Mother's Guide to Sanity

* by Holly on May 22 2013 *

Traveling With A Toddler: Cruel and Unusual Punishment

Traveling with a toddler is brutal, especially alone. You would have thought I learned my lesson after this debacle, but apparently not. That’s the thing with kids, you always give them second chances because you are blinded by love.

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The last time I flew alone with my son, I swore I would never do it again. That was nine months ago. So he’s changed, right? He would listen to his momma and be a good boy this time, right? Not. So. Much. Monster Diva is officially his new name. Being pregnant doesn’t help either. I am tired and the last thing I want to do is chase after a toddler in an airport.

I took some key mistakes on my part from last time and prepared a grand plan. Almost as if I was writing a strategic sales plan, I carefully mapped out activities and pitches for the three-hour flight. I listed all my collateral: Goldfish, DVD’s, Fruit Snacks, and my ultimate bribery tool: Chocolate. I also tried to pack light (which is almost impossible with kids) to prevent carrying too much luggage. I checked the bags to free up my hands, in case I had to chase the little monster. Checking bags is very difficult for me. I HATE checking bags. I like to have my bag in my possession and not have to wait when I deplane. Me, a woman, once took a carry-on to Paris for a five day trip to avoid the baggage claim. I took a stroller this time too. Why? To lock his a** in and prevent him from chasing shinny things.

We made it to the gate relatively drama free. I got this! Right when that thought crossed my mind… here we go. He takes his shoes off and starts trying to ‘Hulk’ his way out of the stroller. All the while he is shouting, “I wanna go on air pwanne!” I tried to stay calm and convinced him they wouldn’t let him on if he is a bad boy. Then, I found a TV with cartoons. Thank you Jesus. Tip: try to not have more than an hour waiting time once you get to the gate. This is known as the witching hour. I took notes for next time, literally.

“Only good boys allowed on plane!”

Once we got on the plane, I cornered him in the window seat and apologized to all those around me in advance. Taking off was exciting for him, he liked to count to ten and yell, “Blast Off!!” Luckily all the people around me thought it was cute. He also bursted out in song a few times, serenading his audience with favorites such as: Twinkle Twinkle Little Star and Old McDonald. Just like the last flight we had together, he doesn’t like people sleeping around him and would yell, “Wakey-Wakey!”

The remaining time was challenging, but at that point I just didn’t care. After two airplane bathroom trips holding him in mid-air trying to aim in the toilet, I gave up. He opened and closed the window shade at least three dozen times, and we were the last to get off the plane because he took his shoes off and refused to put them back on. I had to use my secret weapon, the chocolate, to get the shoes back on.

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Luckily my husband met us and flew home with me. I pawned the kid off immediately and told my husband I was now invisible. He was a trooper and kept Monster Diva in check for me. I have to fly again with the kid in two weeks….alone. Isn’t there a better way? Should I just give in to the embarrassment? Should I just let him be a toddler and tell all the other passengers to go screw themselves? Are there day nannies that will fly with me?

I don’t know, but I need a new plan. If I wasn’t pregnant I would down a few glasses of wine. Either way, God help me. Prayers are appreciated.

Tips from this flight that were helpful:

More snacks
Charge computer longer
Put shoes on that are difficult to take off quickly
Sit in the back of the plane so not as many people around
Fly at night so he sleeps
Drink (if you can)
Don’t take any carry-on’s, it is too stressful
Pack light
Buy kid headphones (mine didn’t fit him well)
Remember this is temporary

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* by Kari on May 15 2013 *

Where Did My Body Go And Whom Can I Hire To Find It?

I have to say, having two kids is much easier than I thought. God blessed me with a great baby, and my older son is finally coming around to the thought of sharing me with his brother.

Brotherly Love

My biggest issue at this point is…dun.. Dun.. DUN… my body. I am having trouble finding where I misplaced it. Or better yet, where my kids misplaced it! After having my first son, I found it quite easy to lose the baby weight. Yes, I worked out here and there, and watched what I ate. I also breastfed for almost a year, as they say it helps ‘melt’ the weight away. I was in my regular jeans in three weeks. Maybe the weight came off easily because I was a working mom and was running around all the time, or that I was younger. Who knows? I sure as hell don’t.

