SuperMom

There are some days where I really feel like I rock as a mom.  The days where I feel an entire National Geographic expose should be written about me and my extremely advanced mothering skills.  Take today for example, the sleep gods naturally woke me up at 6:22 am.  I got to cruise Facebook and Instagram, check my emails, and lay in bed and stare at the ceiling before I leisurely got out of bed.  I even got to do my hair and make my breakfast before Baby Bear woke up.  Why is it that when you set your alarm to wake you, you don't want to wake up?  I wish I could magically wake up every morning at the right time.  How can I orchestrate that?....  Something to add to my to do list.
Baby Bear was happy and even more adorable than usual and she even finally ventured away from her play mat to crawl around our den, which we have been working on for a while.  She went down for her nap at the perfect time and even took a longer than usual nap, so I had plenty of time to blog, do some Junior League projects, get ready, change 100 times to find the perfect outfit, and talk on the phone with my best friend.
We had lunch with her grandpa, great-grandparents and great-aunt, and she sat for an hour and a half without complaining.  I even got to eat lunch!  Baby Bear let every single person at the table hold her, which is a miracle, since she is currently going through her 9 month old stranger danger phase.
As we left lunch, the sun was shining, the weather was absolutely perfect, and I felt like I could do anything.  Write an Oscar winning movie script: check; Solve hunger problems in Africa: check; Think of a way to get Alice and Olivia to give me all their clothes free so I can "market" their brand: check.  I conquered lunch with great-grandparents and great-aunts with flying colors.  Baby Bear was beyond charming, smiley, and laughy.  Boy did she make me look good.
It's days like this that instantly make you forget the horrible, awful days where nothing goes right: the baby is fussy for no reason, she wakes up too early for your lunch date or sleeps right through it, you burn dinner, you're having a bad hair day, you feel bloated and "squishy," and to top it off, your husband wants to have sex with you right as you're finally, thankfully, at last falling asleep.  These are the days that make you wonder what you're doing in life and why God ever thought you should have a baby.
Take it from me, savor these good day moments.  Even if they are only two seconds long.  Enjoy the teeny moment your baby smiles at you first thing in the morning, and remember it as your cleaning coughed up oatmeal off your dry clean only shirt that you literally just got back from the cleaners the day before.

Have a truly fabulous day!

A Few of my Favorite Things

Happy Friday!  Since weekends seem to be the time I get most of my shopping done, I thought I'd give you some recommendations.  First of all, if you aren't already and Amazon Prime member, become one.  NOW.  It's about $70 a year but so worth it.  You get free two day shipping, $4 overnight shipping, and you can find anything on Amazon.  Literally, anything.  I needed a riding crop for a bachelorette party (don't ask) and I found one!  $4, free shipping, no tax, ahhhhh-mazing deal!

I know every mom reads reviews and reviews of the latest needs for their baby, so here are the latest things that I have found most indispensable to Baby Bear's and my every day lives:

Baby inflatable bath tub-Baby Bear used a bath sling for about 7 months, but she started to outgrow it when she began to sit up.  We tried an inflatable rubber duckie bath tub from Munchkin and were very disappointed.  It wouldn't stay inflated, and since Baby Bear wasn't that good at sitting up yet, she kept sliding down and almost falling under water.  I found this bath tub by Mommy's Helper.  It is great because it has a "horn" in it that the baby can straddle so she cannot slip under the water.  Baby Bear is all over the place in the tub, and she stays put.  The drain works great and it stays inflated.  Five stars from this mommy!
Mommy's Helper Inflatable Tub

Baby Bear is so into solid food these days.  We go through five pouches of food (at least!).  Papa Bear found and installed these amazing holders from Munchkin.  I have never thought he was so sexy!  They keep our pouches organized and I can see what flavors we have.  Sometimes I open the pantry just to stare at them.
Munchkin Baby Food Pouch Organizer

These mesh bags are so great for when baby begins teething and is beginning to eat solids.  Baby Bear adores to suck the juice out of fruit in the bag and when her teeth are coming in I put frozen grapes in it.    The Sassy brand is the best because the bags are interchangeable and they come with lids so the juice doesn't get all over your diaper bag.
Sassy Teething Feeder

I tried a couple different sippy cups with Baby Bear, and the Nuby ones were the best.  They didn't flow to quickly when she drank causing her to choke, and best of all, they do not leak!
Nuby Sippy Cups

Hope some of these recommendations keep you from straining your eyes for hours on end to read reviews all weekend!

