Married with Children: Let's Leave it at That

{A} Son of Anarchy

2013-12-05T18:27:00.000-05:00

Since my fingers are getting chubbier by the day and I soon won't be able to type without stroking 4 keys at once, I had this get this post out while I still could.

I have to start this by bringing you back to the girls' first day of school this year, which was no different than the last. In front of me in the school yard were the quintessential Stepford parents, performing the dual-parent drop-off: dad holding the camcorder filming Little Timmy walking into school with his empty, oversized backpack and spankin' new BPA-free lunchbox. Mom is walking alongside, fighting back tears while asking questions like, "Are you excited to start school?!?! Are you going to make lots of new friends?!?" Meanwhile, I'm comin' up from behind in a full sprint, arms fully extended dragging Madie and Lea's hands to make them hustle as fast as possible. I, on the other hand, was so excited for their first day that I barely remembered to pack them a lunch. Or put on a bra.

We walk into the building, do our usual chest bump and head off in separate directions. My girls love school. I'm guess I'm lucky that they ~~can't wait to get away from me~~ don't have any separation anxiety. It's healthy and it goes both ways. Doesn't mean I love them any less than the parents who stand around and sob until morning snack time. It's just the way it is.

This all brings me to my next ponderence... Would I react the same if I was dropping off my son(s)?

We're all aware of the creepy bond some mothers share with their sons, and the parental favoritism that girls have for their dads, which can often translate into "daddy issues" later in life. I'll say it, I have some. I'll save the details for my therapist, but you know what I mean. Be careful throwing stones in this glass house.

I know that this can be a touchy realization for some, but do moms feels a more "special" bond with their sons than their daughters? I know mothers love all their kids equally, but do they like some more than others? I always want my girls to be more independent and do their thing. They know I have their back, but I don't "baby" them at all. Some days the drama gets so intense that I wonder if I could mentally survive 2 more girls.

Josh is always warning me about how different I would be if we had a son. He thinks I would be that mom whose son can do no wrong, and whom I will never let date or move out. I adamantly deny this claim, but I often wonder things like:

Will I be more inclined to use a wipe warmer on my infant boy?
Will I happily cut his sandwiches into shapes? Or at least just cut off the crusts without huffing and puffing?
Will I always be the last to release from a hug?
Shed tears on their first day of first grade?
Stare at him while he sleeps?

As preparation for our babies' arrival, Josh has already been more protective of his potential son(s). He's done everything from encouraging me to ~~not gain 100 lbs~~ stay in shape to promote a healthier pregnancy, to forbidding me to ice skate, fearing this his boy(s) would come out of the womb with a bad stride.

I hope that I'll be able to share the outcome of my potential creepy ways if I have a boy. Until then, I'll just keep washing the boy clothes I do have with Dreft, just in case!

Ame's Rules

2013-10-15T10:00:00.000-04:00

Sssshhh....I'm blog bombing Amelie without invitation or permission. Luckily, I'm on the other side of the world so she can't beat me until I get home. I'm hoping by then it will be easier to elude her assaults , since she'll have a baby boy on each tit. Yes, they are both boys btw...I can feel it. Can you say "tit" on this blog? It's been so long I forget the rules.

Speaking of rules, our marriage seems to have adopted some new ones. I'm just getting up to speed myself but it seems that Rule 1-A now reads: since Josh is in Russia playing with his friends for 8 months, Amelie assumes the right to make any and all major decisions/purchases for the family, and has absolute veto power in any matter.

Here are some examples:

1.) Naming the twins. Although Amelie "respects my input", and " appreciates" the fact that since I don't have brothers, my son will be the only person to carry on the Hennessy name, she reminds me that Moscow is a long way from the hospital in Providence, and in the event I can't make it there in time for the delivery, she will be forced to choose names she sees fit.

2.) I first heard about our new minivan on this blog.

3.) Amelie bought her dream house last spring. While I was still in Russia. Before I had ever seen the place. I remember the conversation like this:

me: hey babe, the team offered me a 2 year extension. I know its hard being apart for so long. do you think we can do....

Amelie: does that mean we can buy a house?

me: maybe. we can start look....

Amelie: good. I made an offer on a place in East Greenwich. The agent said there was another very interested buyer so I offered double the asking price just to be sure we didnt lose it.

Me: Where is East Greenwich?

To be fair, she did show me a picture, and she lets me stay there in the off-season, provided I come straight home after golf, and I never cross the center line of the bed. It's not an imaginary line--she stitched it into the sheets. Rules is rules.

My Big, New V.

2013-10-03T10:00:00.000-04:00

There are a lot of things I said I would never do as a mother. As time goes on, I've gone against most of them. For example: my kids' breakfasts on most days is one that requires microwaving or toasting, 75% of their snacks probably contains high fructose corn syrup, I feed them vegetables mainly when other people are looking, I allow TV to entertain them a lot, I hide from them to shove candy and chocolate in my mouth at rapid speed so that I don't have to share, and I sometimes let them fall asleep in my bed when ~~I need a barrier from Josh~~ I am too lazy to bring them upstairs and read a story. Oh, and another thing, I never leave a wounded cocktail behind at restaurants no matter how badly-behaved or disruptive the girls are being.

Ok, I realize that the above list was waaay longer than it needed to be, but once I got going it was kind of exhilarating. I hope you didn't get all flustered. If you did, just calm down and remember that this is a judgement-free zone.

Classic.

The biggest thing I swore up and down I would never do is drive a mini van. My mindset was that I would rather give up wearing make up and a bra in public for the rest of my days, than drive a minivan. I'll go with unpainted toenails for the rest of my life before I get behind the wheel of one of those things. I also never planned on having more than 3 kids, but life happens.

Moments after I found out I was pregnant with twins, my hands got clammy thinking about our vehicle situation. I was getting comfortable with the idea of squeezing 3 carseats in the back seat of my Jetta, and I really didn't see the need to give it up quite yet. That car's been like a sister to me and we've been through so much together.

Reluctantly, Josh and I had a sit down about it. He made it quite clear that if we went the minivan route, he was never going to drive it, and if he was ever in a situation where he had to get in it, he would only sit in the way back seat with a bag over his head. We floated the idea of getting a Suburban or one of those larger SUV's with a 3rd row, but they're way more expensive and guzzle tons a-gas. When discussing the idea with our so-called "friends", they judged us immediately, threatened never to speak to me again, and advised me to "just go chop all my hair off" while I was at it.

I ended up buying a minivan. I HAD TO!

Sure, it's way more practical. It's true, the kids can watch a movie while we travel from home to Target. Yes, all the doors open with the click of a button. There are 182 cup holders. Blah blah blah. Whatever. The poor sales guy at the dealership could see how depressed I was during our test drive, and attempted to make me feel better by boasting about bluetooth capabilities, 1-CD changer, power windows and locks. I would have drooled over those features in 1991, but who gives a crap?!?! Does it come with sedatives in the center console ?!?!?!

The mini van has completely changed my style. Not that everything revolves around my swag, but I'm still in my twenties and let's face it, no one looks twice at the woman driving the mini-van. I'm not ready to throw in the towel! When I had my Jetta, I had the pleasure of whipping around places blasting Sirius XM's "Hip Hop Nation" out of all four windows. Now it feels awkward. I just have my massive windows in the front half way down and cruise to easy listening music, unless a kids' movie is on the DVD player and I can't figure out how to not have it come out through all speakers.

One perk is that I get honked at waaaay less than before. I think there's a certain understanding that when a woman is driving a van, she has nothing but good intentions and we all want to give her a break. She didn't mean to cut you off or not use a blinker. She doesn't realize she's in the fast lane driving 65 mph. She's obviously tired from all the bake sales, soccer practices and pinterest projects she's been doing with her kids. The young lady with the disheveled hair and 2 kids in the back of her Jetta just has no excuse and needs to smarten up.

The Science Behind the Belly Pics.

2013-08-20T19:31:00.000-04:00

One thing that has kept me busy throughout this pregnancy thus far is having to make a note every 4 weeks or so on my blank calendar to take the dreaded "belly pic". This is a great way to document the deterioration every month, to then only weep when looking back at my 16-week pregnant body, willing to sacrifice anything to get it back.

So let's face it: a lot of work goes into this belly pic. Or should I say, some work should go into taking your belly picture. I'm sure most pregnant women simply have their partners snap brutally honest pictures of their pregnant state from the floor looking up, but that's for the birds. Have fun looking back on all your unfiltered pictures and all your chins.

No.

I take much more comfort in fooling myself and everyone else into thinking I look way better than I really do. Plus, I want to look back on my pregnancy pics and ~~have everyone else~~ think, "Dayum, I looked good pregnant."

For me, the typical, run-of-the-mill shot involves, but is not limited to, the following steps:

1. A shower within the last 12 hours. (Save your greasy hair for when you actually have the child(ren) and can no longer shower long enough to thoroughly rinse your conditioner).
2. Taking the photo as early in the day as possible. (Later in the day = more eating, increased bloating, larger stomach).
3. A self-tanner application. (A tan is a chubby girl's best friend).
4. A full blown make up application, made to give you a natural day look. (You don't want to look like you tried, but seriously, try your hardest).

Once I'm physically ready, it's all about finding the cleanest mirror in my house - the one with the least handprints, stickers, and Toaster Strudel jelly smears. I also want to appear like I maintain a clean home, while being pregnant with twins, having 2 other kids and looking effortlessly gorgeous. As if it's all so easy and dandy.

Then, the fun begins. I lock my bedroom door so no one walks in as I practice my smile in the mirror. I start with my arm up as high at it will go before dislocating it from my shoulder, and angle downwards. This helps eliminate some chins and make me look thinner. Next, I suck in as much as I can so that when I post my "8 week" announcement picture, no one really has to know that I've looked 5 months pregnant since the day I found out. Remember, the goal is to look back on these pictures and convince myself that I really didn't look as bad as I truly did. I have no interest in accurately documenting my expanding self.

When my battery phone starts to let me know I have less than 10%, it's time to sit down and review the 15-30 pictures. I narrow it down to a few, and use a photo editing/filtering app to see if I can work even more magic. I'll save 2 that I like, and stare at them until I find what I feel is the most flattering one.

Final step - post on social media - because that's truly why we want to take pictures of anything anymore.

8 weeks paired with triceps flex.

12 weeks with muscle-defining filter.

