Dare I?

threatened a boycott
come on, who am I kidding
nothing will stop me

Even Ryan Seacrest cannot tear me away from what is sure to be the trainwreck of all trainwrecks – this year’s Emmy’s. With no acting nominations for Deadwood, the Wire, or Battlestar Galactica, it’s kind of pointless to even watch. (At least BSG got a directing and writing nom.)


My Tina Fey girl crush requires me to watch, as does my love of Weeds and my love of the character Joy on My Name is Earl. So I’ll watch like I always do, I’ll be disappointed as I always am, and then I’ll promptly forget everyone who won while I wait for the next awards show.

I have a bad habit of liveblogging these things (and other things, and even more other things), so stay tuned. I make no promises, what with the wee-er one being ornery about sleep and this being a school night and all, but I might just make an attempt. I also might just make that attempt while drinking a margarita.

You have been warned.


not as successful
not as cute, not as famous
yet, we are the same

This is not a picture of me and the wee-er one. But it very well could be.


early to bed, early to rise

alarm clock: suck it
your screeching howls anger me
not a morning gal

I went to bed at 8:45 last night. I haven’t been to bed at 8:45 since the first trimester of my last pregnancy. But I just could not keep my eyes open. This whole, wake up a 6 am, go to bed at 10:30pm, wake up again at 1, then 2:30, then 3:30, then 5 and then 6, is not working for me.

1) Molars suck
2) stuffy noses suck
3) sudden extreme, screaming "babybabybabybaby!" attachments to baby dolls the same size as the actual baby are not very cool, either. Especially when the baby doll has to be sandwiched between mama and baby while nursing at all hours of the day. Mama’s nips only stretch so far.

I’m not the only tired one, though. The wee one is finally starting to understand that school is everyday and that this requires waking up "while it’s still night time" everyday.

Yesterday, at the kitchen table, eyes squinted against the harsh light, shirt buttoned crooked, hair sticking up in bedhead horns, he began protesting the fact that his bagel didn’t have very many raisins in it. His protest sounded something like this:

[say out of your nose, multiply your normal pitch about six times higher than normal] "Buh whuh bagel noooo mommy! Raaayyyy! Unh, guh, buhbuhbuh!" It was simultaneously ef. fing. hilarious and also disturbing that he could be so tired his little nervous system wouldn’t allow his mouth and his brain to work as a team.

But, dude. As I told him, "I know, man. I know."

And HE gets like 10 and half hours of sleep!

Though, as a natural night person, I think I could go to bed at 4pm and if I had to wake up at 6am I’d still need a nap at some point in the the day. If I could swing staying up until 2 or 3 am and sleeping until 11, that would be pure bliss. Of course, just sleeping a consecutive 8 hours at any point of any day would be pure bliss at this point, so I shouldn’t try to get greedy.

OK. The wee-er one is down for her nap. Can mama catch a couple of zzzs as well?

Let’s find out!


the heebie jeebies
while quite fun to say outloud
not much to have

maggots! maggots! on the trashcan outside! maggots!


I have nowhere to throw away poopy diapers now, because while I may clean up poop and puke and snot and chewed up snails, squished scorpions, etc, I WILL NEVER touch anything with maggots on it. Never ever ever never ever. So there are poppy diapers on the porch. And they will stay there until someone braver than me takes care of our wiggly, horrifying problem.

That noise you hear? What I like to call the ShiverGag.

you look like a monkey and you smell like one, too

prime of your life means
you are not a spring chicken
more like grouchy hen

Your mama is so old, her farts sound like the Big Bang
Your mama is so old, she wakes up in the morning and it’s two weeks ago
Your mama is so old, her first cell phone was a smoke signal made by Nokia
Your mama is so old, Jesus calls her Ma’am

31. Today.

I am no longer a Spring Chicken. I am a Summer Ham. Salty, pink, a little too dry, but tasty if you enjoy me in small bites, or slow cooked in greens.

Mmmmmm. 31.

mad props to insomniac daddies

a big time snooze fest
this is what night time should be
though it rarely is

So last night, yet again, the wee-er one was awake and it was just before 4 am. She sat in the bed and I could see her sparkling eyes staring at me. I tried to play possum, hoping that if she saw I was sleeping she’d go back to sleep herself. No luck. I knew that in a mere two hours we’d have to be up for the day, so I was resigned to having one helluva grouchy, sleepy Friday.

But then… at about 4:20 my husband woke up. Just awake – like for real, for the rest of the day awake. He rolled over and said the most romantic words I’ve ever heard:

"I’ll take the dog out and then come back for the wee-er one."

ooh la la.

And sure enough, he did come back and he did take the wee-er one. I was able to sleep – alone – from 4:30 to 6. Then, at 6, my husband brought a sleeping wee-er one back to me and he whispered more romantic poetry:

"I’ll get the wee one ready for school. I can just drop him off on my way to work."

ooh la la!

So I quickly hopped downstairs to wish the wee one a good day at school and then back upstairs I went, cuddled with a snoozing wee-er one, and didn’t wake up until 7:30!

I know this must sound ridiculously horrible to those of you who are used to things like hours of consecutive sleep, and sleeping past 8am. But for those of us whose fragile little minds can just barely remember a time of uninterrupted, languorous sleep… well… this morning was like something from a fairy tale.

Hear this, husbands and partners of the world: do not seek pheromones or sexy underwear or boudoir photos or lavish gifts. Just give your gal a few extra hours of sleep.

She’ll be yours forever.