First Name Smith

no filler shit

2013-06-18T07:30:00.000-04:00

Do you ever want to blog and then just stare blankly at that flashing cursor and want to stab yourself in the eyeball with a dull fork because your mind is just as blank as the soul of new baby girl Kardashian?

I just truly don’t have that much on my mind lately. Neither good or bad that is just screaming for me to share with the world. Or the handful of you that keep coming back to this corner for some poorly executed wit and amusement.

Life has been… really good. And I’m not one of those really good mushy, gushy blog people. I do far better with sarcasm, insults, and inappropriate eff bombs.

Smith has been rocking the potty training to the fullest and we are officially done with diapers
Kent is being a great husband and father and is even picking up his dirty, sweat stained socks from the bathroom floor, so there’s a bonus.·
My full time job is good.
My other part time / full time job is busy (LLP).
I have food on the table.
I have (a little) money in the bank.
My friends are awesome.
I will see some family really soon and that makes my heart full.
Kent and I had an amazing anniversary weekend.
My father in law is healthy.
We are knee-deep in planning Smith’s 3^rd birthday party that will be low fuss and just perfect.
And I have been healthy for three straight weeks.

I am waiting with baited breath because I feel like some shoe will drop soon. But for now, I am content. REALLY content. And focusing on my life without the distraction of social media. Instagram (FRSTNAMESMITH) makes me feel somewhat connected without feeling the pressure to come up with witty commentary outside of a few ridiculous hashtags.

No promises here dolls. But no filler shit either. Words when there are words to say. And nothing when there isn’t. And it feels good that way.

momma bird

2013-06-12T07:30:00.000-04:00

There comes a time in every young mother's life that something falls out of her mouth that sounds like her own mother. And at that moment in time, that young mother realizes that her mother was right... after all those years of promises to herself to never say or do or be the 2nd generation of her mom. It's natural.

In my head, I am still 22. I am also still a size 4 with perfectly respectable, perky, B cups and an ass that had more bounce than the best twerk at Club Flavors. I am playing house in some weird, alternate universe where someone has entrusted me with caring for another human, but I nervously wait for someone to tell me that I’m not old enough to babysit. I pretend to have it all together, but inside I feel like I’m swimming in a sea of responsibility that I’m not quite capable of handling emotionally sometimes.

For years, all I ever heard was that I was a spitting image of my father. I haven’t seen him in person for nearly 20 years, so I can’t speak much on that subject. What I remember him to be physically probably isn’t how he really looks. And that’s fine. I’m not sure I need to know at this point in my life. But, that is a story for another day.

Then comes the day that you realize you ARE your mother. As in, you are a mirror image of what you remember your own mother to look like when she was your age. This is my life at this moment. It’s both endearing and strange all in the same breath.

I look just like her.

I am a part of her and she is a part of me. And one day Smith will have a moment where he looks at Kent and feels the same. This is one of those mind blowing parenting moments that knocks you on your ass and begs for a box of wine.

When did I get older? That shit is only supposed to happen to other people.

thirty five

2013-06-11T07:30:00.000-04:00

The day we met, I was 22. He was 23. We were young and pretty dumb on various accounts, but living the high life of a nonprofit employee working with kids with disabilities. We went out 6 nights a week on a $24,000 salary, lived in the center of Baltimore City and partied like rockstars.

Here we are today, celebrating Kent’s 35^th birthday. We have shared 11 birthdays together. 11. The thought of that kind of baffles my mind.

When you get married, you speak the words forever. But the volume of that word wasn’t understood for years. Even as we embark upon our 5^th wedding anniversary and our 11^th year together as a couple. As we celebrate the 11years that have passed since I first laid eyes on him. Forever. He is my forever.

Happy birthday Boo. Cheers to 11 + forever.

my oh my

2013-06-04T07:30:00.000-04:00

I'm not afraid to admit that I'm diggin that little Disney Princess Selena Gomez's Come & Get It song. That shit is hot. Makes me want to throw myself on the back of a camel and twerk.

* * * * *

We saw my Father In Law this weekend for the first time in a few weeks and he looks absolutely incredible. I am still amazed at how well he has come out on the other side of the cancer diagnosis. I know most people aren't that lucky. Just makes me terribly grateful.

* * * * *

I got my Mirena out last week. No decisions have been made still regarding the SOTU (state of the uterus) but I did get my first period in nearly 4 years. So, imagine how fucking awesome that is...

I haven't really felt the need to blog lately. My mind has been eerily calm and my heart has been full. My face is also full of teenage acne again, so there's that too.

* * * * *

This weekend was the first time someone other than my contractually required husband has commented on my new Body By Gym. It felt damn good for someone IRL to notice the hard work I have been putting in. The 5am wake ups suck fat donkey balls, but well worth it in the long run. It's frightening that I have come to enjoy the quiet, radio-less and drama toddler- less car ride to and from the gym. BTW, Blogilates shirts are cute as shit, but this shirt is a LARGE and its tight as donkey ass. I need some new gear. Anyone have suggestions?

