A Sprung Spring?

I can’t even begin to fathom what I’m doing right now. I am outside, on the deck, wearing flip flops and typing this inevitably brilliant post. Furthermore, I’m kind of sweating in my leggings and t-shirt. Apparently, the raging bitch that is Mother Nature got the memo that it’s spring and bestowed a sunny day upon us where snow isn’t covering the ground. Her and I will never get along, but for right now…she cool, she cool.


Another reason for my unusually “chipper” disposition today is that I am on spring break! I have the whole week off which means I can eat Sour Patch Kids in bed at 10pm while watching “Full House” instead of eating Sour Patch kids in bed while watching “Full House” at 8pm. See how scandalous I am? I’m only two days into break, but so far it’s been a blissful two days for the following reasons:

1.)  I painted Caroline’s toes. As a nail polish fanatic, this is a huge milestone in both of our lives. To my surprise, she sat there patiently as I painted two coats of pink “Piggy Paint” on them. I’m trying to instill in her early on that appearances really do matter. No doctor or corporate attorney is going to want to marry a woman with busted feet. She needs to start preparing for her future now.


2.)  With a house and neighborhood that we actually like and respect, it has been fun plotting all of our outdoor projects this summer. I even took a trip to Lowe’s with Ryan and didn’t curse with my arms crossed the entire time. I actually discussed things like flower beds, bird feeders and wrote a company to get started on a fence for our backyard. Our diabetic dog needs a space bigger than our front lawn to empty his sugary pee-filled bladder and since our backyard graciously opens up to the Genesee River, it’s kind of a good thing with a toddler to you know, block that off. I figure if we put a fence in, I can just let Caroline and Winston loose back there while I take a nap or make a strawberry daiquiri or something. In my mind, I see no reason why a fence can’t act as a suitable babysitter.


Ryan caught one of the escapees!

3.)  I went to a baby shower yesterday and was reminded that I’m having a baby too. Like I said in my last post, I legitimately forget about it sometimes. As I was watching my friend open her gifts, it made me pretty happy (and a bit panicked) that I’m about to do this all over again. The great thing about pregnancy is that there’s no turning back, no “off” switch. But I can’t wait to find out what I’m having, snuggle it, be off from work, etc. The good always outweighs the scary/bad/negative.

4.)  I bought Caroline these shoes:


Wait, no THESE ones:



5.) Just the simple prospect of going out for a run where my uterus and kidneys won’t freeze is really appealing to me. We’re having pasta for dinner so I’m not sure how successful a post-dinner run would be, but if I’m slow and it sucks…I’ll just blame it on the fetus. Bam.

Alright, I need to go enjoy the rest of this day before the little rascal wakes up and demands that we take her somewhere, feed her, change her, bathe her. Kids…they’re so demanding.

Baby #2: Week 16

So here we are again. Because some people enjoy reading about the activities within another woman’s uterus, I will do my best to document this pregnancy as best as I can. I was diligent with Caroline and I don’t want this baby to be like “hey mom, way not to care about me” because you know, that leads to poor self-esteem and lots of therapy bills. So without further ado…


March 31, 2014

 WEEK 16

Get ready for a growth spurt. In the next few weeks, your baby will double his weight and add inches to his length. Right now, s/he’s about the size of an avocado: 4 1/2 inches long (head to rump) and 3 1/2 ounces. His/her legs are much more developed, his/her head is more erect than it has been, and his/her eyes have moved closer to the front of his/her head. His/her ears are close to their final position, too.



In one word: “awkward.” Pregnancy, the second time around, makes everything happen at a much faster pace. I feel like no sooner than peeing on a stick did I need maternity pants. My stomach immediately protruded, my uterus was all like “I remember how to do this” and my stomach broke out in itchy hives. Everything that took me months to see/experience with Caroline is happening much, much quicker this time. So to answer this prompt, I just feel strange. I’m pregnant and showing, but my mind hasn’t caught up with what my stomach is telling me. Does that even make sense? (Don’t answer that.)


I’m up about six pounds so far. Some of my pants still button (albeit very uncomfortably), but most of my shirts either pop open because of my ginormous prego boobs or are just so tight that they’ll cut off the baby’s air supply (that’s how that works, right?)


Nothing! I do have an aversion though: hot coffee. As a Dunkin Donuts ADDICT, hot coffee went from “give me an IV of it” to “I’d rather puke and hit my head against the wall than drink it.” However, don’t WORRY everyone! Mama loves her iced coffee and the kind DD workers give me half caffeine/decaf when I request it. They don’t even spit in it when I order it! (that I know of)


My socks. Am I right?


