Win Something (I have no idea what)! 

I will absolutely give a prize to anyone who can translate and comprehend my emoji string. 

❤️👰❤️❤️👰🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪💀

(Don’t worry – it’s not as scary as it looks. Actually it is, but it’s pretend.)

Danger Week

This week has been calamitous.

Seriously, every morning has brought a new disaster.

Sunday, I  must have gotten up on the wrong side of the bed. Actually, it was the right side (in a literal sense), as it’s the side I always get up on. However, it was wrong, wrong, wrong in the eyes of the Greater Forces of the Universe.

We recently got new bedding. It looks amazing.

Our bedroom with glorious new blue and white bedding

CRIBS: blue-and-white bedroom edition

However, with this amazingness, of course there is a price. In this case, the price is that this quilt is a combination Venus flytrap/quicksand quagmire. On Sunday morning, I was trying to maneuver around Baby’s Pack-and-Play and go brush my teeth. However, the Quilt of Doom had other plans. It sucked my foot into its jaws of death and would not release it, even as the rest of my body went spiraling away with the force of a Quincy Acy shot rejection. Andddd I landed directly on my knee. Absolute and literal insult to injury when you add that to last week’s Exercise Ball Debacle.

So, that wasn’t fun….also, on that note, I have almost zero functional body parts right now with:

  • Head and back exercise ball contusions
  • Post-pregnancy hormone chest and shoulder rash
  • Mom’s wrist from picking up my adorable child too often
  • Knee wound
  • Other leg wound (from same bed falling-off incident)
  • Vicious foot attack by Clancy Cupcake (yes, EVERY. SINGLE. TOY. in our house has a name)

So, that was how this week started. Let’s progress to Monday morning, which, as you’d expect, was full to the brim with Monday-ness. It’s always thrilling to get a knock on the door at 7 a.m. It’s even more thrilling with its your pregnant neighbor letting you know that she backed into your car. Funny thing – Will was awesome and filled my car up with gas this weekend, so I wouldn’t have to do it, and then I couldn’t even drive it; yet another case of yin-and-yang-life.

And then, here come Tuesday…ohhhh Tuesday (credit: Fats Domino). I get ready to leave the house, weary and heavy-laden with all my go-to-work supplies, including my typical breakfast banana. You may have heard that banana peels are slippery. However, in this case, apparently the entire banana was a slippy little rattigan.  It sneaked out of my bag and slithered in to my driver’s seat, at which time I promptly sat on it, not unlike the waffle-pants incident, which is starting to tell me I need to stop eating breakfast in the car.

Neither my pants nor my mood were greatly improved by this happening, as you might guess. Ergo, I am generally disillusioned by the banana species… except for these two, which I will post in order an effort to restore our collective faith in the innate goodness of banana-kind (both photo cred Halla, of course).

Elvis banana

Thank you, thank you very much.


Banana weenie dog

Inexplicable Banana-Graham pic

Okay, despite that nice aww-inducing photo interlude, this week’s mornings could have been better…. and I’m currently a little terrified of what Wednesday, Thursday and Friday may bring. Eeek!

Baby Diva

  

Halla sends the best pics and captions. Tiny baby diva in the making. 

The Exercise Ball Sensation Sweeping the Nation

So, recently, I fell victim to one of the classic blunders. Everyone knows the most famous of these is “never get involved in a land war in Asia.” But, only slightly less well-known is this: never get into an exercise ball-balancing competition with Halla.

I should have known better. After all, whenever someone challenges you to a contest, there’s probably a good chance they think they’re better at it than you are. I mean, you’d never say, “Hey, Steph Curry, let’s play HORSE,” and you’d never say, “Hey, Steph Curry’s wife, let’s have a rap battle,” and you’d never say, “Hey Lebron, let’s see who has the most conspicuous hairline.” If you’re going to commit to the game, you must commit to win.

So anyway, exercise ball. The entire premise of the game – balance on the exercise ball for as long as you can without touching anything. Sounds simple, right?

Halla begins the quest for Exercise Ball Domination

Halla begins the quest for Exercise Ball Domination

Will and I both agreed to this, albeit Will’s agreement was somewhat reluctant, as he thought he might look foolish. Please. Nothing foolish-looking about a 6-foot-3 man trying to control his uber-long legs on an exercise ball.

Halla goes first, and apparently, as soon as I leave the house, she must immediately put Baby down to play with Ahmad C. Turtle (her turtle toy, obvi) and start Dalai-Lama-Zen-Mastering on this ball. Seriously. First try – 2:38. She makes it look easy. My first try…. pretty sure it clocked in at about… hmmm… 11 milliseconds. Halla didn’t even get a chance to start and stop the phone before I had to put my foot down. Second try… probably three milliseconds, so we’re only getting worse here, peeps. It’s like going from a Kennedy to One Direction or something. Third, and final, competitive try for time… we’ll just allude to the upcoming Belmont and say that I was scratched from the competition.

