Monday, February 28, 2011


Because there is no cure. Because Drew needs you. Because thousands of kids need you. Because there is no federal funding. Because it will help find a cure. Because it's the right thing to do. Because you can help change lives. You can save a life.

If you are so inclined to do some shopping, please go through my friend Erin's blog.

Who doesn't need Tupperware? Some Tastefully Simple beer bread? Love me some Pampered Chef. And a Touch of Whimsy has precious stuff. A new Yankee Candle flavor for spring?

I never ever do this. I don't do giveaways or endorse products. But I do think you should at least go here, learn about CF and what you can do to help.


The Best part? Shopping to help save a lives.

Baby steps.

We are new to this. Not really familiar with the whole potty training process. Some people say use cheerios, some say run around naked, sit, stand, up or down. It sounds like a bad night at a fraternity party and who hasn't been there? Just me? Ok.

So, we haven't been forcing it. Who wants their toddler to be traumatized with images of you holding him hostage in the bathroom until he goes? Then you'll really be wiping his ass until he's in high school.

In the morning I ask if he wants to go potty and if he does, we go. Most of the time he goes, of late. Then we put a diaper on. Cause. He's not really ready to pause playing to pee. Before bed we ask again. Sometimes he goes sometimes he doesn't. Occasionally during the day we sit on the potty usually to no avail. That's ok. Baby steps.

Two days a week he is in school. Regularly I ask if he goes potty at school. The answer is always 'no mommy, only girls.'.

See, we are on an opposite chromosomal schedule from the rest of the region. My son is one of three boys out of like 20 kids. BGB is the only girl in her class at school.

Anyway. Everyday after he tells me that only girls go on the potty at school (because only the girls are potty trained) I tell him that boys can go too. Today I told him he should try. He said 'Otay mommy, my try'. (for the record I would let him talk like that forever if I didn't think he'd get beat up on the playground for it)

I am at work when the kids get picked up from school. So this is what I heard on the phone this afternoon: 'Hi mommy!!!!! My peed all all all over the place!'. He went on the potty at school! Victory. He might not have made it IN the potty at school but he sat on the potty and peed. Baby steps.

The next baby step is big boy pants or underwear as he wants to call them. Sidenote: I have this really cute picture of his naked butt with a new pair of his underwear around his waist but I have a policy against asses on my blog so you will just have to imagine it.

As badly as I want him out of diapers and as much as I am looking forward to relocating his man poops to the toilet where I don't have to remove them and as much as I will enjoy saving some money on Luvs size 5's, I might be (read: am) stalling. Not sure I am ready for five plus days locked inside my house cleaning up pee while he figures out when he has to go, how to get to the potty in time, and that it's ok to poop on there too. I know we have to do it sometime and there's no time like the present and wouldn't it be great if he were trained for an upcoming trip to Florida and wouldn't it be great that some of his shorts from last summer might fit if there wasn't a diaper under them?

While we take these baby steps I will be mustering the courage, patience, wine supply, and carpet cleaner I need to potty train.

The Best part? I didn't have to clean it up when he peed 'all all all over the place!'

Saturday, February 26, 2011

Not a day over 30

This is the joy that 30 brings. Everyone should be this happy on their 30th birthday.

You can all rest easy knowing it is over. Honestly? With last weekends' magic and celebrations I am over it too. But not before some more cake, and some surf and turf for dinner.

Hope my birthday was fabulous for you too friends.

The Best part? For you, the month long celebration has drawn to a close. For me, I celebrated and was celebrated for the better part of a month. Who doesn't want to turn 30 with all of that joy? Love.

Friday, February 25, 2011

Here's your sign.

If you don't check my blog hourly, read the previous post before continuing.

Usually I workout at nap time, squeeze in a shower and all is right with the world. Today we headed for a much needed oil change so the baby missed her morning nap. I put her down when we got home and knowing she would be awake at Cannon's nap time, we headed downstairs. I put on Umi Zoomi and hit the t-mill. About 3/4 of a mile in I see him squat. Pooping. Duh. He smiles at me, waves and goes back to doing his business.

I keep on keepin' on. .92 into the first and what turned out to be the last, mile and I see him acting like his pants are wet. Grabbing, down there.

