Hey, two weeks in a row of sucking? You got it, dude. I was on vacation which is the excuse I am choosing to use for my failure this week. Isn't it weird that a perfectionist can't even lose a few pounds?

I'm a crummy perfectionist. Do I have a fear of success instead of a fear of failure? Shit, it's just fear. Is that my blog's unofficial theme? Fear? It's what's for dinner. If you aren't too scared that you'll get salmonella or that someone has poisoned your meal, that is.

This is a quicky post -

Readers! (both of you!)

If you have ever used the IUD Mirena please leave me a comment and let me know if you have had any side effects.

I have been doing some research this evening after a friend mentioned that she was getting hers removed because it was causing all of her problems (she didn't list the problems but I will ask her at a more respectable hour). After noting the risks which my OB never shared with me I also read the side effects. As I'm going through them I realize that the origin of my emotional and physical issues could all be coming from my IUD.

I don't want to have another child right now but I also don't want to feel depressed. I don't want to have a panic attack that will render me incapable of taking care of my daughter. What happened on the plane on Saturday can NEVER happen again.

My face hurts from crying so much today. I simply couldn't stop.

I want to write a funny blog. I really do. I want you to giggle as you read it but I don't have that in me right now.

I thought that I didn't have post-partum depression but I am now wondering if it was a delayed thing and now it's snuck its way into my life. Ruining it.

I yelled at JuJu. After not seeing him for four days I yelled at him. I cried. I begged for him to understand me and support me.

REALITY CHECK, you nut job - All I have to do is talk to him and he gets it. For the most part. I can't expect him to understand something if I don't share it with him.

I think that my day of tears was also a result of a major lack of sleep. Other than the transportation situation that is the worst thing about traveling. You never get enough sleep and you're stuck in a room with wonky air conditioning and the world's crappiest mattresses and pillows. I should have just slept in my sister's SUV.

I want to talk about fear. Real, crippling, totally irrational fear.

I hate to fly. My flight to Charlotte on Wednesday was a sweaty-palmed silent prayer nerve fest. Upon take-off and landing (my two least favorite things about flying but yet the things that make flying oh-so-different from being on the ground) there are the usual bumps and it scares the shit out of me. Every bump, every bit o' turbulence signifies the end of my life as I know it. I was holding Peanut and nursing her so that her ears would pop to adjust to the pressure (I read about that... in a book) and I tried to focus on her so that I wouldn't be so nervous. Didn't work. I was so sweaty that where her body touched mine her onesie was damp with my sweat. The leveled-out flying isn't so bad unless we go through clouds because that causes turbulence too. And since I have been on a plane in the air when it was STRUCK BY LIGHTNING I'm not too keen on any weather of any kind touching the plane I happen to be on.

I know that a fear of flying is common. Flying is fucking SCARY. If your plane crashes, YOU WILL DIE. Plain and simple (oh shit, a pun). Flying is pretty safe and I know that -- it's safer than being in a car or train. I get that. Really, I appreciate it. But shit, you are putting your life in the hands of several people you don't even know. What about the dudes that sit in the 'exit' seats? What if one of those fuckers decides to open the door while we're flying? We'll all get sucked out. What if the pilot or a flight attendant goes bat-shit crazy? Seriously, these are the things that run through my head on a flight.

Flying with Peanut was fine. She slept most of the time. I was exhausted but couldn't sleep because as soon as I fall asleep I know that someone will steal stuff out of my carry-on bag that's sitting in the empty seat next to me, or worse - someone will take or hurt the baby.

As you're reading this you are probably thinking that I'm too paranoid. Yes, I agree. When I tell someone that I'm afraid of something or give them a 'what if' scenario I most often get the 'you worry too much' or 'you've got a very vivid imagination and you're scaring yourself with it' responses. Yeah, I know.

I don't just worry about flying.

I have the light in the bathroom on so I can see in the room just in case my niece turns into a psychopath, climbs out of her pack 'n play, and decides to attack all of us with the pointy end of a crayon. If the light is on I can make sure that everything is okay.

I am such an anxious person and I hate it that I'm so sensitive. I'm overly protective of my kid. I check on her constantly especially if she's laying right next to me. I'll lay my hand on her torso so I can make sure that I feel her heartbeat and to make sure that she is still breathing. I know that new moms do that but I wonder if I do it to excess.

Being this way is exhausting. For almost the entire month of July I couldn't sleep because I was so worried that someone was going to break into our apartment and I had to come up with a plan for what my family would do if something like that happened. In reality JuJu and I do have a plan so that's usually the one I use in my scenario so it makes me feel more calm about it but those thoughts still kept me up until three and sometimes as late as five in the morning. Try not getting enough sleep with an infant and then throw some neuroses in to get a woman who is so tired that she can't function properly.