I feel as if this category will be empty for a while. This is our second baby! The big ticket items are thankfully taken care of already.


Nothing major. I feel so much busier this time around between working full-time and raising a 19 month old. Sometimes I have to remind myself that I’m pregnant which I think has cut down on all of the irrational concerns. The less time you have to think about things, the better.


I have one goal for myself and that’s to make working out a priority again (more on this in a another post, I’m sure), but with the weather finally changing, I really want to get outside and be active again. Even if it’s a light jog around the neighborhood or something, I need that for my mental health.


Not a moment yet, but I’m anxiously awaiting a kick. I think I’ve felt some flutters here and there, but I’m impatiently poking and prodding my belly trying to get a response back! The doctor said you feel the kicks a lot sooner with subsequent babies and I know I’m close to feeling them, but nothing certain just yet. Let’s go!

Back by (*somewhat*) Popular Demand…

Wow, are there even still readers out there? Is this post echoing as I’m writing it? Hello? Anyone out there?

Truth be told, I know there are still readers of my blog out there because my mom is still alive so THERE.

I don’t even know where to begin, really. I last updated in December? How embarrassing. We amend our Constitution more frequently than I update this damn thing. I desperately wish I had a valid excuse as to why I’ve been MIA all this time, but I don’t. As I’ve said before, I’m horrendous at balancing the different aspects of my life. “Oh I have to grade papers tonight? Well, then I can’t feed my toddler.” “’The Bachelor’ finale is on? Sorry thighs, looks like it’s another day of cellulite for you because I am not running.”

Life has just been crazy, quite frankly. Most nights, I fall asleep by 9pm which is both pathetic and indicative of my chaotic life. I don’t even make it to the last hour of “Full House” that comes on at 10pm—that’s the real tragedy in all of this. I know that everyone is busy, but because this is my blog I get to complain about how busy I am mainly for sympathy.

Let’s take a look at what I’ve been doing the last 32901 months.


Work is work. I want to know who established 40 hours a week as “full time” because that’s just rude. I think I’m more cut out for like 10 hours a week because this job thing is really cutting into my TV watching. I mean, my TiVo is 94% full forgodsakes. But in all seriousness, I’m touching lives and brightening our future every day at work or at the very least, paying back Sallie Mae for the $763 billion dollars I borrowed to fund my education. My knee caps aren’t broken so I know my checks are still clearing.


Good news: Caroline is developing as the world’s smartest and prettiest toddler.


Bad news: Therefore, your child isn’t.

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Just kidding! Kinda. She is seriously awesome these days. She puts sentences together, can count, can swear and can even throw a mind-melting, ear-bursting temper tantrum. Even when she’s spilling the dog’s water or trying to set the house on fire, she’s still the greatest human being this planet has ever known. To most, she’s right up there Ghandi and Mother Theresa. I couldn’t agree more.

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Our Diabetic Dog, Winston

Still diabetic. That’s really about it.


Ryan, the Husband

Ryan’s busy inventing things at work and doing all sorts of technical things that I don’t understand. BUT, he’s making money to support my lifestyle of $8 nail polishes and toddler clothing shopping sprees so I suppose all is good? Seeing as how I pass out on the couch every night around 8:30/9pm, we don’t really get to see much of one another until the weekends. This is either the best marriage ever or he’s lacing my orange juice with Benadryl to make me pass out so he doesn’t have to interact with me. But I love him anyway.

Running & Working Out

Yeah, this shouldn’t even be a topic because while I’ve been gone from the blog, I’ve run two marathons, qualified for Boston, can bench press my body weight and even won a Cross Fit competition.


I haven’t done much of anything and just struggled get Caroline’s new bottle of juice open. Either I’m incredibly weak (yes) or they’re putting those damn tops on too tightly at the Wegman’s factories (yes).


I DID do a snowy 2 mile run the other day!

Either way, working out has taken a back seat lately. And by “back seat” I mean, in the way, way, WAYYY back. Like, back seat of a school bus kind of thing. Aside from being busy (excuses I know), the next topic of choice is also a factor…


Winters in Rochester are notorious for being god-awful, but this winter has been personally designed by a pissed off devil that wants to see humans suffer and babies cry. Not only have we had miserable amounts of snow, but the temperatures have all made us prisoners of our own home. It’s not like we can go outside and enjoy the snow. No. If we were to go outside, we’d immediately contract frostbite and die. It’s that cold. Negative temperatures, all the damn time. Take a look at the difference in weather this week. The picture below is from Tuesday when it was 50 degrees out!