I know that after exposing all of my tomfoolery and trickery I shouldn't try to advise anyone else on how to take pregnancy pictures, but real quick: please be aware of your body angles and surroundings when snapping these shots. Take the 3 extra seconds to get the kids out of the background, pick your dirty clothes off the floor, and if your bathroom is the only place with a decent mirror, just be aware that we can see your toilet in the background.

Springtime Seeds.

2013-08-09T07:29:00.001-04:00

Being the insatiable, type-A personality who always wants more and constantly needs a project or something to stay busy with, I finally convinced Josh that another child was in order. Per the powerpoint presentation I made, here are some of the reasons I used to sell my idea: our youngest child is 3, I still have some good eggs left, I like things in three's, I'm done with school, I can't work full time with him being in Russia. Getting knocked up was the next best thing.

We've also recently purchased a new home, which translated into daily, thrilling trips to Home Goods. I finally needed a real reason to spend hours perusing through that store. What I never realized was how great that place is when you're just browsing pressure-free and you find everything you love, yet how maddening it is to go in there when you need tons of stuff. That's when you find nothing. For 3 weeks straight, I dragged Josh in there to look for accent pillows, wall hangings, foyer furniture, table-top decorations, toothbrush holders and organic truffle oil... Rather than considering which seashell soap dish would look best in our bathroom, it all just made him reconsider why we ever got married to begin with. To make a long story short, we ended up with 2 accent pillows and bare walls. I am so over it.

Once I got that out of my system, I was back on the idea of growing another child. After a few months, ~~I stopped taking my birth control~~ he finally caved. Since we already have 2 girls, there is a lot of pressure to have a boy. I read countless articles about how to influence the gender, and the method that made the most sense to me and all my googled medical expertise was timing it with ovulation. Next thing I knew, I was buying 200-pack ovulation strips from China on eBay, for $3.99.

Fast forward a (menstrual) cycle or two, I started to feel weird. I couldn't put my finger on it, but I didn't feel right. Maybe it was because I had
been on a springtime bender and my exercise and diet regimen had gone completely out the window. Or maybe it was because I was on a high alcohol, high carb diet since Josh had returned home from overseas. Something was definitely not okay. I dug out one of my Chinese/eBay pregnancy tests, and there it was... the faint second line. I launched myself off the toilet, ran into the kitchen, threw the test down in the middle of the kitchen table in front of everyone's breakfast and demanded that Josh examine it in the same 23, 241 angles and lights I had. He "thought" he saw something too. I pulled my pants back up and ran out to a pharmacy so I could shell out $29.99 for a real pregnancy test. Same thing - a faint 2 lines. Being 4 weeks pregnant at the time, I called my doctor and made an appointment for a pre-natal check up, which was scheduled for 4 weeks later.

This being my 3rd pregnancy, my pants stopped buttoning the day I read the first positive test. By the time I went to my first 8-week check up, I made Josh pull up and drop me off at the door, and practically waddled into the office. The ultrasound tech started the ultrasound... poked around... confirmed I was indeed pregnant... and asked:

"Were your (menstrual) cycles regular?"
- Yes

"So, did you do fertility treatments?"
- Ummm nooooo?!? Why? How many are there?
"Right now I see two........................................ (longest pause ever).

IT'S TWINS!" as she immediately starts typing the word "twins!!!" on the screen without even waiting for our acknowledgment or approval.

Real footage from my womb.

Once I came to from my black out, I woke Josh up out of his. We let out a few cuss words, OH-MY-GOD's, then nervously smiled at the tech so she wouldn't alert authorities.

"Do twins run in your family?"
- Who cares?!?! This changes absolutely nothing right now.

We left the office and drove straight to a restaurant so that I could start eating for 3. On the ride there, Josh had this gross grin on his face and kept looking over at me and silently nodding and grinning. I knew what he was thinking - he was expressing his macho, manly "Oh yeah, I did this" attitude. As if somehow, me being pregnant with twins had something to do with how awesome he was and how big and strong ~~his manhood~~ he must be. He was looking for some kind of super sperm recognition and all I had to offer was a look of genuine disgust.

I encourage you to follow this journey for all the dirty deets!

Amelie, Lately.

2013-07-14T09:29:00.001-04:00

Instead of sitting here and trying to come up with an adequate excuse as to why I haven't blogged in the last year, I'm just going to go on with this post like nothing ever happened.

*** The following post was started about a year ago, so keep in mind that I no longer work in an office full-time. This is a look back at my state of mind circa Summer 2012:

I've been trying to debate whether I am still relevant in the blogging world. Am I traveling? No. Do I have daily, exciting, extraordinary experiences? Not at all. Do I feel the urge to share with you a new way to use coconut oil as part of your daily skin care regimen? Nope. Am I just a 9-5'er desk job'er with the same 2 kids and husband? 100%. If for nothing else, this is becoming a life blog, and I hope some lonely soul out there might still be interested in reading.

Where was I when MTV was casting for True Life: I've Lived Every Kind of Lifestyle possible? In two years, I went from being a Euro housewife, to a full-time mom, wife, and "securities broker"/cubicle dweller. Not to mention that I am starting a Master's degree. 'Cuz I don't have enough on plate, and I need to make sure that all 24 hours of my day are spent wondering WTH I'm doing with my life.

Since I've last blogged, I have moved down south to Providence, and dove head first into the corporate world. In 3 days, Madie started a new school, we got a new nanny, I got a new a job, Josh started playing for a new team, and Lea did 0 new tricks. It was a complete 180, but sometimes that's the best way to adjust to things, just dive right in without even wetting the back of your neck.

I traded in my greasy hair and Faded Glory sweatpants for a shower and a handful of Ann Taylor shirts. I dug up the required information I needed for employment, such as the social security number I forgot I even had. My feet went from spending their days being bare and callused to being comfortably tucked into some nude-colored nylon trouser socks, to then be stuffed into a pair of high heels. My wake up calls happily changed from crying children to an even earlier phone alarm. I enjoyed this.

My first few days in "The Office" were quite an adjustment. I swore like trucker all day long, completely forgetting that I was speaking to working professionals, and disregarding the levels of management when addressing people. I stuffed my face from 9-5. I emptied out every vending machine in the vicinity, including the stale .85 cent Fig Newtons. Why? Because that's what happens when you're home 24/7 with 2 children. You forget what it's like to talk to people other than your husband and a team of hockey players, and no one else to interact with besides them and the Dunkin' Donuts drive-thru crew. I wasn't used to speaking properly, let alone not using at least 3 curse words per sentence. I forgot what it was like to be able to sit in a chair, for more than 3 seconds, without someone begging for food or attention, therefore, I resumed my terrible snacking habits. I often found myself sitting at my desk, staring at the wall for 2 minutes straight, 'cuz I could. I left the nanny very simple instructions: don't you even think about calling me, unless the house is burning down.

Daily conversations went from:

"Moooooooooooooooooooooooommmmmmy, I'm huuuuuuuuuungryyyyyyyy"
"M, is my chicken parm ready?"
"Waaaahhhhhh"
"Where are my golf shorts?!?!?!?!?!?!"
"I have to go poooooooottttttttttttttttttttttyyyyyyyy"
"Can you wipe me??!?!!?!"

To:

"Hi Amelie, we need to talk about your TPS reports"

(As I pass a "colleague" walking down the hall)

"Hi Bob!" ( every office has a Bob)
- "How are ya?"
"Nothing!"
- "What's up with you?"
"Good!"
- "Great!"

- "I hope this rain clears up for the weekend"
"How about those Red Sox?!"

But anyways, that is now here nor there. Just when I realized I needed to update my 12 LinkedIn connections about my current employment status, it was time to quit yet again. Josh had signed with a team in the KHL, which meant he was heading over to Russia and the girls and I were staying behind. Keeping a full time job and taking care of the girls all alone was too much. Instead, I focused on getting my Master's degree, since those are such hot commodities for stay-at-home mothers.

Josh has now re-signed for 2 more seasons, and since I finished my Master's, I will try to shift toward something equally productive, such as blogging, internet browsing, and practicing 'twerking' in the mirror for hours hoping for a chance to whip it out during for my next big night out, and totally act casual about it.

Stay tuned!

Mama's Getaway

2011-12-11T10:38:00.000-05:00

Happy Sunday, Folks.

I know it's been an entire menstrual cycle since my last post, but I did survive my septoplasty. I'll go through the experience, but before I start, I want you to know that for some, this is considered surgery, but for me, it was more like a one-day getaway at the hospital (spa), followed by a quiet, peaceful time at home without my kids (my mom took them for a few days so I could recover). This is also a prelude to my next post.

Every morning, when I hear the cries of one of my children before 6am, my first thought is that I'd rather pull out all my teeth with rusty pliers, than get out of bed. Not on this day. I had my alarm set for 4:30am, I literally hopped out of bed, skipped to the shower, sang the entire time, skipped back into my bedroom to get dressed and got ready to head to the hospital. Josh was dropping me off on his way to practice. We pulled into the hospital, and Josh slowed down just enough for me to jump out of the car without him having to stop. We high-fived each other, and I was on my way.

I checked in at the front desk, and I was escorted to my "room". It was more like a shared space, but I didn't care. The nurse then instructed me to change into my robe (johnny), and handed me a plastic bag labeled "Patient Belongings". I was even given some warm, skin-colored, non-skid socks for my comfort. I walked over to the bathroom to change, greeting all the other patients as I walked by. To my left, I could hear an elderly man coughing up what sounded like his own internal organs, and to my right was a woman who asked so many questions about everything, that she made me want to knock myself out without the help of the anesthesiologist. Anyways, I strolled back into my space, fluffled up my pillow, grabbed an extra blanket, and got all cozy in my bed. Two seconds later, I hear the loud metal clinging movement from the curtain opening, and the nurse greeted me with 2,394 questions ranging from my paternal grandfather's eating habits to "whether I felt safe in my home environment". After our lovely chat, she began to massage my arm (rubbed it with alcohol), before slowly jamming a needle into it, in search of a vein. She successfully got me, and started fluids. Over the next 45 minutes, a fleet of nurses, surgeons, etc. popped in to ask me the same questions as the last.

Since this wasn't my first surgical rodeo, I knew that once we were in intravenous business, I might qualify for a nice "Martini" (stuff they give you before the general anesthesia to "relax"). I start rubber necking to find which nurse had the goods, and I buzzed one in. I debated acting like I was really nervous, and needed this "Martini", but my chatty, smiley face gave it away.

