socks are gross anyway.

Posted on | December 16, 2009 | 9 Comments

old weather and i do not get along. whilst i love the holidays and Christmas very much, i just have a feeling i wouldn’t mind celebrating november through late february someplace tropical. i hate rain and i hate wind and i hate generally being cold. this really poses a problem come september because i equally hate coats, hate socks and hate (winter appropriate)shoes. two common scenarios in the M household between the months of september and march:

1] as we’re leaving the house:

scot : aren’t you going to wear a coat?

mandy: ummm, i’ll be fine, let’s just go.

cue whining and cursing for the duration of said trip and a lot of side eyes from husband while keeping “i told you so”s to himself.

2] as we’re leaving the house:

scot: aren’t you going to wear a coat?

mandy: you’re right, i should.

then i put on a coat, but oh, i am wearing a 3/4 length sleeve shirt. no sleeve to grab hold of while i pull my coat on, resulting in 3/4 sleeve bunch up, resulting in me freaking out because i hate the feeling of my sleeves bunching up, resulting in me ripping off coat and throwing it across the room (have i mentioned i’m a 6 year old?). cue husband almost injuring his eyes from giving side eyes because hello, he married a crazy.

then there is the driving. if ice or snow is involved, i immediately refuse to go anywhere and insist that people i care about do the same. instead of being an irrational fear (like most of mine are), this one is based on a real scenario that i’ll probably never forget for as long as i live. in 2003 i managed to do this to a Ford F150:

since i’m alive (by some miracle) i can joke that i don’t think anyone could smash a giant truck like that into oblivion any better than that without a contraption you find at a junk yard (go me! i love succeeding). how does one do something like this? only with the help of some black ice, swerving into a median and flipping 5 times, coming to rest just short of the opposite freeway with oncoming traffic. throw in ALL of your christmas gifts and luggage in the king cab so as you flip, it can all be thrown about, whacking you in the head, breaking windows and then being strewn about the freeway. don’t forget to be knocked unconscious and waking up hanging upside down. people, all i can say is please wear your seatbelt. it will break your collarbone, leaving you with a lightning bolt shaped one for the rest of your life, but at least you’ll have a life (and personally, i like my lightning bolt).

if i didn’t adore my family and friends so much, i’d make scot move us to figi or hawaii or arizona. freedom from rain and ice, where i could wear open toed shoes all year and not even have a coat closet. but yeah, you guessed it, i’d complain about how hot it is. sigh.

unfortunate doesn't even begin to describe this.

Posted on | December 14, 2009 | 9 Comments

it’s ok. you can laugh. point if you need to. hold your belly in a way suggesting that it hurts from laughing so hard. this little gem comes to you courtesy of 1993, placing me at 12 years old and obviously very well versed in fashion. i personally can’t decide which accessory is my favorite : the super amazing red blazer (i mean really, a blazer?) complete with shoulder pads and tres chic sparkly santa pin, the purple mock turtleneck (a ’90′s staple), or the craft fair light bulb earrings. i can tell you with confidence that i was wearing black stirrup pants and white keds. i remember this exact Christmas vividly because it was the year i received the gift i wanted so badly that i lied to my mom about why i needed it : an electric razor. as you can see, i was a rather tall 6th grader and i hit puberty much earlier than my mother would have liked (read: i was a raging horrible you-know-what starting at age 9). i told my mom, along with my best friend lauren, who told her mom, that girls at school were making fun of me for having hairy legs so i would be able to shave. they weren’t but i guarantee you they should have been. hello italian hair follicles!

as you can see, i was totes stoked at my newly acquired razor. either that or i had psychic abilities and was looking into the future and laughing at the misfortune that was the 1990′s.

sidenote: if you look closely at the pictures from this past weekends xmas party, i was fully wearing a navy blue blazer. i guess i didn’t learn all that much in 16 years? oh, except that a blazer sans shoulder pads, red polyester and a boxy cut is ok.

simply having a wonderful christmas time.

Posted on | December 13, 2009 | 1 Comment

ell, we survived our 4th annual Christmas party. a good time was had by all and the best part was that i didn’t stress out once about it (not usually the case AT ALL). in fact, after Harper’s birthday party, i felt i was all martha’d out and even flat out refused to have a Christmas shindig. this did not go over well with my Christmas-obsessed husband. he l-o-v-e-s the holidays. as do i, but he gets uber childlike, which i adore. since i didn’t want to hurt his little christmas-heart, i agreed. and instead of stressing, i went with the flow and it turned out great. mostly because of Scot, as he did all the shopping and cleaning (i know, swoon) and prepping. with the exception of setting out the food, which i am unreasonably ocd about (see also : vacuuming, putting groceries away and diaper placement on babies rear ends) he darn well did everything. he even cleaned up the party results this morning while i slept in (double swoon).

it was FUN. doggies wore sweaters, there was gingerbread man shaped ice cubes, and flowing beverages and snacks. there is something about a holiday party that makes you want to hug your friends a little tighter and let them know how much you love having them in your life (or is that the wine? just kidding).

so party = success. now i just need to start my shopping. i know. this season really snuck up on me, better known as ‘i’m in denial’. but seriously people, pms and being in public places in the middle of december are not a recipe for success, tee-rust me.

friendship tuesday.

Posted on | December 9, 2009 | 11 Comments

ave you ever seen anyone give birth? i have. and lets just say you have to be pretty special to be allowed to see something so important and personal. and equally, you must reallllly like someone to allow them watch you give birth. which is why my friend Emily saw Harper come into the world and i got to watch her little lady, Poppy, being born 5 months later. there is an unspoken trust between you and someone who has seen your lady bits. modesty flies out the window. i remember a few days after H was born, Emily was sitting on my couch and my milk had just come in. my nipples resembled ground beef from my monster child (sorry family) and i was in shock at the size of my hoohaas. even though i was enjoying a vicodin/800mg ibuprofin cocktail, i do specifically remember just unclasping my nursing tank and letting the girls loose while exclaiming “look at my boobs!” and we both pointed and laughed hysterically at the misfortune that was my chest.

months later as we visited Em, David and just days old Poppy, the guys had to leave the room so Em could breastfeed. David asked “do you want Mandy to leave, too?” and Emily said “Mandy has seen my b-hole, so no”.

as i’ve posted before, we used to get together every single friday before the girls came along. and although we try to keep up a weekly get together, the past few months have been crazy for all parties involved (new jobs, lost jobs, swine flu [David and Harper], croup [Poppy] and tons of colds [um, all of us really]) and before we knew it, it had been WAY too long since we’d seen eachother. but today, finally, us girls had a playdate. ::happy dance::

we joked about how we should have made a list about all the things we needed to talk about. but really, we should have. but luckily we have a constant topic : how we’ve managed to make such cute, quirky babies.