'You ok buddy? Need me to change your diaper?'
'I fine Mommy, you keep runnin'.'


I hop off, grab a diaper and tell him to lay down. I am panting, sweating, and ready to get this workout over with. He says he wants to stand up (the way they change them at school) so I agree. I start to take his jeans off and there it is. Poop. All over his feet. His feet.

So, I continue my run, only this time it's carrying a 2 year old and his jeans at arms length up two flights of stairs and into the bathtub.

This is one of the reasons I can't use cloth diapers. I was baffled. What do I do with these pants? This kid? The poop in the bathtub?

Wipes. I used basically a pack of wipes before actually giving the bath. The jeans are in the washing machine. I may need a new washing machine after this. The 'major poop, biggest I ever seen!' as he called it, is in the garage.

And I have been adequately slapped in the face with why I don't need a third child.

At least not right now.

Now, go back to eating your lunch.

The Best part? I got a mile in.

2 Tuitions

There are four chairs at my kitchen table.

Sure, the mini seats like a million but it sure is easy to have one kid on each side and not have to climb my ass in the back to buckle someone in. Our house has three bedrooms (yes, I know we won't live here forever, just go with it). We have an oldest and youngest. No middle child. A boy and a girl. Most importantly two healthy beautiful children.

We will only have to throw one rehearsal dinner and one wedding and pay for two college tuitions (a thought that makes me already want to throw up for a million reasons the least of which is the offensive cost of college, we will take donations if you are so inclined).

We play man on man defense and someone always has one parents attention, or can at least vie for it. On a selfish note, I would be done with pregnancy before 30 and have my body back. You know, once I finish nursing E around kindergarten. Kidding. Totally kidding. Ew.


Is E our last baby? Is that the last time we will experience the miracle that is child birth? Cause I didn't prepare for that. I didn't savor it enough, did I? Is she the last baby we will bring home from the hospital? Did we already do that one last magical time?

And I waver. And get mushy and start to second guess everything I mentioned above.

Here's what I know. No planned babies for us this year. Possibly not ever. Because wanting to have another baby is different from having another child. It's got nothing to do with juggling it all and everything to do with us being complete.

Plus, where would they sit?

The Best part? Being perfectly content, happy, ecstatic and in love with the status quo. Oh and turning 30 tomorrow.

Happy weekend friends. xoxo

Thursday, February 24, 2011

Just cause I can.

I turned down chocolate cake yesterday. I have witnesses. Thought you should know. I could, however, eat her.

A family affair

I may have mentioned a time or two that I have an amazing family. If you have children, you need to check out my Dad's business blog. And not just cause it's about yours truly.

Check it out.

The Best part? He is the best Dad a girl could ask for.

Tuesday, February 22, 2011

Observations and Revelations: I can taste 30

Conversation with my 2 year old while he was sitting on the potty trying to go:
Me: Put your penis down buddy, don't want to pee everywhere.
Him: Mommy, my penis is broken, we have to fix it.
Then he peed.
Him: Daddy will love this!!!
And scene.

Then he tells me that only girls go on the potty at school, not boys.  Promising.

I realize the danger in talking about this. But. My precious, perfect four month old has taken to sleeping 13 hours a night. 13. Hours.

I got this new lens for my camera. It has changed my life. Ok thats dramatic. But it's unreal. Check out my natural light.

It happened. I had to pump in the field. It was bound to happen sometime. Just didn't think it would be in the backseat of a car, at a landfill, while cops sifted through trash for dead bodies in a torrential downpour.  Two days in a row.

Murphy's law: if you wear your cutest jacket and stilettos, you will find yourself at aforementioned landfill in a monsoon. I have wellies. Cute ones. I am not nearly as prepared as I should be for being married to an eagle scout. That's right, I said it. That super hot. Brilliant. Party planning, dance floor tearing up, bad ass husband of mine is an Eagle scout. Patches and all.

He hates when I call badges, patches.

This is the last picture taken from the surprise birthday night. It proves a couple things. I was in a club. It was in fact the best night ever.

The Best part?  Unce. Unce. Unce.  You know, like 'clubbin' music'.

Sunday, February 20, 2011

Best. Night. Ever.

So my Dad made up a meeting as an excuse for them to come in town. So much so that a colleague wrote an email, fabricating said meeting so that he could forward it to me.