"Hey, listen Bonnie. I have the next 3 days to myself, without my kids. I'm psyched to be here, in this room, alone. When you get a minute, I'll take another magazine, and possibly some of that stuff... you know, to make this experience thoroughly enjoyable." - me

"Got it right here (as she pats her pocket)." - Nurse Bonnie

After Nurse Bonnie gave me the goods, the anesthesiologist came in. Of course, he was young, tall, dark & handsome. They wheel me into the OR, and the last thing I remember saying to the staff was, had I known, I would have at least shaved my legs for this.

Seconds, minutes or hours later, I woke up to 5 people standing over my face saying what a "great job I did". What does that even mean? I did a great job how? Remaining passed out? Doing nothing? Well apparently, while I was still coming out of anesthesia, I thought, what a better way to let everyone know I survived, than to take a horrifying picture of myself, and post it on FB?

I got home, Josh went out to fill my prescriptions and buy me 6 gossip mags, and I just chilled. My face felt weird from all the splints and packing inside my nose, and the WORST part of the recovery was my throat. It felt like I ate a bunch of box cutters for lunch. It was all raw and bleeding from the tube they shove down your throat during anesthesia. The next morning, I go to take a shower, and I noticed about 6 square shaped stickers all over my chest and side. I had foolishly gotten a spray tan 3 days before this surgery, and as to be expected, I had 6 random white shapes on my body from where the tan peeled off.

Below is my awkward face 2 days after surgery. The splints inside my nose made my it impossible to smile normally. They have since been removed.

All in all, the recovery was fine. I felt really tired for a week, but after getting the stuff out of my nose removed, I was breathing better than ever. I'm glad I went through with it! Hopefully before the New Year, I'll have written my next post.

Nothin' a little septoplasty won't fix.

2011-11-05T10:10:00.000-04:00

So, remember when I got my eyes done for my birthday? I walked you through the LASIK procedure, provided you with a fake Q&A and everything?

"My game plan is to work on improving my body from the top working my way down. First, get the eyes fixed. Next, my deviated septum. After that, breasts... and so on and so forth."

Well, guess what? The nose is up. Time to get the ol' deviated septum straightened out... I don't mean a rhinoplasty (typical nose job), I mean a septoplasty (inside nose job).

It all started when I was in the 6th grade, at a Superbowl party. Every year, we went to my parents' friend's house to watch the game. The most exciting thing was the outdoor jacuzzi... remember those? When you dove into a snowbank in your bathing suit, and jumped into the jacuzzi, and repeated the process over and over until your limbs were permanently tingling? Parents at these Superbowl parties were more concerned with placing bets than they were with us catching a pneumonia. It was awesome. That particular year, I brought my boyfriend along with me. It wasn't terribly cold outside, and we ended up starting a little game of wiffle ball with the other kids. It was a windy day, and I was pitching. Since I didn't have a strong arm, I thought that maybe if I got up really close to him when I pitched, he'd have a better chance of ~~breaking my face~~ making contact. And that's exactly what happened. Andy, my boyfriend, being the pubescent boy with something to prove, made solid contact with the wiffleball that in turn, made solid contact with my nose. All I remember is that I literally saw stars and I always thought that was something people said or something you saw in a cartoon, but it's real. I also remember feeling like my knees were buckling and that I couldn't hear anything. My nose began to bleed profusely, and no one cared. Half time was over and the game was back on. I'm pretty sure I had two black eyes for a few weeks, and my nose never looked the same.

So after that, I began to notice that my face looked weird in pictures and that I had two different profiles. I found that I wasn't breathing as well, and I couldn't breathe at all through my nose when I was pregnant. So here I was, 5'3", pushing 170lbs, and you could hear me breathing from down the street. I went and saw a doctor when I was pregnant with Lea, who told me to come back when I wasn't pregnant to discuss surgery.

One might look at this picture and think, ~~her teeth are freakishly white~~, what the hell is she talking about? Well, the surgery is covered by insurance and I got nothing else to do with my time anyways, so why not? I'm also interested in breathing out of both nostrils. (And it's called Picnik)

Last week, I went to Milton Hospital to see a specialist, got a CT scan, confirmed that my septum was very deviated, and just yesterday, they called me to inform me that they had an opening for surgery this Tuesday. Holy crap. I'm really doin' it.

I'll try to document the surgery, for any of you out there who might have a deviated septum/crooked nose, and have thought about pulling the trigger on septoplasty. This is probably going to be an interesting recovery with 2 kids, but I should get through it just fine with ~~the support of my husband~~ mixing my painkillers with alcohol. Also, if my nose appears straighter after this, at least I was honest about it.

The joys of general anesthesia and Percocet.

You Go Girl: The Naked Tank

2011-11-02T10:18:00.000-04:00

Next up is one that I can really sink my teeth into and I got really excited when I read about this one. Ladies, I present to you, The Naked Nursing Tank.

I can totally relate to this product, since I was a two-time nursing mother. It obviously wouldn't be right if told you about this product without an introductory anecdote...

I nursed my first daughter for a total of 3 months, and the last month was just half-assed pumping and feeding. I was over it. I had just turned 23, and I had other things I planned on doing with my day than being a boob slave to my infant. Plus, she sucked at it, no pun intended. She wanted to me feed her every 20 minutes, for a total of 10 minutes each time. F that.

Now with my second daughter, it was a completely different story. I was a little older, a little wiser. It worked so well; she loved it, and it was mindless work for me. I remember my best friend Dana telling me that she nursed her kids for 14 and 16 months, respectively. I almost fell over. I relentlessly judged her and called her every name in the book. I thought it was horrifying that her kids were walking, and she was still nursing them. I can even remember her son starting t-ball, and he was still running up to her for a tug between innings.

Anyways, breastfeeding went so well with Lea, that I secretly nursed her for 13 months. I told people I had stopped at like, 9 months, but I was totally sneaking in 3 feedings a day. I apologized for judging her for nursing that long because I was totally hooked! I was obviously solely doing it because ~~it's a great bonding experience~~, it burns calories. Sure, it's great for you and your baby and breast milk has crime-fighting abilities, but come on, you burn an extra 500 calories just sittin' around!

Since I breastfed for so long with Lea, I stopped caring about "covering up". I would whip those udders out whenever and wherever I needed to. We were in Europe, who the hell was going to recognize me there? I'd be sitting outside of a cafe, with my glass of Chianti in one hand, and my other arm was supporting Lea's head while she was laying across the table feeding. It was win-win for everyone. Except when Josh would get embarrassed and start grabbing napkins off of other tables and try to build a fort over me.

To the right here is a picture taken in Orlando, when Lea was 5 weeks old. I was sitting at a restaurant with Dana's daughter Jessie, who had an absolute fascination with watching me breastfeed, probably because it wasn't that long ago that she was getting that mommy milk herself! (Love you Dana)

Other than some manners and some decency, I most certainly could have used a Nursing Tank. My biggest reason is this: when I had my boobs to the breeze during nursing, I was always more concerned with my stomach hanging out from under my shirt from pulling it up than I was my breasts bring completely exposed for all of southern Switzerland to see. I really wish I had known about this, and so does Josh.

Now here is a great instance when this invention could have been put to good use. I was just chillin' in the midst of the Palatine Hill ruins in Rome, and I had to stop the tour for a quick tug. I had to sit on a rock to pull my shirt up, and I was even getting laughed at by the guy in the kilt. I'm seen here biting my nails, obviously because I was anxious and wishing I had a Naked Nursing Tank.

The beauty of this tank is that you can wear whatever bra you want, and they come in great colors that will match whatever you're wearing.

It's not too late for you gals out there who are expecting, or already nursing! It also makes a wonderful baby gift. Check them out on Facebook, "The Naked Nursing Tank", or just click here for the site.

Nice work, ladies!

You Go Girl: Katy Irmen Photography

2011-10-30T09:38:00.001-04:00

Is it me, or is everyone all of a sudden venturing out and starting their own business thang? Have we all just had it with getting up at noon, throwing on a pair of yoga pants, and pondering up excuses not to go to the gym? When you're a mom, it gets tweaked to getting up at 6am, possibly showering at noon, then fastening your Spanx underneath your sweats, then definitely not going to the gym, because you have a kid and you can't. I'm infamous for doing that. Sometimes I feel like if I'm dressed like I'm going to the gym, it almost counts for something. I'll even throw on sneakers, and carry a bottle of water into the store with me in order to fool ~~the public~~ myself. I was a lululemon virgin until about 2 months ago (I know, shameful)... and when I looked up at the wall of different yoga pants, I remember feeling like THE laziest human being when I dead seriously asked to be pointed in the direction of slimming, no-workout-just-pretend fit. Score! I love them.

Now, I'd like to feature another hockey wife business, Katy Irmen Photography. Now this is a smart cookie right here. Her business consists of her camera, and her computer. And maybe some other stuff too, but who doesn't own both of those things? What a great way to utilize your most commonly used tools, and make it a business? She's launched herself into the photog world, and she'll freakin' photograph you wherever you want! You're in Minneapolis, she's there. You happen to be in Prague, she's right behind ya. What? You're traveling to Austria? Shoot her text, she'll be happy to meet up. This is especially wonderful for the North Americans who travel to Europe for hockey, and have a trustworthy, super talented, English speaking photographer.

Katy will shoot anything from your belly to your new rock, to your babies. Plus, she'll give you a discount if you're an expat hockey wife, or if you mention this blog! You can check out her very well done website, or "like" her Facebook page by searching "Katy Irmen Photography'.

Here are just a few of her mahhvelous pictures.

If you have a biz, please email me or FB inbox me and I'd love to write about it.

One fatty, comin' up!

2011-10-29T09:47:00.000-04:00

So how about the fact that I just realized that we're 2 months away from freakin' Christmas. C-H-R-I-S-T-M-A-S! That's just too much, too soon for me. I'm still trying to hang on to the beauty of summer dehydration that made me appear 2-3 lbs slimmer. Now that the cold weather is rolling in, I got nothing. I'm fully hydrated from the 16 coffees I drink during the day, and I'm already noticing some very disconcerting eating habits taking over.

