It has been FOREVER since I stopped by to chat, curse, and share some sexcapades.  There have been several reasons for my hiatus... work, crazy toddler, vacations, travel, exhaustion...the list can go on and on.  But, when it comes down to it, the real reason I have been taking a break is because I have been thinking about whether or not I belong in the "Mommy Blog" world.  Yes, I am a Mother.  Yes, I have a son.  Yes, I have a husband.  However, my personality, attitute, and interests are so different from these Mom Blogs I read.  Here are some reasons why:

1.   I HATE anything DIY or arts and crafty
2.   I do not like to cook
3.   I do not like to bake
4.   I never want to be called a soccer mom
5.   I pray that I'm called a MILF
6.   I truly believe that a glass of wine a day is a necessity
7.   I have serious, hair flipping, LMFAO dance parties with my son
8.   I curse...A LOT
9.   I like having crazy, wild sex with my husband...and talking to my friends about it
10.  I am a true believer that girl trips (and guy trips) are an important part of every relationship

My list of the "not so typical mom" style could go on and on.  Then I thought...who cares?  Just because I don't make home made wreaths for the front door, would rather buy a cake from Whole Foods than bake one, or enjoy having happy hour with my girlfriends and talking about the "50 Shades of Grey" antics we've been practicing in the bedroom, doesn't mean I'm not a Mom.  I'm my own style of Mom and I must say, a pretty good one.  So... I'm back biaches. 

One Sex Tape Shy of a Reality Show

As the oldest of three girls, my sisters and I are extremely close, different, and often compare ourselves and our roles to the Kardashian sisters.  I am the oldest, a mother to an adorable little boy, and (according to my middle sister) am trendy and a little neurotic, aka, Kourtney.  Teri, the middle sister, is sooo Khloe.  With her long hair, unique style, and "IDONTGIVEAFUCK" attitude, she could be no one else.  Katie, the youngest, is a complete Kim.  Her rack is huge and looks fake, she has the longest eyelashes ever, is a little emotionally needy.  All in all, we are all a perfect fit to be the Irish version of the K trio.

So here I am, watching "Khloe and Lamar" after five days of single parenting (my hubby has been in Canada for work) and I'm thinking, "How are these girls famous and why aren't my sisters and I?"  We bicker, call each other out, will defend eachother regardles of the fight (I can talk shit about my sister but you better shut your mouth!) and have an honesty and banter that can't be written for the likes of E!

If Katie had only been the one on the sex tape with Ray Jay, we could all be living in mansions, traveling from LA, to Miami, to NYC for our fashion boutiques, driving stupid expensive cars, and living the life of the Rich and Fabulous.  I guess since my sister won't take one for the team and hook up with Ray Jay, I'll continue working and living the average American lifesyle while obsessing about our Kardashian similarities and what ifs...

Ok, now off to bed to tuck Mas in and snap Scott's suspenders.

Ass Hole Day

I love warm weather.  I worship the sun, shorts, and beautiful days.  So I have to say that I have not been upset in the slightest that Maryland has decided to adopt southern winters with 70 degree January days.  The problem is...I never know what to wear.  Do I dress in the normal winter gear of boots, scarves, and warm coats or do I risk it and go with short sleeves, maybe a jacket?  With my job, I walk around the beautiful nations capital on a day to day basis so I am outside for a good portion of my day. 

Well...two days ago I had to leave super early to go to a dermatologist appointment before work.  Normally, my morning routine involves the backround noise of the daily news with weather reports.  Well,  I was up before the hubby and baby, so I got dressed and ready in the the bathroom and slipped out the front door with a few quick forehead kisses and a coffee.  Since it was raining when I left the house, I threw on my trusty Hunter rainboots, thick-lining socks, and a rain coat.  Well, after I got out of the dermatologist and headed downtown to start my day, the sun was shining.  I felt like an idiot and I was borderline in a full sweat before I got out of my car.  After seeing my first client of the day (who asked if it was raining outside??) I decided I couldn't walk around all day wearing huge, hot rain boots when it was 70 degrees and sunny.  I went into Payless and figured I could buy a cute, cheap pair of shoes to hold me over.  Well...other then the fact that apparently Payless has forgotten about the "less" part in their name, the new shoes didn't work out.  As I went to try on a pair of champagne flats, I ripped my tights.  So, in a fit of rage, I took the tights off (yes, in the middle of Payless) and put my boots back on.

So...picture this girl.  Thick rain boots with wool socks, a cotton dress, bare, pale legs showing between the boots and the rain coat.  Oh...and I forgot to mention that I don't wear underwear when I wear tights so at this point, I'm walking around downtown comando style.  I now run into a nearby Macy's and buy a $2.00 thong so at least if the wind blows, I'm wearing SOMETHING.  At this point, a huge part of me thinks it might just be a good idea to call it a day.  I look like an absolute moron.  Everyone and their mother got the memo that it was going to be a nice day outside except me.  I decide to share my misery with my sisters. 

