Ho ho ho...

Dear Santa,

You may be wondering why I am writing you in September, months before your "peak" time of year. This year I have many many wishes I would like you and your elf slaves to grant and I thought it only fair to give you plenty of advanced warning.

1. I would like you to make sure Parker gets the best first Christmas ever. He deserves it. He Sleeps almost 12 hours a night.
2. Make sure my grandma gets to have an 80th birthday. That would be cool.
3. I want some boots. good boots. Boots that instantly fix any outfit. I also want them to give off a vapor that makes people forget how often I would wear them so the cool factor is never lessened.
4. Please give me some lightning bolts to throw at those who choose to tailgate me on the freeway. I have a baby and a limited income, I do not want to get in an accident or get a ticket. therefore I drive the speed limit. Don't do it for me. Do it for Parker. His first words probably shouldn't be "get off my ass, douche bag!"
5. On behalf of our dog, Joey, Please send some sort of "anti-wiener dread lock" potion. Despite our best grooming efforts he still gets them. it's sick and awkward.
6. An oil change for the car. (yeah...still haven't done that....)
7. A force field to protect Parker from all toddler related injuries. And a force field for some of our more expensive belongings to protect them from all toddler related injuries.
8. A time machine would be nice. I would go back to my middle school years and tell myself how to do it right. After that I would visit high school me and tell myself not to go through with that perm. And that hair dye job.
9. Move all of my best friends next door. This whole across the state, across the country and across the world thing isn't working for me. I miss them terribly. Make it sound like a really exciting adventure with lucrative opportunities so they do not resent me for making them move to Springfield.
10. New underwear. I could easily fulfill this one, but I thought I would ask.
    
    Be a peach and do your best. I thought that if your crap could pop into stores before Halloween, it wasn't too forward for me to write so early.
    Sincerely,
    Marie.

P.S. To return The favor, here are a few people for your naughty list: Rush Limbaugh, Tyra Banks, Glenn Beck, Local TV weather people, My insurance company, Comcast and my neighbors who park on our lawn and let their dogs use it as a toilet.

Let's get this out there before I forget it...

I had a dream that I was in taiwan with allison and jeremiah. I was being attacked by carnivorious snails, which we also had to eat.(jeremiah said they were the only thing available that tasted like bread) I was able to fend them off by distracting them with gummy worms. Allison then told me I was lucky because most people couldn't afford the gummy worms to keep the snails away and would just have to let them latch on. Also, they had to wash their clothes in a dishwasher with the dishes.

Cousins...

This week josh and I had the pleasure of having our nephew, Ethan, for a special day and an overnight stay. He was so much fun and so easy going! Parker loved having him here too...how do we swing getting parker a BIG brother? I know that Josh and I are excited to watch Parker grow up and hopefully him and his cousin will become good buddies.

I don't like that tuesday....back after a little break

This week I am just going to come out and say that I do not like bra shopping.

 I was talking with my grandma about the problems that a girl of my, ahem...endowment, has finding a decent bra. So, my Grandma, being the most generous and concerned grandma in the world, wanted to take me to a specialty shop here in town to get fitted and to pick out a booby holster that could hold my ladies adequately.

First, we walk in. I instantly get the impression that rarely does anyone under 50 shop in this establishment.  I feel as though I am engulfed in a maze of panties and girdles. I don't even know where the cash register is. Apart from all of the unmentionables, they had a wide assortment of clothing fit for the aging art teacher types with a penchant for sequins, rhinestones and flowy gauzy skirts.Oh, and lots of swimsuits with skirts. lots. Then, working at the  hidden counter is a lady who was "let go" from my work for basically being bat sh** crazy (basically a female version of Milton from "office space"). Not a good sign.

Luckily she doesn't seem to recognize me and she scurries off to find someone who can tell me how big my ta-tas really are. Soon after, a woman emerges from the boulder-holder jungle to help me. 

This woman is a bit over middle aged and wearing a scrunchy in her hair. She whips out her measuring tape, hardly smiling or conversing with me. It is quickly determined that I am a 38 DDD.  No that is not a typo. That is 3 D's in a row. I tell her I would prefer a nursing bra and she is off to dig around for some in my size. 

After, what seemed to be, a long search she yields just two choices for me. One is a beige number made of spandexy material. Very sexy. Sexy like a sheet of blank copy paper. The next is composed almost entirely of lace and has a giant bow in the middle. Even sexier.  I can tell already, that one will make me look like I am trying to smuggle a prom dress under my shirt. 

 I try on the exciting beige one. Comfortable.  A bit "nipply" with the thin material but effective nonetheless. I wait for her to come back and check on my progress ten minutes later she comes in. She asks how I like it. I tell her it could give a little more lift but the lady said she could shorten the straps.  Not sold on it, though, and  for the money I am definitely not going to settle.  Next comes the lacy one. good god no. no no no no no. First of it seems to be sewn for someone with boobs shaped like kermit the frog's face. or SUPER puffy nipples.  I have neither. The lady comes in and I tell her I do not like it. She says there is nothing else for me there besides 70 dollar ones. Yeah right. 

I want to slap her for being so obviously indifferent to my plight and eagerness to up sell me. I am on the verge of yelling "Aren't you supposed to be some sort of titty whisperer?!?! Help me find a F***ing bra! Get creative!".