When it's summer, wearing skimpier clothing certainly makes you more conscious. I'm not gonna lie, shopping for clothes this summer was really hard. Apparently, cut-off belly shirts were back in, and when you've had 2 children expelled from your body, the battle wounds are nothing the general public needs to view. During fall and winter, I take the easy way out and throw on the largest t-shirt and sweat pants I can find in order to fell "thin" (in men's XL) while I consume exorbitant amounts of food in minimal time. Plus, I don't have to visualize my 'Hello Helen's', or feel the overflow over my shorts after I show my favorite party mix who's boss.

We all have our body image and weight issues. Some peeps are cool with their bods, others haven't come to terms with their insecurities, and then there's the ones that want to crawl out of their own skins. I've talked about these before in a few different posts. I've come to terms with the fact that it's a daily issue for me. 'Issue' might even be kind of a strong word, but it's on my mind. I don't like to 'diet', because that word has a temporary, negative connotation. But let's get one thing straight, no matter what I'm cutting back on, it certainly ain't gonna be mah dranks. I love to fool myself into either drinking 11 Michelob Ultra's, because they're "light", or just 3 pumpkin beers with the 400 calorie sugar rim, or a nice middle ground of 5 Bud heavies. However, when all is said and done and consumed, once I'm buzzed, I always throw my food intake caution to the wind, and I inevitably end up with the taste of the last jalapeno popper I crushed on my breath the next morning. So really, I'm only kidding myself with my 'substitutions'. There was even a 2 year phase in my life when I strictly drank dirty vodka martini's, thinking I was being calorie-wise since it took less to get the job done and it's a clear liquor and all, when in reality I'd wake up the next morning from a black out with Lord only knows what I consumed the night before.

For some reason, I've decided to take charge early this year. Usually, it's not until April that I realize that I'm one... soft... hairy... rotund... pasty betch. I'm going to try to halt the process early. How? By spray tanning throughout winter and joining Weight Watchers Online. I know, it's embarrassing to say out loud. Whenever I hear about WW, all I can think of is a diet that old women did in the early 90's. But have you seen Jennifer Hudson? WTF? Get it sister. I'm jumping on the wagon!

Whether you have a different weight loss/maintenance method, or just a naturally skinny betch, or you just don't give a rat's @$$, good luck to you this winter.

Whether I'm on the Vegas strip...

Or just getting my hair did.

Gotta have my mix!

You Go Girl: NewSeasonNewCity

2011-09-19T09:38:00.000-04:00

These "You Go Girl" (insert finger snap side to side 3 times) posts were meant to give shout outs to hockey wives/girlfriends who had their own business going on. My purpose is to give them exposure and encourage them, but I seriously just want to scoop them up and twirl them around because I'm so happy for them. On that note, if you have your own thing going on and you want me to write about it, please email me.

We've all noticed that the internet has taken over the world. I'm not gonna get all analytical and wordly about it, but seriously, now that we have the internet, we can do anything without being anywhere. It has it's good and bad aspects, but it's definitely allowing people to do things they weren't able to do before. Most hockey ladies are able to have online businesses, and more and more of us are able to write blogs.

I'd be lying if I said that I wasn't going through a quarter-life crisis right now. One day I want to be a lawyer, the next day I'm content with doing nothing, taking weekly showers and staying in my pajamas until 3pm, another day I want to move to Hollywood and give acting a shot, and once a month I really think I have what it takes to work in an office 70 hours a week with 2 kids and a husband whose career never sleeps. Then I often have to slap myself out of it, because on most days I'm overwhelmed with starting my coffee and wiping the mascara that has smeared from my eyes to my cheeks. How can I handle a career?

To tie this all together, I think my best bet would be to take advantage of the this internet boom, that we're already well into, and see what I can do with it. The biggest downside to it is that any moron can start a blog, and it's extremely competitive and difficult to have a successful one. Here are my monetary gains from this blog, and that's since I started, so about a year...

You read that right, a whopping $7.89. I would make twice as much spending an afternoon pan-handling in Somalia.

I've seen people start hockey websites to help out other significant others, which I think is great. I think we need a main website, where you can find everything you need to know about the cities. Not only where to eat after games, but more importantly, local trustworthy babysitters? Is that not vital? I hadn't been in Switzerland 3 weeks and I already had 3 babysitters. I didn't know where to get gas, but I knew who to call if I wanted to go to the club and get weird. I started asking the wives that were already there, and no language barrier could have stopped my desperation for being understood. They gave me names, I google translated that I needed a sitter and texted them what it said. The first one showed up 10 minutes before we were leaving the house, and as soon as I was able to confirm she had a pulse, I pointed to each baby, showed her their bedrooms, left what I thought was my new Euro cell number on the counter, and had smoke coming out of my @$$ as I left the house. Lea was 3 months and Madie was 2.

She was texting me things like, "both girls are crying and I don't know what to do". I told her I'd be home by 3am, and as long as they were both still breathing, it was going to be ok. Everything was fine, both girls eventually fell asleep, and I did make sure to feed them and change them before I left so once again, no one was neglected.

I just can't help myself when it comes to desperate mother anecdotes. ANYWAYS, here is a website in the making, www.NewSeasonNewCity.com, and if we all unite and contribute information, we can make this one THE ONE. Send questions, contributions and comments here. Good luck, Lizzy.

Class-A Creepin'

2011-09-18T13:41:00.000-04:00

Over the years, I continue to amaze myself with my constant burning desire to creep . And when I say creep, I mostly mean when it comes to sitting on my computer, and getting carried away with "research". The most common kind is with Facebook. You know, when you start by looking up your neighbor's boyfriend, and next thing you know, you're wanting to leave comments on his aunt's half-brother's gay lover's first wife's new boyfriend's garden gnome collection.

This post will be 100% dedicated to exposing my creepy ways, in hope that someone else will reassure me that I am not alone, and that this isn't something my therapist and I should discuss during our next session. Here is my definition of cree-search (creep + research): it's a noun, and it's the act of primarily utilizing the internet, as a means of gaining useless information about people, to prove that it can be done, because one is bored, and because one has an insatiable need to judge every aspect of someone else's life, just 'cuz one can.

Summer's a lot busier, but there's always time for creepin'. I can get pretty bored early mornings and nights. And since I'm already on my laptop, I see if I can find the most random people on FB. For instance, as I'm watching Judge Judy, I'm on facebook trying to see if I can find the white trash defendant to see if she's still with her even trashier baby daddy. They give the full names, so why not? Now if I'm watching something on E or MTV, they tend to just give first names. That complicates things a little bit, yet makes it a little more fun since there is an added challenge. I must now use a different search criterion, such as high school or college name, if it was dropped during the show. Then, every once in a while, I'll cast a message out there, and see if I get a bite.

I immediately fell in love with MTV's show "I Used to Be Fat". I'm not sure that losing 150+ lbs in 3 months is healthy for anyone, but it's nice to see them try. I found Gabriella (for those of you that watch the show), and told her how amazing she looked. She wrote back!

A few months back I also emailed Judge Judy and told her that I wanted to be just like her one day, and she also wrote back.

You bet, Juds. I mean I was hoping for a little more, but I understand you're busy. Josh tried to convince me that she didn't write that and that I'm a fool for thinking she did. Then again, he still believes in Santa soooo...

How is it possible that I've managed to become Facebook friends with Kendra Wilkinson's mom and brother, the real Bruce Jenner, but got slapped with a "hide request" from Scott Disick? OUCH! One more reason I can't staaaaand him. I was so upset because he kept showing up on my news feed and accepting all kinds of other creepas, but not me. I cancelled my 'still pending' request. I'll show him. Go starch your pink bermudas.

Eeeeek.

I have more of these, like the letter I got from Taran Noah Smith (Mark from Home Improvement) but I don't have that supporting documentation on me. I know, he really wasn't cute, but he was my best shot seeing as JTT and the other one were way too popular. I was playing it safer. I also had a serious, borderline unhealthy, obsession with Macaulay Culkin. I'm talking about his early days, not his strung-out, greasy locks days. In one of my letters to him, I may or may not have used the terms "love you out of my mind". Can you believe I never got a response from him? I chose my words more wiser with Marky.

Until I resolve whatever kind of underlying issue I have, I will continue to use my ressources to gain contact with my favorite celebs. I have had a major crush on Chris Meloni (Elliot Stable from SVU) since 2006. His receding hairline is just more than I can handle. Luckily, I met someone who knew someone who knew someone that got me this:

So... what do you think? Am I alone on this one? I apologize if I've share too much.

Book Quickie: The Skinny Rules

2011-04-27T09:31:00.000-04:00

Before you start thinking that I'm to the point of starting my own book club because I'm running out of things to write about, think again. I just want to spread the word about a fantastic book, actually written about someone I know. Presenting:

I wanna say that I've read about 13 books in my lifetime, and 12 of them were non-fiction. Here's the breakdown: 3 Chelsea Handler books, 3 Jenny McCarthy books, 3 Judge Judy books, the Lynn Spears book, A Child Called It, and the Da Vinci Code. The only reason I read the Da Vinci Code is because everyone and their mother was reading it and I didn't want to feel left out.

I just don't like to read. Especially if it's fiction. I feel like I don't have time for make believe... and this is also coming from the girl who never really believed in Santa Claus, and who can barely make it through a full picture caption in Us Weekly without losing interest. Now that I have 2 kids, I most certainly don't have time to read, and my attention span has gone from moderate to non-existent.

I always find it mind-blowing that Josh still manages to read a book a week. And I love how he's always trying to quiz me on current events with an "I-know-more-than-you" attitude and rub in the fact that he watches the news. Sweet, buddy. Over here in Parenting Land, we watch Nick Jr. 24/7, and when we're not watching that, we're doing other chores and non-leisurely things.

But anyways, while Josh played for the Binghamton Senators, the team consulted with Molly Morgan, a registered dietitian with her own company, to help them out with eating and cooking tips. I always thought it was so unfair that Josh got to take these cooking seminars with her, and I had to stay home with Badison. I do the cooking, I should have been the one there. Josh can barely boil water, and I don't even know if he could melt butter even under extreme pressure.

I loved watching Molly's cooking segments for Olum's and when I heard that she wrote a book on how to be 'Skinny', I grabbed my bag of ranch party mix and hopped on amazon to place my order. I received my book 3 days later and had it read from front to back in 2 afternoons. Why is this book good? Because it's realistic. I've dabbled in diet and exercise book reading before, and although they all made me feel like I could literally move mountains, it simply wasn't a lifestyle I could adopt. The 'Abs Diet' had me eating steamed chicken and veggies 7 times a day whilst exercising, and although 'Skinny Bitch' was hilarious, vegan-ism is too much for me. I couldn't understand half the ingredients in the book. What the hell are yeast flakes and seitan? Sounds like something you need to have checked out, not eat.

