Check Yourself...

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Every few months we all need to do a little self check. It's almost like Spring cleaning for your mental health. What am I doing with my life? Am I making a difference? Is this it? Should I be doing more? Should I have a better job? Should I be making more money? What is everyone else doing with their lives? I usually write the funny stuff... Lets get serious JUST for today...

You find yourself selling out and straying from what is important to you. You go on facebook a little to often and next thing you know you are social surfing for shit you don't even care about. We get wrapped up in who is posting what pictures of what vacations... who had the most extravagant wedding or children's birthday party. We "check-in" at bars and restaurants that no one REALLY cares about... so why do we do it? We are ALL guilty. I went off Facebook for four months, a couple years ago. It was one of the most liberating things I have ever done... yet... I'm still here...

People... How did we get here? How did our after work routine become... What did everyone else do today? How about what the F did I do to change the world today?????

I am watching a documentary series right now called "Witness"... It's an HBO series that follows photo journalists through four of the most hostile countries in the world. If you have not watched it... please do. It was the perfect annual shock to my system and I was due for some mental cleansing. How the hell can I write about health tips, nap time, make-up and breast implants when Kony is STILL on a murderous rampage across African jungles? I'm not going to give the whole starving children in Africa speech... but imagine if we used our time wasted on social media, educating ourselves on what is REALLY happening on the other side of the planet. My favorite episode is about a french, pregnant, photo journalist, that travels through the jungle of South Sudan, with the Soldiers trying to track Joseph Kony. PREGNANT!! She wanted to share her story with the world... She felt, that there are pregnant women all over the world, that are dealing with far tougher things than weight gain and insomnia. 

Sure puts Pinterest "Nursery Ideas" into a whole new perspective...

http://www.hbo.com/#/documentaries

Scot and I try to do our part. Our restaurant sponsors a ton of local sports teams and we host fundraisers, for children fighting terminal illness in our community. We make monthly donations to human rights groups, we volunteer for Kiwanis Kids and I am an Ambassador for the Dove "Campaign For Real Beauty". I host self-esteem workshops for middle school girls. We talk about the pressure on women in the world to be both thin and beautiful, and things we can do to over come that. 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ei6JvK0W60I

Scot and I watch Fox News together every morning to stay up on current events and what I believe to be our biggest strength as couple... We would give the skin off our backs, to the people in our lives that we really care about. We always try to do the "right" thing and yet somedays we both still feel like we could do more.

So what am I doing with MY life? This whole mommy blogging thing... How is it giving back to the world around me? What is the point? How is this helping others? Am I wasting my time?

I have three friends that have suffered from SEVERE post part-um depression. I have multiple friends that had Colicky babies. I get countless emails from women thanking me for my honesty, and that for the first time ever, they don't feel alone in the challenges of raising children. I have had women I don't even know stop me in the grocery store and tell me that my stories help them find humor in their own. I have friends that can finally speak openly about eating disorders, yo yo diets and battles of self image. I  have some hero's in my life that have survived divorce, colic, miscarriages, rape, and a stroke... 

My friend Little Lisa survived a stroke during the labor and delivery of her son Preston. She is a hero to many of us...

THIS is why I blog... We all have incredible stories that make us exactly who we are supposed to be today.

I write from my heart... The most HONEST place I can. I hope that if I am open, it will encourage other people to be. I hope my imperfections and insecurities will allow people in my life to find peace in their own. Being open and vulnerable is one of the hardest things in the world for me... But then... I think about what we could accomplish if we ditched the hate, the fear, the insecurity and the anger...

Maybe then... all of us women could find the courage to step into South Sudan 5 Months Pregnant... 

You see... If we all had a healthy amount of confidence, courage and a clear head space... Only then as a world can we go on to fight terrorist's and dictators... Only then can we feed hunger and end war... Only then can we end hate crimes, celebrate all of the fabulous gays in our lives and let them get married already!!! Sheeesh America!!!

I will always try to make this world a better place... But for now... I will continue to share my stories and bring as much joy as I can to the world around me.

Laugh, Cry, Love, Read.

Me.

Victoria's Secret

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Raisins. They are natures candy. Except no one really likes natures candy. Its that treat on Halloween that kids put in the "to toss" pile. Raisins were once beautiful, full and supple grapes, that are then dried out, into a disappointing snack.

This is what my boobs have become... A disappointing, shriveled up snack.

I always knew that my pretty boobs would not stay that way forever, but no one told me that after breast feeding my boobs would actually get smaller than before!?!?!? I was never super hung up on boobs. I never really cared that my boobs were small and always loved being able to wear the cute tops with little coverage and support. I always found bikinis that fit and if I needed to fill any boobie voids, there was always Victoria and her little padded secrets.

When I got pregnant I was one of the lucky ones that got big beautiful boobs. It was awesome and then after I had the baby, they got even bigger! I loved it!! I finally got what all the hype was about and actually liked my body better after having a baby. I felt like a woman and was perfectly proportioned.

I stopped breast feeding about a month ago. I woke up one day and just like that, I dried up for no reason at all. It was Kewl for a couple weeks and then all of the sudden... My boobies started to shrink!?!?!?!?!? My once beautiful B-Cups, that went up to D-Cups, are now a Negative-A Cup. Flap Jacks. Or more like silver dollar pancakes. Like the little frozen ones you can microwave from Trader Joe's.

For my birthday I asked everyone for Victoria Secret Gift Cards. I was hoping that Victoria might have some secrets for me. Though... I doubt that this fancy bombshell bra is going to do anything for these Sun Maids.

Victoria... why is it called the bombshell? The only bomb that is dropped with this bra, is the one that drops when you take the bra off! What a disappointment! It's trickery. Some dude thinks he is going home with a pair of C's only to find out that being an A+ is not always a good thing.

My boobies are not all that has changed since my little hormonal shift. My hair started falling out... In clumps!! It looks like Harry and The Henderson's have been using our shower. I texted my hair dresser freaking out. My hair was already pretty thin... Now... It's as though SJ could rock a thicker pony tail than me. I always wondered why moms cut off all their hair... I booked in with Aileen next week to go lesbo and cut off a bunch of mine. If I keep it long I'm gonna end up looking like the Crypt Keeper. I can see it now... The scariest episode of "Tales From The Crypt" ever... featuring my bald head and hideous boobs.

MOM! Put those things AWAY!!!

I asked Scot if breast implants were in the cards for us after kids... He gave me that look... You all know the one I'm talking about... Not mad... Just disappointed. The same look my dad gave me when he busted me drunk for the first time.

"Baby your perfect just the way you are" Scot says...

It's Kewl ladies... I think I'm awesome enough to rock my little silver dollar pancakes... And if I am having a rough day there is always Victoria and her dirty little secrets.

Laugh, Cry, Love, Read.

Me.

