the light at the end of the tunnel

As I sat my growing bum on the couch tonight, my loving husband decided to read my some stats about American porn stars. Typical Monday night conversation…

Point is, after eating cake for breakfast, lunch, and dinner today, after gaining 25 lbs, and after a couple of weeks of not so great sleep, there is a glimmer of hope for people like me.

Turns out, the worlds heaviest porn star was not a mere 250 pounds, like I had thought, but SEVEN HUNDRED POUNDS. Now if someone can get it up for her, then really are your problems all that complicated?

So, when life gets tough, and you’re flabby, tired, and just feel like the blob, porn will always be there to lift you up when you are feeling down!



Chin up, kid.



This week I learned that a simple popsicle can cure even the most extreme fat lips.

As luck would have it, CK was struck by an unassuming, and very excitable dog, only to spin about 180 degrees before gracefully face planting on the pavement. Blood was quick to spew from her mouth, although nothing looked broken or out of place. I picked her up and rocked her until she stopped crying. We were going to survive, bloody jackets, tissues, pants and all.

That’s when it hit me. I’m not your typical mom, or person for that matter.

My neighbor raced over to see if she was ok (being that the dog’s owner was oblivious to its actions), and I sort of froze. He asked if I needed help getting her home. I remained statuesque. All I could think was, “what do you think I am, a MOM? I have no idea what to do about bloody fat lips!” So we remained there on the pavement. My logic was such that, better to be surrounded by a group of adults with input, then to go home, and be stuck by myself with only MY instinct/experience to guide me. (Let me give you some perspective here: I’ve never even had so much as a bloody nose.)

Within a minute or two the bleeding stopped, and a HUGE fat lip emerged from tiny CK’s face. And just like that she was whisked away by Bonnie, our neighbor and one of her favorite people in the world, for a doggie poop walk.

A little while later when everyone who was outside and had witnessed the event was calmed by the sight of my child talking and acting normally, we decided to depart.

Call it mothers instinct, but I knew the second my child started shoveling cheerios in her mouth on the walk home, that she was just fine. No one would eat so recklessly if he/she had just seriously injured her face. (Unless…no, I’ll just pretend she didn’t inherit the eat through the pain gene from me!)

Seeing as no ER trip was necessary, I couldn’t help but think of a solution to the fat lip that would help, and be conducive to a 2 year old’s comfort level. Thus, the Fudgsicle came into play. We got many a look, and even a few comments, as we strolled through Giant,  the brown popsicle dripping all down her face in the middle of winter.

The swelling had gone down, she was content, and so was I, mission (68)

Maybe I really am a mom after all…

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I will say, I’m totally ok with her being a huge Daddy’s girl!

get it girl.

Tonight, as I stuffed my face (I’m not sure why they are letting me out the house anymore, let alone to public gatherings) I missed just about every down of the Superbowl. In lieu of watching those clever commercials, I fed CK bites of stromboli and about 5lbs of fruit.  Apparently, I left my sister’s house  just in time to miss the entire halftime show. No big deal, I’ll live.

It’s not often that I am impressed by the ability of a celebrity.  The way I see it, we are privy to a highlight reel of their abilities.  It seems as though, in a world full of fake eyelashes and obnoxious get-ups, mixed with this scandal and/or that love affair,  altruism is all to hard to come by in the world of smoke and mirrors that we call Hollywood.

But, as my facebook feed blew up with posts about Beyonce and how much my peers admired her, I decided to view the show via the Huffington Post . Expecting something a little cookie cutter, I found myself physically and emotionally energized by her performance. Clad is something totally appropriate for the event, without revealing too much of anything. I watched a woman, command and entire nation not only by her voice, but with her dance skills as well. It was obvious she worked her butt off  for this show! As many other women before her have done it, this performance alone was not the most amazing fete. What I realized is how genuine this artist is, revealing small pieces of her personality with each move she makes (or avoids) in the public eye, always staying classy, and redefining what it means to be a successful.