'The Skinny Rules' is legit and so real. It's not drastic, and it explains about why you should or shouldn't do certain things in a simply way everyone can understand. As an added bonus, the 101 secrets are all numbered, making it easy to take a reading break and hold your attention.

Great job, Molly!

Happy Birthday Tah-Me!

2011-04-12T09:05:00.000-04:00

This year, I gave myself (Josh gave me) the best birthday gift I could ever ask for. A Brand New Pair of PEEPERS! That's right, LASIK eye surgery.

I wanted to write a post about this not only because I'm so excited about it, but also because I wanted to give everyone the real deets on the procedure. I know everyone secretly wants to get this done, so I thought I'd write about my experience and inspire you to do it, and inspire you to mention my name when you get your FREE CONSULTATION at the Nielsen Eye Care Center in Quincy, MA.

I have to start with this thought. Remember when you were growing up, there was a time in your life when you prayed for glasses, braces, and crutches? I personally pleaded with God for him to give them all to me at the same time. In 6th grade I got my glasses, 9th grade my braces, and I'm sure I've faked an injury or 3 along the way that won me some sweet, armpit-irritating crutches. I can even remember a time when I would take dirty paper clips, un-bend them, and stick them inside my mouth as to imitate a retainer. Gross.

It started out with glasses to "see the board', and eventually got contacts when I was 15. That's how they get ya... "wear them to see the board, watch movies, and drive". That's great and all, but who wants to go from seeing everything super clearly, to then taking off their glasses and going back to blurry? I strapped on my first pair of glasses, and never looked back.

Back to the topic. Two years ago, I spotted a sign on the highway for a free consultation for LASIK, and surgery starting at $299 per eye. I called from my cell and booked my consultation to see if I was a "candidate". Sure enough I was, and after the 2 hour consultation, they told me that I had 2 options: get the $299/per eye deal, which may or may not guarantee that I might see anything ever again, or opt for the $2500 per eye and better my chances of not lasering out my eyeball. Hmmm. The decision was tough. Since it was a bigger expense than I planned at the time, I decided I would forget it, and continue to milk my Focus Dailies for 3-4 days at a time.

Since we've been home for a few weeks, the thought of LASIK has been taking over my life. I started asking around, and I was recommended The Nielsen Eye Care Center. They offered a free consultation as well, so I figured, what the hell. Before I made my appointment, I asked about the price, and I was quoted $4232 if you paid it in one lump sum. Obviously my first thought was, I could get a boob job for that money. And don't get me wrong, those things could most certainly use the funds. My game plan is to work on improving my body from the top working my way down. First, get the eyes fixed. Next, my deviated septum. After that, breasts... and so on and so forth. Plus, Josh always likes to remind me how "glazed over" my eyes look when I'm not wearing my glasses or contacts, or that I look a little impaired. And as Jenna from barstool once wisely said in her tutorial on How to Trick People into Thinking You're Good Looking, "glasses are for DB's".

After my consultation on a Tuesday, I booked my surgery for that Thursday. It's one of those things that once you know you're going to do, why wait?

Here is a bogus Q&A about the procedure that I made up:

Amelie, you look great. Walk me through the procedure.

First, you check in. Then they give you your first Xanax to "relax". Then you go into a small waiting room where you listen to soothing music, and you are giving eye drops to numb your eyeballs (doesn't hurt). The surgeon calls you into the room, you lay down. They open your eyes, clamp them opened (sounds horrible but you don't feel a thing). Laser goes in, does it's thing, surgeon does what he has to do, 1 minute later, they move onto the next eye. 2 minutes later, you're DONE. You sit up, and you can read the clock! As you're leaving the office, they give you a second Xanax, and clearly express that you take it when you get home, and get some rest.

Did it procedure hurt?

Absolutely not. Nein.

Tell me, what does it smell like?

Funny you should ask. It smells like burnt eyes. I know that sounds repulsive, but the best way to compare it to tell you it smells like your skin after you go tanning, or like you teeth when they're getting drilled at the dentist. Unpleasant.

How much did it set you back?

$4232, for a cash lump sum payment and they offer all kinds of financing and payment plans.

What was the recovery like?

I was fine after the procedure, walked out, got in the car, got home, changed a diaper, and went to my room. They tell you to close your eyes, preferably pass out for the next 6 hours. Fine by me! I'm always looking for an excuse to lock myself in my room alone for hours. I grossly underestimated the need for passing out after the surgery. In a prior answer, I mentioned how they strongly encourage you popping that other Xanax when you get home. I thought to myself, I just took one not even an hour ago, I'm saving this other one for a rainy day. BIG MISTAKE! Pop that Xanax like you're getting paid for it. I couldn't sleep on my own, so all of a sudden, it felt like onions were being juiced into my eyes. I panicked. I called the doctor. He yelled at me to take the other Xanax and go to sleep. I did. I passed out until the following morning, with my sunglasses on and everything. I woke up, and it was 100% better. Like nothing ever happened. Less than 24 hours, I was able to drive.

Can you see?

The morning after my surgery, I went back in for a post-op. They did an eye exam and told me I had better than perfect vision. I see a million times better than I ever did with contacts and glasses. I see colors better, depth, shine... everything. It's amazing.

And finally, was it worth it?

Hell yes.

The Voyage

2011-04-06T10:29:00.006-04:00

For the sake of misadventures and story-telling, unfortunately Josh came back with us, so I wasn't alone. It all started with a phone call at 9am from the team manager, letting us know that they had booked us all a flight home at 3pm that same day. I had started to pack about 3 days before that, so it wasn't too bad. After all, I do pack an entire house and 4 people's worth of clothing and belongings every 6 months. This time, Josh wasn't able to lift a finger and do anything, since he's hurt. Ahem. So I got it.

That morning consisted of me bringing all 8 suitcases up 2 flights of stairs in our house, putting them in the car, loading them on the 2 luggage carts and then on the belt at the airport check-in. Meanwhile, Josh and I are fighting over the last Xanax and he's already concerned about the whereabouts of his carry-on; the one with the iPod, Kindle, book and headphones. I can only dream of having such a carry-on, but I've got 2 kids to take care of and entertain for an 8 hour flight.

As I've mentioned before, I thrive on lists and excel spreadsheets. Hence the format for most of my trip reviews and blog posts. I think it's easier to read something if it has bullets and numbers.

So how did I do it? Like this.

1. When in doubt, throw it out

That is the motto I live by. Moving every 6 months means I have no space, room, or patience for non sense items. Keepsakes and mementos don't fit in my life or my suitcases and I don't have relationships with "things". All I have room for are few items of clothing, toiletries, a handful of books and toys. Since I do all the packing and unpacking, I decide what stays and what goes. I also obsess in an unhealthy way about not having a single dirty item of clothing in a packed suitcase.

"Are the clothes on your back dirty? I'm throwing in the last load. It's now or never for your shower" - me

(Hollering from the shower)

"M !!! Got any boxers and socks for me ?!?!?!" - Josh

" Whoops, everything is packed and in the car already." - me

(Loud sigh) "Commando it is!" - Josh

2. $12 for a deck of cards from the convenience store? You got it!

As I was making trips to and from our house to the rink to drop off luggage, I had to stop at the store to get treats and entertainment for Madie. I walked in, grabbed a handful of lollipops, M&M's, deck of cards, and some matches. She likes to count them and arrange them in a perfect row... after all, she is my daughter.

Lest you forget, S-U-R-V-I-V-A-L is the theme.

3. A 'Tail or Two

Forget about getting to the airport 2 hours before your international flight to make sure you have time to get through customs, get there with enough time to get through multiple cocktails! As a mother, it wouldn't be right to get on a plane with 3 children for an overseas flight without my buzz. So that's what we did, we slammed two stiffies each and hopped on board!

4. On your mark, get set, ROLL

After the first 45 minute flight on a puddle jumper, we had a short layover in Zurich. Our first flight was late, obviously, so we had about 1.6 minutes to run from one terminal to the other. I was good with running as I was pushing my double stroller, but Josh was behind me hobbling around. I considered leaving him in the dust and taking off without him, but who would I rest my head on in case I caught a few ZzZ's?

It got exhausting. I would be sprinting, stopping, looking over my shoulder for Josh, then having to wait for him to catch up. Luckily, we spotted some wheel chairs, and I pushed Josh onto one, all while keeping a hand on the stroller, and holding all passports and boarding passes in my sweaty pit. With no time to spare, we make it on, last of course, so we had to walk all the way down the aisle, knocking each and every passenger upside the head with my 8 carry-ons and Josh's crutches. A few minutes after we sat, the stewardess was kind enough to bring me Lea, whom I had left at the plane side check in.

5. Simmer Down, Stewy!

After being reprimanded 4 times to properly buckle Lea, the plane took off. Yet this woman kept coming over and yelling at me that her car seat was not in the right seat, facing the wrong way, etc, etc. Does she really think that when the plane crashes, Lea sitting in 39A, 39B or 40E is really going to make a difference? Or if we're all wearing our loose lap belts? Please. Get back to your snack cart.

When we first sat down, we were happy to see that there was another couple with a baby Lea's age sitting next to us. I was hoping that their baby would cry the whole time and take the cake. They sat us in the first row, which meant that we had a wall in front of us. When the plane reached a cruising altitude, a flight attendant walked over to them with a small portable crib. I got so excited that I started to drool. She positioned this little crib against the wall right in front of them, and their little boy cuddled up nicely with all the blankets as he went to sleep. The couple put on their headphones, reclined their seats, got comfortable and chuckled as they watched their favorite tv shows on the their personal tv's and enjoyed their wine and dinner. I glanced to my right, Josh was out cold, Lea was chewing on my headphone cord, and Madie was darting straight for the cockpit.

I leaped out of my seat and grabbed the attendant by the skirt as she was walking back up the aisle.

"Excuse, when you get a sec, I'll take a crib like they have, and another vodka rocks." - me

"I suh-ry, zere iz only one of deez, and you have to ahrder befahr you get on ze plane" - flight attendant

Just my luck.

Seriously, is there a God? Why would He give the couple with ONE kid the only crib, while I have 2 of my own and a husband who is clearly only there only in Body?