Have a Fabulous Day!

Dee V. Orce and Her Slutty Friend

The old hag Dee V. Orce has been paying some visits on a couple of my dear friends lately, and her slutty friend Adultery has been visiting said friends' husbands.  The past couple weeks have been a blur of Lifetime movie type situations and I have found myself in a real slump thinking about the pain my girlfriends are feeling.
First, I cannot even believe that in my late 20's, I am at the age where my friends should even be getting divorced.  I mean, I don't even think they have used the bread maker their great-uncle got them what seems like a couple years ago.  Part of me wants to shake my finger and say,"You shoulda worked harder, you shoulda gotten counseling, what's wrong with people these days?"  But the more practical part of me knows that in both cases, my girlfriends did do all those things and more.

One of these friends, named Amy, had a baby a month before Baby Bear was born.  When the babies were about six months, we had a girls night and Amy dropped a bombshell.  She had caught Chris having an affair twice.** The first time she discovered inappropriate Facebook conversations with a girl WHILE SHE WAS STILL PREGNANT.  That's right.  This woman is carrying this man's child, and he is flirting with girls on Facebook?  Ew.  When Amy confronted Chris, he gave some lame excuses like she didn't get up at the crack make his coffee in the morning or cook him breakfast.  So, to make him happy, pregnant Amy got up daily, after having had pregnancy insomnia all night, made coffee and choked back vomit as she made eggs for her very sympathetic husband.  Shortly after their baby was born, they went on a trip where Amy discovered again, Chris was talking to another girl.  This time she saw he had received a text from a girl she didn't know. Like any self respecting sleuth, she opened the text and read it.  She noticed he had been texting this girl all weekend long, and had been texting her that morning while he was holding his little baby daughter.  Sleazy?  I think yes.  When she confronted him about this one, she asked who the girl was and Chris replied, "Oh, just a girl I've been seeing."
Please scrape yourself up off the floor and continue reading.  It gets better, or worse.  Amy asked why he was doing this and Chris said, "Well, Amy, you've really let yourself go since you had the baby."  Please stop trying to find this man so you can punch him in the throat.  I have changed names to protect the guilty.
That about catches us up and brings us to present day and to the past week.  Last week while out of town at her parents house, Amy told me that she was probably not going to be coming back home.  Here is what I gathered from a sobbing, hysterical Amy on the phone:
Chris had been cheating on her for the past 6 months (which I knew).  Lately though, he had been extra nice and Amy thought they were on the mend.  He dropped her off at the airport telling her he loved her and would miss her terribly.  That night, Amy received a phone call from the police because neighbors had reported a break in at her house.  A man named Chris and a woman were trying to break a window to get in.  Amy informed police that she, her daughter, and her husband Chris were the only people that lived there and to please detain the woman.  When the officer tried to do just that, Chris had to tell him who the woman was and the officer got back on the phone and told Amy, "Uhhhhhh, ma'am, I'm really sorry to have to be the one to tell you this, but your husband says you're headed for divorce and this is his girlfriend."  Like I said, Lifetime movie material.
As Amy tried to contact Chris and ask what was going on, he refused to admit anything and kept saying he didn't know what she was talking about.  Later, he told her he had been miserable the whole time they were married and that he needed time to think.  "Needing time to think" was actually code for taking his girlfriend on a romantic ski weekend and not wanting to be bothered by his soon-to-be ex-wife.
This is where I came in.  Amy was worried their dog was left without food and water for the weekend and I could I please go check on it.  Of course I was going to go check on this precious dog.  I wouldn't have put it past Chris to do just that, he also happens to be cruel to animals.  (Why are we friends with this guy?... I keep asking as I write this).  When I arrived at the house, I was so nervous.  This being my first "spy on the cheating husband" gig and all.  I half expected either Chris to come out with a big gun in his tighty whiteys, the girlfriend in the background drinking a scotch and smoking in her lingerie, or for the police to come arrest me trying to break into their house/yard.  Luckily, none of the above happened, Chris wasn't home, he was indeed out of town with his girlfriend, but imagine my surprise when I saw the girlfriend's dog in the yard with Amy's.
Just to double check you're still with me, Amy is out of town with her infant daughter at her sister's baby shower, Chris has immediately started consorting with his girlfriend, bringing her back to his house to sleep in his and Amy's bed, he now is probably having sex with her on the ski slopes in some weird erotic snow fantasy and Slutbags McGee's dog is in Amy's yard.
I noticed there was no food and while I assumed someone was going to feed these poor animals, I took Amy's dog to our house and left the girlfriend's dog by itself.  I had to resist the urge to just take it off its tether and "leave" the gate open.  But it's not the dog's fault he's owned by a slut, so I didn't.  In the meantime, Amy was monitoring their joint bank account, and Chris was using their money to pay for a limo for his girlfriend to go to a concert and to pay for ski tickets and hotels.  He wasn't even trying to hide it.  His family was also simultaneously accusing Amy of being a horrible wife and blaming her for the fact Chris can't seem to keep his peepee in his pants.
Amy had to go get tested for STD's that weekend.  Who knows where this guy had been?  Still waiting for the results....
Chris told Amy the girl's name, which I think is so weird, but also very entertaining for Papa Bear and me, because Papa Bear is the ultimate Facebook Sherlock.  We have discovered that she is most likely using a made up name because it sounds something like Tatiana Amourr, she has an 8 year old kid (who's the father?), she changes her profile pictures every other day, and they are usually some sort of naked type photo.  Last but not least, she is a stripper.  The reason we think we know this is due to the following evidence:

Exhibit A

Notice implants and see through dress.  Notice 8 year son standing in front of see through dress.  Who wears a see through dress in front of your son?  A stripper.

Exhibit B
Her "likes" on Facebook include two strip clubs.  Who likes a strip club on Facebook?  A stripper.

Exhibit C
Papa Bear called the strip clubs to ask if a Tatiana Amourr worked there.  One only had an answering machine.  The other he received confirmation that a Tatiana did indeed work there, though they were not sure of the last name.  I'm fairly certain it's her.

Exhibit D
Chris is notorious for going to strip clubs-without his wedding ring (see footnote below)-and staying until 3 or 4 am.  He goes all.  the.  time.  Enough said.

In the meantime, Chris decided to write me an email and blame me for "feeding Amy information that she would use to take their daughter away" he also had to mention that he "loved us like family."  I am shaking with rage as I write this because I never once fed Amy anything about him even though I could have, and never once told her to divorce him even though I should have.  All I did was console a grieving friend.  Oh, and I did tell her about the slutdog.  I chose to take the high road and not even dignify the email with a response though I wish I could have written something like this:

Dear Chris,
I resent the implication that I have "fed" Amy any sort of information about you.  Every bit of ammunition she has to take your daughter away from you my friend, you have provided yourself.  Next time you decide to have an affair with a HOOKER, maybe you shouldn't leaving her freaking dog in the yard.  Or, maybe, you should remember your house keys, so you aren't caught breaking into your own home with your HOOKER girlfriend so you can have nasty sex in the bed you sleep in with your wife.
While you may love us like family, we think you're the devil, and therefore, are ever so grateful we are in no way related to you.
Rest assured, that by the time I am done, no one in this city will respect you, and every single person, down to the strippers at the Tiger Club you so often frequent will know you are a dog and wife abuser, and have a very rare form of herpes that causes extreme discharge that smells like a Big Mac.
Yours Truly,
Mama Bear

The most recent development is that these two star crossed lovers will probably get back together.  Chris's dad, who also happens to be a cheater and womanizer (shocker), also controls the purse strings.  I know in my heart of hearts he got ahold of Chris and told him under no circumstances would he pay for a divorce or child support.  So now, Chris is all apologies, flowers, promises.  Amy is "taking time to think" herself and hopefully seeking counseling.  I suggest a lobotomy if she is going to get back with this fool.
The thing is, though Amy is a dear friend, she is being so frustratingly dumb.  She has no self respect and I don't know if that is because of Chris or she was like that before him.  I know they have a daughter and so many people think it's worse to raise a child with no father.  But this little girl is going to be raised by a father who does not respect the mother, a mother who does not respect the father, and a father who is philandering with various women of certain occupations.  What do you want to bet she is the sorority, or even elementary school slut (they start so young these days) in the future?  Or, she will also have no self respect, and look for a man just like daddy who may be charismatic, "religious," and very good looking, but behind closed doors he's a real a-hole.  Either way, she is being set up to have a skewed sense of men already at the young age of 10 months.
Amy asked if I was disappointed in her, and yes, I am.  I am disappointed that she is putting her borken heart first, and not thinking about her daughter.  I am disappointed that a lying bully is going to keep this woman under his thumb, and I know he isn't going to quit screwing other women.  Though maybe now, he will just hide it better.  Most of all, I am disappointed that she doesn't value herself enough to realize she doesn't deserve to be treated this way.  That flowers and promises are just that, flowers and promises.  They aren't going to bring him home at night or make him love her despite her "baby weight."
'Tis a dark time for my friends, and I just wonder how many more of these wild stories I will hear before I'm 30.  The moral of the story, folks, is don't forget your house keys when bringing your mistress home, don't leave your mistress' dog in the yard for all to see, and use cash when paying for a hotel room when you're having an affair.  Had he done all that, Amy would have never known, and everyone would have continued peacefully on their way.

