Getting big is easy in New Orleans

I'm in New Orleans. Justin has a conference to attend and I'm attending, well, for the booze. 

I had packed my suitcase full of good intentions. Contents included workout attire, Jillian Michaels DVDs and hand weights. My good intentions have gone unused.

Instead, I've been quite busy sleeping, shopping, drinking Hurricanes, and eating my way through The Big Easy.

Jillian can suck it. I'm sucking down liquor.

Last night, however, I hit rock bottom of the binge. After a night on Bourbon Street, we came back to the hotel and I passed out  went to sleep. I thought Justin was doing the same.

Time passed and Justin woke me out of my coma and handed me three White Castle cheeseburgers. I ate them laying in bed half-awake. After all, it would've been rude to refuse. I woke up this morning and found a crushed burger box beneath me.

Ugh - really? Apparently, yes, really. According to my burger dealer, it didn't take much convincing to get me to eat them.

The burgers wouldn't have been so bad if they stood alone. However, they had company. Earlier in the evening I managed to find some nachos, french fries, and Bananas Foster all washed down with lots of fruity mixed liquor. 

I'm headed home tomorrow morning, no doubt a few pounds heavier. But it's not always the size of my ass that matters (most of the time it is), but sometimes - just sometimes - it's the size of my soul - and my soul feels full, fat and happy. 

I'll count on Jillian Michaels to fix the rest. 

Amputation and Marriage

I love the fall. Its my favorite time of year. I love the sweaters, the boots, the crisp air, the Halloween candy, and I really love all the new TV shows.

Grey's Anatomy debuted its 8th season last night in typical dramatic form. A sink hole swallowed people alive and the good doctors of Seatlle Grace Hospital cared for the wounded.

The episode featured a married couple who had fallen into the sinkhole. The wife's leg was pinned underneath a car, and in order to save his wife, the husband was forced to saw off the leg. The gory and unlikely scenrio prompted the following converstation.

ME: Justin, say we were in a sinkhole and a car was pinning my leg - would you cut it off to save my life?

JUSTIN: What in the world are you talking about?

ME: It was on Grey's Anatomy...

JUSTIN: Is that show still on?

ME: YES! And its fantastic - so would you? Would you cut off my leg?

JUSTIN: No. I would cut off your head to stop you from screaming.

Awesome McHubby. Just Awesome.

Mom, Interrupted.

I had reached my limit. I was done. I was crying on the steps too exhausted to take myself downstairs to the kitchen where the greasy pans, dirty plates, and a crunchy floor awaited me. 


How long could I get away with sitting in the stairwell? Could I stay forever? I wanted to. 


I didn't want to move. After the world's longest day with the world's whiniest children, I felt so overwhelmed that one more step was impossible.


Hadley had refused to take the required three bites of dinner and had made the entire meal insufferable. The meal that had taken me an hour to make was called disgusting, gross, and horrible. She also referred to it as vomit and snake slime - it was a Hamburger Helper type casserole. 


We salted it, re-heated it, tried to feed it to her, and it ended with her not taking a single bite. Her evening snack was revoked, and I knew this would come back later to haunt me.


I had to get to children's choir practice at church so a dinner mess was left behind. We made it out the door, but not before I fought with Justin and took a phone call that would require me to shuffle babysitting arrangements. 


The fighting, the mess, the sitter, the painful tugging by everyone in every direction - I realize that these could be the feelings of any mother, but on this particular evening, it was me and everything just felt heavy. I felt weighted down by responsibility, irritated by all the things left undone, and just plain overwhelmed by life. 


Later, as I predicted, a final melt-down occurred when Hadley did not receive her snack. Another shot at the casserole was met with more crying, so I just ended it all and put her to bed screaming that she hated me and she was starving.


I closed her door, sat on the stairs - then came my tears. Three children felt like too many. They needed too much. They had too many needs, and I felt like I was failing. 


Justin realized that he needed to dig deep and offer something helpful.  And he did. 


"Abbie," he said. "Tomorrow you just need to get out there and have fun with your kids."


He was right.


There is so much to be done, so many places to go that often times I forget to stop and simply enjoy these three fabulous little people that I love so much.


I eventually left the stairwell, and the next day I took the kids to the park. I pushed Jack in the swing, and I helped the girls find the highest point from which to drop their parachuted army man. 


We had a really great time, and I felt my spirits lift. Since school has started, we have been operating in "business mode," and with so much going on, I had forgotten to make time to relax and just enjoy my children. 