6. What's wrong with me?

Back at the Zurich airport, I was so concerned with spending time at the bar, that I must have left Madie's only sippy cup there. After she was freaking out trying to go to sleep on the plane, all she wanted was her sippy. I started to feel around all the bags, throwing stuff everywhere, no sippy. I start to pull out all the bribes, and she's only screaming louder. All she wanted was her sippy. As to be expected, Josh jumps down my throat and yells at me for not having it/losing it. He was right, it was 100% my fault. Because I'm responsible for everything.

Fast forward 8 hours, we land. I don't know how I made it, but I did. I was awake the whole time, except for the 10 minutes I slept laying across 2 seats spooning with Madie. All the luggage was claimed, we got home, didn't sleep all night since the girls were still on Swiss time, which meant that 1am was 7am. So they were up for the day.

7. Mamaaaa... Ooooooooohhh

The next day (for Josh), or the same day (for me) I should say, we went to my mom's. She hadn't seen me or the girls for the past 8 months, so she was going nuts. I was happy to see my family as well, but what a better way to detox from this trip that going to stay at your mom's?

It was absolutely wonderful. I slept for 3 days straight. She took care of the girls for me. Cooked and cleaned every meal. Massaged my feet. Between icing Josh's knee and changing diapers, she was chopping the fresh (not dried) chives I requested for my baked potato.

(From the couch...)

"Maaaaa! When you're done feeding Lea, can I have a water?!?! With lemon?!?!"

I was very thankful.

Then it was back to reality. Now it's like we never left...VIVA ROCK-VEGAS!

The Last Euro Hoorah

2011-04-06T06:10:00.000-04:00

(Post originally started 2/26)

It's early in the mo'nin' and I just dropped off Keith and Jenn at the bus station, for them to head over to the Milan airport. They were just here for a week and we had a blasty-blast. It's so nice to be around people from home, especially now that we're in the home-stretch.

Immersed.

I picked them up last Saturday, and it was a much smoother escapade than when I picked up Dana.

We've been in Europe long enough now that we consider ourselves semi-immersed in this culture. We're used to the people and the way of life. I was standing at the curb outside of the airport waiting for them to walk out, and they couldn't have been spotted easier. Everyone else in Milan was strutting around in suits and high heels, and there were the two American bums in sweats, looking like they just dodged getting hit by a train. I don't blame them at all! They had just traveled for 12 hours, and hadn't slept in 2 days. I immediately started making exaggerated waving gestures in case my obnoxious yells weren't enough.

We got in the car, and did the usual travel review. No surprises there: the cocktail of drugs that Jenn took to pass out on the flight made Keith sick, food was gross, not a lot of leg room, German people look pissed all the time, the Munich airport TSA staff doesn't know what an epi-pen is, and don't understand that 5-hour energy's are under 3 oz.

"Everyone gets really dressed up here, huh? People were wearing suits and ties on the 8 hour overnight flight, and Jenn and I are "shleppin' around the airports in our sweats.." - Keith

Let's take a look at a reverse trip review...

Over-Under Tired

The first day they got there, we told them to just stay up and get right on Swiss time. The mix of no sleep, cocktails and altitude really got Keith in rare form. We went out for a drink after the hockey game, and at one point we started talking about movies, and the 'Social Network' came up... At this point, you could have carried groceries with the bags under Keith's eyes, and he says, "Oh yeah, I've seen it. Wasn't there a huge sexual premise behind that movie?"

We all laughed at him, and decided it was time to go home.

BUSTA DA NOTTA

Before K & J got to Switz, I had started to plan daily activities, and one of them was the casino. I knew they both liked to spend time in those facilities, and I don't mind it myself. We walked in and plopped ourselves right at the BlackJack table. It was nice at first because it was just us 4 and the Italian dealer. What was even better was that we could yell out anything foul or inappropriate thing we wanted and no one could understand us. At one point, many cocktails later, we were all screaming "BUST" in the dealer's face every time he flipped his cards. Well, even more drinks later, I starting yelling "BUST A NUT" every time he flipped his cards. At this point we were no longer alone at the table, and the old Italian man 2 stools down from me yelled back, "SI !!! BUST-A-DA-NUT-A"!!!! Love it.

As to be expected, Josh was acting like he knew what he was doing and trying to coach my every hand although he was losing and I was winning, Keith was getting waaaaay too aggressive, Jenn yelled at some poor soul for trying to sit next to her, claiming that she was 'hot' and that this guy was bad luck, and I was hitting on 20. Needless to say, we donated a hefty amount to Casino of Lugano. You're welcome.

"Amelie, you're good, STAY"

Sushi in Como, of course.

We HAD to take them to this amazing place in Lake Como that I've told you about. We had a great time. We were acting like a bunch of kids, literally skipping around the streets of Como, Italy. Without fail, after sushi, we hit up the gelato shop.

Engagement Pics

We never get sick of going to the Bellinzona Castles, and we love it when we get to bring someone new there. They're so amazing and there's no such place around here. Since Jenn decided not to do formal engagement pics, I picked up her camera and said I would do my best to take some cute pics for them, given my subjects. Just kidding, but here are most of my cues...

"Look at me"

"Ok, no, now look at each other and smile"

"Yikes, just kiss instead"

"Umm... ok... no. Just look out and away from the camera"

"Perfect"

Obvi I'm exaggerating a little, we got a handful of great shots.

Hello, again.

2011-04-01T08:09:00.000-04:00

Still toothless, yet crushing bagels!

It's been so long since I've been on this thing that I could barely remember my login info. Seriously. Do you ever get to a point in your life where you're so overwhelmed with having to do something, that instead of just doing it, you make it worse on yourself? Like when your hair is starting to get greasy, instead of hosing down, do you play with it to see how greasy you can really get it? Like when you've already had 3 cookies, why not just finish the whole sleeve? Or when you walked into the gym, glanced over the equipment and walk out, did you just pig out when you got home, 'cuz you might as well? I'm hoping you get my drift because I'm running out of examples. What I'm trying to say is that I've had so many things in my head to blog about, that I just decided to forget that I ever wrote a single post.

In Switzerland, I was like a blogging junkie. Early in the morning, hours before the sun rose, before anyone ate breakfast, my eyes were opened wider than ever and my face was lit up by the glow of my computer screen in the corner of the living room. Now that we're back on North American turf, I'm soooo lazy, yet I have tons of material that I could share.

So as of this morning, I woke up with the girls around 5:15am, threw on my glasses, left some breakfast items on the coffee table for Madie and some baby puffs on the floor for Lea, then fired up my DVR and started watching the Jersey Shore reunion. Real quick, Sammi should be banned from speaking on camera, and clearly J-Woww has had work done on her face.

Am I done with the blog? No. Am I a lot busier in the off-season? Yes. Did Josh leave the Swiss cheese out on the counter all night? Yes, yes he did. A first, a part of me thought that it was maybe the altitude or the water in Europe that made him so lazy, but the unfortunate truth is slapping me in the face. I have enabled this monster.

Good morning to all, and happy Friday!

Food Quickie: Sh*t Sandwich with a side of GetMeOuttaHere

2011-03-06T05:54:00.000-05:00

Time to dust off the ol' keyboard and blog it up. For me, the best thing about this blog is that when something happens, or I have something nice to share, I only have to focus on telling the story once, and telling it well. Being far from away from everyone usually means having to repeat the same stories at least 5 times. The first time, you get into great detail, and you use ample expression and gusto, and by the last person, you're like, "oh, I didn't tell you that? (story told in 4 words). I'm not one who enjoys story telling to begin with, plus Josh does enough of that for the both of us.

When I first announced to Josh that I was going to start a blog, his first reaction was to cross his arms, roll his eyes, and sigh. I looked at him very confused, and asked why he reacted in such a manner.

"Ugggghhhh, I just don't want you to write about hockey and about me and stuff" - Josh

I mean, how dare I forget that everything is about him, and that it would be his first concern and worry. When I kindly reminded him that the sun doesn't actually rise and set on his @$$, he was cool with the idea.

I didn't plan on blogging about hockey, Josh's stats, the team's performance and player dynamic or anything like that, but now something has come up that is "affected our lives negatively in the following ways"...

Josh's team was in 'play-outs', (not to be confused with 'play-offs'), up until last night. The season was over and we could see the finish line. We've been really homesick and we're anxious to come home. This season was a great experience, but it wasn't the best season hockey-wise. We were ready to put it past us and move on... focus on next year.

Three shifts into the 3rd play-out game, Josh hurt his knee. He might have to stay in Switzerland to have surgery. It's just a shittiest thing that could have happened. So, for now, I have my third baby that I wanted. He's gonna be laid up, and I will be taking care of him and the girls for the first part of his recovery. Golfing is his drug of choice during the summer, and I know it will devastate him not to be able to play. What can we do? Stay positive. Keep the mental state healthy and move along. It's the nature of the beast... injuries happen.

So right now, he's on the couch, asking me to fetch him things like his ice cream, the remote, ice, and sedatives. Meanwhile, Madie walks around playing swords with his crutches, and prodding at Lea. I'm packing, cleaning, organizing, preparing an Excel spreadsheet to figure out what our life will be like this summer, cooking, entertaining, taking out the trash... seemingly nothing is different.

Here's the kicker. If he does have to stay in Switzerland for surgery, I would be flying home alone with the girls. That's gonna be awesome, an 8 hour flight with 2 babies and just myself, 6 bags that weigh well over 50 lbs... all the while being as sober as the day I was born. I'm sure I'll have a great story to tell after that ordeal. The worst part is, ~~I won't be able to enjoy a nice cocktail of drugs to help me pass out on the flight~~, Josh will be alone recovering from surgery until he gets discharged directly to the airport.

So that's what's up... I will be home this week for sure, hopefully with Josh in tow. Can't you already picture it? I will be running around the airport, pushing 2 luggage carts simultaneously with bags 5 feet above my head, attaching the double stroller to a rope that will be latched on my belt, carrying the girls like a sleigh dog, passports between my clenched teeth, all kindsa sweat, drool and puke on my ripped shirt that will have gotten caught in the cavity search tool that the TSA agent will have used on me, with nobody there to pick me up because I won't have given them the right terminal. If that does happen, amidst all my misfortune, I'll make sure to pause for a photo op.