My baby sister got engaged during her vacation to Disney World! I can hardly imagine. My little BB. She is 10 years younger than me and will forever be the 5 year old in my memories. I am so damn proud of her and the choices she has made in her life. I know this will be an incredible journey for her and I cannot wait to see her walk down the aisle. And to make me an Aunt (in like 5 years minimum, okay Brie?).

I'll be around dolls. Let me get through this fucktastic period and maybe I'll gain some wits about me again.

SWW

2013-05-29T07:30:00.000-04:00

So what if I boast about my child's bathroom successes. I think we have finally conquered the potty training. Except for that time last night at 3am when a a certain little dude peed himself all the way to China. I cannot believe the sheer volume of liquid that his bladder holds. He scared himself to death. Not much worse than watching the fear overcome your little mans face when he realizes that he did something he wasn't supposed to. Unless we're talking about jumping on the couch and then it's all for shits and giggles.

So what if I couldn't help but pat myself on the back for not sympathy-vomiting when Smith cried so much about getting his haircut that he blew his just eaten pizza all over the guest bed. I have never seen a child so frightened about a set of clippers in my life. But, he composed himself rather quickly and proceeded to sing in the bath not even 5 minutes later. These kids bounce back with a quickness. And my god he looks delicious with a fresh fade. Oh and the scissors? This kid is a fucking genius.

So what if I kind of got off on the new Pinterest crockpot recipes. I found a lot of ideas after my gripes last week and the drama llama of cooking when I am away from the house 11 hours a day. I made the ziploc freezer bag my bitch and rocked out two freezer-to-crockpot ready meals for this week. If they are any good, I'll share them with you. If you don't hear about them, assume we made a slight detour for the McDonald's value menu that night.

So what if I had a BLAST this weekend at the beach with my boys and my very best for her daughter's 13th birthday. Kaylee is such a joy to be around. She is the most amazing teenager I have ever known. So kind hearted, gentle, and confident in the best way possible. And this weekend was one of only a handful of times we have take Smith to the beach for her party, despite living (quite literally) 3 miles away. He had the best time. And if it weren't for Kent's back getting ass raped by the sun, we probably would have stayed longer.

So what if I am getting my Mirena out on Friday and we still haven't decided one way or another about the fate of the state of my uterus. Neither of us are 100% on board, but we're not against either. I think we just need more time. And maybe to mull it over a few more Miller Lites and a few boxes of delicious. Because drinking and deciding on baby making is the right way to make a sound decision.

So what if I need to toot my own design horn from time to time. I am in LOVE with one of my newest designs. Funny how certain ones hit you in all the right smooshy places. I just adore it. And kind of hope that Kent want's his 35th birthday party to be farm themed.

dinner herpes

2013-05-23T09:55:00.000-04:00

I read somewhere when someone likened the planning of dinner for her family like a bad case of herpes. You know, that irritating, painful itch that stays with you forever no matter how hard you wish your bad decisions away.

Planning dinners suck balls. As each day wears on, I get increasingly annoyed with the idea in itself. Primarily because I am the only one to plan or cook or grocery shop or even blink an eye at the fact that Husband and Toddler need to be fed. Secondly because both Husband and Toddler are equal parts picky and a pain in my ass during the act.

Husband remains in the living room watching said Toddler. But said Toddler sneaks his way into the kitchen doing the robot dance directly under a boiling pot of water while Husband is actually watching some asinine Ebaumsworld video. I then proceed to promptly lose my shit at both Toddler and Husband for being equal parts responsible for my blood pressure boiling. Is it really necessary for me to 1. scald my child with burning water for him to know that he should stay away? and 2. physically remind Husband every 13 seconds that I have a toddler underfoot and I can't get him away from the stove (read: get your ass over here and take him before I drop kick you into next week). I swear there is something in development process of male humans that they skip the common sense line for an extra dose of idiocracy.

Nevertheless the actual process of cooking, but planning for dinner is even more of a pussy, cold sore that you try to hide behind a bandaid, but the burning and itching (of the clock toward 5pm) reminds you that you're just fucked and you have to break down and do the damn thing.

Husband doesn't like half the shit that I do when it comes to food. Who doesn't like beans? Weirdo. Toddler would swim in a bath of macaroni and cheese with a side of hot dogs, but God forbid you try to expose him to something as simple as a grilled cheese and he freaks the fuck out like someone is plucking out his toenails.

Not to mention the fact that I get home, on an average day, at 6pm. Upon arrival home, the dog has to be walked. The cat has to be fed. And the new Sophia The First has to be cued on the tele. By the time I actually get into the kitchen to start dinner, it's 6:30 and Smith starts his bedtime routine at 7:15. Which typically leaves about negative forty minutes for me to prepare, cook, and consume a meal.