And this is just 24 hours later…wind chill temperature of -8 AND over one foot of snow!


I can only really run outside because I’m a big baby like that so because I like using my legs and having them attached to my body, I’ve hunkered down inside for the past three months. Spring is apparently eight days away so maybe that will reinvigorate my exercise habit. Or I could just keep eating cookies.

Other Stuff

Well, aside from all of that fun stuff going on in life, we’ve also been pretty preoccupied with something…or should I say someone else.

BABY 3-10-015

Because I’m apparently only ever fertile around Jesus’ birthday, the next little bugger is due right around C’s birthday in September. We are super-duper, 100% THRILLED. Now that I do not want to puke every 10 minutes and my diet consists of more than just McDonald’s milkshakes, I’m really starting to fall in love with pregnancy again and am so excited to raise another future American leader.


So there you are, folks! I’ll be back, I swear. If you don’t hear from me in a couple of days maybe call the authorities.

Or just continue to wait for a post.

You Can’t Treat a Virus

Well it’s Monday. Normally, I’d be wrapping up first period by now, but today? I’m unshowered, in my new, ankle-length monogrammed robe(couldn’t be sexier if I tried) and brewing my first cup of coffee. This stay-at-home stuff ain’t so bad.

My post-Christmas vacation started off with me taking Caroline to the doctor’s. Obviously, my number one priority is my child’s health, but I also had to go there just to get everyone off my back. I heard “you better call the doctor’s!” at least 489 times over the past week. Who else am I supposed to call when my child’s sick? A carpenter? A circus clown? Ghostbusters?

Upon my arrival, I was happy to see the waiting room was FULL of sick children. Listen, if my angel child had to suffer through Christmas puking and coughing at least she wasn’t alone in her misery. Furthermore, based on their coughs it seemed all of these toddlers had the same exact illness so I figured if the doctor’s was ground zero for the illness to cause the zombie apocalypse at least I’d be infected quickly and wouldn’t have to find food and try and survive and crap.


I was hesitant about taking Caroline to the doctor’s because doctors only “help” with one of the two sayings: “it will get better over time, just rest up!” or “let me refer you to a specialist.”

Swallowed a spatula? Just drink lots of fluids.

Somebody stabbed you? Might have to go see a specialist for that wound.

Contracted smallpox? Nothing a little R&R won’t cure!

Naturally, this was the course of our appointment. One of the many socially awkward doctors came in to examine Caroline and quickly diagnosed her with RSV which is basically baby bronchitis. When I said, “is there anything you can do?” her response was “no, it should clear up soon. Any questions?”

Yes. Why did you go to medical school l to tell me the same thing an illiterate hobo living under a bridge could tell me?

Ever since Thursday, we have been in deep hibernation mode. I keep showering and optimistically putting on real clothes as if I’ll be able to go anywhere, but then Liney Boom wakes up and it’s immediately downhill. I actually peed with her on my lap yesterday. The alternative? Her standing next to the toilet SCREAMING “mama! Mommy!”  But thankfully, the puking has seemed to stop. The other night she woke up at 2am to throw up all over me. To give you a visual of my envious lifestyle, her puke somehow got into my underwear. Clearly, she’s a magician or maybe my underwear are just too big, I don’t know.


Yesterday I did manage to get out of the house during her second nap. I just wanted to be out so I figured I’d run to the craft store to get the materials I needed for a hair clip holder I want to make for her room. The damn project literally contains four materials: fabric, a frame, ribbon and glue. However, once in the craft store I immediately got overwhelmed by the crafty old ladies and aisles full of different yarn. 15 minutes later, I stormed out of the store mumbling so eloquently: “FORGET THIS, I’LL JUST BUY IT OFF OF ETSY.” At least I tried, right?

That disaster of a shopping spree sent me into a Pinterest and Etsy downward spiral. I stayed up until 1am “pinning” and “favorite-ing” everything I could that relates to C’s new room. Is this what people that don’t have to get up for work do all night? If so, it’s not bad, but I think I have arthritis in my index finger from scrolling on the iPad all night.

So that’s my life. Good thing I have a blog to enlighten you all about puke in my underwear and glaring laziness.