A Hungry Hair Day

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Have you ever been so hungry, you have eaten your child's snacks? I'm not talking about apple slices and granola bars. I'm not even talking about gold fish. I hit an all time low this week ladies... I was so hungry I ate my babies Earth's Best First Bananas right out of the jar in the parking lot at Target. Don't judge me bitches. I am still breast feeding. I get so hungry sometimes I make Professor Clump look like an anorexic. Besides, Earth's Best bananas are good... and I would do it again. 

Time is not on my side these days. I started working again part time. I am behind on Blogging... Exercise... Housework... Pinterest... Ect. We have weddings and engagement parties every weekend in September... I have two triathlons that I haven't really trained for and my awesome babysitter has gone back to college. Shit. Proper meals are a thing of the past for me. I am lucky if I eat using utensils. Meals for a new mom are grab and go. Hence why they make squeezable fruit purée. Baby food is a handy snack, and Trader Joes frozen entrees are new moms best friend! 

I booked myself in to get my hair done. For most women this isn't that exciting. For a new mom... this is grounds to toast champagne! I have no child for two hours. I am wearing heels bitches!!! Heels AND accessories!!! The girls at Salon Barberet all look like high fashion models so it's imperative I'm not wearing clothes that are safe to sweat in. So... I'm off. So... I think. Scot is late and the baby is fussy, so I don't have time to have lunch before I leave.

I hit the road already 15 minutes late. I don't even have time for drive through. Another all time low. I did my grocery shopping at a gas station. I run in and fly around the store looking for the healthiest items with "Best Before Feb 2019"... Scary. Trying to stay away from Doritos and Muffins, I opt for Turkey Jerky and Fig Newtons. This was the healthiest thing I could find next to Earth's Best Bananas. I grabbed a couple of each, (reserve snacks for the glove box), 4 big bottles of water and a package of gum. As I am walking up to pay, I realize my leopard print romper, gold accessories and Seychelles wedges might be a bit much for 1pm on a Thursday.  I don't care... until the woman at the till kindly asks me... "Are you on your way to Vegas?".

How do you explain to a stranger your reasoning behind buying a pound of jerkey, fig newtons and enough water reserves for a safe house... you don't. 

"Why yes, yes I am on my way to Vegas"....

 What!?!?! I can't tell the bitch this is how I dress for a hair cut. Besides, I like the sounds of Vegas. Maybe when Aileen is done with my hair I WILL drive myself to the Cosmopolitan for a couple days. I will leave Scot alone with the baby. Don't I deserve it? I will change my name to Kimberlyn Nicolee, cash in my 401-K up in Canada, buy a pack of cigs and I will be 21 years old all over again. Sigh... Oh how I would love to drive to Vegas. But we all know how that story ends. Blisters... A bottle of Advil... A buffet at 4am and the one mistake everyone makes in Vegas... Why didn't I just stay one night instead of two. Rookie move for sure.

I always think about my exciting past life, but then I remember it rarely had a happy ending. You see, when you are lucky enough to have an amazing husband, beautiful healthy baby and a loving home, you are a princess with a fairytale ending everyday. And hey... If you need a little pick me up, some me time and all five food groups, hit Cheveron on your way to Salon Barberet in Redondo Beach. It gave me a normality fix... for now.

Laugh, Cry, Love, Read.

Me

Ground Hog Day

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Ground Hog Day... By far the most terrible movie ever made. The same day over and over and over and over. Bill Murray hit an all time low with this one. Of course no one tells you, this movie is the perfect lead in to raising an infant. The same god dam day over and over and over. I'm still waiting for the first day of Spring and that f'ing Ground Hog to tell me my baby is FINALLY sleep trained.

Get up. Get the baby. Change the baby. Feed the baby. Burp the baby. Coffee (EXTRA strong and EXTRA sugar). Now that I no longer drink Martini's or attend Happy Hours in high heels, coffee is the only thing I have to look forward to... Tummy time, Solids, First Nap, half of a shower and maybe conditioner, pony tail (or really a wet knot on the top of your head), dishes, facebook stalk, baby wakes up.... and so on and so on.

Moms also don't tell you, that you have to completely give up your life to sleep train your kid into a solid routine. Pedicures are no longer in fancy massage chairs with your girlfriends... They are now done at home... manually... with crappy Revlon Color Stay polish. OPI polish is far to expensive when you have to buy Pampers and Similac. OPI doesn't carry the shade "Baby Shit Brown" anyway. Getting to the gym for yoga and spin classes? Ha! Set that stationary up bitches! Cause the only cardio you're getting, is happening during that second nap... And put in those ear phones! Cause if you are teaching them to self sooth and cry it out, the only way, is to pretend like it's not happening.

There are days where my husband gets home and I am still wearing the same shorts and tank top that I not only slept in, but worked out in as well. "Baby, have you not showered yet?" - Scot. It is moments like this, where I would like a large fire hose for my front door. This way, I can just blast Scot when he walks in from work in his fancy suit and clean shaved face. 

Finding things to do to help mix up Ground Hog day is always a process. Yes you can read books, garden, bake, go on Facebook for 2 hours, Pinterest for 3 hours and of course upload photo number 600 of your babies adorable face onto instagram. Watch out with baking. It seems like such a fun creative pastime... THAT MAKES YOU A FAT ASS!  You decide to bake brownies... Next thing you know, you are cutting half slices throughout the whole day. By the time your husband gets home, all that's left, is an empty Betty Crocker box in the garbage. Meanwhile you are convincing yourself it doesn't count because they were low fat and you're breast feeding.

I will leave you with this thought ladies... In the life of a mommy, Ground Hog Day doesn't ONLY happen once a year... But unlike the movie... It does have a happy ending!

No matter what... they eventually go the "F" to sleep.

Laugh, Cry, Love, Read.

Me.

I'm not depressed... I'm "Blue"

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I always considered myself to be a pretty tough cookie. I have never been one for chick flicks and love ferns. I didn't cry but once at my wedding. I don't do "Sweetie" and "Hun" cause people have names... and unless you receive text messages from me once a week or "like" my daily instagram uploads, don't hug me. I'm big on personal space. Hugging and rubbing is for death beds and catholic priests.

I don't know if it's the baby, the hormones, the lack of sleep, or the fact that I spend my days talking to someone that never talks back to me, but I have recently found myself becoming a big softy. I cry over EVERYTHING!!! What is with these commercials during the olympics? All these athletes, and how their moms contributions got them to Olympic Gold!?!? I tear up wondering if little SJ will ever be thanking his mom, for his medals. I don't know what is sadder... the commercials or the fact that my poor son is gonna end up on the mat with gymnasts. We will be lucky if the kid breaks 5'6" on a good day.