I loathe dinner time. I would rather scrub toilets with my bare hands and wipe poopy crumps out of my son's ass on any given day than be sole person responsible for feeding my boys.

Fuck the maid. Just give me a cook.

Datevitation giveaway!

2013-05-23T07:30:00.000-04:00

I've talked here about the trifecta that happens in June. Remember that time that I went ape shit and nearly lost my sanity trying to buy for three big life events within 5 days of each other? My dumb ass has to do that every fucking year. Awesome. June 11 - Kent's Birthday. June 14 - Our Wedding Anniversary (and my best friend's birthday) and then June 16- Father's Day. Awesome for my checkbook.

We always go nuts for birthdays. And anniversaries. And we generally celebrate shitting in the potty (Smith, not Kent just in case there was confusion). So needless to say, my wallet feels a pinch every year around the middle of June.

One thing I did find this year was this awesome little spot that takes that whole idea of personal coupon books to the next level. Datevitation had me at hello. Without the whole Jerry MacGuire nonsense, but with a whole lot of hells yeah, that's one thing I can check off my list.

They have over 350 unique date ideas on their site and the most insanely adorable stick figures to accompany them. I may have even thrown one in there for Kent that's ~~a little~~ a lot naughty. Always good for a laugh (who will be laughing when he actually cashes it in though?). Each coupon can be personalized to add your own flair. But sexual stick figures aside, there are really awesome and unique ideas in there that you can completely customize. And on the cheap! It's a simple and practical gift that won't break the bank.

Datevitation wants to offer a giveaway for FNS readers and even throw in a $10 coupon for anyone that wants to buy one on their own! Perfect for Father's Day (and checking that one off your list of course). Use Rafflecopter below to enter. And the $10 code: NAMESMITH for your purchases in May or June. The cut off for Father's Day orders is June 6th though, so get on it like Farrah on that anal lube.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Good luck dolls! Winner will be announced next week! And thanks to Datevitation for saving my sanity on at least one holiday.

Battle of the why

2013-05-21T07:30:00.000-04:00

Somewhere along the line, my incredibly smart toddler learned to ask why. And not just asking why for the sake of annoyance, but generally wants to know the ins and outs of all things. I'm surprised he hasn't asked why shit is brown. Because going into that kind of detail with a not-even-three-year-old is kind of an arduous process.

Why is my belly hurting? Why can't I sit on the couch and play with my pee pee? Why are you happy, Mommy? Why do I have to take a bath? Why do I have poopy crumbs on my butt?

Its like out of nowhere that the Land of the Why's have invaded our house. I definitely wasn't expecting this phase for at least another year. Not that someone handed me a parenting timeline. Because if they did, they'd be up shits creek with a paddle up their ass because the 'standard' sleep through the night age is like 6 months. Yeah. Turns out that's not always true.

We are making some big time progress in the house with manners, listening comprehension, pooping in the potty, and even managed to start going sans pull ups overnight. A few accidents here and there, but every day is a step in the right direction. He's incredibly compassionate and affectionate. Thank God because I couldn't handle it if he refused smooches.

He's turning into a little boy before my eyes. And my heart can barely handle it. He says he wants to get big big to the sky, mommy and then I tell him that it makes mommy sad he's growing so fast. He'll then offer up a hug and kiss and just melts me into a pile of mush.

He's one rad dude. No wonder my uterus is hurting a little. My how easily we forget how fucking difficult the hard times are. But, despite any and all complaints about the process of raising semi-humans, it is truly all worth it. That kid rocks my socks.

(don't worry, snarky Kristen will return soon. I know mush isn't what you come here for, but today it's what you get).

Kristen said what???

2013-05-20T07:30:00.000-04:00

Maybe it's because Smith is finally starting to resemble a really awesome dude lately, but admittedly, this one and done chick has been starting to think that maybe, just maybe, a second baby isn't such a bad idea. I can hardly believe I am even typing those words. But I kind of feel like I'm at a crossroads and need to make some official decisions relatively soon.

I will be *gasp* 34 in November. Not ancient, but certainly not a young twenty something with a uterus prime for inhabitation. I think it's kind of do or die within the next year.

Kent and I talked about it on our date night on Friday. We aren't 100% convinced that the doors are shut on this whole 2nd baby thing. But we aren't 100% on board with starting all over again either. I guess you could say that the door is cracked. A little. Just enough to let some light in and keep the monsters away, but not wide open like Farrah's asshole.

I have made a decision to remove my Mirena for a variety of reasons. I am 10,000% convinced that part of my attitude problem (yeah) and rollercoaster of emotions on the day to day is mostly to blame on that thing. And the fact that I don't wear stress well. But regardless, the shit is coming out. And before that happens, we need to decide on the direction we want to go. If I go back on the pill, I am essentially ruling out the possibility of ever having another child. It took us soooo long to get pregnant after going off the pill and I don't want to put myself through that drama again. But if the Mirena is removed and we decide we MAY want to go down that sleepless road again, I won't go back on anything at all. Time isn't really on our side these days.