Just stop and play. Who knew it could be so simple? 


Things will remain chaotic, the house unclean and Hadley's dinner strikes are not likely to end anytime soon. But taking time to play reminds me what it's all for.


And it's so worth it.

Almost Perfect

First birthdays are a huge deal. Though it has been repeatedly pointed out to me that the baby won't remember his first birthday, I hardly see that as the point. 

This is the point (Justin pay attention):

The first year of a baby's life is incredible. They grow, change and learn so quickly. The pace is slightly heartbreaking. You barely have time to hold the baby before they are sitting up......crawling......walking. Time moves fast and your perfectly swaddled bundle is soon sitting in a high-chair covered in frosting. All the sleepless nights, all the feedings, all the diaper changes, the teething and the rest of it - you've survived - so has baby. This is cause to celebrate.

With Jack's first birthday looming, Justin offered this suggestion:

"Abbie, just make a cake from a box, call our parents to come over, we'll sing Happy Birthday and just be done with it."

Um, no.

Husband, you've obviously never pushed a living being through your body. If you had, you would realize that what you just said is quite possibly the stupidest thing you've ever spoken. Call me a birthday snob, but I believe that birthing an infant deserves more than a nod from Duncan Hines. 

Well, Sunday was Jack's first birthday party and boy, did I think I had pulled off something great. I had everything perfectly planned and it really turned out well. I was quite pleased with myself. It was a perfect first birthday party. I had done a good job. 

Almost.

The next day, I received this text while taking Hadley to soccer: 

To clarify, he meant oven - not stove. He meant to say "Holy f*cking Oven Fire." I suppose I'll cut him some slack seeing as that he was texting me while our house was filling with smoke and our children were suffocating. 

In a mad dash to tidy up before the party, I had placed a tupperware container full of cookies in the oven. I guess I forgot to take them out because as Justin was pre-heating the oven for a gourmet feast of Tyson chicken nuggets he was met by the smell of burnt plastic accompanied by some pretty impressive flames.

Damn. Now what? How do I clean melted plastic out of the oven? I'm afraid the oven might be ruined.

Now please don't worry. We won't starve without our oven. I'm not sure I even need an oven. What do I make in there anyways? Nuggets? Fish Sticks?

I'm pretty sure I can make those in the microwave. 

Well, Happy First Birthday Jack!  Subsequent birthdays will be celebrated with Duncan Hines cake batter. 

A Video

A reader shared this video with me, and I thought I'd share it with all of you. 

I love it when people see videos about poop and think of me. 

I suppose I brought this on myself.

Isn't it Romantic

Justin and I are pretty big Harry Potter fans. Loved the books. Loved the movies. We couldn't wait to see the final installment of the series but it was released when we were on vacation so we missed its debut. Fast-forward a few weeks later, and we finally booked a babysitter and made plans to go see the movie.


The movie was to start at 6:40. We arrived in enough time to buy tickets, popcorn and get to our seats. I was so stoked as Justin and I don't go to the movies often. After this date, I'm doubting we'll ever go again.


As we went to buy our tickets we were informed that they yanked the movie from the theater that morning, and it was no longer showing.


We were disappointed but decided we'd just see something else. Justin wanted to see Planet of the Apes, and I wanted to see Crazy Stupid Love. This is where it all goes wrong. 

I could not be persuaded to see a movie about monkeys taking over the world nor could Justin be persuaded to see anything with the word love in its title.


I thought my ace in the hole would be Steve Carrell (Justin loves The Office) who was starring in Crazy Stupid Love, but it wasn't enough. The guy wasn't budging - he was seeing the damn monkey movie.


"Fine," I told him. "I'll see the monkey movie, but I guess I'm just disappointed in you because I feel like a real gentleman would see the movie his wife wanted to see."


Boo-Yah. That did it. Two tickets for Crazy Stupid Love please.


We found our seats directly behind three elderly women whose age was made evident by their bouffant hair. 


Ten minutes into the movie and I'd had enough. Justin didn't say a word but his body language was deafening: There was the slumping, the sighing, the texting, the giving the finger to the screen....


"FINE!" I whispered harshly. "Go see the monkeys."


He didn't need to hear that twice. He was gone and the mother-f*cker took the popcorn with him.


If we were dating, I'm pretty sure this is when we'd break-up. 


But he put a ring on it years ago, so I guess its until death do us part or at least until we go to another movie.