I am also having a mental tug of war on going back to work. There is option A) Stay at home with my baby blues and hang out all day with a Teddy Bear that can't form one word, let alone a sentence. Become a professional food source, laundry folder and back yard tanner. Or... Option B) Go back to my job that I loved so much, pay a small fortune for a nanny and spend the next 6 months of my life hooked up to a breast pump. Sounds like I have bad news and bad news. I know a lot of women would die for the option to not have to work. Believe me when I say I am so great full that my husband supports this, but I'm not totally convinced that "stay at home mom" is the dream job I always wanted.

But then... I smell it... The top of his little head in the morning, when I pull him out of his crib... The giggles I get when I raspberry his sticky neck... The first moment he rolls over or finds his new voices and sounds... The way my heart breaks when he is wailing over his first tooth or his second round of shots... And the best feeling of all that never seems to get old no matter how sore my neck and my back are... The feeling of him falling asleep in my arms. The weight of his innocent little world draping over my shoulders.

Sure... I get the baby blues like everybody else. I cry sometimes cause Instagram and facebook are the closest thing I get to a social life. But my little man is the biggest life sacrifice I have ever made. I know when he is all grown up and making the world a better place, the hard times will all be worth it!

Laugh, Cry, Love, Read.

Me

Getting Old On Granville

Vancouver, British Columbia. Quite possibly the most beautiful place on earth. It is a city bustling with local business, lush green parks and mountains white capped with snow. A city full of culture, people and vibrancy. A place that I call home. And if you ever want to completely ruin your heart felt relationship with the city of Vancouver, hit Granville Street at 2am. You would think after 10 years of watching this place go down hill I would have learned my lesson. WTF.

Once in a blue moon my girlfriends and I will get together and go for an exquisite meal in Yaletown followed by a nice Pinot Gris and then usually our beds. Sometimes if we are feeling extra brainless we decide to take our dance party to the final level and hit the one... the only... The Granville Street Strip. WHY!?!?!??

It always seems like a great idea in the moment. Then once you get there and see the grinding teeth,
e-tardasians, angry east indians and super annoying drunk ass white girls with their purses in a circle on the dance floor, you find yourself wondering, why am I here? Why not just hit Celeberties where everyone is super gay and happy? You NEVER hear about angry gays or steroid monkey's on Davie Street. Gay people are far to busy celebrating life, love and rainbows.

My favorite thing about Granville Street is the douchbags and douchbagettes. Last night I had a 12 year old Snookie look alike, kick me and one of my best friends off her "reserved empty bench". Her and her other Jersey Shore cast member wanted to sit their fat asses down and needed a little more room to do so. After we politely left, they storm after us proceeding to ask what we thought was so funny. I realize in this moment they are trying to fight us and can not STOP laughing. I am 30 years old, I am standing in a bar across from two drunk, raging 19 year old girls that want to fight me for a bench?!?!? Of course I'm laughing you tool... that is some funny shit.

Only on Granville Street would you see not one but TWO couples in a bar within 5 feet of each other getting it on with such intent, the bouncer has to ask them to take their porno outside. Only on Granville street would you see 50-100 juice heads in tight white t-shirts that look as though they would be better suited on a 12 year old boy. Only on Granville Street would you wait 45 minutes in the line at Pita Pit while 18 different stumbling fools ask you to bumb a smoke (you can afford a drink at crappy Caprice, but you can't afford a pack of smokes dick wad?)

I spent what I believe to be my last night on Granville Street this weekend. The new block aids make me feel a little like a lovely house cat caged in with a bunch of wild animals.

Ppphhhfff I of course was always the civilized 19 year old that never picked fights, smoked or ate pita pit....

Laugh, Cry, Love, Read.

Me

Baby Bliss

You know the feeling you get at the end of a really long run? The feeling of complete and utter reward? Or the deep clarity and relaxation you find in a really intense yoga class? The feeling you get when your soccer or softball team has just come together in the final half of the game and won the state championship? The same feeling you get after a well earned promotion or that dollar amount in the bank you have been working so hard to save up to? Not one of these feelings, not even every single one of them combined, is as off the charts amazing, as the first moment you look into your children's eyes.

I usually write from humor. I love bringing lightness to my motherly woes. Today, I feel the need to write from the best place possible. My heart...

Everyone says, you can never explain the love you feel, the first time you look at your own flesh and blood. Well... you can't. Everyone says there is nothing more rewarding than becoming a parent. Well... there isn't. Becoming a parent is the hardest, most challenging fucking thing I have ever done in my life, yet some how, some way, my son is the best thing to ever happen to me, my relationships, my marriage and most of all, my heart. Who knew...........

I used to hold onto a lot of things in life. I held onto anger, insecurity, pressure, vanity, and a few other things to say the least. Holding onto this negativity never allowed for TRUE openness, forgiveness and most of all happiness in my life. Since my son, I have never felt more compelled to forgive, forget, love with 110% of my heart, and make sure everyone in my life knows just how much they mean to me. Life is really REALLY short. This never scared me the way it does now.

Before my son, I fought every inch of myself every day. Nothing was ever good enough. I always needed more. I needed to be the best at everything. I was a very honest person, but rarely with myself. I was never good with kids either. I never felt a real connection to them. I was to busy filling this crater void of mine with other things. I partied... A LOT. I shopped... A LOT. I ate or didn't eat A LOT. I exercised A LOT. I worked... A LOT and I demanded A LOT. I was extremely self absorbed and my pitty parties were always population... Me! I would find the best and most self destructive ways to shut out the world. An A+ student at "Fuck-U-1-0-1".

When I met my husband, I had a massive life shift. He got me on the road to becoming a better person, but I had to take responsibility and grab the wheel. I still had a lot of demons and insecurities to battle, before I was ready for life to its fullest. He didn't exactly fix me, but he is like super glue to all my broken parts. He picks me up, dusts me off and we start all over again. Our first few years together were not all that easy. I know now, exactly what I can handle in life. My sister says it best. "Kim, if someone wants to project unhappiness onto your life, imagine how truly unhappy THEY are". Many people in life will try to break you down. There are unhappy people everywhere that want to steal your sunshine. You can wallow in that and be a dark storm cloud, or you can embrace those that love you the most. You can focus on life's little gifts and shine brighter then you have ever shone before! I have lots of sunshine in my life, but there are no two brighter then my Scots. Both with one T!

Sure! Are there days with my son where I would like to drink a bottle of Jack Daniels and stick a large hot dagger in my eyeball!?!?! Of course!!!! Are there moments when my husband is soundly sleeping and the pillow behind my head would serve me better smothering his adorable face!?!?!? Duh!!! But when the three of us are snuggled up in bed and our little man looks up with his gummy grin... our whole world fitting inside of our arms... I have never felt more beautiful, more happy, and more rewarded for anything I have ever done in my life.

My life has become everything I never knew, I ever wanted.


I am not religious at all... But today I will give Baby Jesus some thanks for life's little miracles.

Laugh, Cry, Love, Read.

Me.

