she'd be watching.... the only question was whether or not she was watching the game at home.

As we were consoling each other, she mentioned that Mr Buffalo was going to the Patriots game on Sunday.... friends of "THEIRS" (let's note THEIRS, not his, THEIRS) had invited him.... not her.... him. Sadly, this is a common trend. I won't pick on the Buffalo's friends.... 'cuz I don't know them, so I'll pick on my own family.

Last season, my cousin (who has season tickets to the Jets) invited my husband, my brother & my sister's boyfriend (now fiancee) to their game against the Patriots. Here's my question.... he's my cousin.... why were my husband & sister's boyfriend invited..... why not me & my sister? It's because we are girls! When it comes to sports, girls and/or women are second-class-citizens and it must end.

Did anyone else know Chess King was still in business?

Could someone please buy Wade Boggs a mirror or a current calendar..... he seems to be trapped in the 80s.

What were the other babies wearing?

I know it's strange, but when the Big Dubya took the 'Lil Dubya to school (daycare) for a visit last week.... I had a hundred questions about the visit. Not the usual questions either.... I wasn't quizzing him on the quality of care, the credentials of the teachers, the cleanliness of the center.... no, no, we'd already gotten comfortable with that stuff during the lengthy (and I mean lengthy) selection process.... no, I wanted to know the other stuff. Like, what were the other babies wearing? were they fully dressed in "outfits"? or were they wearing those one-piece-stretchy-sleeper-things? What was in their cubbies? I guess my biggest fear was that I'd drop him off on Monday and fail to supply them with all the things they need to take care of my little miracle. I didn't want to be that parent who dropped her kid off at college without a microwave.... everyone has a microwave. I'm not used to being such a novice..... I've got a fairly good job, where I'm considered pretty competent..... but when it comes to parenting, I feel like such a poser -- and constantly fear that someone is going to figure out that I haven't got a clue what I'm doing.

I had gotten the Big Dubya to take the 'lil guy on his first visit -- I was chicken. I've never been an emotional type.... not a big crier, but since the arrival of 'Lil Dubya.... I cry all the time, I can't help myself. So, I figured that if the Big Dubya went on a visit.... he could prepare me for what it was like and then I might be able to remain composed when I went for a visit. So, today.... armed with the information gathered by the Big Dubya... me & the 'lil guy went to school. We got there and it was chaos..... there are lots of rooms..... the infants are in the back, so I got to see what all the big kids were doing first. There were finger paints in one room, blocks in another and a group of kids being assembled for a trip outside.

As we made our way back to the infants room I was overcome by a good dose of the parent-guilt, but managed to keep it together..... I decided that if I was good today, I could cry when we dropped him off on Monday (now there's a rational bargain to make with myself). We met the teacher in the infant room, she's wonderful with the babies. The big guy is 5 months old and 18lbs.... he looks a little Eurasian or Hawaiian.... maybe the descendants of sumo-wrestlers.... 'Lil dubya should definitely stay on his good side, otherwise he'll be this kid's mid-morning snack. Then there were the girls..... they haven't missed any meals either.... I'm starting to think we'll need to safety pin some protection money to his jammies.

So we sat, we played.... I tired to give the teachers a heads-up about the colic and the teething.... without scaring her too much, she didn't seem too concerned -- brave woman . I also tried to observe what the other kids were wearing.... she's got overalls.... he's got a one-piece-sleeper-type-thing, oops wait...he just puked on it... what'll she put on him????..... another one-piece-sleeper-type-thing..... okay, and she's got on a one-piece-sleeper-type thing.... okay... got it. Then the 'lil Dubya took a mighty dump in his tiny diaper.... good thinking 'lil guy, this will give Mammy a reason to go examine the cubbies (located next to the changing table). Diapers, wipes, changes of clothes, diaper cream.... okay, all the things I expected.... we can do that.

All in all it was a good outing.... I'd say Monday will be tough for me, but the Big Dubya will be there to dry my tears.

Good Morning

Once upon a time, the alarm clock would go of – I would hop in the shower, then while I was getting dressed the Big Dubya would shower, while I was drying my hair the Big Dubya would be getting dressed (and warming up the cars if the weather called for it)…. We were a well-oiled machine…. We could get out of the house in no time.

‘Lil Dubya’s arrival changed all that, and we aren’t having an easy time establishing a new routine – the scary part is that we have yet to have a day where we were both going to work and dropping the little guy off at “school” (guilty-parent-speak for daycare).

Monday and Tuesday Granny stayed at our house and babysat – so other than my having to feed him…. the little guy was off our hands. Yesterday and today the Big Dubya’s at home with him and again, I should have been able to feed him and hand him off. Tomorrow is Mommy and ‘Lil Dubya day – I’ve got nowhere to go, so the Big Dubya can get up and out at his leisure. But, starting next week, not only do the Big Dubya and I have to get ourselves off to work, but we’ll also need to drop off the little guy UGH!

