December 31, 2008


Two years ago tonight, I was up in wine country with a bunch of friends, staying at a beautiful house along the Russian River, drinking wine, eating delicious meals, and makin' babies. Well... Turns out I actually only made one baby to be specific, but the point is I literally conceived on New Year's eve (or New Year's day.... it was a lucky 24 hours for my husband and I).  Now, we're  back up in wine country, with the same group of friends and a couple of additions to the group -- the scenery is still stunning, the wine is still delicious, and the food is still making me fat (and for sure committing to a diet on Monday).  The only change: babies. Children. Toddlers. Three momma loving, snack loving, Elmo loving kiddies along for the ride. 

Being here with Baby-Ko and his two pals "Addie" and "Addie" (both different names, and different sex actually) definitely makes the moments of wanting to pull my hair out when Baby-Ko is having a meltdown more tolerable. It's certainly not the same trip we take year after year, after all- babies at winery isn't what I would call "relaxing," but it's definitely fun. And chaotic. And sweet. And I'm sure the best form of birth control our single friends with us could ever ask for....


Tonight as I put Baby-Ko to sleep, I told him about what an amazing year 2007 was because it was the year he was born and I fell in love. I told him that 2008 was even better because I watched him turn from an infant to a little man right before my eyes and then I really fell in love. I told him that we had so many exciting things in store for him 2009... turning two, a new president, a new doggy (not really, but I said it because it's fun to hear him say "dAH-gee").  I said "Happy New Year" over and over and finally, he said "Hay-nee," which I can only assume is his brilliant rendition of Happy New Year. It was a wonderful way to say 'night-'night.... and go join my friends upstairs for an adult beverage...

This has been one hell of a year and I am so looking forward to an even happier, healthier, and sweeter New Year. Best wishes to all.  


December 19, 2008


I wanted to write about my new favorite show "Whatever, Martha" on Fine Living Network- I stumbled upon this gem last week. Alexis Stewart, Martha's daughter sits around with her friend Jennifer and watches old Martha Stewart Living segments and literally talks shit.  I mean, literally. She calls her mom uptight, sexless, makes fun of how boring and ridiculous it is... One segment she made fun of Martha's guest who is a twine collector. Yes, twine. Anyway, the show is hilarious but what I love is that Martha Stewart is actually executive producer which means- she's in on it. She knows her daughter is talking shit and is cashing in on it too... It's brilliant. 

BUT, I'm not going to write about this show. Because I want to write about my new NEW favorite show, and by favorite I mean, my favorite train wreck of a show: Momma's Boys on NBC.  It's not the best produced show I've ever seen, but I don't care. I'm hooked. WHY? Hmm. Good question. I'm not really even sure why myself. I think it's because I can actually already understand the concern these mom's have as their son's go gaga over these cheesy chicks. There's one mom in particular that's making the ratings great because she went on camera and said she doesn't want anyone but a "white girl" (that includes girls with "big butts" apparently) for her precious Jo-Jo. Well, much to her dismay the producers, er, her son, chose the one (black) girl in the house that she cannot stand. Game on!  

To make matters worse, her poor son can't even get any action because his psycho mom barged in while he was making out with one of the girls. She literally made them get out of the pool and told the girl that if she wants to get on her good side, she needs to stop kissing her son. This woman is nuts but I kind of get it.... It's her baby and suddenly, dealing with teething and temper tantrums seems alright in comparison... 

So, Baby-Ko, please stay like this forever. If not, then please don't ever like blonde girls with lots of make up and fake boobies.... Unless you want me joining in hot tub action. And in 20 years from now, I can't promise that'll be pretty... 

December 10, 2008


Facebook is my crack.  I know... I admit it...  I used to talk a lot of shit about friends (and husbands) who seemed overly obsessed with status updating, reconnecting with old friends (and flames) and playing silly games like Scrabbulous or throwing monkeys at each other (or some other ridiculous FB application).  But I get it!  I'm addicted too now.  I've got over 200 friends (Tyler Florence included) and I'm feeling pretty good about myself. I think I'm finally cool. :-)

HOWEVER, one thing NOT so "cool" about me and Facebook: the photos that my so-called friends have decided to upload of me!  Sure, it's fun to take a walk down memory lane every now and again, but must I be reminded of the days of my Aquanet-ed bangs, denim shirts (oh yes), and push down socks?  Before I was cool, I was a dork. Do my new, cool, Facebook friends REALLY need to know that? I have an image to uphold! And what's worse, is that I have zero control over what photos go up. My only control is an option to "remove a tag." BUT thanks to the genius of FB, when you remove a tag, EVEEEEEEEEEEERYONE of your friends sees on their little voyeuristic, sick, twisted status update thingy.... which essentially means, if they're having a slow day at work, they can go to the photos and spend time figuring out which one is you and laugh about how hideous you used to look (not that I've done that to any of YOU, of course).

Here are a couple of photos that I have recently been tagged in....  

This one is from High School circa 1993 or 1994. It's me with all the other Drama nerds, excited about nailing a scene in "Pippin" or something... Who knows....

This second one is from like 1989 or 1990... It's me with all my BFFs. 
I'll give you a hint, my tee shirt was from Esprit....

This one was a cabin photo from summer camp (CHK!) in the mid/late 80's. I'm sure I liked one of the boys in the photo and I'm sure they did not like me... 
(It would be another few years until I had my first kiss, which incidentally occurred months after I got felt up. Go figure...)


December 4, 2008


We recently posted this video on  When I first saw it, I literally could not stop laughing.   He obviously hates puppets as much as I hate birds.

Kid Is Terrified Of Puppets - Watch more Free Videos

Yet another reason why I need to make sure I don't pass on my irrational fears to my own child!

December 3, 2008


It seemed like any other night... I was singing to Baby-Ko as he drank his "baba." Just as I was about to utter "Goodnight Noises Everywhere....," Baby-Ko sat forward. He burped and looked at me and BLAAAAAAAH. VOMIT. All over me. All over the chair. All ovr the floor. 

"Oh no!" I said, "Are you OKA-" 

BLAAAAAAAH. VOMIT, AGAIN. All over me. All over the chair. All over the three cows jumping over the moon.

I was shocked. He was shocked. T-Ko was at the store getting more milk so I had to think fast ON MY OWN... Not wanting to rouse him more (as he was on the verge of "night night"), I quickly stripped off my foul smelling clothes, (which happened to be perfectly spotless work clothes that I had just gotten out of the dry cleaners), and threw them into a pile in the hallway Within a minute and a half, I had calmly and peacefully managed to also get Baby-Ko's dirty PJ's off and a new fresh pair on. (Okay,  I lied. I was just about to do laundry, so the "new" pajamas were actually "old" pajamas, but at least they didn't have throw up on them).  

As I read to Baby-Ko for the second and final time, I couldn't help but feel so proud of myself. Here I was, sitting in my bra and underwear, managing to stay calm despite vomit crusted in my hair and something that resembles split pea soup on a recently washed throw rug. I followed through with our night time routine and within minutes, my baby, completely unaffected by the whole ordeal, was fast asleep.  I felt like a total pro. Crisis averted.

One thing's for sure though, motherhood is NOT for the squeamish... Or for those that expect to have time to take a shower when things start to get a little dirty....