Party Rockers

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What I wouldn't give to walk out of my house with a cute little clutch. JUST ONE purse, a tube of lipgloss and an ID that says 24... The glory days! I have 5 friends right now that are pregnant. I tell them all the time to kiss their stylish little hand bags good bye. Because unless their Fendi Clutch has some go go gadget compartment for poopy diapers and 6 changes of clothes, say bye bye to fashionable on the fly!

Every time I leave my house with my kid, I feel like I am packing for Armageddon. Diapers, wipes, extra soo soo's, burp cloth's, hooter hiders... It's never ending! The only thing I don't have with me is canned food and first aid... and that's only because the little bugger doesn't have teeth or the ability to walk yet.

Going out with a newborn is kinda like a ticking time bomb. They are changed, rested and fed, but that's not to say they don't have a complete and utter melt down for no reason at all. "oh he is sooooo cute!"... Yes. Yes he is... Right now. "Would you like to hold him?". This is always my master plan at social events. My window of opportunity to feel human again! Then I have exactly 2.5 minutes to suck back a glass of wine and a crab cake before the kid realizes it's not his mommy holding him. Then like nails on a chalk board I hear it.... The dreaded fuss! Just loud enough for everyone to look. Yes people, he is crying... Get a good look cause as soon as I walk over and hold him again, he WILL stop. So much for that good looking artichoke dip. That shit requires two hands, so now, its off the radar.

My husband is probably the most incredible dad I have ever seen. He is so tentative and helpful when we go anywhere with the baby. I think its because he enjoys the attention more than my baby does. When we go to parties and weddings it's his opportunity to share stories and let cute girls fuss over him and my awesome sauce son. Seriously, I'm not sure which one is cuter and it works to both of their advantage. The best is when he makes executive decisions. We were at a beach wedding a couple weeks ago and he forgot that the sun sets at night. "Babe, where are his pants I left out for you to bring?"-Me. "Oh, I figured he didn't need them because it was hot out"-Scot. Great idea honey, so why don't you take YOUR pants off, throw on a cotton tee when the wind picks up at 8pm and see how that shit feels. Let me know when your penis gets so cold it feels like its gonna fall off, and maybe next time you will pack the child some pants.

When I used to dress up for parties, I based my clothes on things like accessories, weather and what my girlfriends were wearing. Now its... Is it washable? Cause shit doesn't dry clean out of silk, and who has time for that anyway. Are my boobs going to pop out? Or leak? Can my nipples hear a baby cry from across the room? Cause if they can, any breast feeding mom knows.. Your screwed. High heels!?!?!? LMAO! Try carrying 15lbs worth of car seat and baby, accompanied by a 5 pound "Dude" diaper bag in a pair of Jimmy Choo's. Not sexy... Not Comfortable... Not realistic... I tried and I have a new found respect for Victoria Beckham.

We went to two birthday parties this weekend as a family. I did indeed wear some wedges and got a few compliments on the size of my new boobs. My baby fussed a little, but not too much. I ate not one cupcake, but TWO. My husband and I still managed to squeeze in a look of utter lust and love for each other from across the room. We were home by 11pm and what happens after that is well... Private.

I think we're doing okay. Right?!?!

Laugh, Cry, Love, Read

Me

Yogi Baby

Manhattan Beach coined the phrase "Yummy Mommy". Never will you see so many young gorgeous moms, clad in lululemon, uggs and 3 carat diamond rings on their fingers, as you will in Manhattan Beach California.

I have recently started going to a Mommy & Me Yoga class, at one of my fav studio's called The Green Yogi. Moms in Manhattan are like the Mercedes of child care. They are absolutely flawless. They have all the bells and whistles, and they have more "drive" for fitness then Jane Fonda in her gloriest of glory days! These women are not human. They have all had at least one child and they look better than a highschool cheer leading squad.

The instructor Chelsea Welch, who is also a Doula, is built like Malibu Barbie. She has gorgeous long legs, stunning blue eyes and golden skin that probably smells just like the ocean. The studio is brilliant! Let's put the hottest yogi we can find, in front of a bunch of post baby bodies and see if we can motivate. Worked for me. I should put a picture of Chelsea on my fridge as well, and maybe it will motivate me to stop eating ice cream every fucking day.

During the class we prop the babies up on bolsters, hold them up in warrior and even incorporate them into abdominal exercises. This one woman has an 8 month old that easily weighs almost 20 pounds. Warrior is hard enough to hold for three minutes, throw a 20 pound baby into the mix?!?!? These women are machines! I'm from Canada alright yummy mommies?!?!? Up in the great white north we embrace pregnancy weight gain like most normal people and continue to wear our maternity jeans till the child is at least 6 months old. This whole Manhattan Beach "Live Fast Die Fit" Shit is killing me. Forget keeping up with the Joneses. These women leave no room for excuses. They are back to a size zero within three weeks. I was never a size zero so I guess I am shit out of luck anyway.

This one mom, Wendy, who I am sure has angelic in her blood, looks like a greek goddess... and NOT the Big Fat Greek kind. She has long, sandy, flowing hair. Slim arms that reach out like willow tree branches and a tushy you could eat tapas off of. Her baby just chills sweetly underneath her during the whole class. He giggles and koo's at her while she gracefully flows from pose to pose. Its adorable. Meanwhile my baby, who gets terrible gas, is trying to grunt out a fart with his legs up in the air. Like mother like son... There is simply nothing to be done.

If it is good joo joo and motivation you are looking for ladies, go see my gals at the Green Yogi. They have super human yogi powers. They will whip your butt into shape, all while offering you peace, love, glowsticks and herbal tea.

Mom-aste!

Laugh, Cry, Love, Read

The Flat and Flabulous

Yes... I too have lost my ba-dunk-a-dunk. I have heard so many new moms talk about the post baby flat butt. I was SURE this could never happen to me!!! There is a reason why black women love me and now... I'm just another boring white girl who lost her booty.

Post baby body is like a home renovation gone way wrong. I have heard about muffin top and jelly belly. I always had a pretty tight little tummy. Now.... Santa Clause and I have some serious shit in common and I know why the man only comes around once a year. And what is with these boobs!?!? I loved my perky little boobs! Now I have these big sloppy milk sacks that just get in the way when I fold laundry. When it's all over, I bet all I will be left with is empty sacks and cookie nipples.... Milk and Cookies... Awesome.

People tell me all the time I look fantastic for just having a baby. Well of course I do!!! I'm wearing clothes!!!
In hope of motivating myself a little, I decided to take a photo of myself in my bathing suit... Outside... In direct sunlight... Front AND back. This is my own personal form of cutting. The cruelest thing I could possibly do to myself.

I got a series of work out videos for at home, so I can work out in privacy with my Flat and Flabulous little bod. I set little man up with his entertainer, while I set myself up with a trainer! Except my baby spends more time watching me then he does his little noise makers. I don't like it. He looks at me with judgy little baby eyes, and I KNOW he is wondering why his mommy doesn't look like the glistening biotch in the video. Listen kid... Your mom was smok'n hot before you came along, and your not really one to be judging with that pudgy tummy of yours. The only reason mommy works out with you is because you are the only person she knows with more rolls than she has.

