Dudes, my mood is foul. I’m sitting on a pile of butt nuts for one. Yes Christmas came early in this pregnancy. By now the Rite Aid girl doesn’t even bother covering up the Tucks with the Lucky Magazine. She just gives me a frowny face like awwww. And I’m like SHUT UP you 16 year old nothing with an untainted butt. YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW. Tell me again how it’s fair that I have butt nuts and never even got to have a vaginal birth?

And that my friends is what completely terrifies me to actually have a baby be pushed out of my lower parts this time. Because I know a baby isn’t the only thing that’s coming out. I said this to a few hippies and they were like DUDE do you even know what sort of bad shit happens during a vaginal birth? And I’m like YES THANK YOU I DO. AND FROM WHAT I READ, YOU HEAL. My butt nuts have stayed with me for always now. They make me unusually unhappy. It’s like you’re carrying around extra friends in your butt that you feel with every step. So not really friends I guess. Just like nuts. Like I said.

And you may say, “yes MODG I can see why this has upset your day.” But do you know what’s even WORSE than sitting on a pile of butt nuts? Trying on bathing suits. And do you know what’s even worse worse WORSE than trying on bathing suits? TRYING ON MATERNITY BATHINGSUITS.

I mean really. THE worst.

So I go with my friend Box for our season MAC makeover. Really one of the few joys left for a lonely butt nut. And I decide to stop at Pea in the Pod to try on some suits. Trust me, if I didn’t have to, I wouldn’t. But G is obsessed and I mean obsessed with water. So at least 3 times a day we are in a pool or a sprinkler or a hose or a sink or a lake or a puddle or someone’s spit. And then we come inside and he’s climbing in his water table. Or he’s dumping a cup on his head. Really the water thing is out of hand. And our outdoor pool just opened. I can’t avoid it any longer. I have to go and I have to put on a bathing suit.

But I’m at the worst point in pregnancy where you don’t look pregnant…you look sick and fat. Not to mention the 4 straight months of self diagnosed bed rest has given my butt nuts a nice friend: cellulite. So I’m in these awful bathing suits. Like TANKINIS. Tankinis are the worst. THE WORST. It’s like, I really just give up so I’m slapping some loose fabric under my top. A one piece just won’t cut it. Other options for maternity swim? The swim dress. Yes, swim dress. If you’re 85 years old or a Dugger, you know what I’m talking about. But I did find a few one pieces. They either left a kangaroo pouch where a preg belly should be or they pulled up my ass so the bumpy parts hung out the side. Both were really stunning choices.

Also just because I’m pregnant, why do I have to wear bows and polka dots and tons of pink? I’m not blow up doll or an adult baby.

And let’s be clear that I tried Pea in the Pod first because they are stupid expensive and I thought that they would make me look cuter than Old Navy. F that. My friend box was like making squinty faces and was like…welll…..you could get a sarong. A SARONG.

So I came home and googled sarongs. Do you know what you find? Nothing. You find nothing because it’s not 1996 and I’m not in a TLC video.

So how do you manage to look comfortably covered but not like Old Granny Dumpkins at the pool when you’re barely bump worthy?

I don’t have the answer.

But I feel low. And as I typed this, I realized that I left my MAC makeup in the car. All day. It was 90 degrees.

I hate everyone and everything. And because that’s a common theme around here, it’s a set category (see below).

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And because you stuck with me and let me bitch my butt nut off (man I really wish they came off that way) I have a treat for you and IT’S GOOD. The lovely ladies at Bad Kitty Bakery asked to advertise with me and I was like suuuuure you can. You just have to send me some “samples”. And oh they did. B was like WHAT THE SHIT ARE THESE AMAZING COOKIES? We literally almost divorced over who would eat the last one. You must check out their site here: Bad Kitty Bakery. Now here’s the best part. THREE of you are being sent these. I’m telling you, they would probably dissolve butt nuts on contact. All you have to do is visit the Bakery’s site and tell me in the comments what you would die for that they make. And the rest of you get 10% off your whole order by entering MODG1o. At least your day can be good.

LOVES and nuts for life.

MODG

Now onto the specifics. The specifics of specifically what saved our asses on the flight with our toddler. Also some shit that didn’t fly (pun totally intended). One thing I will tell you: save some toy budget for when you get there for the trip home. Otherwise the toys you bought are going to be so yesterday so yesterday. You need some of the freshness for the ride home. TRUST ME YOU DO.

Here’s what happens before every trip. Like 3 days before I’m like SHIT I NEED TO BUY EVERYTHING IN THE WORLD. And because I’m lazy and a big BIG Amazon fan, I order it all and pray it gets here in time. Usually like half of it does. I’m just going to show you everything I ordered and if it worked out or not. Again, this was a panic order so I prob went a bit overboard.

Many of you said things like “get dollar store crap” or “get tiny stupid toys and wrap them”. G is either too young for that or too smart. The little shit toys he looks at, smells and throws. We needed some real deal entertainment to get through the flight.