Who knows where this will take us. Maybe a pregnancy announcement in 6 months? Maybe endless boxes of wine in our future too. We'll just have to wait and see.

How's that for a little shock to your system on a Monday morning?

Atlantis

2013-05-16T08:37:00.001-04:00

My work sponsored a 'reconnaissance' mission to Atlantis, Paradise Island. A research trip for the few of us in our studio that haven't been to the resort.

My company was involved in the master planning and landscape architectural services and I got a fantastic opportunity to ride on the coattails of the designers and spend my Mother's Day walking around the property ~~taking site photos and surveying the design~~ drinking Kalik and Rum with a side of strawberry daqueri.

While it was nice to get away, the timing wasn't exactly poetic. I did get to spend a few short hours Mother's Day morning with my boys. But, work demanded my time. And I am terribly dedicated to my job, so sacrifices had to be made.

Just a few of the 450+ photos we took while on site.

Mother's Day

2013-05-09T07:30:00.000-04:00

Oh the pressure. Mother's Day is a bitch.

Kent is always awesome at gift giving. In fact, we both are. We go above and beyond and bordering on ridiculous for life's big events. Except for that time that I birthed his child. And he bought be a book. And a wallet. Which is kind of weird from an outsiders perspective, but for me, it was perfect at the time. Impending c-section bills and owning our first home at the time and we barely had two pennies to rub together to get a spark.

Birthday's are always awesome (memba that time he got me a DSLR camera)? Christmas is even better. So, Mother's Day I'm sure will be something amazing. Last year I got a spa gift certificate. And do you know where that gift certificate is? Still in my fucking wallet. A year later. Why? Because I can't seem to locate one hour of free time in my weekends. And quite honestly, the time that I do have, I want to spend with the boys. Even if they are shitting their underwear for the 10th time that week or needing their ass wiped (I'll let you guess which is which).

I got to thinking about what I really want for Mother's Day this year. And you know what that is? A cheese and fruit blintz from The Original Pancake House; a hand made card using some kind of extremity of my son (preferably hands or feet because scrubbing blue paint off toddler balls would be weird); and a free pass to sleep until 11am.

I don't ask for much. And I'm sure most mother's would probably agree. We just want to be appreciated. And who gives a rats testicles about material shit.

But just in case some asstard has a head full of bad ideas... here are some things to avoid for Mother's Day (read: if you're my husband, don't do these)...

Bath Salts. Unless we're talking the good hard drugs that let you escape the reality of green poops on account of over-iced cupcakes and grants you a chance to gnaw on some Ryan Reynolds inner thighs, don't go for anything bath related. When was the last time you knew of a mom (that mom would be me) who had time to take 30 minutes and sit in a tub while leaving a child and husband unattended? Do you know what happens when you do that? A whole lot of stress covered in linguini noodles, wiener cheese, and playdoh.

A Cleaning Product: Any cleaning product. Because I don't need a reminder that I am the only one who knows how to scrub a toilet or start a load of wash. But if you do insist on cleaning products, just make sure they don't have a cylindrical tool attached that can be promptly shoved up your ass. Just watching out for your chocolate starfish, my friends.

Candles: Nothing spells last minute and I don't know what to get you, but I want to look romantic and awesome just in case you will give me a Mother's Day blow job later more than candles.

Flowers from some overpriced big box online store where you spent ~~my boxed wine money~~ our grocery money: Save your pennies. Take a walk with the kids and pick some wildflowers. Besides, it gives us moms 10 minutes where we can poop in peace without a toddler wanting to see every nook and cranny of our bowl movement in the toilet.

Just trying to help a brotha out, dolls. I am available for anonymous email contacts to your husbands to send them in the right direction. Just sayin.

Blog Lovin

2013-05-08T15:23:00.001-04:00

Follow my blog with Bloglovin

Yep, I jumped on that bandwagon. Holler atcha girl. And bring me a cupcake.

Teacher Appreciation Week

2013-05-08T07:30:00.000-04:00

I was having a Vox convo this morning with my fairest of blog bffs and we were bantering back and forth about the asinine shit that we do as parents to keep up with the Jones'. More specifically, the amount of ridiculous overextension of resources, time, and money to make sure that you don't end up looking like an asshole.

This week is teacher's appreciation week. If you have anklebiters, you are very aware. If you are married to a teacher (I am) you are also aware. As Shannon so eloquently put it, when the fuck did teachers get an entire week? They are absolutely underpaid. And they are most certainly underappreciated. I see from first (err, second) hand experience. Kent gets shit on. All the time. Mostly by administration, but there are some bat-shit crazy parents out there that make it their sole mission in life to wear a dickhead hat at every occasion.