I have no idea how much I weigh right now because we have a scale free home. Those machines have the devil inside them. They can make or break an entire day, so we don't ever weigh ourselves. I wanted to go buy one but my husband put his foot down. "You are beautiful!" he says "and you don't need a scale to tell you that!"... Um... Yes... Yes I do... Pleeeeeease!!!

No.

Fine. But he can't stop me from driving to Target tomorrow and hoping on one there!!!

Next... Jeans.

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Me

The Booty Call

Don't pretend like you have never had one. We all know at some random, relatively low point in all of our lives, we have had THAT person.

It is always the 1-2am call or text. Or in some cases of desperation, you just show up to their home in a drunken stooper. You are POSITIVE that this person wants to see you post Denny's at 3am.

Oh! Were you sleeping!?!? Weird! Well... Since I'm here... Wanna have sex?

Booty Calls are like dessert. It is this brilliant idea in the moment. Instant gratification! And then like getting on the scale, the guilt kicks in when your Monday morning is impacted by the number you see. But instead it is on your cell phone under... Dialed Numbers... 14 Times... Shit. Under their phone it of course says, 14 MISSED (AKA Ignored) Calls. Then we ask our best friends how they could let this happen!?!? Like it's THEIR responsibility to take your phone away. Then they tell you they tried, but you went to the bathroom at the bar and proceeded to call from the hadi-cap stall.... 14 TIMES... Fuck.

These people are always the perfect representation as to what is happening in life. We call on people for Booty Calls to fill whatever voids we have in the moment. They are often Narcissistic, Vain, Unintelligent, Douche-y and incredibly sexy all at the same time. Where do you find a Booty Call you may ask? Bars, Old Boyfriends, Old Friends, Bartenders, Bouncers and my personal favorite... Public Transportation. This is when you are in the darkest of dark places.

Why is it so f'n difficult to get these people out of your life? Booty Calls are like skin cancer. You keep going in the sun knowing that it's bad for you and then you need a plastic surgeon to get this horrible growth off your back. A friend of mine, that shall remain nameless, could not stop the booty call. She tried EVERYTHING. She erased his number, deleted him off Facebook, told him to never call her again and yet found herself still calling HIM every other Saturday night after a Roxy Burger and fries. She actually called the phone company and asked if there was a way they could block her from calling his number. "So you want to block your own calls to this person????"... "Yes". "So what your saying is, that you have no will power????"... "Yes". "So can you do it?".

FYI you can't, and for the record, my friend was not the first person to call a phone company with this kind of request. Clearly there are many people in the world that just can't stop the Booty Call.

To all my peeps out there that have found themselves doing the walk of shame at 11am... Heels in hand heading toward an Eggs Benedict... Just remember you are not alone! Hold your head high! Today is a new day! And there are plenty of narcissistic douche bags to go around! You can't hate them... They serve their meaningless purpose!

Amen.

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Captivity

I am being held captive in my own home. How is this possible?

It's like babies have a sick sense of when you are desperate to just get shit done. We will have a great couple of days. Good sleeping, playtime, jogs, errands and BOOM! I am strong armed by an infant. You think your gonna put me down in this bouncer? Think again mommy! I am gonna make you hold me ALL day long! That 5 minute shower you are taking... I am gonna make it extra relaxing and scream the whole time you are in there. And don't you even THINK about moisturizer mommy! That shit is for fancy ladies that wear make-up and blow dry their hair too. I decided as your baby, you don't need it.

Why do we even have nursery's? My baby will sleep anywhere but his crib! Sure we try napping in it, but over night? HA! That comfy chest of mine is a much better idea. Your boobs don't just get bigger to feed. They are pillows for our babies newborn little heads to rest on as well. It will be like a sleepover every night mommy and we can watch daddy sleep soundly next to us cause somehow, some way... He never wakes the F up!!!!! How!?!?! How do men sleep through this!?!?!?

The bassinet is 5cm from the edge of my bed. But for some reason 5cm is just to much distance for my baby to handle. And how do they always sleep with one eye open?!?!? It's like they are looking, watching, waiting.... We tip toe around them trying not to make a peep and then... There goes the other eyeball. The little shit is awake. Sleep training?!??? LMAO! Baby Wise wants me to wake my new born up every two hours?!?!? What mental person wakes a sleeping baby? How about I take five minutes and eat sitting down instead a-holes! I want to meet these women that claim their babies sleep through the night. Then I want to know where they live, so I can leave a flaming hot pile of dog poo on their front door step. (Mary if you are reading this... I love you).

People wonder how I have time to blog. I have an IPhone in my hand, a rocking chair and a baby that doesn't want to sleep anywhere but on my boob.

I have all the time in the world.

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The Hermit

Baby - No Shame No Gain

Now I lay me down to weep. I pray to you Lord, let this newborn go the F to sleep. If I should die before I wake, tell my husband the sex we ONCE had, was super great. Bless this child Lord, for there are times I am SURE he is possessed. It is barley in me some days, to pull it together, and just get dressed.

My child is 1 month old today. I thought I was totally prepared for this... My baby should have a onsie that says "I'm with stupid". No book, no advice, no doctor or nurse can prepare you for the one, the only, the newborn.

I had a goal of making it 6 hours without an epidural in hope that I would have a nice short labor and he would be out fast. IDIOT!!!! 12 hours later followed by an emergency C section... This natural labor stuff never happened. My baby had the cord wrapped around his neck and my anesthesiologist was reading BLENDER Magazine in the OR. "Hey Bro, I know you see this shit everyday, but do u mind reading up on Marissa Miller when my intestines aren't 3 feet away from your face? Thanks Dick!"

When we left the hospital the nurses told me one very important thing... When he latches, DON'T pull him away from your boob. My little guy came out like a shark. He feeds like a Great White who just stumbled upon a lonley sea lion with one arm missing.

Like most women that have a C Section, I had not gone to the bathroom in almost 5 days. The day before we came home from the hospital they pumped me full of laxatives and sent me on my way. The next morning I had a cup of coffee to add a little extra kick. The little guy was hungry so I started his feeding, thinking I had some time. It hit my like a ton of bricks. It was like the scene from the movie Bridesmaids at the wedding boutique. NOTHING was to stop this from happening.

But the nurses told me under no circumstances to unlatch?!?!? I was panicking. I had to take him with me. But I couldn't do this alone?!?!??? "Scot!!!!!!! I need your help!!!". "The nurses told me not to let him unlatch!"
I had to take my baby and my husband in the bathroom with me to unleash 5 days worth of bowel movements.