My Mom has a torn meniscus. The party was upstairs. They had to stay at a hotel because of stairs at our house. They didn't miss it.

I talked to a lot of my friends during the day. No one flubbed. No one wavered. My tweeting-est friend didn't even check in anywhere yesterday.

My Dad mailed pictures to a friend who made these. There are a few unfortunate pictures in there. I suppose we all have them.

I drank out of this. Duh.

No one looks cute crying. I posted this picture because it fully captures my emotions. How blown away I was by the love in the room.

He made it happen. He is amazing.

So I was shocked. And then. 20 minutes after I got there. My brother (who lives several hours away) walked in.

We may look a little bit alike

And then we took a shot. I wish I had a picture of my Mom's proud face while they was going down. The toast went something like this: here's to you, here's to me. Forever friends we will be. But if we ever disagree, then f*#! you and here's to me.

I really don't remember the last time I had a shot. Its been that long. It was fruity. Thankfully.

And we drank. To celebrate 30. Cause he pulled it off. Phenomenally.

I am luckier than I deserve. I have amazing family and friends and who doesn't want to to turn 30 with all of that? Bring it.

Oh, and I got an early present from the baby. She slept 13 hours last night. I slept five. But that's cause I am awesome and drank until 2am.

The Best part? Blessed.

down to the napkins.

I am a master at thank you notes.  I write a thank you note when someone sneezes in my direction.  I write them well and I write them immediately. 

A thank you note just won't cut it this time.

There are moments in my life I will never forget how I felt.   I will never forget how our first kiss felt or how our first kiss as husband and wife felt.  I will never forget what it felt like each time one of our chidlren was born. I won't forget what it felt like to hear that my Mom had breast cancer, nor the elation and relief I felt when she beat it.  Won't forget the gratitude I felt when they caught my Dad's heart blockage. 

I will never forget what it felt like to walk into a room full of my best friends and hear them yell 'surprise!' last night. 

They traveled.  They got babysitters for their kids.  They stayed in hotel rooms.  They had their parents drive into town to babysit their kids in a hotel room so they could come toast me.  They drove hours.  They showed up just 20 minutes after the surprise so they could be an even bigger surprise.  They got dressed up.  They made up elaborate stories about meetings and wanting to spend the weekend with the grandkids, despite being on crutches with a torn miniscus.  They decorated and had a cake made.  They didn't slip up.  Not once.  They coordinated and they glued pictures on posterboard.  They made this almost 30 year old feel like the luckiest, most special person on the planet. 

He did it.  He planned it all.  He's been working on it for months and I don't think he'll ever know how grateful I am.  For him.  For his love.  For how much he cares.  For the work he did.  He opened the bar.  He planned the menu.  He is amazing.  I am without question the luckiest woman around.

I have always wanted a surprise party.  Always.  There are people who don't like surprises, they don't like to be the center of attention.  I am not one of those people.  I have always wondered what it would feel like.  It felt amazing.  I have no words to describe it and for me, that's saying a lot. 

I spent the night in a room full of people who I am so lucky to have in my life.  People who make me a better person.  People who I am thankful for every. single. day. 

I could never (and will never) ask for more. 

So, thank you.  Thank you for the most tremendous surprise and the most amazing night.  Thank you.

It was perfect.  Down to the napkins.

Details, pictures, all the dish, to come.  Get excited.  We went clubbin'.  That's right.  In da club.

The Best part?  They out did themselves.

Tuesday, February 15, 2011

O&R 10 more days in my 20's

Truth. I was on a cradle cap ridding bender Sunday night. Not cause it was bothering her. It s bothering me. I like to pick. Anyway. Put her in the tub and soaked her head in olive oil. Combed the oil and the cradle cap out. Problem is, you should probably wash the hair a few times to get rid of all the oil. She went to school looking like a member of the Jersey Shore cast.

Speaking of Jersey Shore, a recent tweet from my Dad. 'A book commits suicide each time you watch an episode of The Jersey Shore'. I am kind of over it anyway.

Oh and if those a-holes can write a book. So. Can, I. I just need MTV to give me a show so someone will publish it.