This was the first toy I opened up with G during takeoff and it was a huge hit. It was easy to pack because it’s soft and we put the pigs in the houses, in the chimney, on the seat, all in one house, none in one house. Then the wolf was like BAAAH I’M A WOLF AND I’M GOING TO KILL YOU PIGS. And because G is at a good age for inappropriate humor, he liked that. This was one of the toys that was good on both the way there and the way home. Totally recommend.

Melissa & Doug Deluxe Three Little Pigs Play Set Soft Baby Toy

Dudes, did you have this when you were little? I didn’t. Probably because it’s terrifying. But for some reason G loves terrifying things. You take turns pushing down the teeth until the croc bites you. And it kind of hurts. But he loved it. B was more afraid than G. We had a good time with this bad boy. Wasn’t the top of the list, but good because no batteries, no sounds, small and easy to pack. Also on the box it says “Elegant in fashion and style”. Which I appreciate.

Crocodile Dentist

Ok this was purchased during my SHIT HOW WILL HE SLEEP panic phase. Answer: probably not with a neck pillow. But they totally got me with their options. It comes in like a million adorable animals. But he did think it was funny to put it on his neck. However, I don’t recommend this for a 17 month old. Takes up space and is pretty dumb.

Noodlehead Travel Buddies Neck Pillow – Dog

When this arrived I was like, this thing is too big and has to go back. Somehow I fit it and thank jesus I did. This was the best toy of the trip. He searched for it everyday on our actual trip as well. It entertained him forever. I think mostly because it came with these little stamping shapes  that were really easy for him to use. Don’t get the travel one, get the real deal. It’s worth it.

Classic Doodler With 2 Stampers

Again, they got me with their options. This thing comes in a bunch of cute animals. I was like, maybe G will want to walk and it won’t really be like a harness since it’s more like a backpack with a long tail. He ended up loving the frog but HATING it on his back. So this became a glorified stuffed animal in our house. Stroller is easier and this is dumb.

Gold Bug: 2-in-1 Harness Buddy – Frog

Yep. These are winners. We put them on daddy’s face, on the seat, on G’s foot. Monkeys are a hit. They come in a million different kind of weird styles and shapes. We are monkey fans in our house. Also serve as emergency first aid. Use that to justify your purchase to your annoyed husband.

Accoutrements Rainbow Monkey Bandages

So I read on some blog to get these. Don’t listen to blogs. Just kidding. Listen to blogs. But these bite. They are like wax molding things and are sticky and gross. G tried to eat them 39 times and I don’t blame him. They look like melted twizzlers. HATE. And I threw them out when we got there.

Eight Inch Wikki Stix Primary Colors (plus black and white) 48 Piece

This is a cute book, only I wish I bought it before the trip and was reading it to him so he knew what to expect. Once we were on the plane he was like, eh about books. But it would have been cool to have him understand what was going on in his baby brain.

Amazing Airplanes (Amazing Machines)

This was one of those toys we bought at Target for the ride home. HUGE HIT. The tater survives another generation. It’s so hard to find a toy that isn’t flashing in your face or screaming obscenities at you. I swear there was a cat there that said pussy one too many times for me. The old school toys are where it’s at. G loved this. Still does. Good plane purchase.

Mr. Potato Head

So this is the one dollar store toy that worked. He loved popping the brush in and out and brushing everyone’s hair and looking in the mirror. Didn’t last for hours, but great for a cheap toy. Also his is yellow with Hello Kitty. Thank you.

Compact Brush & Mirror Fold – Pink

Ok this one is more for the trip than the plane, but it’s worth mentioning. On lots of trips we take, people have Pack and Play’s for us to use for G’s naps. We always bring this sheet with us. Those things are basically cardboard in a box. This sheet is washable and super plush and comfy. It’s like putting a featherbed on the thing. Love love love it. We never forget it.

Graco Quilted Pack ‘n Play Sheet, Cream

Some more shit I bought that didn’t work. Looks like a lot of stuff was bad. Well you can benefit from my stupidity.

Little Airport Sticker Activity Book (Dover Little Activity Books)

Didn’t care.

Puppies at Play – Imaginetics

The magnet board didn’t work. F that.

ScotchBlue Painter’s Tape

I read that kids dig this on planes on a blog. G was like “what the shit is this? Tape? Please.”

The other thing that we did do was iPad apps and shows. G is so active that this didn’t really work too well. You can’t hear anything on planes and the day he lets me put headphones on him is the day I can put a hat/sunglasses/anything ever on him (never).

But if you’re looking for app recommendations, I like The Monster at the End of the Book, anything by Duck Duck Moose, Art Maker, Elmo alphabet, Yo Gabba Gabba shows and Peek a Boo Barn.

Now, I hope this helps you out a little. In return, I’m hoping you can help me. For those of you out there with 2 or more kids close together in age, please tell me the stuff you like to make your life easier. i.e. double strollers, stuff for the car, or just really anything that will make me sort of feel like a sane person. I thank you.

Good luck in your travels. And I’m glad I’m not you.