It was a sight. My husband holding my little baby up to feed and courtesy flushing for me at the same time. "This poor kid has been on the planet for 5 days, and one of the first things he has to smell is your shit?!?!?" Scot says, as he is shaking his head in disbelief. This is as bad as it gets right? For better or worse?

Well he never unlatched and he still feeds like a wild animal.

Next on my list of discussions....

Projectile Baby Poop.

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Me

The Uprising of Christ

So my mother in-law has begged me to stop swearing so much in my blog posts. Bless her Catholic little heart, this may be the most offensive thing I could write. But don't worry mom! No F Bombs in this one, I promise. She can't understand how I can speak of my unborn child using profanity. I think she just forgets what it's like to be pregnant. Love You!!

My baby is due on Easter Sunday. The day Jesus rose from the dead, to forgive us for all of our sins. I am not really religious, so it didn't even occur to me how much cool factor this could add to my child. In all my selfish discomfort, I never realized that Scot Jr has been holding out on us for a grand entrance! The uprising of Christ?!?! How fitting little man! You are so smart! How cool would it be for JC and SJ to have something like this in common?

Passover starts today so this could mean big news for my friend Rachel. If he is born some time in the next week he will be just like the biblical children of Isreal. It also celebrates the passage of freedom for all people. This is great news for my vagina Roderman! It will finally be free. I do love your Cookie Dough Cupcakes that you made last Passover, and Jerry's Deli Matzah Ball Soup?!?!! I haven't had either during my pregnancy so maybe its a sign I need to waddle my butt down there in honor of Paschal.

Wether you are Jewish, Catholic, Christian or a Buddhist Monk like me, Namaste! If he comes today, tomorrow, Sunday or next week, this little dude is coming with a purpose! I hope he too will forgive me for all of my sins, just like Baby Jesus. I am sure my mother in-law will give me a whole rosary after this post. Don't worry mom, your son already asked for SJ's baptism, I am happy to welcome him into the Church of Scientology.

Happy Easter!

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Facing The Music

My husband and I have always wanted to write our story. How we met, fell in love, and started our lives was well... kinda hard to believe. My brother in-law said it best at our wedding, "Nobody meets their dream girl in Vegas". Vegas is for getting hopped up and making bad decisions, not for important life choices that can turn your world upside down.

I was on the plane home and my best friend says to me, "you can't stop thinking about him can you?". No... I was a hot mess. I was coming down off a three day bender with no shower, no sleep, no mini bar and no god dam movie in flight. He was ALL I could think about. I had the best conversation of my life, with the most incredible guy I had ever met and as far as I knew, what happened in Vegas was staying there.

I opened my email when I got home. "Best conversation I have ever had." - Scot

Crap. I knew what this meant and I was absolutely terrified. It was a grossly complicated situation and the last thing we ever wanted, was to hurt anyone involved. It was just a conversation in Vegas, but neither of us could let it go. It was time to respectably end our relationships before it went any further. It was the hardest thing I have ever done till this day. It would have been so easy to stay, but it was for the best and I know that now. Our relationships had both been over for some time. But neither parties wanted to self reflect and face this. So many people live in routine and comfort, instead of asking themselves, "Am I truly happy?". Our friends and family thought we were high on glue! Maybe we were, but we took a few weeks, did what we had to do and supported each other through the process of ending both of our relationships. We decided to give it some time and meet for a cup of coffee 1 month from the day we met. It was the biggest leap of faith either of us had ever taken... Blind leading the Blind.

We referred to it as the "meat cleaver". It was like knives in my stomach every time he would text, call or write. It was the most vulnerable state I had ever been in. This guy could bail at any moment and I was so scared that my fate of happiness was in someone else's hands for the first time ever. I had always made safe, smart and secure life choices. I had heard the phrase "better to have loved and lost, then to have never loved at all". Until my husband, I never understood this. I still look at his little face and am great full for every minute that I get to love him.

What if he changed his mind? What if he was to scared to leave her? What if he wasn't who he claimed to be? What if that awesome conversation we had about our dreams, goals and life aspirations was just a scheme to get me in the sack? Sh*t he could be a serial killer for all I knew! It was Vegas!?!?!? Was I insane!?!?!? How could I end a 5 year relationship for some dude I met in Sin City? I couldn't explain it to anyone and frankly for the first time in my life, I didn't care what anyone was thinking. I HAD to see him again.

What better place to meet for a cup of coffee then the birth place of Starbucks?

Seattle.

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40 Weeks

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If a woman murdered someone in her last week of pregnancy, she could totally plea insanity. No jury would ever convict her. That would just be mean. I am almost 40 weeks and you could commit me, no problem. I am ready to kill someone and my goal of a natural labor is sounding less and less interesting.

The last week of pregnancy is like solitary confinement. You don't want to be around anybody. You don't want to put on clothes, but, you don't want to be naked either. The T-Shirt I have on right now says "Beefy" on the tag. It's not even a Hanes "XL" it's a Hanes "Beefy" T-XXL. The largest T-Shirt size that Hanes makes. My in-laws stopped by last night to say hi, and I didn't even have it in me to put on some pants. Just my "Beefy" T and a Blanket. I actually had an out loud conversation with myself over the weekend... "Kim, put down the bag of Cheetos... No... I want them. Kim, PUT DOWN the bag of Cheetos!!!" Fuck. Fine.

I have been really healthy throughout my whole pregnancy. Up until two weeks ago, I walked, jogged, did yoga, bar-method and even wore high heels to a few parties. I figured this kind of lifestyle would help promote a smooth labor and maybe even help him come a little early. No such luck! My Doula (AKA My Angel) gave me a list of things to try, to help induce labor. It has the usual things that people tell you to try. Pineapple, Tea's, Squats, Sex and Spicy Food. I have tried it all. There of course is swinging on a play ground, nipple stimulation and my favorite.... Swallowing Semen!?!? I am just trying to imagine myself down at Rec Park... on the swings... breast pump attached... giving my husband a blow job. I am sure this would go over real well with all the kids getting out of pre-school.  Who comes up with this shit?!? It had to be a dude! Only a man would come up with "swallowing semen" as a way to induce labor. So not only do we have to carry the kid for 9 months, but we have to give more blow jobs now as well? 

This day in age you don't need to do much research on labor, delivery and pregnancy. This is because EVERY woman feels it to be her dying right to share her story with you, wether you ask her, or not. "You HAVE to get an epidural"... "You HAVE to do it natural"... "You HAVE to get a C-Section"... "Just get induced!!"... I have heard EVERY birth story you can imagine. I don't tell you what to do with your vagina, so unless I ask you, how about you back off of mine. Every pregnancy, birth and baby is different. Just cause you read every book on babies, doesn't make your vagina or your baby the "Happiest On The Block" biotch.

And if one more person tells me to go for a walk....

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Amazing Asians

Have you ever noticed that Asians are good at absolutely everything? They are like little super humans that advance everything in the world to the next level. People ask me what I miss most about my home town of Vancouver, BC. That's easy... I miss my asians.

