Dear #%!# Mini B.
Is it because I didn’t write prenatal blogs about you like I did with your brother?
Is it because I threw caution to the wind this time and ate ham and drank coffee and soda and an occasional (late-term) beer with reckless abandon?
Is it because every kick, punch and cervix bounce over these last nine months didn’t earn you praise, recognition and squeals of WTF-induced excitement?
Is it because your room isn’t totally finished? Or that I can’t just say yes to the name?
WHAT’S THE DEAL, DUDE?! Continue reading
First, let’s discuss some missing details and catch up things because I’ve been absent from this blog, for the most part, for the last nine months.
That’s my Over It face.
I’m due tomorrow.
It’s a girl.
She is still not 100% named.
I have been calling her Mini B because she is baby #2 after Little A and she is showing signs of my bitchiness. Mini Bitch. Mini B. Get it?
I guess that’ll help fill in the gaps. On to business. Continue reading
It started off being exhausted from a weekend in Chicago filled with too much walking, an epic concert, a sorority reunion and a couple otters. Also an amazingly ludicrous meltdown that had a toddler crying, drooling, spitting, flailing and melting from downtown Chicago to Midway Airport, through the baggage check line, past security and all the way to the gate. So that was a fun ending to the trip. But the flight? Mot@#$!f#@$ angel. At least he gave me that. Continue reading
Irish Cupcakes, made with Guinness, Baileys and Jameson. More booze than your average recipe means more delicious for your facehole.
Everyone and their dog has a recipe for Irish Cupcakes, aka Irish Car Bombs. But let’s be real here, mine are going to be the best. Because I add extra booze. If you’re going to put booze in cupcakes, you better be able to #@%$@ taste it and the recipes I started with, well, they just tasted like cupcakes. Not booze cakes. I LIKE BOOZE CAKES.
For the unfamiliar, there are Guinness chocolate cupcakes, Jameson whiskey ganache filling and Baileys buttercream to top it all off. Yeah. I know, right? Continue reading
Well, my $%!#!@ loyal readers who have stuck around, it’s time you knew about what I sort of alluded to with “having much to say this year” in my last post that was forever ago because that’s how I roll now.
Promotion or Demotion? YOU DECIDE.
!#%!#$ Baby Round Two. Electric @%##!ooo. Or something. I don’t know. I only get a half cup of coffee every morning so my creativity is about as awesomely creative as dryer lint.
We announced to our families at Christmas, wrapping a framed picture. Let me tell you, the photo turned out to be not as straightforward as I had originally thought and it took some dear family members way too long to figure it out.
Who know who you are.
Others screamed like banshees before the wrapping paper was off.
You know who you are.
So far the second pregnancy has been much like the first, except with some extra added heartburn and a few nights of not eating dinner after I cooked it because it smelled like feet.
Let me tell you something, however. I do not look like I did before. I’m 18 weeks as of today, and I do not look as glamorously fashionable as I did at 17.5 weeks last time. And it isn’t just because I spend all day in pajamas now.
Just be advised if you only have one kid so far and will someday have a second, people DO NOT LIE about the second popping sooner. It pretty much pops when you conceive. So that’s neat. You almost don’t need to pee on a stick.
I’ll try to get some comparison shots, but that requires getting dressed. And pants. Probably a shower. And makeup. #%$!# you guys, that’s a lot of work.
There you have it.
Is the world ready for #%!$ Baby 2.0? I guess we’ll find out somewhere around July 31!