I feel like my health and relationships suffer because of these worries. Am I pushing people away because I'm too much to deal with? Is JuJu going to leave me because I'm always stressed out? I'm a disaster and I think that I need some professional help. I need to see a counselor and get on some anti-anxiety medication.

I need help. I can't live like this anymore. And I know that this post started out kind of humorous but it didn't stay that way. Sorry. Nighttime is usually when my mind wanders. I honestly think that we need a TV in the bedroom so I can fall asleep watching it. That way, I'm focused on something and not allowing myself free-think time when I know it will be most emotionally detrimental to me.



*A medical condition known as a "non-specific fear" or "the fear of everything" and is described as "a vague and persistent dread of some unknown evil." (per Wikipedia, holla)

This is sort of the second part to this post.

I desperately want my degree. WHY? I mean, I had a glamorous career in retail management without it. I was going places. Not the places that I wanted to go, but places nonetheless.

Having Peanut made me realize (again) that I want more out of life. I want to provide for my family. I want them to be proud of me. Most importantly, I want us to BE the Jones'. I want our family and friends to be happy for our success but maybe a little jealous too. This would be a new sensation for JuJu since his family doesn't really reach for the stars. It's almost frowned upon which is something I just do not understand. When JuJu and I told his parents that our new house will be the perfect starter home they didn't understand why we wouldn't just live there forever. They definitely live in a different world than we do. It's called rural Oklahoma.

I digress.

I want my family to shine. Brighter than your's. There. I said it.

I want to get my Master's degree and teach at a university. Maybe even write a book or two (could my blog be converted into a book? Would anyone read it?). I want JuJu to get his degree too. He doesn't want a piece of paper to be the thing that validates him. It's annoying. Sometimes I think that JuJu is too much like his parents and it pisses me off. I don't want to get into that again.

Anyway, kids tend to go to college if their parents went to college. It's a fact. Well, if it isn't it should be. Someone do some research on this one for me.

I want Peanut and Filbert (subsequent baby #2 who doesn't yet exist) to have good lives. I want them to be cultured, well-educated, athletic, happy, popular, and I never want them to go without. I want them to feel loved. I want them to be open minded.

I will do whatever I can to make sure that my family not only survives but thrives. And if anything or anyone gets in my way I will destroy them.

10:47 PM - Yeah. I'm THAT good.

And that's your Wordless Wednesday or Whatever. You're welcome.

I need you to check out my story on Whrrl and then leave behind some love. Thank you.

As I'm sitting here watching the Rachel Zoe Project (it's a guilty pleasure that I'm only slightly embarrassed by) I am totally eating Double Stuff Oreos. Like, half of the package. Probably more than half. I'm kinda out of control. I'm even out of milk but I. CANNOT. BE. STOPPED. I never just eat my way through something but Oreos are definitely a vice of mine. Why did I fucking buy these things? Oh, that's right! I bought them for JuJu. How many did he eat? Five? So I produce milk and eat my weight in cookies. AWESOME.

I'm gaining weight back and feeling like an immense failure so there will be no numbers today. I will be recommitting myself today for the rest of the challenge. That's all I have to say. Wasn't this a fun update!

Tomorrow is the first day of school at the good ol' community college. Rather, school starts tomorrow but my class is online so I don't physically GO to school.

Not MY first day, just THE first day.

I have been going to college for eight years. I should be a doctor by now. Not a medical doctor, but a PhD. Whatever that stands for.

How many credits do I have? Real, transferable, good credits? Fifteen. I think. I can't find my transcripts to verify this. So don't ask.

Why has it taken me so long? I blame my parents' divorce. Seriously. When I should have been excited about graduating high school and going off to college I was actually hiding under the covers wallowing in depression.

My parents weren't around. I was sick. I missed classes. A lot of classes. There wasn't enough Saturday school to make up the ones that I missed. This meant that there was no way that I could graduate in May with everyone else. I just couldn't go to school. It was too much. Not too hard, but too much. Too much sunlight, too much human interaction. I couldn't deal.

While I was sleeping everyone else was taking finals and preparing for college. While I was sleeping everyone else was touring universities with their parents.

It was ingrained in me from the get-go that I would in fact be going to college - no ifs, ands, or buts about it. Yet, when it came down to it the enforcers weren't around. They were both busy. Not taking care of their lost daughters.

I pretty much had to find a parent replacement so I did and started going to college in the Spring of 2002 where I did pretty well. If I would just GO TO CLASS then I'd be fine. That was always the hard part. Once I was no longer with the parent replacement I stopped going to school. I would always register and pay but then flake out. What a waste of money.