When it comes to teacher appreciation week, of course doing nice gestures is appreciated and deserved. This year, however, Smith's room mother decided to take shit to a whole 'nother level and we are drowning in responsibility. An email was blasted to all 12 sets of parents in his class. Each day we are "strongly urged" (read: if you don't, you're an asshole and everyone will know it) to bring in something for the teacher. I have no problem showering a well deserved teacher with some appreciation.

The schedule?

Monday: Cards. Okay simple enough. Handmade is my territory, so we can rock that shit.

Tuesday: Flowers. Cool. Except this week is also Mother's Day so prices are jacked higher than the thong in my ass right now. Ms. Dennise is awesome though, so, word.

Wednesday: Candy. Specifically chocolates... okay fine.

Thursday: Sweet treats (a la Pinterest projects). Sweet baby 8lb 2oz baby Jesus.

Friday: Gift Cards. Ranging from $10-$50. Oh, okay. Well, yes because I didn't already spend $40 Monday - Thursday on flowers, chocolates, and pinterest projects.

I get it. I married a teacher dolls. I KNOW what they go through. Why is the only real appreciation in the form of material things? What happened to the days where you bring your teacher an apple? Or maybe make some nice, homemade thank you cards. Or color a picture? Or maybe a giant hug? Or a small ornament for their classroom tree? A simple and sincere thank you would be nice too. Or maybe a chocolate bar would suffice. Or a hot cup of their favorite Starbucks coffee?

Is this the new norm? Is everything about money and the bigger and more expensive, the better?

effing bullets

2013-05-07T07:30:00.000-04:00

Miley was voted Maxim's #1 hottest female. In related news, vomited in my mouth this morning. Could be the worm that was in my pistachios (yeah), but it likely was because of this nonsense. What gummy headed meth head would think that's even remotely accurate? FHM got it right with whatsherhead from That 70's Show. Girlfriend is hot. If I was a dude, I'd bone Mila in three shakes of an empty wine box.

I left my phone at home yesterday. And it quite frankly threw me into a panic. But as the day wore on, I realized how liberating it was to not be connected. Doesn't mean I didn't sign into IG to check out what's happening from my computer. God forbid I miss what someone is eating for lunch.

There is a missing ceiling tile in the women's bathroom. And I'm pretty convinced that our IT director installed a camera in that joint. Because he is that creepy. Anyone ever seen a hot, normal IT guy? Bueller? Bueller?

Since May is officially upon us, it means shopping for the impending birthday / anniversary / father's day trifecta is in full effect. I was a moron and decided to get married to a man three days after his birthday and four days before Father's Day. Shit hurts the pocketbook. Good plans in the works. And on that note, anyone up for a weekend babysitting job for Smith? I'll pay you in stationery and wine boxes. Baby Daddy and I haven't had a date night in months.

This morning after the gym, I walked into our bedroom to jump in the shower and saw Husband snuggling beneath the covers. Before waking him for his morning run, I just kind of oogled him for a minute, remembering the very day we met and fondly smiling on the past (almost) eleven years together. Little did I know that day that I was shaking hands with my future husband and baby daddy. Funny how life has a way of throwing you curve balls. I was very comfortable with my life's direction at the time and then bam! Fate smacked me in the taint and made me it's bitch. We have our rough moments. And eleven years together hasn't always been easy, but he's really my true boo. Except for the days he leaves his shoe insoles on the side of the tub for two weeks and we play a nasty game of move the shit to see who caves first and puts them back where they're supposed to be. Spoiler: he wins.

I am reading this book (a gift from Kent)... albeit slowly because I typically have about 3.5 minutes of free time a day. And quite frankly, I'm bored. It had hella potential with the cover alone, but I'm even more convinced that bloggers don't make the best authors. Can! A! Girl! Use! More! Exclamation! Points! Someone was too busy blowing the high school English teacher, apparently.

updates

2013-05-03T09:02:00.001-04:00

I didn't get up and work out this morning. Only the 2nd time that I bypassed the alarm and allowed myself to sleep until 6am. That one fucking hour makes a world of difference some days though. I am just exhausted. But I finally feel like I am at the point where I have burned through the extra fat and I'm starting to actually tone. And I feel fantastic!

* * * * *

I have been burning the candle at both ends and working nonstop. Working full time and then going home to snuggle with my boys, take care of the household duties and then work LLP after the littlest is in bed for the night. My poor husband. He's been a trooper hanging in there and doing his best to be supportive of me trying to take my business to a whole 'nother level.

And it is. Shit is booming. I started partnering with another company that allows me to add more goodies to the inventory like iphone cases, glass cutting boards, business cards, serving trays, etc. Some awesome shit out there and I'm stoked that I am able to spread these design wings a little.

Sorry I have been so absent this week ont the blog. Playing catch up on my to-do list has been a daunting, but rewarding all in the same breathe.

* * * * *

We did have a birthday celebration for my bestest this weekend. A birthday brunch for a badass babe, if you will. What a good time spending the afternoon sipping mimosas with good friends and good food. This lady means the world to me. She has been there for me through so much over the past 5 years and I am terribly grateful for her unconditional love and support. And the fact that she loves Smith as if he were her own makes my heart fuller than full.