MODG

Today I’m going to talk about something that I have feared since I was pregnant with G. It was something that was inevitable for our family but it shook me to the core and scared me more than the Blair Witch circa 1999.

B is from Danville, California and his friends and family still live there. I was able to delay it a full 17 months. That my friends is an accomplishment. But we finally took our first cross country flight WITH A TODDLER.

Most of you know this, but G isn’t just any toddler. He’s a boy toddler. That means his blood pumps straight up Red Bull. The child does.not.stop. Here’s is 20 seconds in his brain:

Oh a ball. I’ll get the ball. Wait there is a button. I have to push it. Snack, I need a snack. Where’s that ball? Balloon! Balloon! Water. WHERE IS MY WATER? Poop in my pants. Hide from mom. Ball. Ball! Outside. Outside now. Oh another button. I need to wiggle. wiggle wiggle wiggle. SNACK! Give me a SNACK! Ball.

And it goes on and on and ON. I could not imagine this child in the confines of a 2×5 airplane seating area for 5 and a half hours. Let alone the airport shenanigans and travel to and from the airport.

I’m going to give you my advice and my experience with these caveats.

G is 17 months old and the flight was domestic and 5 and a half hours. All of this matters.

This was our first flight. No I’m not a toddler flight expert (that’s directed to you facebook flight snobs. You know who you are). But we have some good things happen and some bad things. I also researched the shit out of toddler flight stuff. It’s basically the same as flying a mental patient. But I scoured the internet for advice. This post will be my story and the next will be about the shit that I bought that saved our asses in a Stuff I Like post.

5 Steps to a successful flight with a Toddler

Step 1: Choosing your flight

Fight with your husband for a week about the flight times and insist that none of them will work. This is your subconscious but pretty much conscious way of hoping the flight will never actually happen. You will finally decide on a flight time that about 2 hours before his nap time but not too early that he has to wake up way before his normal wake up time. Your procrastination will cost you roughly about 200 bucks.**Important** Buy 3 seats. This was our best decision. For 5 hours, G would have lost is MIND in his car seat (which we didn’t bring). He had the middle seat and we enclosed him in. He loved it. He was up on the seat, down on the floor, standing on the seat, looking at the plane, on my lap, on B’s lap. This got his energy out. I would also say try and do a direct flight. It’s just easier on everyone and less travel time overall.

Step 2: Packing

When your husband checking only 2 bags instead of 3, you may tell him that this doesn’t even dignify a response because it’s such a ridiculous statement. Bags cost 25 dollars each, each way. Not negotiable. Actually carrying all of that shit through the airport will require a luggage camel and professional guide. I thought B was going to collapse.

Your carry-on pre-toddler probably included cool stuff like the latest Lucky Mag, a bag of Skittles, makeup for touch-ups, Smart Water so you stay fresh and hydrated and your ipod. Throw all that shit in the river. Your carry on AND the toddler’s carry on will now include the following:

TOYS: so so SO many GD toys (which I will detail in the next post)

Snacks: Like cool snacks that the kid doesn’t normally get but not shit like M&M’s because they will bounce off of the ceiling and into the lap of the person behind you who really hates kids. But you also want to have a mix of proteins and fruits and things. You know how you feel when you eat that whole bag of mixed candy that seemed like a good idea on your mall trip…like every time you go to the mall? And then you have candy stomach? Yeah you want to avoid that. Some suggestions: cheese sticks, apple slices, mandarin oranges, peanut butter pitas, Lollipops for take off and landing (helps clear their ears and shuts them up), animal crackers, fruit snacks, fig newtons, chicken nuggets cooked and wrapped in some tin foil, a cup of water.

Diaper Stuff: DO NOT put them in a diaper that is too big for them. G’s diaper may have turned into a thong. We tried disposable on the way out thinking it would be easier and we held our breath for poop the whole way. Thankfully he didn’t do it. We used cloth on the way back and it was much better. The changing table was fine in the bathroom but we also changed him on the seat. NBD.

Sleep stuff: For when you negotiate with him to sleep, make it irresistible. He got the same routine he gets at home. We packed comfy pants, sleep sack, paci, ghost dog and a blanket on the seat. After 50 tries, he laid down and went to sleep.

Step 3: Getting through the airport

This was actually cake. We brought an umbrella stroller after considering a harness, a carrier or just letting him walk. Stroller was a good decision. Security in almost every airport will let you in a special secret line for families. It was awesome and easy. We breezed right though. They let you take a drink for the kid and just put it in a top secret super scanner machine to test it for death rays. Ours passed. Kids keep their shoes on and I carried him through.

Leave some time to let the kid burn off some energy. We could have boarded first but we chose to board last. We new we’d need access to all of our shit so we didn’t even use the overhead storage. So B ran around with G and played games with him and chased him until the very last moment of boarding.

If your husband books through Travelocity and they tell you that your seating assignment is only a SUGGESTION and you end up not sitting together on the flight. Like, as in, your toddler has a seat ALONE. Try not to kill him. The good news is that security did not let you bring any weapons through. People are nice and will let you switch seats. They are especially nice when your toddler is screaming and they have the chance to move.