All of these thoughts are going through my head as it is just her and I alone in the dressing room. Her in her shapeless hot pink button down shirt, me in a hideous bra and my pants. I thought this couldn't get more frustrating when....her cell phone rings and...SHE ANSWERS IT!  WHAT? OH NO SHE DIDN'T! 

She starts talking on the phone in the room with me then pushes her way out of the curtain of the dressing room, leaving it open so that my bosoms may be exposed to one and all. I close the curtain, get dressed and walk back out into the store. I am boiling inside. 

She comes walking back up to me and assumes I am Going to buy the beige one. not so fast my friend. I tell her I don't want it. I wanted to say "I am going to pass on your merchandise despite your wonderful salesmanship." But I just politely give it back, crestfallen, and make a bee-line for the exit with my entourage. I would rather continue to wear my 15 dollar bra from target that is about two D's too small. Not to mention it has a brown stain on the boob from when I unknowingly dropped a chocolate chip down my shirt while eating a trail mix bar the other day and it melted in there. 

I guess the search will have to continue.

P.S. perfect name for a bra store: "titty city" can also be used for a strip club if need be.

F bombs on a sunday morning.

Dear Blogger post editor and Photo uploader,

F*** you.  I know my computer doesn't always play nice with you but today it's all you. All I wanted to do was upload two pictures and write a few words. Now all I can do is write words. Nasty words to you. I am going to do some some s*** today. When I come back, have your junk together.

                                                     -marie

how to be the worst best parent.

It's five months into it and I would consider Josh and I to be doing a pretty bang up job rearing the little sprout so far. Do I think we should be perfect parents....no. Perfect is boring. Perfect yields little learning opportunities.  Plus has anyone ever known me to be an over achiever? Absolutely not. My high school "C" average was O.K. by me. 

For those of you who are striving for absolute perfection, I have devised a few hints, tips and tricks on being less than perfect, so that you may be the best you can be. Make sense? No? Does it have to?

• Fussy baby? tried everything you can but still he/she will not stop crying? Gently bounce them on your knee. Notice how their voice changes pitch or tone when you bounce? Get a good rhythm going and try to re-create your favorite catchy tune. A favorite of mine? The Super Mario Bros. theme song.  Why not? you've tried everything. Might as well enjoy yourself instead of diving off into the crazy pool.

• Try mocking your young child in a loving and sarcastic manner when they fail at trying a new skill. It will take all of the pressure off of them because they will focus on how funny and witty you are instead.

• Be O.K. with not having perfect instincts. I once used Parker as a human shield. So what if my first reaction when I hear "HEADS!" at a softball game is to cover my head with my infant son. As long as the end result is a safe and happy kid, don't beat yourself up about it. I guess he will have to learn what that means someday anyhow.

• Don't worry if your child isn't as advanced as someone else's kid. Your kid may enjoy licking his hand rather than recite the alphabet, but he will be much much more fun at parties when he is older. take that, "smart" kids.

• Forget trying to top all of the other parents with all of the latest trends in baby gear. You don't need a fancy car seat when you have rope and a U-Haul box. Duct tape it to a skateboard and you have one of those "travel systems" that includes a stroller. Don't have a baby bjorn? Cut air holes in a back pack and wear it on the front. Spend your money elsewhere.

• Take your infant to the movies and fancy restaurants, especially when they are over tired and really cranky. Talk about their poopy diapers loudly so others can hear. It's OK. Everyone loves babies. And poop.

I hope some of these have helped you. If you are taking this list seriously and you have become offended and extremely concerned, you lack the basic social skill of recognizing humor and you have hopefully chosen not to reproduce.

I don't like that tuesday....

Again. Here we are. It's Tuesday so it must be time to complain about something. I missed last Tuesday due to a monster migraine (Probably numero uno on my list of dislikes), and I almost forgot to do IDLTT this week! Hmmm what should be this weeks subject? Let's see, let's see....ummmmmmm...how about....

The past two weeks.

They can be described as: Blah, frustrating, Unproductive, weird and at times stressful. Here are a few things that have bothered me recently:

Parker getting hives...

ALL OVER HIS BODY. Nothing like being

 a first time mom discovering that underneath his footie pajamas  one morning

, lay large, red , swollen hives. He seemed perfectly happy. EVERYONE told me that he was fine and that, unless he started to have trouble breathing he was fine. I held out for two days. Even after talking to nurses and a doctor who told me to give him

 benadryl and that he would be fine soon I still worried. When they started turning purple, I took him to urgent care. To make a long story short, he WAS fine, it was probably viral related he got a prescription for an additional antihistamine and slept really really well for a couple nights. The whole thing cleared up a day or two later and he is back to normal.

Celebrity deaths. 

It's just weird. I really want Billy Mays back. Hardest working thumbs in the biz. 

p.s. Michael Jackson was not god. Sad. Not earth altering. And surely not worth 24 hour a day news coverage.

Hot weather...

And by hot I mean anywhere from 79 degrees and up. Sticky thighs are not sexy.At least mine are not.  Also, try breastfeeding in the heat. Parker sweats when he eats on a comfortable day. On a hot day it's like having a sweat sock sucking on your boob. He looks like he ran a track meet.

I wish I could go swimming. However I do not have a swimming suit. Nor can I afford one at this time.  I hope when I do get one and I do go swimming, I do not have to touch the bottom of the pool.

Not having good ideas for IDLTT...

I have plenty to complain about still. Don't worry. I just don't have a funny bone in my body these days. not even that weird one in my elbow. Go ahead. Hit me there. I'll feel nothing.