This time around I wasn’t worried at all during my pregnancy. I knew (or thought I knew), the weight would come off relatively quickly. That has not been the case. Here I am 3 months postpartum and just stopped wearing maternity clothes! I also had to go shopping to get larger sized clothes so my husband would stop complaining about me borrowing his shirts.

Momma I was so worth it though!

I am dreading the moment someone approaches me and asks me when I am due. I may punch them. Also, as the temperature increases, the clothes decrease. This makes it difficult to hide my extra baggage. I was actually looking forward to summer, until now.

I still have thirty pounds to go. T-H-I-R-T-Y! That is a f’ing toddler! (P.S. did I just put that in writing??) Breastfeeding alone is not cutting it. I need to work out more, period. I will just add that to my ‘free time’ list that doesn’t exist now with two kids!

My sister’s wedding is in two months and I will not be the chubbster sister captured in photos that last forever! Off to the gym I go. Any advice or fitness blog recommendations are welcome for Operation Skinny Kari.

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* by Holly on May 7 2013 *

Why Shopping for Maternity Clothes Ruins My Life

I am pretty sure there is nothing worse than shopping for maternity clothes. First off, I hate spending money on clothes that I am forced to wear. Some women (I hate you), can wear regular clothes for the first five months. I am not one of those women. I have a torso the length of a paper clip and I am 5’2″. Along with having a small frame, I married a giant. My first kid was 22 1/2 inches long and came a week early because his poor legs were jammed in my rib cage. This combination of bad genes and a giant husband means I start showing the minute I get pregnant. This forces me to wear maternity clothes for the full pregnancy and postpartum.

ME preg

You really only have two choices when shopping for maternity clothes. You can either go for (moderately) cute and more expensive, or cheap and look like you are wearing a large tent, with a rope around your waist tied ever so lovely in bow on your backside. I despise bows. Why would a thirty-something want a bow tied right above her large pregnancy booty to draw more attention to that area? And pregnancy jeans… that subject I will save for another post. The only thing I will mention is that maternity jeans give a whole new meaning to swamp a**. Prepare yourself.

In an attempt to score some deals on dreaded maternity clothes, I was browsing Amazon last night and suddenly felt like vomiting. Who are these ‘pregnant’ chicks they get to model the clothes? They must be wearing prosthetic bellies because there is no way they look that good pregnant! And to p*ss me off even more they are shown wearing high heels. Look, I have been pregnant and I know you can not wear heels. IT HURTS! I am convinced, just like little-miss Kim Kardashian, these models take the photo and then change into flats… immediately. Maybe I am just being a hater, but when I was pregnant my feet grew half a size and they were way too swollen to wear heels. The minute my foot touched a heel, my body quickly reminded me: not so fast sister…

Lastly, the ultimate blow to your self esteem is shopping for a maternity bathing suit. Lucky for me I will be pregnant over summer (Yay!). Shopping for a bathing suit when you have a normal body is enough to send you into a wine filled b*tch session about how much you hate your body. Imagine shopping and trying on bathing suits when you look like this:

monstor

Again, you have these 5’10″ chicks who look amazing wearing these suits. Thanks for making me feel worse Amazon! I eventually gave up and just succumbed to the thought of looking like the above and bought the first suit I saw. However, to help hide my embarrassment, I also purchased a big hat and sunglasses. Until the baby comes I shall remain incognito, especially at the pool. If you do see me out, don’t blow my cover. Also, if you ask me if I am having twins due to my large belly, I may punch you in the face. You have been warned.

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* by Holly on May 4 2013 *

The Griswald’s (a.k.a the Husband and I) Trip to Napa

The husband and I planned a trip to Napa to celebrate my new freedom in March. We found some great deals, and I had wanted to go for awhile now. Working as an event planner for the past ten years, I was beyond excited to go as Napa is the mecca for food and wine.