Okay, I’m off to go take care of my mini beast. Fingers crossed she is feeling a little better today! Maybe I could escape the house and get annoyed by someone long enough to give me some meaningful content on this thing ;-)


I Have a Blog? Interesting.

277  I’m certain there are awards for productive bloggers that write meaningful and insightful posts on a regular basis, but are there awards for bloggers that abandon their blog in favor of doing anything other than looking at a computer screen? If so, someone nominate me. I know I’ve been MIA, but I’ve been creepily thinking of you all (fully clothed, of course). Think of me as a distant grandparent. Sure, I never make it to watch your Christmas pageant, but you can count on me for a tasteless joke and $5 on your birthday. Well, the last part might not be true, but I got the tasteless joke part covered.
Obviously, I’ve been busy. Well, busy and lazy. But I always have the best intentions of posting when I find some free time, but then I end up watching an episode of “House Hunters” or reading a few articles about Khloe Kardashian and her crack-addicted husband in my issue of US Weekly. Clearly, my priorities are correct.
Now that the holidays are over, maybe I can re-focus some of my energy on blogging again. Every time I went to blog, I’d get distracted with online shopping for Christmas. I obviously wasn’t very successful in my online shopping attempts because 87% of the people in my life got gift cards. Some of them may have already been used because I found them in my wallet, but whatever…be grateful for your $10.47 certificate to the Olive Garden.
So how was everyone’s Christmas?! Ours was great despite a disgustingly sick child. What kind of sick-in-the-head Santa Claus brings a kid bronchitis for Christmas? She isn’t even old enough to be on the “naughty list” so clearly Santa is just an asshole that likes to see small children suffer. She’s been sick since Christmas Eve and against my better judgment, we proceeded with celebrating at our two family’s houses only for her to conclude the festivities by vomiting over most of Ryan’s family right before dinner. I know a lot of people associate holiday cheer with eggnog, presents and cookies, but this year it was all about green, crusty boogers, curdled milk baby vomit and a 22 pound toddler glued to me yelling “mommy!” Aren’t you guys jealous? You should be. Home girl is so sick that she didn’t even bother with unwrapping most of her presents. Her “big” present was a play kitchen that she played with for about 10 minutes before coughing up a black lung.
That was definitely the downside to Christmas, but the upside is that we got a call this morning from our realtor saying that our house sold! Paying two mortgages is a little too Oprah for us. I was getting worried that I’d have to sell one of my kidneys (and since my kidneys are full of stones, it probably wouldn’t even be worth much) or get pregnant and sell the baby to some Mexican drug lords just to afford both payments. Thankfully, my internal organs and uterus are safe. A nice couple bought our old house which makes me feel slightly nostalgic. When we moved, all I could think of was the dilapidated pool and the creepy bugs in the basement. Now that’s sold, all I can think of is Ryan proposing in the living room and bringing Caroline home there. But then again…bugs…in the basement. Creepy ones. With lots of legs.
Eh, I’m over it. Enjoy the house, bitches.
Work has been b-u-s-y. I did write my first referral two weeks ago which is a real accomplishment for me. I’ve avoided writing them my entire career because it involves paperwork, signatures, going to different offices, but now you can submit referrals digitally so every time a kid blinks more than the recommended times per minute, I write them up. Breathing with your mouth open? Referral.  Looked out the window while we were taking notes? Referral. Didn’t ask me how my baby was doing? Referral. Asked what Marie Antoinette’s first name was? Referral and a shameful head shake.
Just kidding (except about the Marie Antoinette question—that was real AND very sad) because I really do love teaching these days. The days go by so quickly that I can’t complain. Everyday feels like I got slapped right across the face and I leave the building with whiplash. However, don’t think that I’m not already counting down the days until summer vacation. I think once Christmas break is over, the next logical countdown is to June. We have a couple of week-long breaks in February and April, but let’s keep our eyes on the big prize, shall we?
What else is new? Our new house is awesome. We don’t have a single thing on the wall yet, but we’re 87% unpacked and it’s starting to feel more and more like our home instead of some type of vacation home we’re renting out. I think once your baby pees on the carpet before her bath and your cat pukes up Christmas garland on the stairs that it’s officially your house, right? That just screams “home sweet home” to me. My current Pinterest project is Caroline’s room. She’s kind of a big girl now so I want to redesign it to reflect her new, growing personality. I told Ryan that I want to do her room in bright pastels to which he rightfully responded that my idea doesn’t make any sense because pastels can’t be bright. I guess it doesn’t make sense, but whatever…clearly, he just doesn’t understand my vision. I bet people said the same thing about Leonardo Da Vinci’s ideas and who is laughing (and dead) now?!
Oh snaps, I forgot to discuss running. I know why I didn’t discuss this earlier…
Well actually I DO now why…I haven’t gone out for a run in…hmm…I think birds were still living in this city and I could see that green stuff that covers your lawn so yeah it’s been awhile. Are you judging me? If you are, I’ve never liked you anyway so shoo!
In all honesty, running is hard to do when you’re at work by 6:15am and it’s dark by 4:30pm. Factor in a baby, grading and catching up on episodes of “Real Housewives of Beverly Hills” and my days are done before I even wake up in the morning. The great thing about running is that it’s always there when I need it. I have 10 more days off so I’m hoping to squeeze in a run or two if the temperature is above freezing and the roads aren’t covered in snow (that’s a difficult combination to accomplish in Rochester in December). Running is like that one guy friend with poor self-confidence that you can go back to in between real relationships because he’s always there and available. He doesn’t ask any questions as to why you don’t call or why you disappear for months at a time, he’s just happy that he can tagalong to your office picnic.
Truth be told, I’m craving a run. Whenever I hear Pitbull, my legs just start running in place. It’s like some weird involuntary, Hispanic gene that I inherited. I assume all other small percentage Puerto Ricans experience the same thing when they hear Pitbull on the radio? You just can’t not start twerking and grinding the nearest man…or you know, running…when you hear his music.
Alright, I really ought to go. C-Rock is snoozing upstairs, but I hear the faint sound of kicking which means she’s waking up and if I’m not up there in time, she might put me in a nursing home prematurely in a few years. Gotta stay on that kid’s good side…
It’s good to be back and I WILL be back later. Terminator style, yo.