* * * * *

This weekend we will be spending swimming with our fresh fish, who is kicking ass and taking names in the swim lesson department. This kid amazes me more and more every day. He's becoming such a little man. Showing interest in baseball (kid can hit a baseball with a bat when you throw it to him... he's not even 3!) He can swim under water. He will sit down and tell you all about his day and why he thinks that Sebastian wasn't a good boy in class today. I mean. Kid is incredible. I want to freeze frame these past two weeks with him. He's been nothing short of perfection.

Sorry this post is all over the place. My brain is scrambled. My heart is full. My belly is hungry. And my liver is craving some boxed deliciousness after a week long wine hiatus. I'll be back with you lovely bitches soon. Have a great weekend dolls!

opinions and eyecandy

2013-05-01T07:30:00.000-04:00

I kind of need some opinions... from one Etsy obsessee to another.

As you know, I am rocking out the party business, but I have ran across another opportunity that would allow me to to expand my shoppe further. And quite frankly, I'm not sure if I should make a jump. Is there a market? Should I even offer these options?

So, I need your help. Tell me what you'd like to see in the shoppe other than invitations and party decor. Melamine trays? Stickers? Custom designed coasters? Business cards? Growth charts? Iphone cases? Placemats? Puzzles?

I need to rely on you guys to show me the way. For three years, I have been entrenched in paper, but I need to know if there is a market out there for other goodies too. Let me know your thoughts, dollfaces.

And just for good measure, enjoy this little studmuffin toddler eyecandy.

pretty sure I'm in trouble in about 13 years...school pictures rock

fine line and finer ass (in the works)

2013-04-26T12:00:00.001-04:00

Did you know that if you order a bathing suit from China, it actually arrives? Like twenty years later, but it still arrives. If you have a few weeks to spare, spending $20 for an adorable swimsuit is totally worth it. Shit may fall apart in the wash the first time, but you best believe I will love rocking it for the first time.

I initially posted this on IG last night, but quickly took it down out of shame. Embarrassed because I don't want to be "that" girl. Or make it seem as if I boasting. There's a fine line between pride and boastful. And I don't want to be the latter.

But I was proud. Proud of myself for sticking to my workout regime. Proud that I get up 3 or 4 days a week at 5am when the house is quiet; Smith still snuggled beneath a mound of blankets, and Kent dreaming his last few dreams. I drive to the gym and put in hard work. I have every right to be proud of myself for sticking with it.

I still have work to do to be personally satisfied from within. But I can begin to see a difference and want to pat myself on the back(side) for the hard work. Someone has to do it. I can't wait for my husband to do it. I don't need my friends to do it. I need to do it for myself.

By the way, the suit can be found here.

caption contest

2013-04-26T07:30:00.000-04:00

Yesterday was Bring Your Child To Work Day (here at least). Smith had a BLAST. I was even exhausted by 11am. I work for a landscape architecture firm and a majority of the day was focused around our industry. Obviously his little monster truck / Sophia The First / Goldfish / Tantrum brain isn't quite old enough to comprehend plant walks or rendering a master plan. But he made the best of the day... starting with making himself right at home at my boss's desk.

The picture of the crime is too damn cute to go without a caption contest. Winner will get a free set of invitations from my shoppe. Go. Do it. Make some caption magic.

Real Beauty

2013-04-24T07:30:00.000-04:00

I remember being young and my mom never liking her hair. Or her arms. As a young kid, I never understood why that was necessarily important. Who gives a flying shit about your bangs, mom? I mean, honestly. She was the most beautiful woman to me. I never understood why she put so much pressure on herself to be a certain way. She was gorgeous. She still is.

As I grew into my teen years, I began to see an increase in the number of pimples invade my face. I grew awkward. As my legs grew long, I also grew very insecure. Comparing myself to some of the popular girls in my class and the grade above. I could never be as beautiful as Emily Weer. Physically, she was everything I strived to be. Gorgeous blonde hair. Amazing body. Great boobs. Nice legs. Amazing smile.

As I got older and saw that my skin, my body, my hair, my smile, my boobs weren't like Emily's, I grew further insecure. Maybe not perceived from the outside, but on the inside, I was very unhappy with how I thought the world saw me.

I suppose it's something that all young girls and women go through. We are programmed to compare ourselves to what we see on television. What someone deems as beautiful. Women struggle. I can't speak for men. I have never heard Kent tell me about a time where he was rocked by physical insecurities. Perhaps he had them. Maybe he has them now? I don't know. Something we have never talked about, really.