I took on four courses in the Fall of 2008 while I was working full-time in hell and was in my second trimester. MISTAKE. I withdrew halfway through the semester because I was exhausted.

Somehow I think that this time it will be different.

(More on this exhilarating topic to come!)

Remember high school?

There were cliques in high school.

There were the beautiful kids. And then there was me. This isn't a post about that.

This is a post about how the people who say shit like, "I'm tall, I'm blond, I've been modeling for many years, and people get jealous" need to jump off a cliff and land on jagged rocks. Covered in venomous snakes. And on fire.

I am of course quoting the drag-licious man-jawed 'super' model Liskula Cohen who was DEFAMED on a blog post written by someone that she sorta knew in the real world "who was always there" at restaurants and parties but was "an irrelevant person in [her] life."

INSERT HUGE EYE ROLL HERE.

Back to high school. This reminds me of those girls in high school who walked around like they were hot shit and that everyone was jealous of them because of their looks, money, boyfriends, etc. On the opposite end of that world (also called the cafeteria) was a girl. A girl like me. Who may or may not have been treated like shit by one of these bitches (usually named Ashley, Savannah, Summer, or Jennifer).

This girl who isn't unlike me may or may not have started a rumor about Ashley et al. All in good fun. She'll tell it to her friends in band or AP literature class and they'll laugh because they were all wronged by that person at some point. But hey, it's high school. The real world won't be this hard, right?

YES IT WILL. Thanks to this chiseled jaw blondie. Back to high school.

The rumor doesn't quite spread like our girl hoped. It was heard by a handful of other uncool kids. No harm done.

HOWEVER, Ashley et al gets wind of this rumor and while it may or may not be true the point is to track down its origin and squelch it. She interrogates the nerdlingers and they cave and point to our girl. She's been fingered by those she thought would protect her (hey, Google, you fingerer!).

Ashley et al confronts our girl and while the rumor is tame and most likely inaccurate (and only heard by a few folks) she terrorizes our girl for it anyway. She takes away our girl's dignity and makes her feel thisbig.

Ashley et al goes on with her life and continues to live in a world where her shit doesn't stink while our girl is put in a corner. Treated like dirt. Ashley et al wins again because of her popularity and looks. The bigger bitch wins. She always does.

So thank you, Ms. Man Jaw. This wasn't libel. The writer of the defamatory posts was allowed to write them. It's HER blog. There are very few forums in which you can be yourself and share your opinions without being attacked.

Oh wait. NOT ANYMORE. Cunt.

Did Google fight hard enough to defend its Blogger user? If this wasn't a 'celebrity' would this even be in the news? Would an average person take an anonymous blogger to court for libel? Doubt it. Famous people live in a fantasy world. You want everyone to talk about you but when someone says something less than shining you get upset. Get over yourself.

I've written enough about this. Go ahead, sue me. My name is Lauren. This is my opinion and you can NOT take that from me.

My daughter and I are awesome. And that's your Wordless Wednesday or Whatever.

I am verrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrry judgmental.

No, you don't get it. There are like twenty-four R's in "very" for a reason.

I am a snob. I don't mean to be and I'm trying to work on it but not really. If you tell me that you are on government assistance while you rub your pregnant belly I am likely to get very annoyed with you.

Yes, I said it. If you can't afford to have children then you shouldn't have them. Does this mean that I think that only middle class and above should have children? I guess that's what I'm saying. The reality is that if you are 'poor' and on welfare of some kind you are likely to have more children than those who function without a handout. You know why? Because the more children a family has the more money they get.

What happened to 'welfare to work' programs? My husband works very hard to provide for our family. Even when both of us were working paying for health insurance and our medical bills got pretty expensive. It would have been nice to pop out a kid on the government's dime. My sister and her worthless husband had a kid and she got the same exact care that I did but I had to pay for mine.

Sometimes it feels like our fucking government likes to punish those of us in the middle.

I think that improvements need to be made to our welfare programs. And healthcare. Also, get a fucking job!

I am not a patient person (SAY WHAAAAA?).


I am judgmental and get annoyed very easily.


So it comes as no surprise that spending a weekend with my husband and his parents would drive me bat shit crazy.

Let me explain goddammit! I love JuJu. I love JuJu's parents, too. They're good people. They can't get enough of Peanut and it always makes me happy to watch them play with her. They are down to earth and laid back. This is where I get annoyed.