If it's not a kid it's the dog. Ever since the skunk incident, he is possessed. And also sick. Waiting for the call about the monster vet bill. Anyone want to buy a dog?

Keurig. Busted. Not good. Had to get out the actual coffee maker. Scoop coffee into it. Spill water into the reservoir. It's not pretty. Or good. I suggested to customer service that they bring me some coffee. They didn't come through.

The new nite lite came! He got up before the 'sun' came up today. But was super excited when he saw the sun come up. Maybe tomorrow.

You know how when you are pregnant your hair doesn't fall out? Mass exodus over here.

Gonna be 58 in the Best's parts neck of the woods. It's practically summer.

The Best part? I got up one time between 10:15 and 6:45 and it was only to out a passy in. Oh and one time cause I thought the dog was gonna hurl. Not bad.

Sunday, February 13, 2011

Observations and Revelations: the day it all melted

That's right. Heatwave. Considered running around naked outside. Decided against it. We like our neighbors.

Date night last night. Pre-planned, I knew nothing of the plans. Didn't even book the sitter. That's a good man.

Italian for dinner and a comedy show. Hilarious. Love to laugh like that.

At dinner a young(er) couple was clearly on a Valentine's night out. Which may have been the eighth date for them. The girl went to the restroom and the guy was asking the waiter to bring her some wine, 'something sweet, fruity'. The waiter was clueless. Enter me. This is where I am pretty sure I have become my mother.  He was asking the waiter.  Not me.  Anyway, I suggest some white zin. Doesn't get much fruitier and I think they were out of Boone's Farm. The guy looks at me and says, 'thanks mam'. This is why I should mind my own damn business. People call you 'mam' when you don't.

Ever been to a comedy club? You don't go for the atmosphere. You go to laugh your ass off. And we did. This was the headliner. We were in line waiting to be seated and he walks in. A (white) couple in their 70's sitting at the bar yells 'Dean! Where are my tickets?!?!'. He got them taken care of but do you ever wonder people's stories? Like how in the hell does that couple know this guy? I do.

Hate dumping (milk). But last night's wine consumption mandated it. = great night.

The toddler slept until 7:15 today. I. Will. Take. It. I will also remove the 'for sale' ad I put on Craig's List.  I am still looking forward to the arrival of this on Tuesday.

Resisted the urge to nap today and hit the treadmill.  Apparently it's time for new gym shorts.  Have any with worn elastic?  I tucked my 10 year old sorority tshirt (the one that says classic on the back) into them and figured it would be fine.  Wrong.  With every stride they were falling off.  So I did what any rational person would do, walked upstairs and put on some new ones, took them off and ran without shorts on.  I know at least one bestie would be proud. 

Super excited about a major 30th birthday present arriving Wednesday.  Promise not to use it wearing aforementioned shorts.

The high temperature all week will not start with a 1, or a 2, or a 3.  It will start with a 4.  We grilled chicken tonight.  Just cuz.  There's something about grilled chicken.

The Best part?  the date night.

Friday, February 11, 2011

Check it out y'all!

I am a guest poster! My first guest post! The ladies over at The Poop Whisperer let me write a little something! How exciting is that?!?!? Made my weekend. Fo sho.

Check it out y'all! You should probably also follow them too!

Oh and fair warning. Cause you haven't read about my boobs enough. It's about my boobs.

Happy weekend, friends.

The Best part? I am a guest poster! That's a blog dream come true!

Thursday, February 10, 2011

My Alarm is 2

I don't know how your kids wake up. In the morning. From a nap. I am unsure of other children's wake up habits, so I can only assume what my child does is normal. We all know what assuming does.

Early. Aside from five blissful days. My 2 year old gets up early. I would like to blame it on the school bus that turns around (read: beep beep beep, 13 times) in front of the house at 7 on school days. I can't. Cause he gets up before the school bus lately. Before any alarm goes off. Before anyone else. And I can feel it. I know when it's coming. I can also feel the days where he is going to sleep until 7 or later. Perhaps I am Miss Cleo.

Anyway. He doesn't wake up talking or playing or laughing. When my toddler wakes up, he moans, yells, and calls for anyone within a 200 mile radius to rescue him. Mommmmmmeeeeee..... Dadddeeeee..... Tuckerrrr.... Yep, he even calls for the dog. Then he gives up on names and just yells. He lays in his bed and just makes loud, annoying noises. Kind of like he is waking up after having a painful surgery. Only he is not in any pain. He is fine.