**Chris has had various affairs throughout their marriage.  Apparently, he had one while they were engaged, when they were first married and Amy hadn't moved to their relocation city yet, and he never came back to their hotel room on their wedding night.  All of the above I cannot necessarily prove since it was before we knew them.  The following Papa Bear has seen with his own eyes:  Chris repeatedly removes his wedding ring to go out with the boys.  This even occurs if it is merely an innocent dinner.  At Papa Bear's bachelor party is where this first occurred.  Papa Bear is a very laid back man, and his bachelor party consisted of a baseball game, some historical tour of a haunted house or something, and some good dinners.  Chris ended up going to a strip club, without said wedding ring (in fact, I think the ring was missing most of the weekend), and coming home goodness knows when.  There are various accounts of him flirting and/or going out with waitresses at a certain restaurant in town as well.  In Papa Bear's defense, he quit hanging out with Chris long ago because he made him uncomfortable.

Have a fabulous day!  And if you see Dee and her friend Adultery, turn and run, run the other way as fast as you can.

The 5 Month Itch

My friend just had a baby and I took dinner to her and her hubby the other night.  When I arrived I found my friend in the typical new mom state: bleary eyes, deer in the headlights look, tousled hair, and a general feeling of, "OHMIGODWHATHAVEWEDONE?"

This particular friend is very blunt and asked, "Soooooooo, when does this get fun?"  Bravo, sweet girl, bravo!  You have just asked the question every mom wonders, but never says out loud.

Here's the truth, the real truth, and nothing but.  Motherhood kind of sucks at first.  It is hard.  For starters, you feel like scum.  Your body hurts, it oozes, you're bloated in weird places, and now you have a little thing drinking out of it.  Your hormones are like a crazy squirrel on crack.  You're here, you're there, you're crying one minute because you're so tired, laughing the next because your baby just did the cutest thing.  Or even more ridiculously, you're crying one minute because you're so very happy and you love your baby so so much.  You're like Holly Hunter in Raising Arizona.

You're also just trying to adjust to life.  The first public outing after a baby is the hardest.  Papa Bear and I went to a birthday party when Baby Bear was just under two weeks and we both literally had a nervous break down.  We went to the back bedroom of the house and I cried for 45 minutes while PB paced and said, "I don't want to do this anymore."  Luckily my oh-so-wise cousin was there and she calmed our nerves and got us all set up in the living room where no one would touch us.  I was terrified people were going to rip Baby Bear out of my arms and steal her.  They would be touching my precious newborn with their dirty, disgusting hands, she would be crying....  The irrational fears of a new mom.  That of course didn't happen, and it was nice to show off our beautiful girl and talk to grown ups.

For the first months of your baby's life you have the jerks coming up to you saying repeatedly, "Isn't this the best thing you've ever done?"  Pretty much everyone asks you this, even men.  I'm mystified really.  Either they were drunk the first months of their baby's life, or it's like hazing.  A very unpleasant experience, but because you were forced to eat pancake batter while running in place until you threw up, you're sure as heck going to make the next pledge class do it.  I remember the first time someone said that to me after BB was born.  I thought I was the worst person in the world because I had to lie through my teeth to agree with the smiling grandmother looking at me.  Women of all ages come up to you and ask this same question over and over, and each time you feel like less and less of a good mom.  What I would think each time someone asked me that stupid question was, "No this isn't the best thing I have ever done, it is the absolute hardest.  I feel alone, I am tired, I look gross, my husband hates my baby (refer to above mentioned hormonal delusions), and this ISN'T FUN!"  What I want to know is why don't people tell you that it gets so much better after about 5 months.  Is this some kind of womanly initiation I have to go through to become part of "The Womanhood?"  I thought women were supposed to stick together, to help each other?  When I mention these feelings to friends and family, they all agree with me that yes, it does take about 5 or 6 months for your baby to be fun.  Why does no one say that?  I mean, I really had to stop myself from socking my cousin in the stomach when she agreed adamantly that the beginning was hard and basically sucky.  She was my only portal into life as a mommy and she never once mentioned these horrible feelings to me.  Not once.