The three of them are the most indecisive people that I have ever met. They "Oh, I don't know, what do you wanna do?" back and forth all day long. The good thing about this is that we always go where I want to go. We eat where I want to eat and we see the movies that I want to see. I'm the queen. The leader. The Dominator. As per usual. While I do enjoy the god-like power they have lazily bestowed on me it is still very aggravating to watch them hem-and-haw over the most inane shit. Seriously, picking a restaurant isn't hard, folks.

If it were up to those three we would sit in the house and watch TV all weekend. We took them to our new (pile of dirt) house and when we mentioned that we can go get the key to show them the floorplan on someone else's lot they acted like we were going above and beyond and refused the gesture. Granted, you can kind of tell what's going on in the drawn-out floorplan but it's nothing compared to seeing it in action.

I'd like to blame the lack of sleep on my snippiness this weekend because I have never felt that irritated with them before. Their son, my husband, didn't fall far from the tree. You know why? Because he was too lazy! Shut up, that's funny. I'm used to that wishy-washy hemmy-hawwy business. But multiply that by three and toss in a crying (nay, a shrieking) baby and what does that get you?

Me on the verge of running out into traffic.

My blog isn't known for being informative which is why I haven't posted anything for World Breastfeeding Week. The reality is that I love breastfeeding. It's easy, convenient, and the more active and independent she becomes the less she really needs me so it's nice to snuggle her and keep her close to me even if it's only for five minutes.

I certainly encourage breastfeeding but I don't force my opinions on others. If you have already decided to give your baby formula for whatever reason, good for you. Breastfeeding, while it is rewarding, can be difficult to get going. I have documented our struggles on my blog so you know I know all about this.

ANYWAY, I received an email with some tips that I'd like to share with you from Texas WIC and the Texas State Department of Health Services:

1. Babies are very alert after delivery and should be breastfed within an hour of birth, if possible. Ask the hospital staff to help you get started.

2. Use of bottles and pacifiers can interfere with your ability to establish a good milk supply. Avoid giving bottles or pacifiers in the first few weeks.

3. If baby is too sleepy to nurse, try skin-to-skin contact. Undress baby except for her diaper, and gently place her on your chest, against your bare skin. Gently massage her arms, hands and feet and talk to her in a soothing voice. When she begins to search for your breast or “root,” move her to your breast.

4. Watch your baby closely so you can feed him when he shows early hunger cues. It’s easier to feed him BEFORE he starts fussing and crying. After a few days, it will be easier for you to recognize the hunger cues.

5. When your baby is 2 to 5 days old, your milk supply will become larger. During this time, it’s important to nurse your baby frequently to keep your breasts from becoming too full or engorged.

6. Feed your baby whenever she shows early hunger cues, such as bringing her hands to her mouth or making sucking motions with her mouth.

7. Forget about housework. If you can, try to sleep when your baby sleeps. If you are tired, try lying down for feedings. It’s important to take care of yourself so you can take care of baby.

8. Have a glass of water close by each time you sit down to nurse. Load up on healthy foods like fruits, vegetables and lean proteins. Remember, you have to feed your body good food so you can stay healthy for your baby.

9. If your nipples feel mildly sore, gently rub some breast milk into them at the end of a feeding. As you and baby find your routine, this mild soreness should go away. If you feel extreme soreness, call for help right away. Improved positioning and latch techniques will almost always help improve soreness.

10. You’re not in this alone. If you have any questions or need advice, call your local WIC office or 1-800-514-MOMS (6667) for breastfeeding help.

REMEMBER, Breast milk is the most important thing you can give your baby. Unlike formula, breast milk is all natural. It’s a perfect match for baby’s nutritional needs at different stages of development. – Anh Gordon, M.D.

B.Y.O.Baby is my mom group that I sorta started (Brooke - the alabaster babe with the curly brown hair - actually started the group but I bogarted it because I'm the DOMINATOR). Up until last night we had only gathered to walk around the mall with our babies. It's good exercise, our babes get to interact with one another, and most importantly WE get to talk to someone who will actually respond with something other than pooping or drooling. It's my reason for getting dressed two days a week.

Last night we had our first Mommy's Night Out at a local Tex-Mex joint and it was a blast. The margaritas were swirled (and sometimes blue), the food was spicy, and the conversations were LOUD. Six women who are used to having to talk over a crying baby all day can definitely get up there in volume. But who cares? We were drinking, after all!

The best thing about this group is that we are all different but thanks to recently popping out a baby we have been brought together and as it turns out I do have something in common with each of them. (HELLOOOOOOOOOO RUN-ON SENTENCE)

Truthfully, I am hoping that some really close friendships are born from this group. Right now I don't have a best friend that I am dying to tell things to or to see frequently. When JuJu and I bought our house I didn't immediately send a text message to D or S (or even K, and she's my seester). I don't have a chick to cry with, or to laugh til I cry with. I miss that. So maybe this group is a bit self-serving but I don't care. It's MY group, beesh.