We planned this of course before we found out we were pregnant. When we did find out about the pregnancy, we decided to still go as the weather would be much nicer than Chicago, and it was a chance to get away and relax.

Once we arrived we went to pick up the car. We ordered a nice convertible so we could enjoy the sun, something that has been on strike in Chicago lately. When the associate took us to the car, it was the MOST beat down old car on the lot. We look around and ask, “Is this the only one you have?” The girl, a twenty something So-Cal chick who kept saying ‘you guys’ every two seconds replied, “Yep, sorry.” So professional. She also didn’t know how to put the top down (she only works there- why would she know?), so she had to go get a colleague who explained that if we had stuff in the truck we couldn’t put the top down. Um, so where would our luggage go seeing how there is not really a back seat? Ugh. We succumbed to the situation and began our drive to Napa – top up.

convert1

Napa is only about 70 miles from San Francisco, which with traffic would take about two hours. It took us five. Yes, you read right, five. Trying to go the scenic route, we took US Highway 1. I have been on PCH 1 before in southern California and it is absolutely beautiful and flat. I am not sure if you have been on this highway by San Francisco, but it is essentially driving on cliffs without any RAILS. So here we are, in a beat down car, with the sun setting, driving on cliffs, and lost. My husband was taking corners a little too tight for me, so I made him pull over and let me drive. All I could think about was protecting the baby in my belly, and preventing the child we have at home from becoming a warden of the state.

HEART ATTACK!!!!!!!!

Nightfall came. It was pitch black with the exception of the light from the moon. At this point, neither of us had cell phone reception, and our GPS was not getting a signal. Awesome. I was starting to panic, and could picture the news headline in my head: Stupid Chicago Couple Runs Off Cliff in Beat Down Rental Convertible.

We pulled over at some little trinket-selling place and asked for the quickest way inland to Napa. Armed with our new directions and my bad vision at night (another plus!), we headed inland. Once we arrived at the hotel, the clerk and I exchanged hotel jargon and he assigned us to a nice room with club access. I was exhausted, 11 p.m. was 1 a.m. for me. We all know I am pregnant, which means bedtime is approximately 9 p.m. We get to the room and I open the door only to find people in bed and bags on the floor. Are you f**king kidding me! I worked in hotels for ten years and rule number one: Never check in anyone into an occupied room! I calmed my inner demon from exploding because I knew it was the exhaustion talking. The agent was so nice to upgrade me so I didn’t make a big deal about it. He quickly put us in another room and apologized profusily. He was lucky I am a hotelier and get it. Once we got to the new room, I looked at my husband and said, “Let’s start over tomorrow.”

Unfortunately the universe did not hear my instructions on starting over. The next morning we set out to see some wineries. I was even able to do a little tasting. My husband, who has never been to a winery, had high expectations for what was in store. He was more interested in the inter-workings of these wineries, which a lot of wineries do tours of, however you have to schedule in advance. I let him take the lead on this trip and plan our outings, which meant, wing it. Winging it was clearly not working.

Only picture we could fake a smile for.

After two wineries he was bored and I couldn’t drink anymore, so I was annoyed. We decided to head back and look for a nice restaurant for dinner. Finally, good food and a nice night! Think again. The place was packed and the hostess sat at us at a table near the kitchen and restrooms. The waiter came up after a ten minutes and said, “Do you know what you guys want?” No, hello, nothing! I ordered pasta which was soaked in so much butter sauce, even Paula Dean would have sent it back. I barely ate, and suddenly felt sick. The waiter then proceeded to charge our card to the wrong table and argue with me about it. Back to the hotel again, disappointed.

Say NO to the butter!

The next morning we get an email the SFO airport is doing runway construction and to expect delays. This meant we would not catch our connecting flight in LA. Awesome! We drove straight to the airport, had to pay to get on an earlier flight, and sat there for three hours until our flight left. The only good food we had was In-N-Out Burger. What a waste of money and time. I need a re-take vacation before this baby comes and we are on lock down for awhile. Any suggestions??

Napa is beautiful, and maybe with a group of friends under different circumstances it would have been a great trip. I highly recommend you go BUT with a plan, some directions and DON’T be pregnant.