You wouldn’t think that this would require intricate choreography…. But it does! I have to ensure that the little guy gets fed, changed, dressed and is prevented from sustaining any injury that the “teachers” (guilty-parent-speak for daycare people or babysitters) would feel compelled to report to the authorities – not to mention put together and pack up all bottles of breast milk required for the day. All the while, I also need to be getting myself ready for work, meaning -- shower, get dressed, dry hair (in the interest of time, this step has been surrendered lately), pack lunch, pack up all pumping necessities (pump, pump parts, icepacks, cooler, bottles….)

Don’t get me wrong, the Big Dubya also has an incredibly full morning routine…. he gets up, showers, offers to burp the ‘lil guy, checks to see if the RedSox won (they didn’t) and then to see if the Yankees lost (they didn’t), grumbles some really foul four-letter-words the baby probably shouldn't hear, gets dressed, fixes himself a cup of coffee, checks email, looks to see if we won PowerBall, surfs the internet…..

The human Barbie Doll

We all have them…. those friends who are always “put together”.

You know, those women who always look perfect….. never overdue for a haircut or an eye brow wax, their flawless peaches & cream skin has just a hint of makeup, they can wear linen without looking like they slept in their clothes, their stockings never run, they are never missing a button. They are the women you imagine always wearing bras & panties that match….. and not just on special occasions or on the day after doing seven loads of laundry. I am ashamed to admit that I’m envious of these women…. And honest enough to know that I will never be one of them. Most of the time I enjoy my friends’ perfection… most of the time I find it amusing or entertaining – perhaps even something to strive for – not today.

Since returning to work, I’ve been a little self-conscious. Sure, I’ve lost the majority of the baby weight, but…. I’m still shall we say… what’s the word?…. lumpy. It’s not that I was in terrific shape pre-‘Lil Dubya, but this body of mine is kind of foreign to me now. I’ve never had boobs before and my pre-pregnancy clothes don’t all fit the way they used to…. maybe they never will, so when one such perfect friend stopped by to welcome me back to work the other day… it was hard to reel in the envy. To add insult to injury, she is the nicest girl…. so sweet – I want to hate her, but I can’t. So there she was, in her size zero Ann Taylor suit, perfectly styled (yet natural looking) hair and french manicured nails telling me how great I looked…. Me, in my big girl clothes, still damp from morning shower hair and whatever makeup I could slather on at red lights on the way into the office could only say “thank you” and then watch as she strolled off to her meeting (bet she’s never late or unprepared for meetings either).

A woman who happened to be in my office at the time said “You know, she’s got a part time job – she’s a stomach model” Okay, c’mon -- can I please hate her now?

Jameson anyone?

So, for the past week or so, the 'lil Dubya has been waking up with red cheeks.... he's been drooling, crying, gnawing on his hands...... he's teething. Yes, I know.... he's very young to be teething, but...... what can I say? my kid likes to do things early.

People are very kind, so they are always asking how my son is doing -- everytime I've said "oh, he's teething" -- all the women roll their eyes and give me that "Oh, isn't the new mother cute & stupid.... she thinks her three-and-a-half month old baby is teething" look. Some have even gone so far as to tell me that he's hungry or tired. This weekend is a perfect example..... Granny and I took the 'lil man to NY to see Granny's two sisters (my aunts) and my cousins and their children. Upon arrival, Granny's sister held and cuddled 'Lil Dubya. He got fussy and began chewing on his hand -- immediately, I was ordered to "feed this child" -- I tried to explain that he was just fed and that unfortunately, he's teething -- I promptly got the look. I took him back, soothed him and gave her back a look of my own.

Interestingly enough, later in the day the 'lil guy drooled all over the same aunt and she announced in front of everyone "Mrs Big Dubya, 'Lil Dubya is teething!" -- as if this was brand new information and I hadn't told her that just a few hours earlier! It took great restraint not to couple my look with some foul hand gestures.

The poor kid, he's very uncomfortable -- all the teething rings we have are terrific, but he's not coordinated enough to use them yet. He's great at putting his hands in his mouth, he's not bad at holding things.... but putting the two together... notsomuch. In desperation.... I put out a call to some experienced mothers.... asking for any miracle cures, home remedies, wives tales..... anything that might sooth his pain. The old school mothers offered a few.... Irish Whiskey came up more than once, apparently I enjoyed it quite a bit as an infant (explains a lot). The Big Dubya's mother suggested paregoric, apparently the Big Dubya was quite fond of the stuff..... we soon learned that it's opium-based..... a narcotic..... and as such, no longer available (explains an awful lot!). I'm starting to think the 'Lil Dubya is shit-out-of-luck..... his mother's a drunk, his father's an opium junky...... good grief, the kid doesn't have a chance -- and all he's gonna get for his trouble is some children's tylenol and a teething ring that he can't manage to find his mouth with.