New House, Same Weekend

I can’t believe I’m saying this, but we are moved into the new house! I don’t often have positive, correct life advice for people. Once I actually told a seventeen year old girl to sleep around in college and not register for 8am classes because hopefully she’d be too hung over to go. See? That’s questionable advice. HOWEVER, this advice is something you all need to write down and then send me $5 in gratitude…

Folks, if you’re ever moving…hire movers!

They arrived around 2pm and by 5pm; everything we owned was settled nicely into our new house. Most importantly, I didn’t have to lift one single box and dirty my pretty girl hands. The movers were hardcore badasses. They were a bunch of older guys who apparently have more muscle strength and patience than me because I would have straight up committed a homicide if I had to move our stuff ourselves. I will admit that it’s kind of awkward to watch big brawny men do all of your manual labor while you’re standing around in the kitchen in your pearl necklace asking your mom what cabinet your Lenox china should go.

The entire process was remarkably smooth and we are virtually settled in the new house. I say “virtually” because if you go down to our new basement then you’ll realize we have approximately 6,000 boxes whose contents will forever remain in those boxes. No need to ever unpack a box that holds my middle school retainer and tenth grade history notebook (I got a 98% on it, in case you’re wondering why I saved it).

The new house is so, so awesome. It’s bigger than our last house, but is still really cozy. We had a few rough nights with Caroline sleeping in her new room which was weird to me because who doesn’t like a newer and prettier bedroom? Thankfully, the dog and cat have adjusted nicely. Winston enjoys the new, low windows and Maggie enjoys all of the spots where she can jump out of and scare the absolute shit out of people.

Because the move went so smoothly, something had to negate it. For example, Caroline coming down with a fever-stuffy nose-sore throat-sleep reducing-puke inducing ailment for the entire week. There’s nothing better than unpacking like a mad woman in an attempt to find baby Tylenol. There’s also nothing like being so sleep deprived that your Friday morning starts out with you waking up an hour late. I may have entered my first period class like Kramer from “Seinfeld.”

Needless to say, I’m pretty happy that it’s the weekend and it seems like everyone’s healthy. I have a ton of grading to do, but you know what I bought yesterday? Wine. So um, yeah about those essays kids…

** I promise to upload some house pictures! I should probably clean before taking them though, right?

Day Off Fun Day

I don’t want to toot my own horn, but two blog posts in two days? Where’s my scratch-n-sniff sticker for being such an overachiever?