I am not a sheep (baaa). I don't blog for money or products. I don't solicit my product review services to companies and PR firms. I had Google ads on my blog and earned exactly 79 cents from them before I took them down based on a suggestion that was made (baaaa). Companies don't pitch to me. I'm truly alone in the blogging universe. At least that's how I feel. There are some blogs that I read that I thought were like mine - content and picture laden, updated almost daily with anecdotes about motherhood and life. And then one day it'll happen....

A review. A review for some random parenting-related product will appear on the blog.

Since I read the blog and admire the blogger I have fallen into the trap that the company set up. I read the review and now I want the product. Oh wait! Why don't I just enter the giveaway! Then I can win the product and use it and tell others about it so that they can go out and buy it.

And then they tell two friends, who tell two friends, etc.

See what just happened there?

What I want to know is WHAT IS YOUR INTEGRITY WORTH?

The cost of a toy? Or a nursing bra made by a company that you think we should boycott while you wear the product?

I blog as part of a network, nay, a family of bloggers. It is NOT a no accountability network. We hold each other to a high standard of writing excellence. We expect quality words. Quantity, too. We expect honesty. RAW honesty. Stories that will make us laugh and cry.

If you do a product review you better do it with the highest level of respect for yourself and for your readers (okay, the company too). Just because a company sends you a product in exchange for a review doesn't mean you need to kiss its ass. You also shouldn't beg for products to review because that's, well, disgusting.

What I am asking isn't too much. If you are going to do a product review, fine. We all like free stuff. It's nice to get something just for writing a blog about it. But I won't do it. And believe me, I've thought about it. JuJu and I can't afford things for the baby like a carseat when she grows out of her infant carseat but I will not solicit Britax. Or Graco. I. Just. Can't.

So please blog with integrity. Or I'll unsubscribe and leave a flaming bag of shit on your front porch.

I'm so glad that Peanut enjoys her exersaucer. Baby apparati are expensive and I'd be pissed at myself for wasting money on something she refused to play in for more than five minutes every day. So there you have it- my daughter minding her own business on Wordless Wednesday or Whatever.

Hell no it doesn't. That's why there was so much infant mortality back in the day, folks. People other than mom and dad tried to enforce parenting policies on someone else's children. Well, that and the lack of modern medicine or knowledge.

It is one thing to be an advocate of something and quite another to push your beliefs onto others.

What I have noticed in the online mom world (other than the fact that it's a black hole that I've been sucked into never to be seen again) is that moms (and some dads) are aggressive and passionate about their parenting practices. Passion is great - I love passion, but not when it manifests into making other parents feel like what they are doing is wrong. In who's eyes is it wrong?

If a mom is wavering about breastfeeding I think that support is important. Giving them the tools and encouragement to continue is truly what she needs. HOWEVER, if she has already decided to go the way of formula you do NOT need to make her feel bad about her choice. She isn't feeding your baby formula. Yes, breast is best. I agree with that 100% but I will not get into an argument with someone over it.

I'm the queen of agreeing to disagree.

Recently (as of this morning), before my cry-it-out post hit the internetz, I Tweeted something that hurt a friend's feelings. I may have said something like if you implement CIO then you have no soul. I was kind of joking but I really think it's truly a last resort. In my family, it's used a last resort. It may be something you do with your children and it works for you. GREAT! Your kiddies probably sleep better than mine does. Peanut is a crummy sleeper because I allow her to be. I admit that Co-sleeping and always nursing her to sleep has caused her to be a lousy sleeper. She actually sleeps better and longer when she's swinging and she slept for five hours straight after I let her cry for a few minutes last night.

I can't win for losing.

I can't really sleep without her but I need to get over it. I can adapt. Since she will only wake up once during the night while sleeping on her own I can take a sleeping pill if I need to and it won't hurt her.

Now I know some of you are gasping at that. You'd do WHAT? Take drugs while breastfeeding? Yeah, Benadryl. I've taken Vicodin too. Because I know it isn't going to hurt her. Because my pharmacist/mother-in-law gave me the 'okay.' Because she's MY baby. Not your's.

See how that works?

So while I'm big on freedom of speech and not censoring yourself I think that the topic of parenting is such a touchy one that we need to be mindful of what we say. Calling formula 'poison' or saying that moms who nurse beyond one-year-old are inappropriate is not supportive at all.

BE RESPECTFUL! You aren't this child's mother so what you believe ultimately doesn't matter.