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* by Holly on Apr 24 2013 *

Took My Pregnancy Test… I Passed!

Yes, you read right. The ole’ baby maker came through in the clutch!

First off, I would like to thank God. Secondly, I would like to thank my husband, family, friends and all the readers who were so supportive. Your comments and advice came at a time when I desperately needed them. If you are thinking this sounds like an Oscar speech, you are right. This past year was a miserable, emotional roller coaster that almost ended with us giving up on expanding our family. And, I was on the brink of starting expensive, daunting fertility treatments. So…I really do feel like I won an Oscar, better yet, a baby!

I found out I was pregnant two days after I wrote this post. I was driving back from Starbucks and made a quick stop at Walgreens to buy one more pack of pregnancy tests. As I was cashing out, I said to myself, hopefully this is the last dollar you spend on these. Once I got home, I immediately put the tests away. I wasn’t ready to take one and have my heart broken yet again.

Later that week I felt ready. I took the test and when I checked the stick, a positive sign glared back at me. As I would with a negative sign, I grabbed the box and read the instructions about ten times to make sure I was reading it right. Then I did what every girl does, I took another test. That one, a positive too! I ran out of the bathroom, looked at my husband and started crying. This time he knew my cry was one of relief. He stood up, hugged me and whispered in my ear, “Finally.”

Besides having enourmus boobs, nose bleeds, bleeding gums, the bladder of an 80 year-old, and barely being able to keep my eyes open lately, I can’t really complain. Pregnancy does not suit me, but I’ll gladly oblige for the end result. I know, I shouldn’t complain and should feel very blessed, which I do, however let’s be honest ladies – pregnancy sucks.

Just a couple more weeks and I will be in my second trimester, which they say is when the ‘glow’ starts. By ‘glow’ I mean I will look more pregnant and not just fat. I have already been asked, “Wow, are you having twins?” No, I am not. There is only one, so says my doctor, and thank you for making me feel like a whale.

I am hoping for a girl, but a boy would save me from bankruptcy. The husband says he knows it is a boy, so we shall see.

Again, thank you for all the love and support and I will be sure to blog along the way!

XO,

Holly

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* by Kari on Apr 15 2013 *

When Siblings are Jealous of the New Baby…The Soldiers Will Come Get Him?

My three-year-old son is the light of my life. He is also very spoiled. Being a working mom, I suffer from mom guilt, so I buy him more than I should. I also give in quite easily when he wants for something.

He has been struggling with accepting the new baby, to say the least. I knew it wasn’t going to be an easy transition, because the new baby was in the NICU for two weeks in Chicago, while my older son was with his grandparents in Ohio. Since the husband and I stayed with the new baby, B definitely felt abandoned. When we first brought the baby home, B was really into his brother. He loved to help change and feed him. About three days into our new life, he started to tell me to not feed, hug or kiss the baby in front of him. Then he told me, “My brother has taken over my life. He took my mommy, daddy, and my toys. I want him to go now.” Um, sorry kid your brother is here to stay.

My future??

Confronted with this new challenge, we decided to give extra special one-on-one time with mommy, daddy and the grandparents. We also let him earn stars when he is good to get toys. I tell him, “You will love your brother someday when he can play with you.” He is not buying it.

He has started to act out in numerous ways: Bedwetting, not listening and throwing crazy temper tantrums. He also beat up a kid at school last week. Awesome, that’s my boy… I really enjoyed being that mom who was called into the office when I picked him up from preschool. I had to go hear the story from his teacher, and then apologize to everyone for his actions. Not cool. Look kid, I have my own actions I have to apologize for, I don’t need yours added on to mine!

“He’s not mine.”

The final stab in the heart was last night. As I was putting my son to bed he said to me, “Mom, did you unlock the door because the soldiers are coming tonight to take my brother.” I replied, “WHAT?” He continued, “I don’t want him to live in this house anymore, so he is going to go live with them.”

CArson

We will continue to work through this as a family, but this kid is driving me nuts! It gets better right? Should I vamp up the alarm system? Any advice would be greatly appreciated.