Step 4: Pacing the flight

Ok you’re on the flight. You have a ton of shit. Don’t be an ass and break it all out in the beginning. You have a long ways to go. The flight will be a novelty in itself for the first hour or so. Then when you DO start breaking out the goods, try your best to not let the mental patient see where you are getting the goods. Otherwise, they will be scrounging like little scavengers the whole flight.

We started with a lollipop for takeoff and this was a big hit. As soon as he could get out of my lap for takeoff and realized he could climb all over the seat, he was pretty damn happy. We played with some toys and had some more snacks and then it was beg for nap time.

We spread a blanket out on the middle seat and he sprawled between me and B. It worked out really well and he slept for about an hour. It got him through the flight. No we didn’t do Benadryl. I wanted to give him a chance to make it happen on his own. I just pictured a strung out kid and that could have been way bad. This at least kept him on some sort of schedule.

I would suggest not doing the walk up and down the aisle thing. At least for G he would have been grabbing people’s shit and running into the captain area trying to fly the plane. Then once he would have figured out that he has more than a 2×5 area of fun, we never would have gotten him back into the seat.

On the way there we sat in front of kids. This was perfect. They loved G and wanted to talk to him and play with him through the seats. On the way home we sat in front of a kid hater. We discovered this when G through his 3 little pigs house at her face. She said WHAT was that about? We said….um we are so sorry. But my advice? People are going to be annoyed by kids. But I’m annoyed by people snoring on planes. I’m annoyed by people’s smells. Stuff happens. They can deal. They can also get noise cancellation headphones. I wish I could get people cancellation headphones.

Step 5: Arrival and time change

G was so tired after the flight. He pretty much chilled while we got our bags and got to the car. Then he passed the F out in the carseat that was brought for us by B’s parents when they picked us up (this is clutch if you can make that happen). I was super worried about the time difference. G is on one nap now and I was pretty sure that I was screwed. I pictured that kid up every night hoching me left and right. I was totally wrong.

He adjusted immediately….like some sort of time zone genius. I’m told kids adjust easier. We put him down at his normal nap time on the West Coast…so like 930pm east coast time and he was fine. We did have to wake him up in the morning but he went down that day at his West Coast nap time and all was fine. That is until like day 3 when I think it all caught up with him. Of course this was “see all of our friends everywhere who we never see day and meet G for the first time and yeah he’s being a complete terror” day. But whatever. He was fine after that. The time adjustment coming back home was just as easy. So I wouldn’t really worry too much about that.

As a post note: Flying while pregnant. This was actually ok for me. My nausea is FINALLY peacing out. Having a breakfast with protein seemed to help me. I peed right before the flight so I wasn’t getting up a million times. I did almost vom on the landing, but I held it in.

And there you have it friends. Did I miss anything? Feel free to post questions in the comments. I’m sure many of you have way more tips than I do, but I’m happy to share from my own experience.

With that being said, it wasn’t that bad. But I will not have it in me to do it again for another 17 months. And I need a GD vacation to recover from the vacation.

Next post will detail all the shit I bought. G describes it as “overboard”. I describe it as shutthehellupbecausewegotthroughtheflightbecauseofmyshit.

Happy Travels,

MODG

Let’s talk vaginas today. Why not? It’s Tuesday. Didn’t you know that’s TalkVaginaTuesdays? Sorry it’s so late in the day. You better get in as much vagina talk between now and midnight as POSSIBLE.

So in honor of TVT, we’re going to talk about birth. Many many many of you have asked me about Yoshi’s birth. Will I have another C-section? Will I attempt a VBAC (vaginal birth after cesarean). I can tell you this: From the moment that pee stick turned double time, this has weighed heavily on my mind.

I really didn’t know anything about my situation or my options. For those who are new here, I had planned a natural birth the first time around with midwives and birth centers and singing fairies and ended up with an unwanted cesarean. You can read the birth story here, here and here. And then, you can talk about it with people in honor of TVT.

The one thing I knew right away was that I wanted a doula. Having a doula was the best decision I made since duel room DVR’s. Especially since B took THREE naps during labor. You heard me. A good friend of mine had recently become certified to be a doula and I knew she was the winner of the game. I am very comfortable with her and she’s my favorite hippie. She also cooked food for me for weeks while I couldn’t even look a piece of bread in the face without punching it and puking.

she gives me food in mason jars and wraps bread in cloth: quality hippie.

What I didn’t know was where I was going to have this baby and how. I researched VBAC’s. I read some stuff. I read more stuff. I talked to VBAC patients. I talked to doctors. I found out that the biggest risk with VBAC is uterine rupture. Which is definitely JUST as scary as it sounds. It can rupture from your scar and if the baby doesn’t come out within like minutes, the baby dies and you probably die too. DIE. But then I found out that the chance of this happening is .4%. Double lightening strikes is more likely.