And for that, dear friend, I am sorry. You aren't getting the support you need and that makes me a hypocrite. Especially since I let Peanut cry last night. And it worked.

Since this is MY blog and Peanut is MY child I feel compelled to confess - sometimes I let Peanut cry-it-out. We have our bad days where the little angel will NOT STOP CRYING DEAR GOD SHUT UP and I just can't take it anymore. By the time bedtime rolls around she's restless and I'm nursing her for three straight hours and she's just cooing at me and NOT SLEEPING. It causes me immense amounts of stress because I really need to get some sleep and it's not happening. I become unpleasant to be around (rather, MORE unpleasant) and end up taking naps and going to bed and waking up at weird hours. This in turn messes up her sleep schedule.

I am trying to get her to get on at least a loose schedule (I can't parent-by-the-books, mostly because I don't have time to read any) and sometimes I can't think if anything else that works. I snuggle her, nurse her, read to her, let her watch TV, take a bong hit, walk around the apartment and/or outside on the patio. Eventually if it just isn't happening (and we're talking after hours, folks, like encroaching on 3am) she goes into the swing and commences the fussing.

It breaks my heart but I don't know what else to do. Not all nights are like this - especially not lately. She's been a decent sleeper as of late because she's getting in more naps during the day but today was an exception. So she cried. And I listened on the monitor while typing this and trying to not feel like a bad mom. I don't feel that cry-it-out is necessary but I will put Peanut down in her crib or in her swing if I feel like I can't be a good mom to her at that moment because I'm so stressed out.

So there you have it. Let the trolling and unsupportive comments commence! Kthnxbai!

Last night I decided to go to bed braless.

I spend all day minus a fifteen minute shower in a goddamn nursing bra. It's hot. It's sweaty. It's itchy. My breasts get strapped in by a 40E underwire padded nursing bra. For 23 hours and 45 minutes. Oh, what was that? You noticed that? E? As in, A, B, C, D, DD, E? My tits were big before but now? HUGE. Exhausingly huge.

So anyway, sleeping braless. Bad idea. My darling angel slept all night in her swing while I swung in my tank top. Normally the little piglet nurses all night which keeps me from waking up engorged and soaking wet. However, since she has recently decided to sleep by herself and through the night I've been hoping that my supply would adjust.

IT HASN'T. My shirt and sheets are soaking wet. It was in my hair, on my arms, and on my pillow. I woke up sticky and cold. As soon as Peanut woke up I snatched her up out of her swing and stuck her on my boob while I drank my coffee and breathed a sigh of relief. Finally. Sweet release!

The more solid foods she eats the less she'll need to nurse so I hope that my body adjusts quickly because otherwise I will start nursing random babies at the mall. I know that if I leave it alone my supply will level out but it HURTS. It took a month to be able to breastfeed her and now I'm a milk making powerhouse and I. CANNOT. BE. STOPPED.

dietFAIL this week. Major fail. Major, major fail.


I drank at least 20 ounces of Dr. Pepper every day. I went out to eat a lot. I thought that I was getting a decent amount of exercise through walking but apparently I was living in a dream world. A fat & lazy dream world. Better luck next week. We're at the halfway point so I need to step it up or I will not reach my goal of fitting into my damn pre-pregnancy jeans.


Starting weight - 216
End of week one - 211.5
End of week two - 209.8
End of week three - 207.2
Current weight (end of week four) - 210

Week four loss - +2.8lbs
Total weight loss to date - 6lbs

So um.... yeah. that's a major bummer. I don't know what happened but I'll get back on the proverbial horse for week five and beyond. I will lose weight and be sexxxy!

I'm not really a good friend. Shocked? Yeah, I'm great online. I know. You get my blog comment love and my sorta witty Tweets but in real life I'm no good. My dad used to say that I've "lost more friends than [he'll] ever have." Thanks, Fur Coat. While that isn't totally nice it isn't totally inaccurate either.

I don't like talking on the phone. I'd rather have people over at my house than go to theirs'. I always decide where we go out to eat or what movie we see. I prefer to drive if we go somewhere.

I don't ask for help. I will never ask my friends to help us move, pack, unpack, babysit, take me to the doctor, or give me anything. I don't beat them over the head for advice, fish for compliments, or try to out-do them.

I'm not trying to push her away but I simply don't have the energy to deal with her. Her kids are overwhelming and she pretty much lets them get away with murder. Hell, she'd help them hide the bodies!

