Lollipop mix up

I give Jackson an organic lollipop when we leave day-care everyday if he has been good. Well, I gave him one yesterday and told him that he can't give it to the baby. But I guess he felt that wasn't fair and so he shared it with her. I went to get Addison out of the car to go into the house yesterday and sure enough she has the lollipop in her mouth and thinks it is the greatest thing. So the moral to the story is, don't give your oldest anything you don't want your youngest to get, espeically in the car.

What is wrong with me

Ok, I know this doesn't make me a totally bad mom but I can't help but feel bad. So I went to the grocery store yesterday and I brought Addison with me. I have been trying to keep her away from situations that could possible make her sick, more so than usual because of her recent surgery. So of course we get to the grocery store and I realize I don't have her cart cover so I figure I can just clean off the rails with those wipes they have in the front of the store (of course I didn't have my regular diaper bag with my wipes in it). They are all out of wipes for that and I was just trying to get in and out of the store fast. So I put her in the cart and started pushed her around and I kept touching the cart thinking, this feels so yucky but I am sure it is all in my head. After pushing for awhile, I took my hand off the cart and my hand was all sticky and gross. I freaked out and went up to the Starbucks at the front of the store and got as many napkins as I could get and just layered the cart with them. So far nothing has happened to Addison and let's hope it doesn't (especially since we have her baptism this weekend). But the moral of the story is don't forget your cart covers ladies, or at least your wipes.

But as you can see, the stickiness didn't bother Addison at all.

Mom, the Paparrazi

As I prepared Ben for his bath he took off on all fours. I somehow thought it was so 'cute' that he was crawling around with no diaper and seized the moment by grabbing my camera. Wouldn't you know it, mid-shot he decides to bless my carpet with his Golden Fountain of Youth. Oh, but I love him anyways...

I Am Here For You, Always.....Until I Faint, That Is.....

Being a Mother of the Year entails a lot. A lot of monotonous bathtimes. A lot of dirty diapers. A lot of laundry. Sometimes a lot of thinking that your husband is also your child and you run a zoo and no one appreciates you and you just want a beer but it's 10:23 in the morning, and that's just not appropriate. What other moms fail to tell the next generation is that situations arise in which you have zero control, and it is the most helpless, overwhelming feeling ever. So paralyzing that maybe you....ah, pass out.

Sawyer fell at daycare on Friday. Happens, oh, about 67x a week. This time, he blew open his chin and was rushed to the ER. I arrived, calm and cool. This was nothing compared to last year when he opened his head and we had to have it stapled closed. Stitches in his chin? Whateva, man! I've had two babies come out of my hoo-hah, this is nothing!

We get Sawyer, who is screaming like a banshee, strapped to a table and loaded up with what seemed like syringes full of numbing medicine and this is what happened -

Brie (in her head): He is feeling no pain, no pain, no pain....breathe. No pain.

Brie (out loud): Hey buddy! Look at you being a big boy! Your mama's big boy!

Sawyer: (spittle, gut wrenching screams from his diaphragm specifically meant to convey his displeasure).

Brie (head): I feel woozy, concentrate! No pain, lots-o-drugs, lots-o-drugs...big old jugs....heh heh, wait, what?

Doctor: Mom, are you OK? You're.....green.

Brie: Just fine! FINE! It's OK, buddy! I love you!.......um, oh shit.

5 minutes later......

Random nurse: Someone grab her off the floor! The mom is on the FLOOR! I swear, get her UP!

Brie: What the f.......Sawyer?

Pat (Mr. Obvious): You fainted.

Brie: No, no I........why does my face hurt?

Doctor: Mom, you fainted. Get up off the floor and lay down.

Nurse: Sweetie, this happens a LOT. People don't like blood. It's nothing to be ashamed of.*

*but I am reading in between her lines, and I KNOW that she thinks I am a weak mother.

Brie: Put my bed next to Sawyer's bed.

Nurse: Nowwwwwww Mom, you need to rest....

Brie: Now.*

*if she read in between MY lines, she saw that I truly did say, 'now, bitch'.