I ran across this video a few weeks ago and it completely epitomizes how insecure we are as women. How we view ourselves so much differently than how others really see us. It's quite powerful. I urge you to view it. Take the time to watch and really let it sink in.

every bit of three

2013-04-23T07:30:00.000-04:00

I just realized yesterday that it was almost May. That just damn near snuck up on me and smacked me in my ass didn't it? I can hardly believe we are here again and already talking about the next big birthday (following Kent's of course).

This year, we decided we are going to keep it low key. The first two birthdays we went a little nuts in both the toy department and in the party itself. I think this year, I want to do something a little different. A party at the house, or at the pool with a handful of friends and the entire day spent focusing on my Smurf.

I got into spring cleaning mode this weekend and ended up trashing some old, ratty toys. And threw away some that weren't working or were broken in a piece or ten. When going through everything, I realized how amazingly blessed this kid is. He deserves every bit of it. He's bad ass. I also think we need to tone things down a little bit for this next go-round and maybe do things a little different. Not sure what that means yet, but I have some ideas floating in my head. Regardless, I'm sure his birthday will be filled with love and lots of Hershey kisses.

At one point a few weeks ago, I read an article about this man who stood up to a little half wit in the middle of Walmart who criticized him for buying his son the Sophia The First princess show on DVD. Who does that?

It got me thinking about Smith and how proud I am that he wants to just do what he does. He LOVES the color pink. If you give him a choice between blue and pink, he'll choose pink every time. He loves watching princess shows. He loves snuggling and loves giving endless kisses. Don't get me wrong, not a day goes by that he doesn't ram a monster truck up my nose either. But, I would never tell him that only girls wear pink or only girls love princess movies. Or that only boys can play with monster trucks. He can be whatever the hell he wants to be. I love the innocence about him. That he's not influenced by what is right for a boy or right for a girl. I know he's still young and as he gets older, he will undoubtedly face criticism for his choices in one form or another. But for now, I am going to bathe in his innocence and let him enjoy the world he knows. The real one is big, and scary, and at times really mean.

To each their own. To our kids. To our friends. To our families. And to perfect strangers. Rock it out and do what makes you happy, right? Fuck the haters. In every way.

restless mind

2013-04-22T07:30:00.000-04:00

Twice this weekend I bought alcohol (shocker). And twice I didn't get carded. As if plucking the grey hair from my eyebrow and chin wasn't enough to remind me that I'm old, the 19 year old high school drop out at Publix apparently thinks I'm well over the legal age. Fucker.

I had my first disagreement with a potential customer this weekend. And I woke up out of a dead sleep at 1:30am on Sunday morning thinking about this lady. She was very much in the wrong and I very much took the high road. But it still irks me to shit when people try to take advantage of my kindness.

How the hell are we at Monday already again? Smith and I had a mommy and me afternoon on Saturday and I really enjoyed our time together. We didn't do anything uniquely special, but it was nice to get some uninterrupted time with him. Although... he's the epitome of a bipolar hyena. One moment he is literally taking my hand and without prompting, telling me he loves me and that I'm his best friend. Then the next moment, he's thrown himself under the table at Panera because I threw away the apple juice he told me he didn't want anymore and the cashier up front is giving me the side eye because obviously in all of her infinite 20 year old wisdom, she knows that I'm a bad mother. Jesus.

I am literally laying in bed at 8:30pm on Sunday typing this. Hair is washed. Legs are shaved. Grey roots have been dyed black once again and I'm struggling to keep my eyes open. I traded my wine glass for a bottle of water and even I'm wondering what the hell is wrong with me. Tomorrow is another 5am gym date, which I am really coming to enjoy. I never would have thought.

How was your weekend bitches?

Finish This Sentence

2013-04-18T08:24:00.001-04:00

Finish this sentence link up with my bitch Holly.

I laughed so hard I cried when... when Smith projectile shit and it hit me in the neck.

My high school...experience was pretty awesome. As my dear friend Karen reminded me last week, I had a lot of boyfriends. Why didn't anyone tell me I was boarding on slutbag territory.

It really pisses me off... when people don't use their goddamned blinker. How fucking hard is it to flip your finger 20 degrees and make that shit work like it's supposed to? Nothing gets under my skin more. Well, other than Miley. She sucks (and apparently inhales too).

In ten years... I will be going on 44. Damn. Smith will be 13 and I'm certain little preteen hooker-girls will be beating down our door. And I'll promptly tell them to back the fuck up off my little man because no one (other than Kendall and Ava of course) are good enough.

If I could erase one thing... it would be some of the dating decisions I made in high school. Woof. Oh and that time that I thought wearing a white bikini was a good idea. NO Irish girl should ever attempt that ish.

In 1999... I was in my sophomore year of college, just joined AOPi, was drinking my face off 6 nights a week, and was dancing on stage in a bikini contest. Stay classy, Kristen.

Honestly... I truly believe I have some undiscovered disease that has been keeping me sick like this for 6 months straight. Mommydoesntwanttoworkanymore-itis? IneedsleepbeforeIgoapeshitandmurdermyhusband-itis? Maybe I should call Doc McStuffins. She always has the answers.