2Fast, 2Furious

2011-02-18T05:07:00.002-05:00

Amelie has been pressuring me to contribute another tidbit to the blog for a while. The pressures of satisfying her readers' appetite for entertainment is weighing her down, and she wants my help. While I'm flattered that she believes I have more to offer than just my ATM card, I've been a little surprised at her strategy for recruiting me...

Ame:  " Did you write another post yet?"

Me:  " Negative. I'm afraid your mom will read about how crazy you are and get mad at me for telling everyone."

Ame: " Is that what you do...say you'll do things and never do them? Is that the type of person you are?"

Me:  "Apparently. I said I wouldn't get married until I was 28 and not have kids until I was 30. Didn't do either of those things, so yeah, I am a stupid, empty promise making, liar of a man. What was it you wanted help with?"

For the very few of you who have been waiting for another rebuttal from moi, I do apologize. I am just skeptical about my potential to entertain this particular demographic. I fear that if I am to honestly describe my view points, I risk alienating both my wife and her readers.

Which brings me to the topic of female drivers. You all suck. Amelie especially. Most women are simply less attentive at the wheel and lack the spacial-relations skills needed to drive safely.

In Ame's case, she sucks more the way an angry man with a small package sucks at driving. She is in control of the vehicle and adequately aware of her surroundings , but she struggles with the idea that tailgating a semi-truck on a one-lane road will not get you to the Mexican restaurant any faster. She doesn't understand why every time she brakes, Madie's juice ends up on the floor in front of her seat, and I instinctively recite ten 'Hail Marys' in light-speed gibberish. To make matters worse, she absolutely INSISTS on driving whenever we leave the house together. She claims that she gets "car sick" if she is a passenger. Bullshit. It is simply another small battle of wills that she must win at all costs. You should see the smug, satisfied look she gets every time she slides the seat up 12 feet to reach the ignition. For me, riding shotty is a victory in itself. If Amelie had it her way, I'd be riding bitch between the car seats, belt-less, obediently waiting for that final slam of the brakes to send me on my way.

Teen Mom: an In-Depth Look...

2011-02-15T01:38:00.000-05:00

This is when things get really blogg-y. When I start to give my elaborate opinion on unimportant stuff... oh well.

I went back and forth for like, 10 minutes as to whether I was going to blog about this. At first I was like, naaaah who cares, but after spending 3 full days watching 2 full seasons of Teen Mom (plus the 4 episodes of 16 & Pregnant), I just have to do something. I have so much to say about it, I feel like I'm going to E-X-P-L-O-D-E. I don't care if no one reads this, it's just for my own sake.

"OMG Josh, can you believe this? These poor girls are given a show just to exploit their miserable lives? It's just sooo sad, especially with these little babies involved! I mean, Amber is so unfit it makes me sick" - me

"Will you heat up my lunch"? - Josh

Yeah, so I clearly can't discuss the matter with him, and I'm not gonna have a Skype convo about it with anyone either, so here I am pouring my heart out.

Farrah

At first I thought I was going to have to stick hot pokers in my eyes every time she opened her mouth, but it almost becomes endearing after a while. She sounds incredibly dumb but towards the end of season 2, she just seems sweet. After seeing the mother she was raised by, it's no surprise that she's so closed off and cries so often. The girl hasn't had it so easy with her mom's behavior and her baby daddy being deceased. I was so glad she moved out of that place. First off, it was great that she got away from Debra, but I was also pretty jealous that she gets to have a baby at 17, and go out 4 nights a week and have her mom get up with the baby in the mornings.

I'm sure the show pays for a bunch of crap, because I don't know how she managed to pay rent, car & gas, $3000 scam, etc while slicing pizzas. I must say, she has the cutest style, and I love her hair.

Debra & Michael

Jesus, Mary and Joseph. I wonder if she looks back at the show and realizes that a psycho she comes off like. I'm glad that Ashley, Farrah's sister, was only in 2 episodes because she was pretty painful. I wanted to slap that constant smirk off of her face. But seriously, Deb creeps me out. She's so emotionally detached and mean. She says these weird things to Farrah so calmy and casually like "I love you and I want the best for you... have a nice life". What kind of job does she have anyways? Her and her husband have such a weird relationship. Everything is "hers". "Debra's house". "Debra's rental house". Her mugshot gives me nightmares.

Poor guy. He's the cutest man ever and has zero say in what goes on in that house. I was seriously choking up when he was crying and trying to talk to Farrah and she was sooo mean to him. Why does she call him Michael? I guess people are trying to say that he's not her biological father.... she couldn't look any more like him!!!

Maci

She seems the most level headed and legit out of all the girls. Except for her self tanning skills... those are pretty poor. I don't know why she ever moved to Nashville to be closer to that very odd looking Kyle. I knew that wasn't gonna work out. Biiintly is adorable, Ryan is cute, but it's too bad he's as dumb as a pile of rocks. That's all.

Catelynn & Co.

Poor, poor Catelynn. She's so cute and so mature considering the trash she hails from. I seriously hope that A&E and MTV partner up and give Jeff VanVonderen a call and let him know his next victim. I just love Catelynn and I just feel so bad about her mom. She's smokes constantly inside the house, and she's a crack addict... at best. She looks like hell, and I worry about little Nicholas. I hope that she can move on from the adoption and seriously realize that she did Carly a huge favor by not bringing her up in that family.

And Tyler. Something's gotta be fundamentally wrong with him, because I have never seen a more mature 16 year old boy. He's so great to Catelynn, and he's so nice to his mom. By the way, his mom seems really nice! What did she ever see in Butch? He makes me think he would have been such a great little dad. I was seriously crying to hard at the season finale watching them give up their baby that Josh was almost getting mad at me for being so ridiculous.

Soooo hot.

Amber & Gary

I hate these two. I want to fast forward any part of the show that has to do with them. I don't wanna state the obvious but... Amber's lazy and disgusting and Gary needs to grow a pair.

Now onto Teen Mom 2...

Florence = FAIL.

2011-02-09T01:46:00.002-05:00

Ahh. Get me outta here.

I guess most couples that have a toddler and a baby don't take their kids on trips around Europe. We refuse to use the "kids" excuse to not do anything. We're always willing to try, and I'm always fully prepared for the battle ahead, that is, "the trip". Although I must say, we're lucky to have kids that have been amazing travelers and that have allowed us to see so many wonderful places. All this good traveling with babies was bound to catch up to us... and it did.

"This just about sums you up from this trip" - Josh

This post might not tell you whole lot about Florence, but it will shed light on what we just went through.

1. Beggars can't be choosers.

I've used booking.com for every trip we've taken so far. I love the site, and it's easy to use. I'm the one that usually takes care of the hotel research and booking, the packing, the initeraries, the works. On trip day, all Josh has to go is wake up, get himself ready, throw on his shades, and say, "Where we goin' babe?"

I, on the other, have been up since the crack, packing the suitcase, the food bag, the treats bag, the entertainment bag, the diaper bag and an extra bag to put over my head, just in case.

From what I gathered from my research, Florence hotels are very old and rustic, as to be expected. You know me, always trying to save a buck when I can, went for a 4-star, under 100 bones/night. We stayed at a small inn, one that didn't have an elevator, or parking. Josh pulls around the corner...

"M, run in and ask where we can park" - Josh

...

"Buongiorno, umm hi, sorry, where can we park?" - me

"I finish my coffee, and then I come to help you" - man at reception desk

"Yes, that's great. You stand there and finish your coffee. I was just in the car for 4 hours non-stop, I think I've actually started to pee my pants a little, and I'm getting beeped at to moved since we're taking up half of this tiny street, waiting to park." - me

Finally, we park, walk in and he takes us up 734 stairs with babies, suitcases, and many additional bags. We enter the room. It had old hardwood floors (covered by an old rug) with antique furniture. Very old, Tuscan-style room, with a pack 'n play for Lea that was made in 1632. Eh, this will do. We unpacked, checked over the Florence map, and got ready to head out and explore. 2 1/2 minutes into our 10 minute walk to the action, Josh starts complaining about how far our hotel is from everything, and keeps asking me why I chose that place. Seriously? You who sat on the couch reading your Nook/watching ESPN for 3 hours while I was researching hotels, asking for your opinion, getting ignored? Shut up!

2. What my baby wants, my baby gets.

Anytime we're out and about on a trip, or just around town, it's basically a junk food free-for-all for Madie. Anything to keep her quiet and entertained. Bad parenting? Perhaps, but I would rather buy some gelato and have peace and quiet, rather than have the War of the Wills for 2 hours while I'm trying to enjoy my vacation.

After we walked around for a little bit, we decided to stop somewhere for coffee and a snack. It was about 4pm. We all shared a pizza, and we also realized Madie never ate lunch, just half a can of Pringles in the car. We cut a slice of pizza, place it in front of her and... BARF. She puked in her seat. Omg, omg. That is so weird. Why did she just puke? I'm panicking, and looking around the other tables to make sure no one saw, more importantly, no one was hit. We quietly try to clean her up, and blow out of there.

The smell of puke mixed with sour cream & onion Pringles was enough for me to never eat chips again. We walked 10 minutes back to our room, and thought about what we were going to do next. The man at the front desk told us about a "great family restaurant, a short walk from the hotel, with the BEST pasta and the BEST pizza". (If you ask any Italian about anything, whatever they tell you is always the best.) They didn't open until 7 pm, so we waited until then to head over there.

3. Great restaurants, bad service.

This was amazing. Pappardelle pasta with eggplant, tomatoes, ricotta.

We walked into this cute little place, and we were greeted by the waitress. She saw us both holding one kid, and asked if all for of us were all going to be sitting down. Since there was no place to leave the kids outside, she showed us to a table in the waaaaay back, where my chair was basically in the kitchen. This is cozy. One thing I've learned about this part of the world is that they're aren't many restaurants that cater to children. I have yet to go to a place that had a kid's menu, a high chair is hard to find, and I don't know what I would have to do to get some crayons and a word search.

Yes, that is post-puke.

We sat the girls between us in a booth, ordered, got our food, and Madie really looked off. Once again, we try to offer Madie something to eat, and KABOOM. Projectile vomit ALL over Josh, the chair, the floor, the tray of parmesan cheese bowls for the tables. Ohhh myyy Goooood. The staff glanced over at us, worried about the parm. They were clearly disgusted and never asked if everything was ok or if they could do anything to help. They just walked by us on their way to another table, and threw paper towels. Again, we chugged our wine, got our food to go, and left. By now, Madie has puked on the 2 jackets I brought for her, and Josh's. This trip is seriously starting to take a turn south.