Most other celebrities with equal “success” have also had major setbacks that cause one to question where their true nature lies. As Beyonce thanked everyone for giving her the “moment” to perform, I realized she has meticulously laid out this path for herself. By never allowing anyone else to tear her down(or give them a reason to), she has remained the ideal role model for women, young and old alike. I guess I’m just glad to be around to witness one of the greats be a part of my generation.

Inspiring, and fun music to boot. What could be better?

Perhaps another cookie slathered with the refreshing key lime dip my sister made, or realizing how much fun blowing bubbles in milk can be?

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My opinions on being a mom have never vacillated or even teetered slightly. I love it. Be it a cat, a dog, a kid, or a pie, I’m (apparently) well suited for motherhood. That is, according to the barista at starbucks, of course.  (Does mom of the year even come with a free cappuccino?)

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While I won’t even begin to imagine how I’ve developed into the type of mom I am today, as it would be an epic tale of heaviness and hilarity, I can say sometimes I surprise myself.


Patience I never knew existed, sings it’s tune as I often have a smirk on my face when I should be fuming. I have re-read the same Arthur book WELL over 100 times and to this day am happy to read it again. I sing the ABC’s over and over again,  peel countless clementines to the delight of CK’s happy tummy, and even take projectile vomit here and there for the greater good.

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The point of this post was to tell you how at all of this, I am not amazed. Yes, I enjoying watching my child laugh as she “tackles” her dad, or smirk at her ability to use a fork efficiently, I happily accept the notion of her announcing her deification  as I would the ding of  a coo coo clock. So many little nuances that make her the little spitfire that Ant and I love.

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But, it was the dates that got me.

It’s the fact that this little booger (as I like to call her), loves dates as much as I do, and chooses salad over french fries, or maybe it’s the fact that she can house a Chipotle kids meal, but whatever it is, she certainly does a great job at melting my heart.

Not to mention she was able to tell me today, after declaring her undying need for ice cream, that the ice cream shop had a K an I and a W in the name. How could I not smoosh my lips to her cheeks! Did I really need an excuse to give in to the dessert request, no, but I definitely felt much better about it after that show.


Baby # 2 has some big shoes to fill.

8 weeks and counting(and working and baking and eating and running…)


Some of my holiday recipe success photos/links to come!


Holidays are …

As the busiest time of year comes to head in the next few days, I find myself in playful daydreams. No, not of sugarplums or golden rings, more realistic reveries. I imagine myself cuddled up under a blanket by a fireplace, with a frothy cappuccino in hand, listening to the white noise of someone else vacuuming my house, and cleaning my bathrooms, and dusting, and picking up the countless books that continuously reappear on my floor. I bask in the glow of the fire, as people around me work diligently to make sure I am comfortable and happy in my surroundings. And for the 15 seconds that this mirage is going on, I am almost content.

Not a breath later I am  kicked in the rib by a needy fetus, cleaning up a box of goldfish that had been dumped in a bowl (read: all over the floor) and thinking about the million things on my to-do list, all while shoveling recently baked chocolate peanut butter cookies in my mouth by the dozen. Cookies I obviously baked trying to avoid other more important tasks. Ones that came from a cookbook I received as a Christmas gift. (she learned the “what? I didn’t eat THAT many” face, seen below, from me…)

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This, one of THREE cookbooks I was gifted, THREE! Either the universe is saying  I need some major help, people want me to cook fresh recipes and more often, or it is hoping to see me pack on the pounds in my last leg of pregnancy. I’m not sure which message I prefer to accept, as all have repercussions.

Anyways, I’m sure you all are much more organized than I am, if not I feel you. It will all be over soon!

My agenda for the holiday includes a save the date design, an invite design, a logo design and a bridal shower design…anyone want to trade places for a the week? Just kidding, I’m stoked to be so busy, I just wish my brain would get on board dammit.


Lastly,  pregnancy… I was just sent a photo of Ant and I from his company Christmas party, and my double chins aside (can I blame it on the angle??), we don’t look too shabby. Also, I’m happy to say that at 29 weeks my body is cooperatively still letting me run 3x a week. I never thought I would be the running pregnant chick, but here I am. My goal was originally 20 weeks, which was obviously extended to 30 weeks, and hell if I can I’ll go til I pop!

I just trembled a little, giving birth…UGH.