In his bed with him at any given time is his favorite book of the moment, Woody, Doc, a random matchbox car, and these days a bar of soap that looks like Toodles (we borrowed it from a Disney resort a summer or two ago). It's wrapped up in plastic, not just a raw bar of soap in his bed, that would be weird.

He doesn't play though. Despite numerous requests that he play or just roll over or read a book. He doesn't. Maybe he's forgetful. He also doesn't get out of bed. We are probably to blame for that by putting the fear of God in him when we moved him into the big boy bed. He got out once and bumped his head. This was before he was even two and was way more unstable than he is today. Now he thinks if he gets out without our permission he will bump his head.

There's are shelves of books and toys. I would welcome him getting out and grabbing some books and going to town until 9 or 10 when I am ready to get up (LBS I have not slept that late since the early 2000's). He doesn't though.

I am one of those moms. The kind who immediately changes something when something is wrong or different. So, this is my plan. A) this morning it was like 1000 degrees in his room despite being 2 outside. No one wants to sleep in the desert. Adjusting that. B) I thought maybe he was peeing and waking himself up. That would wake me up. I was wrong. This morning he had to pee when I went in there and HE WENT ON THE POTTY!!! Totally forgave him for waking up with the roosters and fed him 5 M&M's.

Anyway. I know that someday I will be begging him to get out of bed before lunch. And I am not asking for something obscene. I would just like 7. The difference between 6:30 and 7:00 is major. The number 7 says morning. 6 just says too damn early.

So, how do your kids tell you they are awake in the morning? Ae they laughing and giggling? Reading poetry? Reciting Shakespeare?

I should add that when I go in and get him, I am always greeted with a joyful 'hi mommy! How your nap?' which immediately softens my attitude and also reinforces that he. Is. Fine. And could be playing quietly while I catch an extra Z.

I know my Mom will be the first to email me and remind me that I never slept in as a child and that this is payback and they are hell.

Also, I read somewhere that blogs are more interesting with pictures. Giving it a shot. Pun intended.

The Best part? It could be 5am, I guess.

Tuesday, February 8, 2011

Gargling Salt Water

A germaphobe I am not. I am not a crazy hand washer (gasp!). We have hand sanitizer strategically placed throughout the house and use it regularly but not obsessively. I know that I will get sick and I know that my kids will get sick. We will all be ok. Short of living in a bubble there's no way to avoid it. It's not cause my kids go to school. My friends whose kids don't go to school are sick too. So there goes your 'daycares breed germs' theory. I mean, they do, but so does your house.

So. I have bronchitis. Sans a cough which is odd. But I ache from head to toe and I am pretty sure someone set my throat on fire overnight.

BGB still has bronchialitis. I am having an internal debate today. She was better last week and is worse again this week. But. Here's what the nurse will ask me: does she have a fever? No. Is she eating? Yep. Sleeping? Yep. Is she smiling, happy, perfect other than her smokers cough? Yep. Nothing they can do except bill my insurance company again for a third look at the same frigging illness.

And don't worry, I would never ever write something Iike this if everyone wasn't sick. Cannon woke up with a runny nose. Which I am sure will turn into something gross in a matter of days. And the better half is sick too, however, his power of positive thinking is more effective than mine. He's better. I am on a z-pack.

Where was I going with this? Oh right, the part where you might judge me for saying it.

Of course my first choice would be that no one was sick, there was world peace and that my 2 year old loved vegetables. So. Here it goes. I would rather my kids be sick, than me be sick. When they are sick, I can take care of them, I can cuddle them, I can be the super mom that I am. When I am sick, I just can't. That's harder than fighting the sickness. There, I said it. I know I am not alone on this one. Come on out of the closet.

So, here's to de-terming the house. Taking a few naps and working on my second two liter of ginger ale while I wait for the super meds to kick in.


The Best part? I will be better for my first birthday night out this weekend.

Sunday, February 6, 2011

O & R quickie

Love to accessorize. Love to play dress up. Must teach her early.

This one came from a loyal and a sista (like sorority... Naked pillow fights... Fat circling... You get the point). She started an Etsy shop too!