What I also didn’t know was that risks involved in a 2nd and 3rd and future c-sections is WAY higher than anyone tells you. Cutting through scar tissue over and over is dangerous. Being in major surgery in general is dangerous. A friend of a friend had a 2nd C-section and after much complication had to have a hysterectomy. I know it’s not common, but the risks are there and are greater than .4%.

So I was cool with my VBAC decision. It makes sense. Surely finding a midwife or a doctor would be easy. WRONG SONG DONG. See, in the 90′s some science wad said that it was mandatory for the hospital of a VBAC patient to have anesthesia available immediately. This scared the shit out of doctors and they stopped supporting VBAC’s. One thing I know about doctors is that they do whatever it takes to protect themselves. And anything that lessens risk for them they are going to push on you. So no, I could not find a doctor for the life of me. I got very discouraged.

What I could find was a ton of midwives who would deliver Yoshi…AT HOME. Woah. Home birth? I mean I did always want a water birth like I see on a Baby Story. It would be nice to not be in a hospital having every last drug shoved down my throat. But I had to think…at what point am I doing this more for me and less for Yoshi? Now I don’t blame anyone for having a home birth. I think it’s a great option. But with a VBAC there is SOME risk involved. And being the mental patient headcase that I am, I’d be a nervous wreck. So I was determined to find a hospital and a doctor or midwife who would support me.

See? this totally could have been me.

In the entire Philadelphia area (and I’m talking entire area) I found 3 places that I could go to. A midwife who delivers at a hospital (my first choice), a traditional OBGYN practice that delivers at a hospital and a practice of midwives that delivers at UPENN (which is sort of far for us). I’m meeting with the midwife next week and I have all of my fingers crossed.

Now, I’ll say all of this:

1) Please PLEASE do not leave me comments with your horror story VBAC. Please also do not email me. I have already received emails and I understand that you had a bad experience, but I’m trying to stay positive.

2) Although I’m really pushing for a vagina birth, I’m not totally sure I’m going to be able to have a natural birth. Trust, I would love to. But I’ve been through labor before and it’s damn hard. I’m going to take classes and educate the shit out of myself this time so when some nurse says “I’m going to stick this in your vagina now”, I know the risks and benefits for myself.

3) Yes, the most important thing is Yoshi’s health. And if there was any risk or chance that a vaginal birth would hurt Yoshi, I would have another c section. However I really do believe that a vaginal birth is not only healthier for me and the baby, it’s less risk than another c-section.

And with that, I give you TVT. Please really take the time to enjoy the rest of TalkVaginaTuesday. It only comes once a week.

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And in a totally unrelated note: To advertisers and those who have contacted me about advertising. I will get back to you. I’m still trying to get back into the swing of things after being sick. I’m still not 100% but I promise we’ll get things going again. To current advertisers: I’ve given you like a billion weeks free as a thank you for my lack of being a human lately.

LOVE YOU

MODG

The countdown was 1 week until my Listen to your Mother performance. I was one of 12 writers performing in Philadelphia’s debut show. And I was 1 of 12 writers without a voice and with a face full of puke.

I was panicked.

I’ll take you back to the first rehearsal. The scene is me with my piece. I was the last person to actually choose my piece because I am lazy mostly. But also I was nervous. I just didn’t know if I could read my own writing in front of a room of people. I’ve performed in shows before where some other writer writes some bullshit on paper and I read WHY YES GOOD SIR THAT IS MY VAGINA (I was in the vagina monologues. word.). But reading your own stuff is scary.

Finally, I decided on the one where I almost beat up kids for looking at G wrong at the playground. We’ll get to why this was a stupid idea later.

The first and only rehearsal is everyone in a room reading their piece at a podium. I was pretty much last. I followed about 9 people who told tear jerking stories of alzheimers, abandonment and yes, child abuse. And next up was me, about to tell everyone how I want to push small children down and scare them. You know, to the people who were abused. Jesusgod.

I read my piece. I read it really fast. I barely glance up. My hands shook.

And at the funny parts where I talk about Britney and things like Lululemon moms? Crickets.

I WAS IN TROUBLE.

After that I didn’t look at my piece. I didn’t practice. I didn’t talk to B about it. I pretended like it didn’t exist and that it would float away and I could hide in G’s crib.

Then I got sick. Really sick. So sick that I couldn’t say Hi B, how ar…COUGH COUGH CHOKE. You know that cough that literally makes you gag on your on phlegm as you double over choking on some sort of crawling creature that has made a permanent home in your throat? My chest ached from the coughing. My stomach burned from the ab work. But worst of all, I didn’t have a voice.

I emailed the directors:

So….I can’t talk and I’m sick and oh yeah I don’t think I’m good at this and I don’t like my piece and I’m nervous and I don’t know what to do and I haven’t really done anything and I’m the worst even though I act like the best and I’m sorry and I’m going to cry. Ok bye.

And the directors were like:

Dude, chill. Rest and we’ll help you.