4. Breakfast is included. If you say so.

Our reservation included breakfast, and the hotel reviews raved about it. I walked down with Madie, scanned over the serving table, and didn't see anything hot, like scrambled eggs or bacon, or a toaster for that matter. All they had was pastries, some sliced ham, and an Easter basket with a total of 7 hard-boiled eggs. It was rather pitiful. Madie had a chocolate-filled croissant, and I had about 6 hard boiled eggs. So disappointing.

5. Happy Birthday, Josh.

Yesterday morning was Josh's birthday, so I decided to let him sleep in. I woke up with the girls, took a shower, bathed them, got everyone ready, fed Lea in the room, and took Madie down to eat, all while Josh slept. Because it was his birthday, right? Actually, no. That's just normally how it goes, and as a matter of fact, we didn't realize it was his birthday until about noon that day. When we were done with breakfast, we walked back up to the room, and Josh was just waking up. By then, Lea was ready to go back down for her morning nap. We sat around while he showered (alone), got ready, and walked back downstairs so that he could eat.

We were told when we checked in that breakfast was from 7am-10am. It was about 9:25am when we walked in, and we were advised that breakfast was done for the day. They showed us to a corner table where a woman brought out a plate filled with the breakfast left-overs, that she probably picked out of the garbage. She also brought over "coffee", which was thicker than mud. What a way to start your day. While Josh was eating. I was hovering around him, rocking the stroller back and forth since Lea had just fallen asleep.

So far, the trip just wasn't going well, but it was a new day, and we were gonna make the best of it.

6. The price you pay to keep your kids warm.

First of all, weather.com sucks. I had been looking at the forecast for days prior to our trip, and it kept saying 59F and sunny. After the disastrous breakfast on day 2, we head out of the hotel, and Madie just had a zip-up hoodie on since her 2 other jackets were covered with puke. But we thought that at 59F and sunny, she could survive without a coat.

We get outside, and it's fah-reeeezing. We could see our breaths and the cold wind was brutal. At that point, Josh selflessly takes off his coat and throws it over Madie. We knew that the first order of business was to buy her a new jacket, although she has 6 at home. We struggled to find an actual kid's clothing store, so we started combing through the street's vendors' tents. All we could find was a kid's "ITALIA" sweatshirt for 15 Euro. It was really cute and I hadn't really gotten any Italy souvenirs yet. Trying to bargain it down,I asked if she could throw in a hat and gloves for 20 Euro, and she looked at me and said, "no".

We put the sweatshirt on her and that wasn't enough. We finally found a real store, where we got her a coat for 30 Euro.

7. It's nothing a little breakfast beer and gelato won't cure.

After that coat scavenger hunt, we went into a gelato shop to stay warm. It was when we were halfway through our 40's that we realized it was Josh's birthday. Madie was picking at her gelato, and that's when we knew something was wrong. She usually crushed ice cream. So about $75, a coat, and not even a buzz later, we ended up back in our hotel room where we were all nicely napping until the front desk man called, woke us all up, and asked if we wanted our room 'serviced'. Being half-asleep, I picked up the phone and hung it up, and he proceeded to call again. What's wrong with this guy.

8. Check, please.

After our family nap, we decided to go out for an early dinner, and do some shopping. Madie seemed OK, and she didn't have a fever or any other symptom, so we thought she just got sick from something she ate and was fine. We looked up a restaurant on tripadvisor.com, mapped it out, and headed to it. Obviously, it was closed. We went somewhere else nearby, that seemed very charming. We had steak, carbonara, pizza and wine. By then, we thought Madie would be starving. She started half-crying and got a weird look on her face. I dumped the bread out of the bowl, grabbed her out of her high chair and ran outside. Sure enough... BARF. All over the streets of Florence. By then, we were pro's at not getting her puke on us, or her for that matter. I wiped her up, went back in, quickly inhaled my food and wine, and at that point, we decided to were done with this getaway.

We walked back to our hotel, got in the car and blew out of there.

9. About Florence...

Honestly, it's hard for me to sum up this vacation since it went so wrong. I expected it to be a lot different. I thought I'd be sitting outside a coffee shop, in warm weather under the Tuscan sun, enjoying a great bottle of Chianti while my girls were quietly sitting next to me, coloring and eating fries. Not the case. I was sitting inside my creepy hotel room, freezing, and Madie was puking next to me, looking out over my hand-washed pukey clothes hanging all over the room.

It was definitely bigger than I expected, and it had more of a big city feel than I thought. It seems good for shopping. It was sort of a mix between Venice and Rome, and so far, Venice was my fave.

If I ever go back, I will be childless, and I'll probably just camp out in a vineyard.

*I probably should have mentioned that Madie is OK. I took her to the doc's when we returned, and she was completely fine. Besides throwing up, she had no other symptoms and she was acting pretty normal (as normal as Madie can act), so we really weren't too concerned and we kept thinking it was going to pass...*

It's Teeeeeeeeee-Shirt Tiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiime

2011-02-05T08:50:00.009-05:00

I know, I know, I don't update the blog as frequently anymore. I really only have an excuse for the 3 full days out of the last 2 months when I watched 3 seasons of Jersey Shore back to back.

It took me a while to give into that show, thinking I had better things to do than watch that mindless crap, and that I was classier than that. Turns out I was wrong. I'm not classy, and I don't have anything better to do. And I'm obsessed with it. The show consumes my every thought. I'm always thinking about how to get rid of Sammi, and how I should try Vinny's mom's meatballs.

First of all, does anyone else agree that Sammi brings nothing to the show? I get that her and Ronnie are always fighting, but doesn't that get old? If I have to watch her clap the palms of her hands together and yell things like, "look at me in the face and...", "we're done", "come tsalk to me", ONE MORE TIME, I'm gonna put a campfire out with my face. She's so annoying. The part that grinds my gears the most, is how the only time she ever interacts with anyone else in the house is to somehow talk about her problems with Ronnie. Any other time, she's fake.

ANYWAYS. To bring this full circle, it is T-Shirt time over here in Lugano (for some of us). It's 60F and sunny here today, and we're going to Florence tomorrow for 2 nights. Since Josh's birthday is on Monday, I decided that I would take him on a 2 day getaway, with his money. After that trip, we'll have visited all the places in Italy that we wanted to see. Now I can check it off my list.

No one is appreciating this warm weather more than Josh himself. Anyone that knows him well, sees how much he enjoys taking his shirt off. Any chance he gets, he removes it. We'll be in the backyard at our house in Rockland, as soon as it hits 50 degrees, his chest is bare. At the same time, he won't go into the water when we go to the beach, claiming it's too cold for him, since he "has such little body fat". We were out and about yesterday, and sure enough, we hadn't been walking around for more than 6 minutes, I turn around, Josh's coat is hanging on the stroller. I'll give him credit, it was nice out and I wish I could have taken my coat off, but I was wearing leggings with a tight long sleeve shirt. A big no-no with the full-body-hugging outfit. Had I been wearing a loose-fitting top, I definitely would have partaken.

To support Josh's shirtless obsession, here is what I quickly scrounged up.

Dinner time. Everyone showered and dressed, Josh still shirtless from the day.

Washer toss in a wooded area while camping, Josh shirtless.

Nippy day at the beach, clearly some of us are using towels to stay warm, Josh bares his chest.

I hesistated with this one, because anything goes at CountryFest. Josh takes this one step futher and flexes.

Evening out on the deck, again, everyone is showered and dressed, Josh refuses to conform.

The most annoying part about all of this is that he eats dessert DAILY and anything else he feels like eating. I hope our girls inherited his metabolism, rather than the constant urge to remove the shirt.

Food Quickie: MA, the MEATLOAF!!!

2011-01-30T12:48:00.000-05:00

Meatloaf rocks, except for the fact that I always feel like I'm 90 years old when I make it. I always think of it as something grandmothers make. Keep in mind that there are 28,343,653 ways to make meatloaf, and everyone's recipe is different. This is just how I made mine. As far as meats are concerned, you can buy a meatloaf mix, or you can use just beef, or any kind of ground meat.

Ingredients:

3/4 lb of ground beef
3/4 lb of ground veal
3/4 cup of milk
3/4 cup of dried Italian-style breadcrumbs
2 eggs
1/2 cup of corn ('cuz Madie loves corn)
1 small onion, chopped
1/2 cup of ketchup
Staples: salt & pepper

Preheat your oven to 375F or 180C. Chop your onion. Spray a loaf pan with cooking spray, or you can use a small Pyrex-type baking dish. Get out a big bowl and throw everything in there except for the ketchup. Take off your rings, and get in there. Mix it all together and pat it down in your pan.

Layer the top with ketchup. Cook for about 1 hour.

After your throw that in, get started on your mashed potatoes. You must serve this with mashed potatoes. I like to mix white and sweet potatoes together, but whatever floats your boat. I made oven roasted brussel sprouts that I threw in with the meatloaf when there was 30 minutes left.

Food Quickie: Two-Minute Tuna

2011-01-28T02:01:00.008-05:00

This one is for the adventurous eater. So easy, so quick, so healthy. The ingredients are light, but this meal is very rich. I made it with white rice, but it's good enough to eat on it's own.

Ingredients:

2 tuna steaks (sushi grade)
3 limes (zest 2 and juice all 3)
2 scallions
1 red onion
1 large avocado
2 tsp of soy sauce
10-ish squirts of Wasabi sauce
Staples: olive oil, salt, pepper

Get out your cutting board and grab a good knife. Chop scallions (both white & green parts), chop onion, peel avocado and cut into chunks. Zest & juice your limes.

In a bowl, pour in 2-3 tbsp of olive oil. Add a little S & P (not too much), soy sauce, wasabi sauce, lime zest & juice. The wasabi sauce I used wasn't that hot, so use as little or as much as you can tolerate. You could also use hot sauce and wasabi powder. Whisk together. Add avocados. Check for seasonings.

Heat a dry skillet on med-high heat. Take out your tuna, brush with a little olive oil, then season with S & P. When your skillet gets screamin' hot, add tuna and sear for ONE minute on each side. I repeat, ONE minute on each side. Once the tuna is done, cut into chunks, place in a serving bowl, and add the scallions and red onion. Mix lightly, then pour vinaigrette over the tuna.

That's it!