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* by Holly on Apr 8 2013 *

Sometimes the Grass Is Greener on the Other Side

People are quick to say, “The grass isn’t always greener on the other side.” But what if it is? How would you know what shade the grass is, if you are not willing to see the other side? Do people say this out of fear? To convince themselves they don’t deserve better? Sometimes a different shade of green is exactly what we all need.

I am that woman. The one who spent her entire twenties and half of her thirties working around the clock. The one who was always accepting challenges head on, and filling up my day with projects for other people. In hindsight, I did miss out on a lot of things; a real college experience, traveling, family time, days spent soaking up the sun by the lake. You name it, I missed it. My parents did what they could to help, but I essentially paid (actually am still paying for – damn loans!) for my own education. This meant all work and no play.

You know that’s right!

On top of that I had an intense desire to succeed. I wanted better for myself and for my kids. I wanted to have nice things, be able to pay for college, and take those family trips my family was never able to. That drive for success landed me here. Yes, I am successful and have a dream job to many. I worked very hard and sacrificed a lot to get here.

Even on the rare occasion we do get to do fun things, I do not have a trained mind to stop and really enjoy the moment. I am always forward thinking. What should I make for dinner? I wonder if my client returned their contract. STOP woman, you are at a pool, in Miami, in the dead of winter in Chicago. Relax. Sooo, I wonder if that woman did send back her contract, let me just check my email real quick. Of course, one email turns into twenty-five emails, and then a phone call, then anxiety, then there goes my fun pool time. By the end of each day, I am mentally and physically exhausted.

This was a true statement..

But the success and money were worth it, right? Yes, the experience, the confidence I gained in myself and the connections I have made were absolutely worth it. On the other hand, it was not worth missing my son take his first steps, say his first words, watch him play on a sunny afternoon, or ruin my Miami pool day. This is time I can never get back.

So, since I make sh*t happen and was tired of complaining and watching my life go by, I decided to do something about it. Take that leap of faith I have dreamed about. I resigned from my Director position, at a company I truly loved, after eight years. I want to see if the grass is, in fact, greener on the other side. I knew I made the right decision because the Pope and I resigned the same day. He, apparently, had enough too. I will chalk this up as divine intervention. If the Pope could do it, so could I.

pope

It has been several weeks since my last day. The first week was definitley scary. What did I do? Will we be ok financially? Did I make the right decision? The next week it felt like vacation. Now, it just feels great. Liberating in fact. I can do without daily Starbucks and other things I don’t need, if it means not being too tired to read my son a book before bed.

My theory is my career will always be there. I am a career driven person, that will never go away either. In the meantime, I will focus on expanding my family, writing and dedicating my time to my most important role of all… mom.

My advice to you: Take that PTO. Don’t save it for a rainy day that never comes. Spend a day with your family without sneaking off to check your email on your phone. Spend a day doing nothing but stuff for you. But above all, don’t miss important milestones in your kids life. Because those my friend, you will regret.

So is the grass greener on the other side you ask? In my case, so far, yes.

GRASS

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* by Kari on Apr 2 2013 *

The Nightmare I Face Every Night (Also Known As Our Bedtime Routine)

Just when you get used to one set of rules in the land of parenting, they change. This game is ever changing. I have been pretty lucky with the new baby. He is very sweet and easy to manage, and best of all, he likes to sleep. I wish I could say the same for B, my older son.

Zombie non-sleeper on the right ->

Night time is pretty much the worst part of my day. I actually dread it from the moment I wake up. Isn’t night time supposed to be peaceful and calming? Well not in my house. Night time is more like a full fledged circus act.

First off, my older son acts like bed time is essentially ‘the walk through the valley of the shadow of death’. As soon as he hears the words, “Time for night-night,” all hell breaks loose. He pulls all the stops to avoid going to bed. He usually starts with the, what I like to call, starvation ploy. “Momma I’m hungry (whining and holding tummy), I need a snack.” Yet when we go to the pantry he, of course, can’t decide what he wants. I have to choose three things and let him pick one.