To me, Sushi... is fucking disgusting. So is Chinese. And Japanese. And anything ending in an I or ESE.

Someone really needs to invent... a few more hours in a day, a new face for Miley, a better preganncy wardrobe for Kim and her fat ass, a cure for cancer, and a wine IV.

The first time I drank alcohol... I was probably about 15. I do remember getting grounded with a quickness for kicking the door as I walked in after a party one night. But I still swear on my grandmother and my box of wine that I wasn't drunk. (the one time I wasn't coming home shitfaced, I get grounded... the ten times I did, nada).

The one question I would ask God is... how our first baby is doing. I think about him every day.

Lindsay Lohan... is on the fast track to AnnaNicoleSmith-ville. And while I never wish death on anyone (duh), I am kind of enjoying the downhill show.

dickhead bender

2013-04-17T07:30:00.000-04:00

Has your kid been a dick lately?

No?

Well eff you.

Mine has been on a dickhead bender for about two weeks now. Oh, you don't call your child an dickhead? Well, excuse me let me break out my Perfect Mother hat and promptly slap you in the taint with it. I'll be in the corner siphoning my wine box and shoving my middle finger up your ass at the same time.

I don't know what has gotten into this kid, but everything is a gdamned challenge. Brushing teeth? Getting dressed? Staying in his bed? Playing with puzzles? The shoes he has to wear? Eating? Drinking? Walking? Breathing?

Welcome to toddler hell.

For all you assholes that told me that 3 was way worse than 2, thankyouverymuch because you were right. And I didn't listen. And I still want to kick you in the teeth. Smith is on a roll and doing his very best to send Kent and I into an early, alcohol induced grave.

Twenty five minutes. Twenty five minutes to get Smith to sit on the time out chair for two minutes for intentionally throwing shit at my head. Twenty five minutes of up and down out of the chair. Getting up and keeping one toe on the chair leg to see how far he could push it. Twenty five minutes of thrashing and screaming like someone was plucking out his nose hairs one by one. Twenty five minutes of sheer assholery.

Please god, tell me someone else is going through the same thing. Let's meet in the middle and have a drink-off? I bet I win.

fresh as a baby's ass

2013-04-16T07:30:00.000-04:00

There's no shortage of shit to do on my list, so crossing this off my list was a major victory for this mama. If you haven't seen it yet, take a look at my new, revamped website!

Jess at Jess Wright Design worked her e-commerce magic and made my new paper space fierce as hell. I think it's super clean, super easy to navigate, and really represents everything that I'm working toward in the paper business.

Take a peep! And don't forget to sign up for the monthly newsletter to get your greedy little paws on some fab coupon codes. Hint, you greedy bitches... there's a good one coming out this week. Stay tuned.

on my way

2013-04-15T10:22:00.000-04:00

thanks for stealing my abs, Smurf

So, I have been going to the gym regularly for about two weeks now and slightly addicted isn't even beginning to cover it. This isn't one of those accountability posts, so don't hit that little x yet.

It's pretty obvious (to me) that my body remembers being hella toned and shit before I birthed a human. I'm already seeing noticeable differences in my arms and legs. Shit, I even see a difference in the jiggle in my stomach. Even if it's a little, it's still something. I can run a mile straight now without stopping, where just a month ago, I would have died three thousand Marlboro Red carton deaths at just the thought of it. But I'm doing it. I'm getting my fat, tired, grumpy ass out of bed at 5am three or four times a week and kicking it with all the other insane assholes.

I do think there's something to be said for working out first thing in the morning. First, the people at the gym with you are actually serious about it and not looking to stick their ding dong into every girl in spandex shorts and a sports bra. Second, it's awesome to get home at 6:30 in the morning and know that you've already done more work and sweated more wine fumes than your counterpart still snoring in the bed. Third, you go to work and feel fucking amazing. Like, rockstar status. You just did what every lazy shit in America didn't do. So, take that assholes.

I know I'm doing this for ME. To get ME back. To have some ME time. Because, quite frankly, I have about two minutes a day of peace and quiet and it's usually when I'm on the drive to pick up Smith from daycare. All other times, I'm cleaning up someone else's mess. Preparing meals or folding someone else's underwear. Or scrubbing poopy crumbs out of butts from someone else's massive shits (Smith, will you PLEASE learn to poop on the potty dude? You're killing me).

While I'm in this groove for myself, it would be nice to have a little validation from the other "grown up" (term used loosely from time to time) in the house. I do feel like I do it all. But somewhere along the line, the compliments and validation are lost. Not intentionally of course. But it all becomes so damn routine that I think I get forgotten about for all that I do. And I'm sure that I am guilty of it to though.

I cannot believe that I added ANOTHER responsibility to my day instead of pairing it down a bit. I guess there's worse things to add to your life. I'm pretty sure CPS would frown upon a new business venture of making meth in the downstairs bathroom.