They stitch my precious man back up, and he screams the entiiiiiiiiiire time. I taste bile in my mouth and cringe in shame over fainting and leaving my son. They untie my fat, brave guy and he sits up, crawls over to my bed and curls up and sweetly says, "Sease good boy. Doughnut, Mama? Doughnut?" and I vow to buy him 2 dozen.*

*Of course that's unhealthy, so he only got 1, and the damn glaze got into his stitches and I basically disinfected it with heavy chemicals fearful we would have to go back to the ER due to infection and I would be judged, once again. But I'm a good mom. I was conscious for about 77% of all of my son's pain.

Hut 1, Hut 2- HIKE!

Is it a problem that my son prefers to be carried around like this??


It makes going out in public quite humiliating since I look like I'm carrying a sack of potatoes around (typically I am not smiling as I am in this photo though).

Baby Names

*Note: this rant is to defend myself against the barrage of "did you name him Sawyer after Sawyer on 'Lost'?" questions. Two of which I got this weekend.

It is unabashedly, UNabashedly (that means withOUT abashedment) that I tell people I knew what I would name my first son when I was 11 years old. The moment is still so clear to me - my parents' basement, a flickering television and in walks Dylan McKay - the hottest rebel West Beverly had ever seen. Swoonville. He may have sometimes walked like he had crapped in his pants and drove a car that looked like a dung beetle and he would growl "Brenda" like it was a sexy name - which it so it not, but he made it sexy - and I thought "I am naming my first son Dylan," and I did. Thank God I didn't like Steve Sanders.

Sawyer is named after a character on "Santa Barbara", a trashy soap opera that trumps "Days of Our Lives" on the crazy factor. Sawyer and his sister, Sydney, were upper-crust ass kissers who never did anything wrong - except get possessed by the devil, drink and drive and a multitude of other soapy sins. I TELL people he was named after Tom Sawyer, but that's a bunch of crap. So if you hear me say that, snort merrily to yourself because I am a liar and I admit it. But before you judge - guess who else was a "Santa Barbara" fan? POSH SPICE. Another character on the show was named Cruz - her 3rd child's name. I claim SB Trendsetter status since my child is older than her's. That Posh....always copying me.

If we ever have another boy, I already have his named picked out. It's Logan. Yuk it up people. You're jealous. I know you're thinking, "Wow....Logan. That's pretty sweet." You bet it is. You wanna know where I got it? THE EFF'G BABYSITTERS CLUB. Oh yeah - Mary Anne Spier's boyfriend. You remember Mary Anne - the mousy, prude one who someone ended up with a boyfriend even while sporting a long ass braid a la 'Big Love'. Logan was just so damn understanding and nice towards Mary Anne and all of her hang ups. So nice. Unconditionally nice. TOO nice. So nice that even as an eight year old reading those books, I was thinking, "Logan is gay, yo." But I dug that gay middleschooler's name.

I think I'm going to print this vent out and just carry it around with me and show it to morons that say "is he named after Sawyer from Lost?" and I can scream, "no, Miss Nosy Pants in the Produce Aisle! They are named for some sideburn-loving, rich brat from Beverly Hills, a doomed transsexual on a soap opera and a babysitter's in-the-closet boyfriend! Now move away from the zucchini!"

Ooops I crapped my pants!

Ben shit his pants (literally) while we were shopping in Wegmans.

Nuff said! (Btw, what is up with his Elvis lip curl in this shot?!)