So the real truth is that I thought I was a mutant mother until Baby Bear turned about 5 months.  It's the 5 month itch, just when you think there is something either very wrong with you or your baby because though you have definite moments of amazement and fun, it still isn't the "best thing you've ever done," around 5 months you start to have entire days where you don't want to put your baby down for bed because you've had so much fun that day.  Your baby is smiling at you and caring whether or not you're in the room.  She might be starting solid food which I think is the most fun thing ever.  You can start to really see her little personality based on the foods she likes and the faces she makes when she tries new things.  5 months may seem like an awfully long time to really start enjoying yourself, but believe me, the months fly by.  Enjoy your baby and savor the little moments that make the sleepless night, spit up down your shirt, and not being able to fit into your favorite pair of jeans seem worth it.  I promise, there is a treasure chest of fabulous and magical moments to come and you will indeed finally agree, yes this is the best thing you have ever done.

Have a fabulous day!

Mom Jeans

Here's some comic relief for your day.  Although friend, there is nothing, and I mean NOTHING, comical about Mom Jeans in real life.  That is a living nightmare.

SNL-Mom Jeans

Enjoy and have a fabulous day!

Passive-Agressive

I dedicate this post to my sweet husband, who seems to be wearing a bulls-eye for my passive-agressive nature these days.

Today Baby Bear became a cautionary tale in baby proofing.  Yesterday, after much too much stalling on our part, we had the video monitor mounted high up on the wall where she couldn't get it.  You see, before, it was wedged securely between the crib and the wall.  This was all wonderful until she discovered that camera, and she had to have it.  I'll give her one thing, she gets what she wants.  So even though I was convinced it was going to look horrendous to have a camera mounted on the wall, I decided that BB rolling around in the crib with the camera and a long cord was probably reason for someone to call CPS on me.
The camera went up, I didn't have a heart attack because it looked ugly.  All was perfect.  Except where did I put those handy little sticky things that secure the cord to the wall so it isn't dangling around ready to tangle around some unsuspecting baby's neck?  Where... Where... Where...  As I thought about this over night BB of course discovered the dangling cord and proceeded to pull the whole camera down on top of her head.
Papa Bear and I were not home when this happened and when our Señora called to tell us, my motherly guilt was in full force that I was not home to instantly cradle my sweet baby girl for a hurt that I pretty much caused.  When I told Papa Bear what had happened, he shrugged and said, "Oh ok."

WHHHAAAAAAAAAAATTTTTTT?

Why wasn't he as upset as I was?  I expected him to drop the three ginormous hoses he was buying for the house (kink free!) and whisk us both off home to tend to Baby Bear.  Once we got home he took a quick look at her and ascertained everything was fine and promptly began to change for work.  I, in the meantime, surveyed the entirety of Baby Bear's body to make sure the camera did not create some sort of strange, unheard of puncture wound and began the great search for those little, sticky, plastic cord thingys.  I found the "safe place" where I put them and in ten minutes the cord was baby proofed, camera secured, and everyone was miraculously still moving on with their lives.
Everyone but me.  In those ten minutes it took me to secure the cord, I had a lot of time to think about how BB most likely had a strange concussion that had no symptoms at all.  I could see myself on GMA telling my sad story of a camera mounting gone wrong, and how I thought she was fine.  I had checked her pupils, she was happily chowing down on mac n' cheese, she seemed fine!  Then it all went so wrong...
But I digress.  I also had time to think about how mad I was at Papa Bear.  I was so angry he didn't care at all about Baby Bear.  He cared more about his shower, his hoses, and getting ready for work than our precious little baby?!  This anger was only magnified when I discovered a teeny bump on her head and told him about it.  His response again was, "Oh, ok, she'll live.  I mean this isn't going to be the only bruise she will ever get."
Instead of rationally asking him why he wasn't concerned with his little girl's well-being, this being her very first bump and bruise in her life, I of course went the mature route and shouted, "Well, I am soooooo glad you care soooooo much about our daughter's health!" and stormed from the room.