And every bow should be this large. This important. This fabulous. Please ignore the chaos in the background.

The better half is in a competition with the neighbors to see who can get their trash to the curb the earliest on Sunday. Problem is, no on else knows there is a contest. Hope there's a cash prize. He is winning so far.

Was not going to give into this sore throat and achy misery. Now appears I am powerless. Eff.

The Best part? Bows!!!! Big ones!!!

Wednesday, February 2, 2011

Obser and Revel

I find it hilarious when someone posts on Facebook a giant 'thank you' to road crews for clearing streets. Like the guy who drives the plow is your Facebook friend. Really? A shout out is probably not necessary. Or maybe they are your friends? If so. Carry on.

I was pretty sure we were going to lose our roof last night in the wind. Still not sure we didn't.

Schedules are way off. Momma is tired.

Its February which mean its almost March. Thank. God.

Tried to make an appointment for an oil change. They don't take appointments. First come, first serve. He did not care when I said, 'but I have a 2 year old and a 3 month old.'. Wait til he sees the wrath I bring to his waiting room. Maybe we'll go just before nap. That'll show you Honda dealer.

Packaging. Is. Everything. See, if I make a pot of macaroni and cheese, he won't eat it. But if I give him one of those fancy kraft cups of Mac and cheese, he gobbles. Marketing genius.

I bought a vanilla/cookie/cake smelling candle. It is delightful. And makes me want to eat cake constantly. While buying said candle I let Cannon smell them and upon smelling the 'black cherry' flavored one he said, in the middle of the store, 'that smells yucky, like my poop!'. And scene.

Let's vote. Do we like 'Observations and Revelations or are we tired of them? I never spell 'revelations ' right.

Modern Family is following me on twitter. They found me. I didn't find them. If they can follow me, you probably should too (thebestspart). Also, that is a tremendous amount of pressure to be funny. I will be emphasizing quality over quantity in hopes of getting my big break.

The Best part? I got flowers today. :)

Matt and Meredith, I'm back!

My better half gets it.

I may or may not have mentioned that I have a birthday coming up. Oh, I have? Well, anyway. It's now the birthday month. I can celebrate in my head all month long and those who live with me may be subjected to a birthday comment every now and then.

Yesterday was the first day of the big birthday month. Not normally a day I celebrate. But I came home to a kitchen tv. What's a kitchen tv, you ask? A tv for the kitchen. Duh. Here's the thing. I was at the end of my cartoon rope. I could take no more hotdog dances and counting in Spanish with Handy Manny. He saved me.

My 2 year old watches TV. There. I said it. And so does yours. You might not talk about it at dinner parties or playdates. You may be a closet watcher. But if you have a television in your home, your kids watch it. Now, maybe mine watches a tad more than some kids but he comes by it honestly.

I get paid to watch television. To be informed. I am one of those. I am loyal to the TODAY Show. Don't ask me if I saw something on ABC or CBS. I didn't. I am a news junkie. It is important to me to know what's going on where I live and around the world. Why don't I read the newspaper? Well. It's awkward to hold, it's messy, I hate how it feels on my fingers. It goes to press 8 hours before I read it. It's a dying breed. The list goes on. It's not that I don't appreciate more in depth reporting offered by a newspaper. I do. But I would much rather read it on my iPad. Or laptop. It's a generational thing. My Mom and her sunday NYT can't be separated.

I am also a reality tv junkie. And have my weeklys. Grey's, Modern, and a few others. I read books too. Been reading The Help for a solid three weeks now. Yep. Takes me a while to get through them but I do read 'em. Anyway. Television is a part of our lives and that includes the toddler.

He doesn't watch crap. I do draw the line. W only watch Disney Junior or PBS. We don't do Sponge Bob, Phineas and Ferb, or Simpsons. He does get obsessed with one and will only watch it. Right now it's Mickey Mouse. I am over it. He is not.

He has terrific social skills. Is well adjusted and no one will ever call this kid a 'loner' cause he watched too much tv as a child. It's ok. Promise.

So. Best first day of the birthday month gift ever. A kitchen TV. My very own. Love.

The Best part? He reads too. Sometimes all by himself in his room. Or to the dog.