Addie's bad day

I put Addison down to bed on Wednesday and she was sleeping fine until about 12:30am when she woke up because her feet were stuck in her crib (at least that is what I thought). So I go into her room and push them back through the bars, but she is still crying at that point. So I picked her up and she fell right back asleep. Then after holding her for a few seconds, I put her back down in the crib, she started crying again. This went on for 10 mins, I would pick her up she would be fine, then I would put her down she would cry. So finally I decided (since I was so exhausted) to just bring her into bed with me. We walk back to my bedroom where I guess Jeremy thought I was never coming back because he now looks like a starfish on the bed. I finally wake him up and make him get on his own side only to discover that making him move makes him snore louder. Addison and I are laying beside him and she is fast asleep and Jeremy is fast asleep and I am pissed off because I have to listen to him snore and hold her in my arms. After about 45 mins I poke Jeremy and tell him to go downstairs and sleep on the couch so that I can put Addison down. He grumbles and makes his way to the door. I put Addison on Jeremy's side of the bed only to have to her start crying because I put her down. I grab her hand and hold it and she returns to the deep sleep (I just found out that she has a double ear infection so that explains why she was so clingy to me). After about another 45 mins Jeremy comes back upstairs and tells me he can't sleep on the couch because it is to uncomfortable (mind you, he woke me and Addison from a dead sleep). So he crawls back into bed and proceeds to snore. Addison starts to suck on her thumb to get back to sleep but because her nose is so stuffy she can only suck for a couple seconds and then breath really heavily out of her mouth. I think to myself "hey I should clean her nose out and then she will get back to sleep". At this point it is 3am and I am thinking I will never get back to sleep before I have to go to work. So I stumble downstairs with her in my arms and lay her down on the couch and go find the saline drops and the nasal aspirator. I finally find it and proceed to squirt it up her nose, as she gasps for air and her eyes almost pop out of her head, a huge snot string comes out and she can breath out of one side now. I repeat on the other side. I am to tired to go back upstairs at this point so I just put a blanket over her legs and then I lay down on my stomach on the floor with some pillows and a blanket and drift off into sleep. That is when it happens, "THUMP...WAAAAAA!!!!". Addison, who has never rolled all the way over, rolls off the couch and onto my back. So I am laying on my stomach and she is crying on my back and I can't figure out how I am going to get her off without her falling on the floor. Finally I manage to pull my shoulder out of the socket and grab her and pull her to safety. Then we lay on the floor together and fall back asleep, but only for a couple hours until I hear my alarm go off upstairs at 5:15am. Anyway, the moral to the story is, just because you are super exhausted don't forget to follow the safety guides for children. Oh and kill your snoring husbands!!!!

Wahoos Suck!

Brian's mom is always saying "wahoowaa" or whatever that stupid UVA cheer is to Larlyn. Brian's sister went to UVA and I guess she would like to see her grandchildren go there too...fat chance. I told JD about it and he got pissed (shocking, right?)

Last week Larlyn, McKinley and I spent the entire day with JD going downtown to visit my dad for bring your kids to work day. It shouldn't have taken the entire day, but that's DC traffic for you. We were bored in the car, so we kept telling Larlyn that wahoowaa is yucky.

On Sunday we had dinner at Brian's mom's house. Tara and her new boyfriend were there, which is rare since Tara lives in Colorado. Brian's mom said" wahoowaa" at dinner and Larlyn said "that's yucky". Brian and I were so proud! She tried again and Larlyn gave her a dirty look. On her third try, my daughter Larlyn, a snot nose bitch, replied "that's yucky poo...hokies!!".


Apparently our anti-UVA tactics had worked beautifully and perfect timing too since the guest of honor (Tara) was there. The moral of the story is, don't do things to intentionally piss off a mom it won't work and could embarrass you.

Now I need to figure out what to do about the reoccurring comment that McKinley looks identical to Tara when she was a baby. It would be too obvious if I took my baby photos over to share and point out how terribly wrong she is. This one may be trickier, but I'm sure I will have yet another story to share about this.

Running Late

Okay, lets face it. I'm not winning mommy of the year here. Today was Ben's 2nd swim lesson at Ida Lee. Being that he woke up a little early from his nap I figured I'd hit up Target beforehand to get some diapers.