After eating his snack in record slow time, it is time for pajamas. Every item of clothing I choose, he has a problem with it. ”That’s too tight. That one is too itchy.” Thanks to Grandma we have plenty to choose from! Oh, and his favorite pair of pajamas from last week, he hates this week – naturally. Finally, after what seems like an episode of America’s Next Top Model with him having to try on and model all his pajamas, we move to the bathroom to brush his teeth.

ToddlerSlp

The bathroom step takes no less than 20 minutes. Why? Your guess is as good as mine. He has to do everything himself, I am forbidden to assist. He sucks on his toothbrush to get all the toothpaste off, then does a few strokes over his molars. Luckily, he loses those teeth because I am not sure if his hygiene is of stellar status. Actually, I am positive, it is not!

Back to his room we go for story time. He can choose two books to read. The little genius always picks the longest ones, like the collection of Dr. Seuss stories. Um, that is eight stories not one, smart a**. We actually argue over how many stories there are. Yes, I argue with my toddler. I tend to skip over paragraphs to speed up the process and he hasn’t caught me… yet. Who’s the smarty pants now? One point for Momma!

Lastly, he asks me to cuddle with him. I enjoy this part, a lot. One day he will not hug me in front of his friends, so I will take all the affection I can get now. Usually at this point, Daddy comes up to give kisses. Before he leaves, B starts begging for water. Again, he kicks up the dramatics, holding his throat and all. If I already gave him water, he now needs fresh water. SERIOUSLY!?

Brayden

This process takes sometimes up to two hours. This needs to stop. I can’t take it, especially with a seven-week-old in the house! Why do kids hate going to sleep? They don’t realize how lucky they are to be able to sleep eight-plus hours, with naps during the day. What I would give for that kind of rest!

Please tell me you have magic advice? What is your bedtime routine? Tonight I am trying a timer and giving him 30 minutes to get to bed. I’ll let you know how it goes. Wish me luck!

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* by Holly on Mar 26 2013 *

Who Knew Getting Pregnant Was So Difficult And Why Didn’t You Tell Me

Truth be told, I am quite upset with my baby maker these days. Why is being a woman so difficult? I spent my entire youth trying not to get pregnant, only to be on a desperate baby rampage in my thirties. Trying to get pregnant is a sensitive subject, I get it, but I am not afraid to speak about it.

Many women keep quiet about the trials and tribulations of getting pregnant, either out of embarrassment, pride, etc, so when difficulties happen with you, YOU start to feel like the problem. Why me? What is wrong with me? How are all these b*tches around me getting pregnant? Why is MY baby maker on strike? These are my actual thoughts right now as a sit in Starbucks next to some pregnant chick. B*itch.

Why is hers growing and NOT mine?

The whole ‘trying for a baby‘ process is like a bad dream. Scratch that, more like a freakin’ nightmare. Each month I jump on the crazy baby train begging to be dropped off in pregnant-ville, yet the a**hole conductor has yet to let me off. So here I am almost a year later holding my first class ticket without my glass of champagne. This first class is complete rubbish.

When we first started trying, we were told to have sex every day after my period. Then we were told doing this would only lower sperm counts, so we need to have sex every other day instead. Then came my thyroid problem, so I was put on medication. Then I was told my progesterone was low, which explained why my eggs were not able to attach to the uterine wall, resulting in a miscarriage. Next my doctor suggested I quit my job, because the stress was too much. Lastly, she told me I am getting old and only have a certain amount of eggs left. Awesome! Defending my eggs I blurted out, “But I still feel so young! Women have babies into their forties for Christ sake! I am only thirty -five, just turned thirty-five.” My sensitive doctor replied, “But you are still thirty-five, let’s call it what it is.” She told me to get ovulation kits and try a couple more months before we had to meet again.

Not happy with your outcome Mr. Smiley!

Equipped with all this information, I went to CVS to buy ovulation and pregnancy tests. After I filed bankruptcy from my CVS bill, I downloaded the app, AESOP Fertility. This app tracks my monthly cycle. It shows a green dot when my eggs are ready, and a red dot when I should be prepared for another month of heartache. Once my cycle starts, I have to rub progesterone cream on my hands nightly. When the green dot finally shows, it was go time.