I took an economics class in college and one of the first things I learned, was how dependent the rest of the world is on Asia's Economy. They make EVERYTHING! Cars, toys, weapons of mass destruction, cameras and where would we all be without Hello Kitty? Hello Kitty makes everything in life a little more interesting. There is a reason why when you flip something over, it says "Made in China"... cause they are really good at making shit!!!!

Take cars for example. I know everyone is all, "God Bless America", but do I need to compare a Ford and a Honda? Honda's are like Chuck Norris... They never die!!! They don't break down, they go in for "tune-ups". My sister left her 1980 something civic in my parents driveway for over a year with a dead battery and a leaking roof. It sat through rain, sleet and snow with a big blue tarp on it. She takes the dam car to the shop, gets a new battery, gives it a little vacuum, and the thing is motoring around town like a fucking brand new Ferrari!

Asians are the only people that can make a sport like Badminton look extreme. They dominate golf by the age of 14 and there is always an asian on an olympic podium. They have super human strength. My massage therapist is 90lbs soaking wet, and she can throw an elbow into my back like it's Lamar Odom behind me. She always has some ancient chinese pressure point and no one seems to know what the hell is in Tiger Balm, but it cures EVERYTHING! The one tall asian that came out of that continent is a bad ass basketball player and the only reason they don't have a National Football and Hockey League is because concussions make you stupid. Asians value their people and brain cells far to much for such neanderthal behavior.

I am positive my friend Allison was asian in another life. Allison is a white as it gets. But she just loves those asians. When I ask her why she love's them so much, she can never really tell me. Her husband is asian, she drives a Honda, when she graduated college she lived in Japan for a year and I know when she gets up in the morning, the first thing she does is throw up a peace sign. Though Allison is a stunning blue eyed blonde, so it doesn't really apply, you know her kids are going to be gorgeous. Asians are just hot people and they always produce more hot people. An Asian could have sex with a Troll and the baby would come out good looking.

Last but not least, one of my favorite movies of all time. Kill Bill. This movie brought my respect for Asians to a whole new level. You think Lucy Liu is all quiet, composed and coy... then she comes along, and chops your head off with a samurai sword. And the Crazy 88?!?!? I spent months after seeing this movie looking over my shoulder thinking one of those little fuckers was going to get me. Asians aren't just smart, but they are super fast, have great balance and wear little wooden shoes that can take your eyeball out with one flick of a heel!

Though I could go on forever about my little photography loving friends, I shall say Sank U! For you always make my life, a little more happy!

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Sticks, Snails and Puppy Dogs Tails...

When I first started thinking about children, I of course imagined I would have a girl. A little angel! She would be a spitting image of me with strawberry blonde hair and freckles. She would have a fiery little temper and be the funniest chickadee around! Duh!?!? I would teach her about life, love and self worth. We would have tea parties with frilly pink hats and the Queen of England would always make time to stop by. Sigh... It was going to be just peachy.

It never crossed my mind, that I might have a boy?!?!? Boys are smelly and muddy. They throw things and somehow turn everything they get their hands on into a Sword or a Starwars Lightsaver. They have wee wee's that spray at you, and the only bubbles I will be having in my bubble bath, will be from their little boy toots. What do you mean I am having a f'n BOY!?!?!?

EVERYONE thought it was going to be a girl. Especially me! We already had 5 boys in our generation of family babies... It was time for a girl. When the ultra sound technician said "boy" my poor sister-in-law started crying. Excuse me?!?!? Why are you crying? Your not the one he is gonna pee on? As we all love her little boys SOOOO much, the thought of one more dirt digger was just to overwhelming for her. My husband has a photo of my face when the words came out. I look like someone just told me my childhood pet passed away. I decided that I needed to some how spin my attitude, as dressing the little guy up for tea parties, wasn't going over well with my husband.

I was hanging out with my nephew Breadon one afternoon and him and I were chatting about what he is most looking forward to in life. He of course said things like Legoland with his Granny, Riding his bike, College... Wait? What? College? "I want to go to UCLA like Uncle Scot". Oh! FYI my nephew is quite possibly the most brilliant child you will ever meet, and only he would be thinking about college at the tender age of 6. I shared with him that he didn't have to go to school in California. That he could go anywhere he wanted. New York, Texas, Washington... Places with snow, mountains, cities, his options were endless. Then... he said something that completely changed my thoughts on little boys. "But if I go to college far away, it will cost me tons of money to fly home and see my mom everyday after school". My heart melted. Little boys love their mommies this much?

So I start asking around. Apparently the bond between a mom and her son is that of which no father can ever comprehend. Little Boys ALWAYS want their mommies! Little boys eyes light up, just by their mom walking in the room. They always want to snuggle and story time before bed is with mom... not dad. Hmmmm. I kinda like the sounds of this. A little dude that is gonna love me forever? No matter how I look, feel, age?!?! What?!?!

This could be the greatest thing ever....

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Targette

I used to use Target as birth control. If you are ever contemplating getting pregnant, go to Target on a Saturday afternoon. You may decide to snip your husbands balls off and burry them with Jimmy Hoffa.

When I was in my early 20's Target used to be this wonderful place where I got my weekend accessories, fancy nail polish and sassy lipstick shades. A great place for me time. With my work schedule, I always missed the Saturday/Sunday crowds. You go into Target for one thing and you come out with half a paycheck's worth of shit you don't need, but somehow justify buying. Sometimes, if you are lucky, you can even score a great pair of rip off Massimo Shoes and sunglasses. Don't hate! The shit's gonna be out of style by the 5th wear anyway?!?!? I used to spend hours of my life wandering around Target's health and beauty section and their bathing suits were always a great buy!

This weekend, in a desperate state to get any last minute things before I go into labor, I went. 

WHY!?!?! People fighting over parking spaces like a final chapter in The Hunger Games. There are screaming children everywhere! There are poor moms and dads, that look as though a morning shower and a little me time was clearly out of the question. Women who I am sure, were once clad in designer clothes and great summer wedges, are now in ball caps, saggy sweat pants and Uggs. lululemon athletica ladies?!? Your bum does not have to look like that! Diapers... Do you know how much these things cost? Diapers cost enough money, to make any hard working parent go sterile!!!! Dreft Baby Detergent could EASILY be a 2002 California Chianti. The bathroom trash, that is full of used diapers, from 100 different babies, smells so bad, I can't even make it 5 minutes to tinkle. My favorite... The 23 year old boys that heard some wives tale about Target being a great place to pick up chicks. Go to Sharkey's you little shits! The yummy mommies are here on business!

I still end up spending a small fortune, but none of it is for me?!?! $200 later I have a few home goods, some deodorant and a trunk full of baby. The bathing suit section makes me contemplate suicide and I doubt my little guy cares wether or not I breast feed with this season's latest chandelier earring. Health and Beauty is wetones, hair ties for the awesome pony I have been rock'n for 6 days, nipple cream, epsom salts for my swollen feet, and my case of diet coke that I used to cherish so dearly... is now Apple Juice to help relieve constipation.