Anyway, it’s 8:45 on Sunday night and I’m blogging? Why aren’t I grading? Or lesson planning? Instead, why am I baking cookies and making hot chocolate mixed with a shit ton of generic-brand Bailey’s in it? (Who the hell can afford a $25 bottle of liquor? I’ll take the Merry’s brand for $12. Makes me tipsy just the same!)

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Because I have off tomorrow!

Very few things are better than having Monday off of work. Except for having Tuesday off too. And Wednesday. And Thursday. And Friday too, I guess. But if that happens, I’m pretty sure you’re unemployed so maybe that wouldn’t be too great.

This weekend was bizarrely busy so I’m happy that I have an extra day to relax (can you ever really relax with a baby though?). On Friday we met with a moving company and immediately hired them when the owner guaranteed that I wouldn’t have to lift any of my pretty little manicured fingers. He was a really interesting dude. He randomly told Ryan a really depressing story about his cat dying on Super Bowl Sunday one year and then kept on insisting that his crew doesn’t swear or fight which makes me think that all they do is swear and fight. If so, I suppose they’ll fit right in with us. So far the moving process has made me do two things: swear and fight so I don’t know what this dude is preaching about.

Saturday we had a private viewing of our house. Unfortunately, whoever viewed it was a terrible, terrible person because they didn’t immediately pull out a bag of money and buy the house. Furthermore, we had an open house today and no bites yet either. What’s wrong with people? Don’t they know this house is a historic landmark? I lived here! On top of the periodically malfunctioning pool and various carpet spots where our diabetic dog peed, a celebrity such as myself has graced the halls of this house. People should be knocking down the door with offers, but alas…no one has respect for talented, famous local bloggers like myself.

I really want this house to sell because this life of open houses and private showings is getting old fast. Do you know that we actually have to keep our house clean in order to show it to strangers? There can never be a dirty dish in the sink because you never know if you’re going to get a phone call that someone is coming to see the house. Ryan even has to flush his pee now. See how inconvenient having a house for sale is?

We’ve been going over to the new house quite a bit to work on some things and drop a few things off and to of course show it off. Ryan’s parents came in from Buffalo on Saturday night to see the new digs and because we’re such fine, welcoming hosts we made them bring us pizza. I spent the evening eating (5.5 pieces. Once again, don’t judge me) pizza and chasing Caroline while Ryan and his father did “man stuff” pertaining to mounting the TV. I really don’t understand any of that crap. Like, what is a stud finder? What are studs? Why does there need to be so much science behind hanging up a TV? I figure you just throw some bolts in the wall, rig the TV up there and keep your fingers crossed that it doesn’t come crashing down on the head of your toddler. Apparently, it’s much more involved than that.


Alright, well I should go to bed. Tomorrow’s big “day off” plans include a trip to the grocery store to buy well, um groceries and a trip to the mall to buy nail polish. Priorities!

And of course hanging out with C-Rock.


Ding Dong the Witch is *Back*

I have read your posts. I have heard your desperate calls. I have seen your late night tears.

God has answered your prayers.

I’m back!

Now don’t get too excited. My blog expels tremendous amounts of happiness so I don’t want to overwhelm your system. It’s kind of like people being on “Survivor” and not eating anything, but bugs and saltwater for three months. Then when they come home, all they want is peanut butter covered Oreo’s and a turkey leg because why not? So then they stuff their faces and confuse their shrunken, sensitive stomachs and spend the first week of their homecoming on top of the toilet.

Totally just like my blog. You’ve all adapted to a seemingly miserable life without my blog so my entrance back into the blogosphere needs to be gentle and minimal otherwise your mind and bowels will just EXPLODE.

So I guess an obligatory update is in order, yes? If I had to describe life right now in one word it would be “crazy-ass-stressful-girl-about-to-lose-her-damn-mind.”

From the last post, not much has changed other than my stress level.

Remember our new house? Well we closed on Monday! Remember our old house? It still hasn’t sold! Right now we have double the amount of houses most people have. We’re so rich in houses. If this current house doesn’t sell, I think I’m just going to keep it for our cat. Or I could rent it out for people in need of a love shack—you know, for horny teenagers who can’t escape their parents or scummy politicians that don’t like their wives. I’m such an entrepreneur.


We are tentatively moving to the new house next weekend which excites me and stresses me out. We hired movers for one hundred billion dollars and they anticipate the move taking just three hours. It’s the process before (packing) and after (unpacking) that I’m worried about. Either way, the new house is incredible. Ryan says I’m not ready for my farm house with a backyard full of mini donkeys, sheep, pigs and ducks so we are living it up in the suburbs until then.



