Monthly Archives: August 2013

Muffin Top and Calvin Kleins

When I first decided to start my own blog, I was all, “Hey everyone, I’m writing a blog!  What great fun!”  Ideas poured out of me like raunchy dance moves from Miley Cyrus’s choreographer.  Then I sat down to compose my first post and writing a blog started feeling like a monumental task.  My first attempts sounded serious and trite.  I became discouraged.  Like, stuff my face with a pint of grass-fed cow’s milk, handcrafted, hazelnut gelato bummed. Then in a brief moment of enlightenment, I decided I would write the way I would speak to a friend, without worrying too much about sounding like a Pulitzer Prize winning author.  My apologizes to Mrs. Shaw, my 8th grade English teacher, who had such high hopes for me.

Since this is my first blog post, I’m going to start at the beginning- the start of my journey in raising Miss Fancy Pants.  And the beginning of that journey commenced with trying to get knocked up, not like in a “I drank too much and don’t remember what happened last night” kinda way, but in a “OMG, I’m 35 now and my ovaries are about to shrivel up!” sort of panic.  Dr. X, my now former ob/gyn, who has a proclivity for wearing cowboy boots, insisted that due to my age and history of irregular cycles, I would need to get pumped up with fertility medication pronto. Clearly this farmhand didn’t know me and my love of all things earthy-crunchy.  Much to his dismay, I began (under the direction of a naturopath) a regimen of herbs and supplements, a gluten-free diet, daily monitoring of basal body temperature, and um, secretions, and carefully timed twister games.   My great science experiment produced a pregnancy after only five months of trying. Ironically, it happened New Years Eve after my husband and I had too much celebratory champagne to drink, in a very “I drank too much and don’t remember what happened last night” kind of way.  Needless to say, I found a new ob/gyn.  I should have listened to my husband when he warned me, “Never trust a doctor in cowboy boots.”

Thirty-eight weeks later, Miss Fancy Pants was born.  But as blessed and grateful as we are to have Miss Fancy Pants (MFP)- I love her more than I could have ever imagined loving another human being- her first months were the most difficult I’ve ever experienced.  Can you say colic, reflux, milk protein allergy, and poor sleeper? The stress and lack of sleep compounded my chronic health issues, and by the time she was almost a year old, I was ill, frazzled, and just plain worn out.  I frequently found myself comparing my experience to that of my mommy friends, most who recalled with fondness the sweetness of their children’s first year. While I was honestly happy for my friends, I mourned how different from their children’s contented beginnings our daughter’s first months had been. It was during this sleep deprived state that I decided I would write a “Family Update” to send to our friends and family, an attempt to convey a decidedly un-sugarcoated and humorous version of my experience of Motherhood.

Below you will find the the very “H—- Family Update” that I emailed to my friends and family in my sleep deprived stupor.  And yes, the details are true. I’m just glad that my mother doesn’t know how to turn on a computer, let alone find my blog on the Internet. LOL.  :)  For the sake of privacy, my daughter’s name has been changed to the initials “MFP” (Miss Fancy Pants) and my husband will be referred to as “MM” (Macho Man).


Hi Everyone,

MFP will be turning one this weekend! It’s very exciting and I can’t believe how quickly the year has passed- and how many years it’s taken off my life.  I just wanted to update everyone on her progress and what the H—– Family is up to lately.  I know I haven’t written since she was 9 months old.  I had every intention of sending updates monthly, but somehow, those 10 and 11 month pictures never ended up getting taken on the monthly anniversary of her birth.  At 10 months, she was dressed as a bathing beauty but (MM) never charged the camera like he said he would and then she started crying because she didn’t like the kiddie pool and there went that idea.  At 11 months, I bathed and gussied her up, ready to take her Glamour Shot but then it was time for her to eat lunch and she ended up smearing carrots and broccoli in her hair and, well, you know how it goes.

MFP has been having frequent play dates with one of her little friends, which is always a great time. Last week was their first time at the park.  Her friend was all giggles while MFP cried and fussed the whole time, her cries reaching a crescendo as I put her on the swing.  It was a blast!  She was supposed to start swim lessons this week but she managed to scratch my cornea again (3rd time in 3 months) so I was unable to drive.  MFP is turning out to be the good Italian girl.  My bruiser can give a good whack, I tell ya! A whack to my eye, a whack to the dog, a whack to daddy’s head….anyway, I can’t say I was all that disappointed about the missed swim lesson since I wasn’t eager to shove my pale, unpedicured, unshaven, no bikini-wax self into my new “mommy” tankini.

MFP took her first steps at 10 months and started walking full force at 11 months!  She also points to things, asking, “dat?” and “dere?”, requesting we label the objects. She can pretend to smell the flowers and points to the correct objects when I say “broccoli, butterfly, balloons, cat, dog, nose, mouth, feet, hair,” etc.  I can take no credit for her progress as my mom visited for over a month and taught her most of her new tricks.  Well, I suppose the genes I passed on have something to do with it, but they also probably account for her hairy back as well.

Actually, I did teach her a new word recently.  When I don’t want her to touch something germ filled, such as the dog’s chew toy or trash, I tell MFP, “No sweetie, that’s ca-ca.”  Her new favorite word is “cock.”

MFP loves her veggies!  Actually, she loves every food I put in front of her, a far cry from back in the day when I used to” force feed” her the bottle. She’ll even eat a cup of steamed vegetables at one sitting!  This does lead to some messy blow outs.  In fact, MFP’s first sentences may be, “Get your hand out of there- it’s full of ca-ca!”  or “Holy crap, MM, help me out, she’s got poop all over her, including her fingers, and she’s sticking her hand in her mouth!”

MFP loves to shop, just like her mommy, and in fact, the only time she likes to be strolled around now is in a shopping cart.  She’s especially fond of Costco, which is where, by the way, I end up buying most of my clothing and all of my underwear.  FYI, just because bikini briefs say, “Calvin Klein” doesn’t make them sexy, especially with 5 lbs of muffin top spilling over them.

MM and I reduced our babysitter’s hours to save money; hence, no more date afternoon.  Not that my hubby seems to mind as now he has more time to watch college football.  When complaining to him about our lack of fun interactions and the fact that he’s always working, he’s quick to cite the material things he’s provided, especially the Mercedes we bought when we traded in my Honda (before we had MFP and could actually afford such luxuries!).  I told him, “That’s all fine and good, but until the Mercedes can do chores, take care of the baby, provide emotional support, and fulfill marital obligations (wink), I still need you as a husband.”

Life is great at the H—— household! Motherhood is fabulous- the extra dimples I got during pregnancy really add some pizazz to my ass.

Hope you all are doing well!