My husband doesn’t mind the beginning of ‘go time’, but wants to kill me by the end. I constantly boss him around, “No, this way. No, that way!” After the deed I have to lay with my legs in the air and a pillow under my hips for twenty minutes. TWENTY MINUTES. Way to kill the fun. The worst part is when you stand up after those twenty minutes to go to the bathroom. Ladies you know what I am talking about. Vomit.

The next few weeks are always a blur. Any little hot flash, dizzy spell, hunger pain, twinge of the uterus I immediately think, I’m pregnant! When the time comes to take a test, it always shows negative. From there the denial sets in. Maybe it’s too early. This test is wrong. I know I am pregnant! Then I take another test, negative again. I wait. A few days later the spotting starts. Maybe the egg is implanting, I read you spot sometimes during this process. I wait. The real bleeding starts. I then realize I am not pregnant, I just wasted all that money on those stupid pregnancy tests, and I cry. I cry because my plan didn’t work. I cry because there is no baby. Finally, I cry because I know next month I will have to do this all over again.

Preg Test

If we don’t get pregnant soon, I have to take a pill which helps you ovulate, however increases your chances of multiples. Great, just what I needed. Sorry Kate, but ‘Holly Plus Eight’ doesn’t work for me. If that magic pill doesn’t work, I’ll have to start seeing a fertility specialist. Any specialist scares me.

images-3

Everyone always says, “At least you already have your son.” Which is true, but I long for a bigger family and not getting pregnant hurts just as much, regardless of what number kid it is. Plus, my son needs a sibling to keep him occupied while I write all these blog posts for you ladies!

Please send your good vibes and baby making mantras, as I can’t take many more months of this vicious cycle – sober, at least.

Much Love,

Holly

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* by Holly on Mar 19 2013 *

The Rules of ‘Engagement’ After Marriage

Our friends keep asking us to write about sex. Okay ladies, we will take one for the team. You’re welcome. Mom and Dad: If you are reading this, now is the time to log off. Thanks.

As wives we can all remember how we lured our husbands to love us in the first place. All it took was one look, and they knew what time it was. It was so easy to get them to do whatever we wanted. Okay, who are we kidding, we still use sex as a ploy to get what we want… and so do you. (DON’T LIE!).

SEXY LOOK

Unfortunately, times have changed. Back then we had less responsibilities, less stressful jobs, hot little bodies and more time on our hands. As that time filled up, sex became lower on the totem pole. It also became somewhat of a chore. We know as wives we have a duty to make our men happy, but guys, help us, help you. Very simple.

Here are some helpful hints you can share with your husbands if they want to get laid more often:

Numero Uno: Don’t ignore us all night, without so much as a, “How was your day honey?” Then once we climb into bed think it is go time. The only thing going around here is ME – TO SLEEP.

Next, help out with the chores. Studies show, (according to Yahoo!), when men help out with chores, women feel more appreciated. Therefore more inclined to give it up. Hey, you can’t argue with Science!

HELP US!

If it is after 9:30 pm on a weekday, forget it…. immediately.

When initiating sex during the work week, romance is not necessary. You have about ten minutes before we fall asleep, make them count! We are a sure thing so stop wasting time.

Weekend sex, the rules are different. Romance IS necessary. If you try to cut to the chase, we will feel used and fat. (Tip: we always think we are fat no matter how skinny we are.)

To clarify romance: This does not mean grab our butts as we are trying to cook or brush our teeth. This caveman act is not sexy. Sorry to burst your bubble guys, but it doesn’t turn us on. Romance means massages, candles, take on an extra chores, draw a bath, etc. You get the idea (hopefully).

Nothing says I love you like alcohol!

Last but not least, insist your wife reads 50 Shades of Grey. The writing is horrible, however the content is smokin’ hot. It will work and it does.

I hope you enjoyed our Rules of Engagement. Now pass them along and please feel free to add your own in the comment section below.

Cheers,

Holly & Kari

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