(I was clearly the head case of the cast)

And after a full week of rest and more medicine than is probably ever safe for a 14 week old Yoshi and a bag full of balls, I faced my piece. I rewrote the whole damn thing. Turns out when you read my stuff out loud, it’s wordy and annoying. Maybe it’s like that NOT out loud too and you are all just very nice people. But I realized that we are all a little club  here and the regular world doesn’t get my Britney jokes and never met Single Guy and thinks Lululemon is probably delicious on chicken.

And it was better.

But I still hadn’t read it out loud. B had no idea even what piece I was reading.

And the performance day came. I put on my orange dress and my thong sized pad that I cut with scissors to accurately catch the pee that drips out of me when I cough. I was ready.

My family was there, my hippie mom friends, my best friend from high school, and all of their friends. AND a MODG cheering section in the back. I met one of them but I wish I could have met the rest. The one told me that the others were scared. I told her that no one ever says hi to me and she made my life.

I sat in my assigned front row seat as speaker after speaker did a great job. Almost everyone’s was poignant, heartfelt and a little sad. I totally did not fit in. But I was ready. Sort of.

I went to the bathroom right before the person before me spoke and I’m pretty sure the directors thought I was making a break for it. I thought about it. But as I came back, I sat in the little chair off to the side designated for people to wait in while others are speaking, I thought about why I’m doing this. I wanted to do this. I was dying to do this. When I thought they didn’t pick me I pretended that it was stupid and that I didn’t care. But I totally cared. And then when I got the part I was ecstatic. I took deep breaths. I calmed myself down and I didn’t hear a word that anyone else said. Until…

…they call my name.

I stand up and start walking.

and I hear my cheering section who instantly makes me feel better. I can do this.

I tell everyone there that I am sick and I’ll be doing a sexy reading of my piece. People think this is funny. I was serious. Whatever.

And I begin. And people laugh. People laugh a lot. The more they laugh the better I feel. I get louder. I get more animated (B said I was by far the most animated reader. I looked at him like, are you surprised by this?) and I get more confident. And I feel like, by the end, it was a success. A really big success.

And the difference wasn’t my rewritten piece or the fact that somehow I didn’t cough. But it was the encouragement from the people who know me and like me. Putting yourself out there like that is scary and all anyone wants is a little encouragement. So those of you who were there that night, you don’t know how much your support meant to me. It made all the difference in the world.

Now I know you’re like ok ok ok shut up already, let’s see it!

It’s not online yet. I have no control over this. I didn’t videotape it. Also? I forgot my camera. Please, I could barely remember my bra that day. So B took some really stupid pictures with his phone. Vomit Comet.

But the good news is that there will be amazing professional pictures and there will be a full video online.

But this is just my own story of the night.

One other behind the scenes tidbit? I may have sat next to someone pretty famous. She may have been on her blackberry the entire time. She may have also been reading an US weekly. IN THE FRONT ROW. I was horrified. Please remind me of this when I become rich and famous. I will say no more. You can make your own guesses.

Below are the fantastic works of art that B captured on his camera. I am not even going to try and edit them.

This is the cast

This is me looking bitchy and probably inappropriate

These are my friends with devil eyes. Thank you B’s camera.

This is me speaking. I hope I opened my eyes eventually.

And that folks is the best we’ve got right now.

There will be a part 2 in the future.

For now, this is all.

Love and thanks,

MODG

Dudes. Pregnancy HATES me. Like throat razor hates me.

3 days ago, I was all, SECOND TRIMESTER, TIME TO FEEL BETTER! So I stopped taking my regimented half a unisom and 2 vitamin B6′s every night (for those unaware this is a totally safe and apparently very effective nausea remedy). I was like, please, it’s probably not even doing anything. I need to be natural girl on no meds. I can handle it. Would you believe the next day I puked in 2 different toilets in my house and the grass. Poor G was so confused. He tried to lick the toilet. I guess that’s what it looks like when you’re face is spewing out venom.

I.wanted.to.die.

Oh and that tiny sore throat I had every night for about a week? HOW ABOUT FULL ON F-ING BRONCHITIS. HOW ABOUT IT? Well I’m sort of assuming at this point. It’s a raging chest banging cough that seems to be caused by a leaky nose throat pipe. I don’t really ever have seasonal allergies but man, if this is what they are, I’m moving to Alaska with Sarah P and the gang. I’m choking on my own bile people. Swallow that for a minute. No don’t. That’s sick.

It’s one thing after the next. Oh and by the way. I’m carrying a baby. That little thing.

I swear some guy who sits in some cloud who was in charge of things like apes turning to humans and humans getting thumbs was like, I KNOW I’m going to make 1st trimester pregnant women, so repulsive to the human population (but especially the opposite sex) that everyone will run away from them. This will ensure that man doesn’t waste his precious time and baby seeds on a knocked up ho.

Here’s what I’m talking about people:

1) Your skin. Jesusgodinheaven your skin. It’s beyond acne. It’s like the surface of your skin swallowed gravel and it just spread out. It spread from your forehead to your chest to your back. You look like you sleep with pizza oil on your face and wash it off with melted smores. People look at you and gasp in terror.