I disagree with her revolving door of men in and out of her children's lives. You say this new guy is "it?" IT? You said that about the guy we used to work with, the baseball player, the guy your ex used to be friends with, who else? Did I miss anyone? You are lonely. You've been lonely for a long time. Your ex was abusive and I'm grateful that he's gone. Sometimes I feel like you keep stringing him along but that's just my opinion. I feel like you are grasping at anyone that will give you any kind of attention. YOU ARE NEEDY. I am truly relieved that this new guy is giving you what you need so that you aren't up my ass all of the time. Yes, I enjoy going swimming with you and your kids on Saturdays but how dare you try to make me feel guilty if we have something else going on and can't do it? JuJu HATES going with us because you pretty much ignore your kids knowing that he'll watch them for you. You can't escape your children. JuJu isn't your babysitter and it's completely inexcusable to treat him that way. He can't stand you. He thinks that you are selfish and pushy. I defend you to him but I agree with him. You are exhausting. You EXPECT us to help you move. You didn't even ask.

And yes, YOU ARE THIN. If you don't stop sucking in your gut while tugging on your size 4 jeans and asking me thirty-gazillion times if you look thinner than you did yesterday I'm going to drown you in marshmallow sauce. I weigh 80 pounds more than you. I am tired of watching you try on clothes and constantly asking me about your goddamn cellulite. You don't have any visible cellulite, okay? Your body is great.

Being your friend wears me out. I didn't tell you about buying a house because you ALWAYS turn our conversations around so that we're talking about YOU. We're always talking about YOU.

I'm over you. I want to be your friend but I want to have other friends, too. I want to not feel guilty about telling you that I have other plans. I don't like screening your calls.

I hope that you are moving soon so that we get some more physical distance between us. Maybe then we'll be okay. You seem to be better BFF's with people that you never see. Let's do that.

My dad reads my blog! Welcome dude! *WAVES* My dad and I fought a lot when I was growing up (I got my temper and red hair from him) but he was my buddy, too. We went to concerts in run-down clubs in Deep Ellum together. We both loved local music like Flickerstick (RIP), Tripping Daisy (RIP), Edgewater (RIP), etc. When I was seventeen I was able to go alone or with friends and didn't need my dad to get into the clubs but he was always my favorite concert buddy.

this would be my album cover:

JuJu and I are poor. By my definition we are poor because once we pay our bills and purchase necessities we have nothing left over to buy incidentals like eight-balls of coke or nice vacations. Hell, we can't afford ANY drug or vacations.



If I was still working we would have more money that we could use to purchase our drugs.


We both drive newer cars that we're still paying for but we are thisclose to paying off his car and we will use the $8,000 house tax credit to get that much closer to paying off my car. So boo hoo. We have a nice apartment and we're about to build a nice house. We aren't on government assistance (but that would be nice - health insurance for three people is expensive). We have cable, internet, cell phones, and we don't live on ramen noodles.

Here's the deal - I pretend that we're better off than we really are. I act this way around everyone including my parents and sister. Yes, we are surviving on JuJu's paycheck but we have NO savings. If he were to lose his job we'd be fucked.

I act like everything is okay. I try to dress nicely every time I leave the house and I make sure that Peanut looks cute(r than your kid). I wear her in a carrier because the hand-me-down stroller we have is embarrassing. It's ugly and over five years old and I refuse to use it when I walk with my mom group who all have new (and not to mention cute) strollers. I want a new stroller but we can't afford it. I want to buy her a high chair but we can't afford it. I didn't buy Peanut's Bumbo seat - my mom did. She claims that she didn't mean to pay for it but the sales girl accidentally rang it up with my mom's items. That's a lie. My mom also invites me to go grocery shopping with her when she goes to Sam's and she ends up buying my groceries for me. She said that she helps JuJu and me because she and my dad both had to work to provide for my sister and me. My mom wants to make sure that I can be a stay-at-home mom because she didn't get that opportunity. When she told me that I almost cried in the checkout line.

Here's some reality for you: We cannot afford to buy a house. Not without help. Our parents are helping us out tremendously because they are AWESOME. If we didn't have the baby I'm sure they wouldn't be so generous but who cares?! Help is help. Grandparents^3 want their little Peanut to have a backyard to play in so they are willing to help us to make this happen.

With that said, if you invite me to lunch I will happily go and pay for my own meal. We have a food budget that includes going out to eat but we can't buy anything that isn't a necessity which means no going out to eat but if I go out I will not act like I can't afford it.

I pretend like it's okay. Please act like it's okay too.

I am rarely able to capture that toothless grin on camera. As soon as she sees the camera she loses the smile and furrows her brow which is also totally cute. Yeah. that's right. I'm posting totally gratuitous photos of my daughter on MY blog. Deal with it. She's been a nightmare these past couple of days so I'm doing this to remind myself that she isn't always a screaming, drooling, not pooping, not sleeping nightmare. And that's your Wordless Wednesday or Whatever. You're welcome.