Sigh... I was hot once... I swear.

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Knocked Up.

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Have you ever tried to shave your crotch when you can't see it? Good luck with that! I have been trying for 3 months. The reason this has become such an event for me, is because there is a 6 lbs baby in my stomach blocking my view. I have had nightmares about this. I never wanted to be like the women in the 1980's Birthing videos with a big bush. They ruin the birth experience for everyone involved, including the poor child. Imagine coming into the world and the first thing you see, is a fluffy over grown vagina. No person at any age needs to see this. So I made a vow that no matter how pregnant I get... I shall always be trimmed up and ready to go. This is probably a lot of information for a person to handle, but when you get knocked up, you pretty much loose all that is sacred.

Before pregnancy I had a beautiful flat belly and a firm butt that you could rest a coffee cup on comfortably. Now, I don't really know where my back ends and my butt begins. My once pretty lace underwear is stretched out and full of holes and a Saturday night out for me is the ice cream isle at the local super market. Where did I go?!?!? "It's all for the baby!" people tell me. "Just let go and embrace this beautiful time" people tell me. "Don't you just love being pregnant? I would be pregnant all the time if I could"... Are you fucking insane? I know the out come of this awesome little dude, is going to be worth it, but can we be honest here ladies???? Wine is really fucking good.

Months 1-3 make your worst hangover seem like a refreshing day at a spa. You cry, like every day is a funeral, and the supermarket smells so bad, it is like stepping into a rotting butcher shop. Months 4-7 are not bad, but who are all these imbeciles that think they can just come up to you and rub your belly? Excuse me... but we are all educated on personal space at a very young age. How about I rub your face? Would that be appropriate? And don't get me started on the third trimester. Your vagina feels like Derek Jeter just had batting practice on it. Your nose bleeds like you have a coke problem and there is someone inside of you that thinks it's SUPER funny to play the conga on your rib cage.

There was a two week period, where I thought I was going to really miss being pregnant. Idiot. I now have 3 weeks left and I am thinking about getting on my nephews trampoline to see if I jump hard enough, maybe the little guy will just drop out of me.

I can't wait for breast feeding. FML.

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What Happens In Vegas...

My husband and I met in Las Vegas. People either think it's the coolest thing ever, or they get all judgmental on my ass. Its awesome! This is because they ASS-ume that my marriage started with the greatest one night stand in history. Though I personally would take that as a compliment, clearly being the best lay my husband ever had, this is not how it went down.

My friends and I have a nick name that floats around. Party Beast. This is the alter ego that steps in for us when Party Animals are just not pulling their weight. Some animals are to tame and you need the enforcements of a fully fledged BEAST. If you want to learn how to party, just come hang with me and my BFF's up in Canada. We have shooter recipes that can make you loose feeling in your face.

Vegas is one of our favorite places in the world. In my day to day life, I would never call myself vain, but when I am in Vegas, I humble the Kardashians. I spend weeks warming up my feet for the highest of heels, my skirts are more like headbands and the perfect pairing to my morning coffee is fake eyelashes. Wait, that's a lie, thats just my make-up from the night before.

The weekend I met my husband, I had a dance off with a Cirque De Soleil cast member on the roof of Pure Night Club. I was attacked by a group of middle aged, lesbian swingers that gave cookie nipples a whole new meaning. I taught an Asian how to tango in a piano bar, and I have pictures of Elvis Presley doing Shake Face (Shake Face is a whole other blog). It was a wonderful weekend.

On the last night of our annual trip, we end up in our hotel hot tub drinking beer and eating pizza in the pouring rain with a group of guys from El Segundo. This place did not sound interesting to me at all. The last to join our hot tub party... Hot Scot with one "T". My husband was quite possibly the most beautiful thing I had ever seen in my life, but quite possibly one of the cockiest men I had ever met. I was smitten. Effortlessly good looking, with an ego... I had met my match! You could cut the sexual tension between us with a butcher block and knife. But there was something else there... something much deeper. Once we let our ego's go and dropped the one liners, we realized this was it. This was not some random hook up to be had in the pool at Rehab... this was the person I am supposed to spend the rest of my life with. Crazy?!?!? Right?!?!? "It was the alcohol" I said... "It was just pheromones" I said... but after watching the sun come up together by the pool and laughing about love, life, family and friendship. I realized... my 5 year relationship in Canada was over... and so was his. How do you tell your current partner, you just came face to face with everything you have been missing in your life? We had to, but had no idea where to begin...

A cup of coffee...

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Mayberry

You have to have lived in El Segundo, to understand the depth of humor found in this small town. NBC could easily produce a reality show about this place and most of all the people in it. Don't get me wrong, there are GREAT people in El Segundo and it truly is the perfect place to raise your family. It just takes an immigrant like myself, to be able to put things in perspective for the natives I love dearly.

There are a few things you need to know about people from El Segundo. People from El Segundo, don't like to leave El Segundo for anything. They don't like to pay more than $3.00 for a Coors Light. Chevron Vouchers are a status symbol. You could start a very large college fund with all of the money that El Segundo locals loose in street sweeping tickets and Varsity Baseball is a RELIGION. By religion, I mean high school baseball players make the strictest muslims in the Taliban look forgiving. The police in El Segundo are so nice, they will often drive you home from the bar after a night of drinking and its the only place in the world left, where you can leave your bloody door unlocked.

My favorite thing about El Segundo is how the men all import their women. It's not because there isn't awesome girls here, but chances are if you grew up in El Segundo, you or someone you know has either dated or slept with them. This doesn't leave anyone many options. There are enough El Segundo imports to start a beer garden. We could easily name the next Rock'n Brew Tap list after all of us. Leffe Browns, IPA's, Blondes, Pale Ale's and completely Unfiltered! Clearly... I am one. We are from all over! Philly, Ohio, Canada, San Diego, Seattle, Georgia... you get the picture. The reason why we all end up HERE, is because men from El Segundo suffer from separation anxiety. I have seen 3 year olds have an easier time giving up their baby blankets, then guys giving up Gundo.

As I said there are some pretty amazing women from this town. A few of my closest friends grew up here. Just like other South Bay locals, they like their rainbows, their beer, their bars and their breakfast joints. If you want to fit in, don't you DARE go to Good Stuff. Wendy's Place Cafe is where you will find these homegirls, and if you ever talk shit on Jose and his omelette, they will probably chop your balls off. It usually takes them a little while to warm up to you. But this is only because most of the guys they hang with, have brought around 10-15 deficient dumb blondes before you with a IQ of about 70. It's really not their fault.

My husband and I have recently moved to Del Aire. This little neighborhood is about 5 minutes from the border of El Segundo.... A WHOLE other posting!

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