2) Your sniffer. If you don’t think people smell, get pregnant. You will smell the poop inside their colon that has yet to make a decent. You will smell someone thinking about a fart. You will smell the onion soup they will eat tomorrow. And you will then place many large pillows between you and anyone else in your bed so the pathway of breathe is blocked securely. NO one is getting through that thing. Smells or hands.

3) Your puker.

Scene:

Man: Hi, I’m a person. Nice to meet you. Wanna grap a taco?

Preg: Taco? (BARFS ON SHOES)

Man: Ok, I’ll see ya later.

4) Boobs. You may think you have big hot boobs. But you know what you have? Saggy, heavy painful bags of milk. Oh you think someone is going to touch them? Try it. Just try it and try not to scream. Exactly. Your one MAYBE sexy preg look causes you excruciating pain. Thanks man in the cloud.

5) TIRED. You are so damn tired all the time. You look like a drugged up stripper with your giant boobs, who had to make it through her all night shift at the club and now you’re hungover and walking around like a used up barf bag. Hot.

6) Oh you’re JUUUST starting to show. How excited and cute? Nope. Not cute. You’re fat. You’re just chubby for like 3 months. Congratulations fatty.

7) Men totally love a woman that cries ALL the time. Right? I mean I’ve met like eleven men who are like, man if I could only meet a girl who is MORE emotional. Especially at Kay Jeweler commercials.

Extra farts and burps. That’s all.

I’m going to draw you a picture of all of this at once so you can see how gross we really are.

Yep, that’s us. Hang your head in shame.

But that damn man in the clouds had a reason for all of this. Now if it were me in that stupid cloud I would have just made men’s penises turn neon green if they came within 5 feet of a pregnant woman and left the rest of us alone. But hey, that’s just called efficiency.

B just left to get me the 2 meds in the world that are safe for my unborn fetus. I’ll check in if I make it through the night. B will be sleeping in the guest room. You know, because of the hacking and farting and puking and burping and crying. I agree, it’s rude.

Dead,

MODG

PS Thank you for all of your facebook messages for puke remedies. I’m now accepting choking on post nasal drip cough remedies that rattle out your brain and lungs….remedies.

**comments are on a delay. They will show up just not right away**

Well here we are. It’s been 10 days. I am back. Blogging is apparently the only profession (and I’m using giant air quotes around that word), where one is not allowed any breaks. I literally got hate mail for taking a break. Dudes. I love you. But chill. I’ve been blogging for 3 years. THREE YEARS. And the only other break I have ever taken was for a short spell when I was preg with G. And the only reason I took that break was because I felt like I couldn’t really blog honestly with a secret.

So here we are again. With a secret. I hate secrets. They are dumb and for diaries and trapper keepers. But some secrets are necessary and this was one of them. Although I’ll be honest, I tried about as hard as Christina Aguillera is trying to not wear slutty clothes on The Voice.

Watch my video and my secret will be revealed.

Well? Are you as shocked as the shocker? No?? That’s ok. This wasn’t for shock value. I’ll give you a little back story about what’s been going on. Dudes. Shit has been real around here. I have been so incredibly sick for 24 hours a day for the ENTIRE duration of this pregnancy. There have been long stretches where I could not get out of bed. I couldn’t eat food. I couldn’t even drink water. Not to mention I have a crazy toddler to take care of. B has been a lifesaver. The docs put me on a med that is like red pill/blue pill shit. Meaning…you can either have your pooper backed up enema style or you can deal with your vomiting. I tried both. Let’s just say it’s a cruel cruel choice to make.

On top of this, we didn’t even get to hear a heartbeat until yesterday. I mean, my 16 year acne skin, boobs from Mars, vomit life and thickity thickness were telling me YOU ARE SO F-ING PREGNANT. But I just needed to know and to see that everything is ok. And it is. Everything is super with our little Yoshi.

And B needed to see too. Because APPARENTLY men don’t officially recognize pregnancies until they see it with their own two eyes. NBD B, I’ll just puke my brains out until you’re comfortable recognizing things.

So are we happy? Yes. Are we excited? Yes. Are we nervous? YES. But to answer your question before you ask like Pete did…no we aren’t just “busy”, we planned things this way. We wanted kids close in age to be buddies and get them out of diapers quickly. We know it’s going to be hard hard work. But we’re ready (so not ready).

I’ll tell you this: this pregnancy is 100% totally different than G’s. With G, I was like DUDES pregnancy is cake. You are all WIMPS. I’ll be a surrogate for 50 Guiliana Rancics. No problem. Now? F THAT. THIS IS MY LAST CHILD. I PROMISE YOU THIS. This pregnancy is so hard. SO HARD.

But BUT maybe that means it’s a girl. Maybe it means it’s the devil. But hopefully just a regular girl.

12 weeks down, 40 million to go.

I’m worried I’m going to get fat. Like not cute preg fat, regular fat.

I’m worried about a lot. And we’re going to talk about it all.

Because….

I’M BACK.

Hello friends and enemies,

I’m here to inform you that I will be on a short leave of absence from the blog. It won’t be too long so don’t freak your shit at me in the comments. I however have some super life things to attend to and I didn’t want you to think that I was 1) dead or 2) diseased. I am neither.