My text to them reads:

"I'm a hot mess today.  I had to leave early this morning when it was raining so I put on rainboots.  Now it's not raining so I look like an idiot.  My tights got a huge hole so I took them off and now have pale legs.  I had to get something removed from my face at the dermatologist so I have a huge red mark on my cheek.  Should prob just call it a day at this rate!"

One of my sisters responses:

"Hahaha.  Seriously.  Time to quit!  You look like an ass hole."

I don't disagree.  True story girl.

Not Losing Myself

Being a mom to an amazing, absolutley insane and adorable little boy has been the highlight of my life thus far.  He can make me smile when nothing is going my way.  He can drive me so crazy and then just flash those snaggle teeth and make my heart melt.  He has turned me into a person I never imagined I could be.  A mom.  I have transformed from an organized, young, crazy, cool young adult, to a full fledged working mother who sings "The Itsy Bitsy Spider" and points to every car on the high way.  I call him names like "my little chunky do" and my "Bubby."  Don't ask where I got either of those names...I wouldn't be able to tell you.

Through this almost 16 month journey of having a living creature, that I made and carried, on this earth, I have struggled to not lose myself while becoming a mom.  I don't want to judge anyone's parenting tactics or family dynamics but I am trying so hard to continue and keep my friendships strong, my relationship young, and myself sane.  The latter is probably the hardest!

My days are non-stop, my nights are chaotic and restless, and my child is sometimes the kid at the park with banana in his hair and blueberry stains on his shirt.  I can't do it all and if the worst thing about my day is that I didn't have time to put the dishes in the dishwasher or I didn't feel like fighting my toddler to change his shirt, who fucking cares?  It is VERY hard for me to relax and let little things go but I have slowly come to find that in order to maintain myself and keep the Michelle I used to know, I need to let the Mommy in me relax and not try to keep up with the craft making, pinterest pinning, recipe following "super" moms.  Maybe I cuss too much, sometimes I might drink too much wine, and when the weather is nice, my child spends way too much time in a running stroller. 

Please let me know you struggle as much as I do to be a great Mom but not lose yourself in the process..?!?!

Loser Lunch Table

With competitive, ridiculously stubborn, and obnoxious parents, my poor son doesn't stand a chance. He needs to be fun, popular, and with a perfect quarterback name like Brody, I expect to see his name splashed throughout Sports Center. With a super athletic husband and my high calves, he is bound to be super athletic and cool...right? Of course, in our eyes, at 15 months he is perfect, fit to be king of the town, and will end up being a super star at a Division 1 college where we will tailgate, make great memories, and live vicariously through his fun. No pressure of course!

Well...my "perfect" husband and "perfect" son do share one little not so perfect commonality. They are both allergic to peanut butter. Since the first time my husband took at bite of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich around age one, he broke out in a rash. His mom tried one more time and the reaction worsened so he has never tried the stuff since. Can you imagine going through life without a Reese cup or a peanut butter and jelly sandwich? I sure can't.

So, when I told our doctor about my husband’s allergy, she told me to stay away from nuts until after my son turned one. After my sons first birthday, we had him allergy tested and the test came back with very high allergic numbers to nuts. So...we have stayed away from the nut butters in this house. I still indulge in my regular snack of peanut butter and apples but the men...then tend to stick to grilled cheese and waffles. My entire family, Brody's babysitters, and about anyone who will listen to a first time mother ramble, knows that my son has a nut allergy. You can only imagine my shock and freak out when my mom shoved a peanut butter Christmas cookie in my sons mouth last weekend at a party. She blames it on the fact that the cookie was died pink so she didn't realize it was peanut butter. I say, any cookie that has those fork marks and a Hershey's Kiss topper is obviously a peanut butter cookie. I don't care what fucking color it is. After I flipped out and watched my sons lips swell up like Will Smith's on the movie Hitch, I poured Benadryl down his throat and within 45 minutes, the lips were back to normal. What a scary situation.

The next day was Christmas Eve so I explained the entire scenario to my family. As I shared the story and the fact that Brody IS allergic to peanut butter, my middle school aged cousin just looked at me with a "sucks to be you" look on his face. "What Aiden??" I questioned, knowing he had something to say. "Well," he said "Brody is going to have to sit at the loser lunch table. The kids with food allergies have a separate lunch table and it's really pathetic and there is only like one or two of them there. It sucks." WHAT?? Not my son. The quarterback of the football team. He sits at the cool lunch table. WTF are you talking about??

