Archive for November 2009

04
Nov
2009

Disneyland Dad Meets La Jefe

poshlittleblogs_125x125This is an awesome guest post from RAC’s RANTS that has me wondering why the moms have to be the disciplinarian while dads have all the fun.  Is this how it goes in your house too?

Recently, my son was in a stage of throwing everything out of his stroller. Depending on his mood such sacrificial items would include his bottle or my wallet; he had little bias for ownership or value.  One afternoon, as we were walking around Fashion Island, my son decided to toss his pacifier for the second time, I told him one more toss and that pacifier was mine.  Well sure enough, the G-man wanted to test the boundaries of our relationship and tossed that pacifier on the ground.  My husband, apparently assigned referee of this match shouted “oh dude you are in trouble now, mom is really pissed.”  The ladies at the cosmetic counters turned, lipsticks drew a line across collagen filled mouths and I could hear the slight chortle of laughter coming from moms everywhere. 

So when did it become my responsibility to be pissed?  Shouldn’t he be upset also? Shouldn’t we being putting our heads together to discuss these behavioral issues?  These are major decisions, major choices in life where Disneyland Dad has to do more than decide between the hot dog and the cheeseburger.  But no, I glimpsed into the future – the first speeding ticket, the parties in which obscure pieces of clothing are found months later – and the words “oh boy, your mother is really going to be upset with you this time” rings timeless.

So once I discovered that I was “la jefe of la familia”, or at least where discipline was concerned, it became quite visible who was in favor and out of favor (and there is no comeback tour – sorry Britney).  I know now that when Disneyland Dad returns from work, I become completely invisible.  Although my ego may be bruised, I remember that my husbands’ ego swells, and he has a buddy, often referred to as the Tiny Terrorist.  However, when that same Tiny Terrorist stands on the couch and throws his tiny Matchbox cars in anger because he just does not want his diaper changed right now, La Jefe will return, as unpopular as she may be, she is a force to be reckoned with.

02
Nov
2009

Rockin’ A Beer Gut

Pregnant Girl here, you know the fictional character made up to help all you moms-to-be feel a little more normal about those pesky hormones that have you doing crazy things you only pray your husband never ever talks about.  In fact sometimes being that crazed prego takes you back to your days of drinking.  Remember having a few too many and then you wake up the next morning and as the night before comes back to you in a haze you shake your head saying “no, no, no” and see your husband smiling saying “oh yes you did.” 

Anyway, I’m back and really I’m here to bitch about that beer belly thing that is currently hanging over my pants creating massive muffin top.  Oh yeah and to top off that muffin I have boobs so out of proportion that the sales lady told me, and I quote, “they just don’t make that cup size to go with a 34 around.”  Effing great!  The only people who don’t notice my muffin top are pervy old men who cannot get past the Dolly Parton boobs that have taken up residence on my chest long enough to notice my pants no longer button because of the spare tire sitting on top of my hips.

Here I am 11 weeks, still one LONG week away from telling the world I’m pregnant NOT fat (or pregnant AND fat, but whatever) and every morning I wake up to see if my belly actually popped so the beer belly gut can take a hike, but nope.  Instead I have one more roll and my belly is beginning to resemble a shar pei.   The most awesome part of this is that my husband keeps asking if we are ever going to have sex again and all I can think is sure I have a beer gut, the constant urge to vomit and swear that if allowed I could sleep for at least 30 hours straight, but please honey tell me more about your needs.

Hang in there ladies, I hear that the belly pops soon enough and then all we will have to worry about are hemorrhoids.