I will leave you now to gossip and speculate. As I would do.

I’ll get you started.

“omg did you hear that modg is dead and diseased? She’s totally a bitch sell out. I heard that she’s totally getting paid by Rubella and Polio to mention them”

Be back soon.

In the mean time, you can enjoy this.

Hi Everyone

I’m sorry I left you on such a low note for so long. I’m doing ok, really. In fact, Babble came back to me with another offer, which I haven’t accepted or rejected yet.

But the real reason I’m giving you a bit of weekend MODG time (which is normally spent far away from people and babies and places staring at the tv rocking back and forth) is because I want you to buy your tickets to Listen to your Mother. Which, if you don’t know by now, and you better know, I’m performing in this year.

You can now buy your tickets here

Again, the details of the event are as follows

Friday, May 11, 2012 at 7:00 PM

William Way Center
1315 Spruce Stree, Philadelphia

Here is this years cast:

Jennifer Weiner
Andi Buchanan
Liz Henry
Angela Canales
Molly Connors
Charlie O’Hay
Brandi Jeter
Sandra Tellep
Amanda Domergue (MODG)
Kathy Snead
Shoshana Martyniak
Cecily Kellogg
Helen Reese
Dresden Shumaker
Jo-Ann Rogan

Yes I’m the only asshole with a ( ) name. But I really didn’t think you’d all know me otherwise. And yes there’s my last name. Go crazy. Do your weird stuff with it if you must. The secret is out.

Please come see me in the show. Please also bring posters that say things about Danny Tanner. Please also give me gifts  including but not limited to cereal marshmallows and Lisa Frank paraphernalia. I will meet and high five every one of you who shows up.

I’m sort of nervous. And I’m the only one who still hasn’t picked a piece to read. I’m making this face about it

All that Draw Something playing has made my MS Paint skills weak. Apologies.

I hope to see lots and lots of you there. And dress cute. Represent.

BUY TICKETS NOW PLEASE HERE AND THANK YOU.

This is a hard post for me to write.

So inevitably on almost every episode of Sex and the City, Carey would be on top of the world. She would get her new Jimmy Choo’s, strut around in them with Big on her arm and life couldn’t be better. And you knew, you KNEW that something was going to happen. And wouldn’t you know it, her shoes would be stolen and Big would pee on her carpet…or something. Because people who say out loud, “I HAVE IT ALL”, are bound to be peed on and brought back down to earth.

So after I declared to all of you, and my facebook friends, and my family, and my ex boyfriends, and that bitchy girl in high school, and Britney Spears via Twitter that I, MODG, have it all. I have the dream job, I have the baby, I’ll be giving him the “gift” of daycare and I’m the best and nah nah nah in your face…just like that I lost it.

Well, to be clear, I guess I never really had it.

Let’s just say that negotiations with Babble didn’t quite work out. There was a huge miscommunication. (i.e. they miscommunicated and I heard what I wanted to hear) Then I was like, wait… I better check up on it like Beyonce and my suspicions were correct. I was just a fool to believe…she’s like the wind. Whatever. The point is that I would not be able to put G in part time daycare financially speaking with the position, and therefor just wouldn’t have the time to commit to Babble while still keeping a presence here with MODG. And I won’t let MODG suffer.

So here I am. I thought about just not telling everyone and letting May come and go and hope you all would forget about it. And one by one your comments kept coming in. At every one I cringed…”Way to follow your dream!”, “You’re doing a great thing for G!”, “I’m so proud of you”. And I died. I knew I had to put my (nonexistent -thankgod-) tail between my legs and fess up.

So what can we take from all of this. I’ve been moping a lot and thinking a lot and when I try and think of big picture stuff, I usually think of celebrities and mostly Oprah. She told me that success almost never follows a path that looks like this:

Instead, it almost always looks like this

(can I just recommend to everyone to never google image search “gay guy” or “straight guy”? I promise it’s good advice).

So I won’t be George Clooney, but maybe if I’m lucky I’ll be Andy Cohen and that to me would be the shining beacon North Star of success.

B asked me the other day what I wanted 3 years ago when I started MODG. And I honestly answered, nothing really. I wanted a place where maybe one day I could make a little bit of money so I could stay home with my kids. And he said, you’re doing that now. You’ve succeeded.

(MODG: setting low goals.)

But now I know that there’s probably more. I mean once you reach your extremely low goals, you should probably set new ones right?

So here we are. It’s just me and you again. And I’m OK with that. No, my financial dreams aren’t coming true tomorrow, but I’ve made it this far talking about vaginas. Might as well keep at it.

Thanks to all of you for always supporting me. Especially those of you who have been reading since MODG was pink and orange. And especially to those of you who email me to tell me that you took weeks to read everything I’ve ever written IN A ROW (I’m sorry).

You guys keep me going.

And I promise, when I’m the next Chelsea Oprah Spears, I’ll take you all with me.

xoxo

MODG