Apparently, with all the food allergies out there today, there are now segregated lunch tables in schools. Let me tell you...this did not make me happy. I walked right into his 15 month doctors well visit today and flat out asked my pediatrician if my son was going to sit at the loser lunch table and what I could do about this. I'm sure she already thinks I'm insane since when she asked me if he was walking/climbing I responded "Yes, he's a fucking crazy man." I used the F word at the pediatricians’ office. Don't judge me until you're a mental working mom with a 15 month old son who literally doesn't stop moving, pulling hair, smacking, laughing at you, or trying to climb on and jump off furniture.

So...as I drag this post on and on, let me get to the point. My perfect, insanely popular, athletic, and desirable son might have to sit at the loser lunch table one day. Soak that in people, because it is not an easy thing for this pushy, mental mom to digest.

Well Hello Vegas...It's About Time We've Met

If I haven't made it blatenly obvious already, let me spell it out for you.  I love to party.  I literally smile when I think about getting dressed up, heading to the bar, dancing and having a great time.  It has been really hard for me to totally adjust my life to the fact that this "party" side is never going to be what it was now that little Brody is running the show.  Don't get me wrong, I am in LOVE with my son and wouldn't trade it for any amount of vodka sodas or techno clubs but...a mom still needs to get her fun in.

Because of my love for lavish cocktails and late night dancing, it may be surprising to hear that until a few weeks ago...I was a Vegas Virgin.  There is no rhyme or reason as to why I haven't travelled the less than five hours on Southwest to get to that gorgeous, sinful city.  It just hasn't happened.  So...when my work asked me to attend a trade show in Vegas, I didn't hesitate.  Of course, no trip comes easy anymore with babysitter changes and figuring out a serious schedule with the husband but I was determined to make this happen.  After pages of handwritten notes to the hubby (not like he NEEDS them, it just made me feel better) and a quick trip to Forever21 to find some cheap, hoochie dresses, I was on a plane to Vegas.

Yes, this was work related but there are a few people in my work crowd who love cocktails and dancing as much as I do and luckily, they would also be in attendance.  After spending the plan ride watching the Hangover (just prepping myself) I got there at what would be 5:00 my time at only 1pm.  I had nothing to do for work until 6:30pm that night so I went straight to the hotel, checked in my room, and then took myself and my push-up Vickie's bathing suit to the pool.  There, I ordered myself a marg and sat.  I did nothing.  It was early November, 80 degrees, no humidity, and I didn't have a care in the world. 

After a work dinner, we ventured out to the casinos at the Paris hotel.  I'm not a big gambler but I watched some of the guys lose their money as me and my super fun and cute counterpart from the Carolinas plotted our way to get over to the new and glamorous Cosmopolitan hotel. 

http://www.cosmopolitanlasvegas.com/

Once we did our team time, we collected the “fun group,” made our escape, and jumped into cabs that jetted us the three quick minutes down the street to “sanctuary.”  I had heard this place was where you needed to go to see and be seen.  We went to the four story chandelier bar where we sipped on cosmos (DUH!) and watched the hotness of every person in that bar.  I started to see lines forming near a side entrance and realized, we were outside a huge club.  These lines were intense and these girls were wearing lingerie.  LITERALLY.  Apparently, it was pajama night and I didn't get the memo.  I had to get into this club.

  After what seems like hours of eye fucking a big bouncer, he gave me the head nod to come around the side and get in the short line.  I grabbed my people, pulled out a credit card, and got us into that club!  We spent hours and hours on the rooftop, moving from poolside to techno house club.  I was addicted.  I could have stayed there all night if I wasn't reminded about our 9:00am meeting the next day.

Needless to say, my first trip to Vegas was amazing and it was for WORK!  I’ve already planned a girls trip with my friends for next summer.  I’ve gotta get some serious partying in before Brody even thinks about becoming a big brother!

Missing You

There are so many things to update on right now.   The successful first birthday of my beautiful baby boy.  My husbands new job and the fact that he will actually be in the state of Maryland this week.  The fact that I managed to put my blackberry through the washing machine and bang my car into the side of a wall all in the same short week.  However...right now I don't want to talk about any of that and none of it seems to matter.  Right now, the only thing that is on my mind is that I miss my dad.  So much.

Today it has been five years since my dad passed away.  Not only was he the funnest, kindest, most loyal, and most memorable person most people have ever met, he was truly an absolutley amazing father.  I feel insanely blessed that I grew up with a man who loved me so much worked so hard to give me, my mom, and my sisters anything we ever wanted.  He loved me with ever fiber in his body and I will never forget that. 

It hurts my heart that my son will never get to know how wonderful and amazing his grandfather was.  My dad would have been the absolute best grandfather imaginable.  There is no way I will ever be able to explain to Brody how cool and fun and awesome his grandpa "Big Joe" was, but I am sure as hell going to try...