Hey look! Is this considered a 'meme?' I hope not. Oh, and that slutty McWhoreface is a nun.

So this isn't really a sin but more of a confession about something I feel bad about.

I am scared of amputees. Seriously. It literally makes me sick when I see someone missing some of their body parts. I'm not one of those people who will stare and make the other person uncomfortable but I probably go out of my way to not look at it. I'm classy and would never say anything to the amputee about it but that's because I'd have to talk to him/her and that's more interaction than I care to have with Stumpy.

I know that some people are born this way and for that I'm sorry but it's still gross. I think it just makes me sad that someone has to go through his/her entire life with a disability. But whatever.

And don't get me started on amputee porn. That shit makes me want to vomit.

I hate it that my lactating breasts are so large that I sweat like a fat kid chasing the ice cream truck underneath my bra. It's gross.

I wear a bra 23 hours and 30 minutes out of the day. Everyday. I miss being able to wear something loose while I sleep. I can't do that shit anymore without leaking all over the damn place. I tried. It was a mess.

I have lived in Texas for most of my life and I am still not used to the friggin' heat. Just thinking about it makes my electric bill higher.

So here I am, Mrs. Sweaty Tits, getting no relief. I think I'll go topless and lay in front of the box fan for awhile.

Enjoying that visual? You're welcome.

I'm pretty much the hottest mom EVER. This week I definitely noticed a change in my waist. Clothes still fit the same but in my head I look thinner. I guess the actual looking thinner comes later. Hopefully. I tried on my pre-pregnancy jeans yesterday and I could button and zip them but they were still too tight. I was rockin' a fierce muffin top.

Starting weight - 216
End of week one - 211.5
End of week two - 209.8

Current weight - 207.2
Week three loss - 2.6

Total weight loss to date - 8.8 pounds (Yep, I passed my eight-week goal! On week three!)

I walked with my mom group twice. I spent a lot of time this week in the car when I'm normally making an effort to get some additional walking in (also called window shopping). I don't think I was as strict about my eating as I wanted to be. I had cake at the party on Saturday. A LOT of cake. Don't judge me. Friday night JuJu got me a hot fudge sundae from Sonic and I did drink Dr. Pepper a few times this week. With that said, I think that's okay to 'slip up' every now and then so that you don't lose your mind. I don't want to look at this as a diet because then I'll screw it up. If I never allowed myself to have the junk then I'd end up binging and giving up.

This isn't a diet. It's supposed to be a life change which is why I will be successful.

So there you go. I will be a hot dancer.

There it is. My house is a pile of dirt but this is what it will look like in four months:

JuJu and I are excited and nervous about finally owning our first home. I think it officially makes us grown ups and that scares the hell out of me. We have solicited help from our parents in the form of advice and money. Well, something tells me that if we want the money we have to hear the advice.

My mother and her husband recently built a home and on top of that he is an architect so they are quite knowledgeable on the subject. Unfortunately. JuJu and I felt like our choice wasn't good enough even though it's what we could afford. We can't build a half-million dollar home like they did. We live on one salary and while it isn't totally meager it isn't a gazillion dollars either. We are using the same builder that they did because they strongly recommended them. Fine. Their product is high quality. My step-father knows several builders within the company very well so he wanted to get in touch with one of them to see if he could give us a better discount than what the sales manager gave us. Denied. Step-father is very upset that we went ahead and signed the contract without waiting for him to hear back from his connection. GIVE ME A FUCKING BREAK. It's our house. I had to handle the negotiations BY MYSELF. I have never been good at haggling but I think I did a good job but maybe the sales manager just gave me the feeling that I really rocked it which makes her very good at her job.

It makes me upset that now I feel like I can't talk to step-father about the house because he'll act like a pompous jerk. I'm tired of being worried about what he thinks. I love him, I really do. But his way of doing things isn't my way. It isn't JuJu's. It took them over a year to finally sign their contract. It took us three days. This is how JuJu and I do it - we know what we want and we don't keep shopping around just in case something better comes along. Not only that but we need the $8,000 tax credit or we will not be able to afford the house. That's the only reason there is a crazy rush to get the ball rolling and he doesn't get it. We need that money.

Your help is appreciated but now what we need from you is support. I don't want to have to walk on eggshells and watch what I say around you. You need to quit taking it so personally because it has nothing to do with you. We chose the builder you suggested even though it was more expensive. We could have purchased a larger home from a cheaper builder but we didn't because you kind of pushed us into going with this builder.

JuJu and I are adults. We are first-time home buyers and we probably made some mistakes already but they're our mistakes. Don't ruin this for us.