After our closing, we celebrated with pizza at our new house. I brought over paper plates and beer which I think  is the only thing anyone needs in a new house, right? Maybe toilet paper too, but other than that…what else does a person need?


On top of the house situation, work is INSANE. I’m not entirely sure why women fought so hard for equal rights sometime because working 60+ hours a week and having nightmares about Latin American Revolutions and walking into class without pants. Furthermore, I apparently SUCK at planning because for the past month, I’ve collected essays non-stop and you know what a teacher has to do with things that they collect? GRADE THEM. It’s horrendous and miserable. You know what’s more fun than reading 100 essays on the French Revolution and 20 essays on Renaissance education? Landmines are more fun. Root canals. Getting punched in the face by Mike Tyson. All of those things are far more enjoyable than grading.

Caroline is doing wonderful these days. Well actually, she’s been sick for what feels like 100 months. She has had a nagging cough that periodically makes her vomit which is really nice and convenient. The other night Ryan actually caught the throw up in his hands which was both commendable and disgusting. If you were wondering during my absence if Caroline was still the prettiest…yes, she is.



So what about running? What ABOUT running?! Yeah, I haven’t done it in quite a while. There are so many other elements that demand my time that running has been on the backburner. Every weekend my goal is to get out there and run and every weekend something else takes precedence. But running is therapeutic so doing it would probably be very beneficial to my mental sanity. Instead, I guess I’ll just solve my problems the old-fashioned way…by drinking.

Now, all of this stress has negatively impacted one major aspect of my life that I have yet to recover from.

My nails.

Guys, I have so many sad bottles of nail polishes and naked nails. Clearly I need to reprioritize my life and focus on what’s really important: painted nails. As an American girl, I should do two things: vote in presidential elections and have manicured nails. I’m failing at the latter.

That’s really it, guys. Kind of lame, isn’t it? Thanks for sticking in there with me and I apologize for depriving you of my jaded perspectives on life. Hopefully you guys didn’t get too happy while I was gone. I promise I will do better at posting. I’ll also do a better job at not swearing and eating sugar free desserts.

Hmm… ;-)

Get Moving, Sister

Good evening friends! So this is awkward. Remember how my last post promised that I’d write more and then I didn’t? I’m basically like a really bad non-custodial, deadbeat father. I keep telling you guys that I’ll definitely pick you up on the weekends, buy you a pony and come to your dance recital. And then GUESS WHAT? I don’t. Thankfully you’ll forgive me because I’m your father favorite blogger and if you DON’T forgive me, you’re never going to get that pony. Ever.

Anyway, so my last post I discussed how I can’t prioritize and have been incredibly busy with work and that mini human I sprang from my loins 13 months ago. Most people would take a yoga class to calm down or drink copious bottles of $7 chardonnay. But not me! Instead, I found nature’s remedy for stress-relief. Forget bubble baths and tranquilizers, I’m going to relax and calm down by…


Yup, Griselda Mood Headquarters is moving! We are going South! You know, five minutes down the road here in beautiful Rochester (NY), but it’s still south so I’m expecting warmer summers and palm trees to greet us.

We are beyond excited, but anyone who has moved knows that this process is the worst, god-awful, pain-in-the-ass event ever. In the year of 2013, you’d think that moving would be a little more futuristic and efficient than packing cardboard boxes and writing the box’s contents with a Sharpie on the top of it. Has the human race stopped evolving? Why can we walk around on the MOON, but it takes 2 months to process a mortgage and equally as long for me to box up the mindless shit in our basement? This country needs to prioritize. They should be working to make my life easier!

I’ve complained about countless times on this here blog about our current house and neighborhood. It’s an awkward layout that doesn’t maximize space and the neighborhood has really gone down the pooper. I knew it was time to move when we came home from a precious family outing to the museum and saw our newest neighbor who is at least 100 months pregnant wearing a belly-baring t-shirt watching her unleashed, pitbull puppy pee. That kind of image just doesn’t fit into my life. These people remind me of Cousin Eddy in “Christmas Vacation” and I’m half expecting to look out the window to see the husband (boyfriend? Baby daddy? I don’t know) wearing only a lady’s robe and tube socks while drinking a classy can of Milwaukee’s Best.

You know, something like this:

In order to avoid me seeing and hearing that their “shitter is full,” we immediately hightailed it into the house and contacted a realtor. By Thursday evening, the realtor had appraised our house and got the ball rolling. By Saturday morning, we were looking at house to buy and by Saturday evening, that house was ours. I guess the vision of my neighbor’s beastly dog tearing the face off of my beauty queen child was rather motivating.