Sidebar: Earlier this weekend PB asked me if he could go play tennis on Saturday after work.  I did not want him to, so I replied what any self respecting wife would say, "If you want to."  PB told me he didn't like when I was passive-agressive and to just say yes or no (for the love of Pete!).  I promised I wouldn't be passive-agressive anymore for fear I would turn into my mother, the queen of passive-agressive guilt trips.  My mom is an amazing woman whom I idolize, but it's true, she learned the art of passive-aggresive guilt trips from her mother, I learned the great art from my mother, and so the cycle shall continue....

I don't know if it is motherhood, lack of sleep, a complete change in dynamic with a baby, but I think I am now taking over as the queen of passive-agression.  I find myself muttering insults under my breath all the time, never can I answer a request from PB with a simple yes or no, it always is an answer with some underlying meaning.  You see, I am testing him to make sure he can still read my mind.  Even the smallest things like he doesn't want a beer at night with dinner, that of course, merits a guilt trip from me.  After all, I slaved away all day going to the store to buy him said beer, with the money he earns from his blood, sweat, and tears that he gives me for groceries.  Why do I have to be so controlling and most of all why do I even care?  If you know the answer, please tell me and save me from myself!
Later, after I apologized to PB for my ridiculous outburst, he explained he was trying to stay calm because I clearly was not.  What good would it do to have two parents freaking out over a little bump?  He puts me in my place every time.
My advice to you, dear reader, is this.  Save your marriage and your sanity.  Just say what you mean and communicate with your husband.  As much as we try (and damned if we do), they will never, ever be able to read our minds.  And why would we want them to?  Then PB would know where I hid all the chocolate....
Have a fabulous, and assertive day!

Best Laid Plans

I want to write this blog, because my husband, whom I will refer to as Papa Bear, and I just had a darling baby (whom we will call Baby Bear).  Adding this precious and confusing little person to our lives has caused happiness, tears, and many problems with my every day bodily functions that I never anticipated.  No one told me this would happen.  But when I mention these things to my close friends, they all say, "Oh yeah, I totally felt that way."

Well never again should any man or woman be blindsided about the crappy (and happy) times that come with marriage and making babies.  I am here with my Papa Bear by my side to educate you young grasshoppers and provide support for you older, more beat up grasshoppers.  I also happen to be a fashion junkie and having a little girl has really exponentially increased that infatuation.  She is my own little American Girl doll!  I must lay out a disclaimer:  I LOVE MY HUSBAND AND DAUGHTER MORE THAN ANYTHING IN THE WORLD.  I would saw off my arm for them, I would put my Louboutins in the disposal and watch them get ground into pieces if it would make them have a better day.  So even when I am angry blogging, just don't forget that.  It is ok to be angry, sad, insane, and whatever else you feel.  I know you love your family, just like I love mine.  It doesn't mean we need to like them all the time.

So let's see...  Where to begin...  Let's start with the marriage.  I met Papa Bear when we were very young.  We have known each other since we were 6, but were never high school sweethearts.  He was a party animal, I was a snob.  It was not until after college that we began to date.  We dated three years before we got engaged and then had a year and a half engagement.  This is important to say, because PB and I are the slowest moving couple ever.  We are planners.  Every tiny detail of our lives is carefully and meticulously laid out so we know exactly.  What.  To.  Expect.  At all times.  Baby Bear was no surprise.  We thought about it, prayed about it, talked to the doctor, and took every vitamin and precaution possible before ever hopping into the sack to make a baby.

Baby Bear was made on a vacation in India, one fateful night, I think in New Delhi.  Call me Fertile Myrtle because BAM! the first time PB shot, we scored.

From the second we found out we were going to have a baby, our carefully and meticulously planned out life became a tailspin of best laid plans gone awry, strange things that would only happen to me (not really, I am sure they have happened to you too), and horrible noises and smells that no husband should ever have to know his wife is capable of making.  Plans are for dummies, I am slowly realizing that.  The only plan I hope you keep is to read my next post.

Have a fabulous day!