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