I get in Target, and well, I have 10 minutes so I figure I'd look for a box for Ben's toys. I see one that is cute, then another. What the hell, I'd buy all three and return what I didn't like. I did not have time to dilly dally!! I'm heading to the diapers and.... Oooooh- are those shoes on sale? Cutie!!! I pick myself up a pair (after trying on three). Okay, this is out of control, I'm going to be late. 20 minutes and $90 later I check out. Swim lesson in 2 minutes- no problem. I arrive at Ida Lee 5 minutes after his lessons starts... Sweet- front row parking! I get out, grab Ben and get him ready for his lesson. I pop the tailgate and quickly change him into his swim diaper and throw him in his suit. I learned the hard way last week that I needed a stroller (trying to change out of a wet suit with a tired baby dangling from my neck was not the way to go). Where is his damn shirt?? Fk it, we're 10 minutes late. I grab the stroller and shuffle up to the front door with Ben in my arms. I tried to wrap the towel around him but it is caught on my stroller wheel. Whatever.... I expected sunny and 80 degress. Wtf? Its 40 degrees out here and I have my son in a diaper and nothing else, as my bag is weighing the stroller down, tipping it over. Towel is dragging on the ground now. Ugh... I'm getting the 'eye' from fellow mommies who actually care about their children's health. HELLO! I spent $32 on these lessons, I've already thrown away $5 by being late!

I arrive at the pool finally, all the other moms are happily playing. Not that I have time to spare, but I grab my my camera and waterproof case and hop in the pool. I'm like a reporter here folks- I need good material for Ben's blog! I can't miss this opportunity. Ben's lesson goes by smoothly, all the while I'm trying to get shots of him in the pool (holding a wet baby in one arm, with the camera outstretched in the other doesn't really work). Ben is gasping for air while the camera strap is wrung around my neck. Thankfully none of those shots came out.

Swim lesson is finally over- awww, and Ben was having so much fun!! I say goodbye to his only friend in the class (Owen, where are you?!?) "Bye bye Brady, bye Gretchen". Shit, was her name Gretchen? Oh well! I throw Ben in a towel and head out to the car. No time to spare in this mold feeding germ pool. We get outside. Lovely, raining. Poor Ben, shivering and cold. Learning my lessons again from last week I decide to change him in the car. I take off his swim diaper and... um... where are his diapers? Thankfully I had just bought a case at Target. I rip it open, all the while Ben is turning blue. I look behind me- someone is waiting for my primo spot. "Go around lady!" Geez, the NERVE of these people!! I haul ass outta there and I'm just thankful Ben is nice and warm in his dirty PJs that he wore over.

Driving down route 7 I see a McDonalds. Ooooh, YUM! French fries! And then I remember... I never fed Ben! Uh oh. Being that I forgot to feed him last week after swim lessons (oops) I decide to pull in and make him a bottle so he doesn't associate swimming with starving. Here I am standing out in the cold in a towel and a speedo in McDonalds parking lot, getting lots of stares. I make his bottle, and OOOPS! I spill some formula in the back of the car as I'm pouring it in the bottle. That will piss Seth off. Hmmm, I hope this doesn't poison Ben!! Long story short, always give yourself 10 minutes longer then you think you need!

Mommy on the Dance Floor! (Dock Review- Part Deux)

So, after Brie's amazing review of the Dock I had to see what it was all about. Seth and I planned a date out with our friends Amanda and Jude. If you can imagine me drunk and dancing, multiple that by 50 and that's Amanda (but a much better dancer). I prepped all week with my Jergens Body Glow and donned my low-rise jeans and contacts for the evening. Woohooo, fun times, here we come. We went to dinner at Emilios just to make sure we loaded up on carbs. By 9:50 all the cougars had left the bar and headed over to the Dock. We asked a fellow diner who looked 'in the know' what the deal was with the Dock. He admitted it "used to be cool, but was now filled with all the Lansdown ghetto". Hmmm, Lansdown ghetto? Who knew of such a thing?? Regardless, this sounds like our speed! Amanda and I chugged our wine (I'm already drunk at this point) and we race over.



We arrive and I quickly survey the scene:

Men's Attire: Anything from a Sean Paul t-shirt & K-Swiss high tops to 3 piece suit
Women's Attire: Jean's and a $10 top from Marshalls
Dancefloor: Empty

Seth comments: This lighting is better then what we had at our wedding! (Considering we had no lighting that is pretty impressive).
Jude: What would you guys like to drink?
Girls: Well, we need to get this party started. A shot of so-co & lime

3 mintues later....