We moved fast, yes, but the house is everything we could want. Lots of land (free of complicated and unattractive landscape and without a POOL), backs up to a wooded area (ooh, dears!), is very quiet, has sidewalks on every street and actually has space indoors. It’s not much bigger than our current house, but the space is actually where we need it (i.e. not in the finished basement we never use) and everything is new and pretty and untouched by our laziness and Little C’s jelly-smeared toddler hands.

Needless to say the next few weeks (months) are going to be insane, but the light at the end of the tunnel will be worth it. Right? Right.

I’ve come to the conclusion that I must make blogging a priority because it’s a nice little outlet for me and you know I have things to say. Maybe I’ll commit to posting on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Maybe. I can’t make any promises so if you want this relationship to get serious and you want us to move in together and for me to meet your parents; I’m going to have to ask you to slow it down. Let’s just keep this thing between us casual and laid back.

Okay, I must go and eat an impulse purchase I picked up at Target yesterday:

‘Tis the season!


Anyone move recently? Any tips?

Why are pumpkin flavored things SO good?!


Absence Makes the Heart…Miss Me.

Well, this is certainly awkward. I feel like I somehow took an unscheduled, unannounced break from our relationship. I apologize if you bought me an anniversary present or if I stood you up at the movies. I promise we didn’t break up and it’s definitely not you, it’s me.

You see, I’m horrendous at multi-tasking. I could never be a “Jack of all trades” because Jack’s life sucks. He’s got too many trades, too much to do, too much to handle. However, I’ve found myself in Jack’s shoes trying to juggle too much lately and when I couldn’t juggle all of the balls in my hands (Wow. That sounds outrageously dirty. I could delete it, but I won’t because I have the sense of humor of a 10 year old.), I had to temporarily drop something. Since I couldn’t abandon my child without being thrown in jail for child negligence and I couldn’t stop doing my job without being fired, I had to put the blog on the backburner for a minute.

Now I know what my absence does to your life and I apologize. You were all probably crying hysterically and kissing the life size poster of me in your bedroom, begging for my name to appear in your email. I get it. I’m popular and awesome. But hear me out…

So I started a new job. A job that I love, but one that keeps me as busy as a bartender serving Lindsay Lohan. We’ve been back at school for about three weeks now and I’m finally starting to feel like we’re settling into a routine. Caroline is at an in-home daycare three days a week and with my mom two days a week. I’d be lying if I didn’t say that every moment I’m not at work, I want to be snuggling her up so I can’t feel too guilty about not blogging lately. She’s so full of energy and spunk that paying attention to anything that isn’t her is nearly impossible. I mean, I guess I could blog and let her run around, but she’d definitely find electric sockets, matches and open flames or something soooo.

So to sum life up: it’s been busy. Good, rewarding, fun, overwhelming, nuts, but good. I promise to start blogging regularly again. This is one of my favorite hobbies because it allows me to project my self-importance and narcissism to the world. In my head, I’m really incredible and the world will suffer if it doesn’t have me writing about my close-minded dislike of most people and my lackluster skills as somebody that tries to desperately run. I mean, I don’t think it’s coincidence that this mess in Syria started when I stopped blogging. The world goes nuts without me so you see, my blogging is important and saves lives.

I have tons of blog posts on deck that include exceedingly important topics such as:

-       Halloween candy and how I like it

-       Fall-themed socks that I found at a craft store

-       How I killed a snail by accident

-       Are cough drops just candy in disguise?

-       The ways in which my dog needs a haircut

My God, the world NEEDS my literary genius!

I of course would be remiss if I didn’t mention my half-marathon that I ran today. The reason why I’m waiting until the end of this post to mention it is because I didn’t run it. Too many reasons to mention right now when I just took a shot of Robitussin, but suffice it to say that a few lingering blisters and a brand new bronchitis-ish sickness this week halted my efforts. My voice sounds like a mix of one of those people with holes in their throats on the “NY Smokers Quit” commercials plus a 13 year old pubescent boy. I should honestly do voiceovers for 1-900 numbers or something—it’s that sexy. But all of that is another post for another day.

Right now, let’s just leave it as “I’m back” and you can stop sending me those “I Miss You, Allee” love letters with your lipstick smears all over them. It’s starting to get creepy…