Will came in second with a respectable 0:28. It was like having Tony Romo as your quarterback – respectable, but never going to get a ring.

And if it had ended there, that would have been a good, harmless activity. But no. Of course it couldn’t end there.

Those of you who know me in real life (or have read my blog a while…or have played Catchphrase with me) know a few key things about me. I have a fast internal monologue, I like to use lots and lots of vocabulary words and I really, really, REALLY hate losing.

The rest of this story has nothing to do with the first two things. If this were a movie, you’d see me putting a bunch of powder on my hands and running at the balance beam in a multi-clip montage. As it was, there was no powder and all I could do was get back on the ball, intent on perfecting my equilibrium and beating Halla and Will adding this important life skill to my repertoire.

So I get back on the horse, or rather, the ball. I developed a new patented balancing method involving crossing your legs mid-calf to help switch your weight appropriately. It worked and the second-tabulating began.

The bad news? Crossing your legs makes things go rather awry if you lose your balance, and, with your legs cross, you can’t really right yourself easily. Instead…well, of course, I went slow-motion crashing backwards off the ball and into a small and very hard table. The only thing that could have made it worse was if the vase on the table had tipped over, movie-scene style, and smashed on my head. Which it didn’t. Or if Halla had captured it all on camera. Which she didn’t… Instead, she was so concerned about me that she jumped down multiple steps on the stairs at once, almost falling herself and adding to the general mayhem.

Don’t worry – I only added a sizeable bruisey-patch to my back, and a slight concussed feeling and case of sfairesphobia to my poor brain. Oh, and, somehow the injury has dislocated a portion of the hip-hop recognizing part of my brain, as I unfortunately and hopelessly confused Jeremih, Jamiroqui and Genuwine. That’s how you know it’s a serious loss of recall, peeps.

Lorelai and I

Just a little grumble-inducing food for thought today:

I’ve been watching Gilmore Girls on Netflix.  Lorelai, the mother of a 16-year-old, is …. Drumroll please…32. 

I, on the other hand, will be 31 this month….deflating balloon horn sound. 

Thanks, TV. Always looking out and making people feel good about themselves. 

Home Alone 2 and Scary Noises

#scarylife strikes again.

Seriously, Will Tate cannot leave the house for more than 30 minutes before something terrible and horrible happens. It’s like the Lost Monster is just waiting outside to swoop in and terrorize us the minute he turns on to the access road of 1604.

Last night, he was traveling for work and I thought – “Ahhh…. so comfy I get the whole bed to myself  Oh, I’m going to miss him so much, but surely with Halla and Baby here, there’s strength in numbers and Girl Power and all that.”

Well, in Baby-expression-language, you’d be:

seriouslywrong

Also known as “seriously wrong, fool.”

Because at just about 4 a.m., up from the first floor, there arose such a clatter, I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter. Or, in actuality, I laid in bed and got really scared of burgling. And monsters.

Obvi, I couldn’t investigate this situation on my own. So instead, I went across the hall, sleepy-eyed and crazy-haired and exhausted, and said, “Abby, there was a scary noise. Come downstairs with me.”

To her credit, she got up and retrieved a weapon. Ignore the fact that it was a pretty delicate-looking glass lamp. She valiantly unplugged it and carried it like it was a club or a bat or something. I got a tiny can of paint, because when there’s a burgling menace in your house, you obviously think, “Maybe, in the process of fighting for my life and defending my home, I’ll do some touch-up work on the baseboards .” (Actually, I was thinking I should open the paint and prepare to throw it in the face of our intruder. Enterprising of me, I know.)

So, we crept down the stairs and trepidatiously turned on a light, ready to spring and attack with our Weapons of Mass Destruction.

It was a whiteboard and magngets that fell off the cabinet.

Don’t worry – Halla still bludgeoned it with the lamp. Baby slept through the whole incident. 

My First Mother’s Day, or Why Didn’t I Celebrate this Earlier?!

Thanks to having the best husband and most perfect tiny person in my life, Mother’s Day was great. To sum it up – a lunch visit to my office on Friday, lots of snuggles and mommy/baby selfies (apparently getting her started early) and a Sunday date with the best card and fab present. Please note that she’s not all that excited to realize that she has to give presents instead of just continuing to receive (thanks everyone for the unending stream of gifts we’ve enjoyed over the past year’s span). 

 
I really don’t know why I wasn’t celebrating this holiday any sooner. All I had to do to get these gifts, after all, was go through 19 hours of unmedicated natural labor, lose my ability to sleep in, change approximately 17 million diapers and spend the rest of my time basking in smiles and cuddles. Motherhood is a lot less wine-drinking playdates and pop-the-baby-in-a-bag-and-let’s-go-to-Europe-during-maternity-leave than I expected, but it’s so amazingly wonderful. Happy Mother’s Day to everyone, and the happiest mother of all is me. :)

PS Also, shout out to the utterly helpful Halla, who makes being parents so much more enjoyable for me and Will.