Amanda states that if we have another shot we will totally start the dance party. Jude, clearly excited that Amanda will not only be drunk in 5 minutes but that we will make complete fools of ourselves, arrives back with 2 more shots... "and a little extra from the bartender".

1 minute later....

Amanda and I are getting jiggy to The Thong Song on an empty dance floor and people are so impressed with our skills that they join us. The rest of the night unfolded piece by piece... Amanda requesting the DJ give a "Happy Birthday shout out to Seth Sinclair". Me trying to dance the Soldja Boy barefoot (I have no idea how to do it, but I thought I could keep up with the four black dudes on center stage). Us wiping our sweat mustaches about 20 times.... By the way we were dancing Amanda and I must have had "Ashburn Swingers" tattooed all over our sweaty body. At one point we were approached by a girl who claims we were "the best dancers in the place" and wanted to join us b/c her "boyfriend doesn't dance" (who later joins her on the dance floor for dry sex). Amanda slaps her ass and she is loving it. My legs burned worse then 10 reps with Suzzane Summer's Thigh Master as I squat around Seth to "Get Low". He's 'throwing dice' all around me and I'm loving it. At that point we were getting the 'eye' from some fellow ladies. Whatever, its my night out and I'm living it up.

By 12:45 the DJ had replayed two songs so we decided to call it a night. Not to mention I was so drunk I didn't mind that Amanda was stepping on my toes with her 4 inch heels. Getting in to the car I felt a strange familiarity... the last time I felt this sick we were racing to the hospital to have Ben. Ugghhh, that's right. I have a son and I have to go home drunk and face the in-laws. How embarrassing. Seth tells me to hold it together but instead I roll down all the windows allowing fresh pollen to stream into his just vacuumed car. And here I am now... one Chipotle burrito deep and still feeling crappy.

Moral of the story... invite me out whenever you go dancing and I will be sure to make a fool of myself. My overall rating: A, if you're drunk... B for sober people watching.

The Dock: A Review

As I walk (stumble) into the Dock after having 2 (6) drinks at Clyde's - I was immediately overcome by the amount of (badly dressed wannabe MILFs) people. This place was rockin'! As the DJ spun some killer tunes, I met up with my friends only to find they had become acquainted with (were accosted by) some gentlemen (who dressed like they are E on "Entourage" but like 38). What did I care, as they bought me a drink? Booyah! We decided to make our way to the dance floor when I, being the politely trained gal that I am, bumped into a tall gentlemen and said (slurred), "excuse me". His immediate response (no lie): "I don't date white chicks." My super offended, racially relevant comeback was - "You and I are gonna dance to some Bell Biv Devoe later - just you wait!" (note: I am an ASS while drinking and find myself hillllllllllllarious).

The tunes ranged from the Bee Gees (kinda fun) to Souljaboy (shoot me) to Justin Timberlake (I was basically having intercourse with the dance floor on those). All of my friends got asked to dance over and over again (probably because they are good dancers and, like I mentioned, I was dry humping the tiles during "Sexy Back" by myself). But then it happened. I hear, "would you dance with me?" and I look up from my chair and there is a 4 foot tall Bermudan (Bermudian? Bahamian?). I think, "shit" and, due to peer pressure, dance with this garden gnome who has decided 'our song' is Shaggy's "Mr. Lava Lava" (I thought of you, Mols!). As I swing my arms around and swig my beer like the very white gal that I am, he proceeds to prance around me as if we are actually performing an Indian Rain Dance. After the song ended, he whispers (screams) into my ear, "I give you my number" and I say, "Oh, wow, you're nice and the dance was fun, but...oh this is awkward......" and that was officially the first time I've ever broken up with someone in my life.

Overall rating: A!!! We're all going! Get out your dancing shoes, beer goggles and people watching binocs! You were all missed! xo, Brie