Sunday, February 28, 2010
Don't feed the animals.
My BFF Steph holding her kiddo and me wearing Avery in the Peanut Shell. At the zoo. The lions were having sex and birds were pooping on people. It was awesome.
Friday, February 26, 2010
There's nothing quite like a good BJ. (This is for you, @kidtogrownup)
Sometime in October or November of 2009 I met Bobbi Janay on Twitter. We were somehow @'d in the same tweet and that's how I came to know her. That's the inception of our friendship. I wish I had kept that tweet.
No, just kidding. It's just a fucking tweet.
We decided to meet IN REAL LIFE at the Starbucks near our homes. Apparently we were living about half a mile away from each other for over a year. Small world. Or whatever.
We met, drank coffee, chatted, and connected. Yeah, yeah we did. It was awesome. The conversation never lulled and after about four hours our husbands started texting us wondering if we were 'lezzing out.'
Then she moved to University Park. And then I moved to Little Elm. If you live in the Dallas area you know that that's a LOOOOOOOOONG drive. You have to get on the interstate. And the tollway. And back on the interstate. Uphill bothways in a blizzard during the apocolypse.
Since we are both stay-at-home moms we have been able to get together during the week which is AWESOME and FULL OF WIN. Also? Our children are best friends. Ian and Avery have grown together, played around each other, and tackled each other. And taunted each other. My daughter is sassy. And Ian is a bulldozer. Together they are hilarious and sweet. Same with Bobbi and me.
When she found us tickets to the Mom 2.0 Summit I knew that we would have a blast. She's a rock star and the queen of networking. She worked the room with Ian dangling from her in the Ergo (Is that a baby in that thing?) and was totally inspiring to watch. She helped me come out of my shell and encouraged me to quit hiding behind my daughter and show them ME. She reminded me that we were women first. Why did I forget that? It was easy to break the ice by talking about Avery but I struggled to get past that initial contact. I'm socially awkward. Bobbi? She's the MASTER.
We had a great time at the conference. I can't wait for more adventures with her and her kiddos. Her friendship has meant so much to me. I hope that she knows that.
I bet she does now.
She would punch me in the throat if I didn't mention her blog, When did I go from a kid to a grownup? You can also stalk Bobbi on Twitter. I know I do.
OH! And I love how semi-crunchy she is with her parenting. She babywears and cloth diapers but didn't cosleep or breastfeed and I coslept for nine months and breastfeed but use disposable diapers and while I wear Avery I'd rather her just learn to fucking walk already.
She would punch me in the throat if I didn't mention her blog, When did I go from a kid to a grownup? You can also stalk Bobbi on Twitter. I know I do.
OH! And I love how semi-crunchy she is with her parenting. She babywears and cloth diapers but didn't cosleep or breastfeed and I coslept for nine months and breastfeed but use disposable diapers and while I wear Avery I'd rather her just learn to fucking walk already.
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Jumping the gun. Or something else that doesn't involve sports.
I have been pounding the digital pavement looking for freelance writing gigs since I got back from Houston.
That's a lie. I have done a few measely searches and read some emails but haven't acted on anything yet.
I am so full of win right now. Can you feel it? Better yet, can you SMELL it?
The Mom 2.0 Summit got me totally pumped about being a professional writer. It's not that I wasn't pumped before. I was... jazzed.... about it. But not pumped. I can do this. I am not only looking for paying gigs but ones that guarantee good exposure and the freedom to mouth off. And community. I have just joined the fabulous bitches over at Silicon Valley Moms. I will be writing for the Deep South Moms' blog. As far as I know it is not a paying gig but I love the SV Moms so I don't care. I have wanted to be a part of a collaboration since I began this blog a year ago. I am wicked excited and cannot wait to get overwhelmed by how much writing I'll be doing now.
The Examiner gig (which I should make a fancy button for on my site, #whatev) is going well. I try to crank out about five articles per week which is easy since Twitter news is everywhere and me likey Twitter. The pay is still totally lame but it will get better. Check out my damn column and subscribe. Or I'll feed your dog to my baby.
You think I'm kidding? DOES THIS LOOK LIKE THE FACE OF SOMEONE WHO IS KIDDING? (is this where I would insert a goofy photo of myself? Denied.)
Monday, February 22, 2010
Mom 2.0 and me. And Avery. And tiaras.
I lost my blogging conference virginity over the weekend and you know what?
IT. FELT. GOOOOOOOOOOOD.
Bobbi (@kidtogrownup) and I loaded up a trunk-full of our crap and our children (who sat in the backseat, not in the trunk) and drove four hours to Houston. The babies did really well and we only had to stop a couple of times.
The babies taking a carseat break somewhere along I-45.
The conference was at the Four Seasons and, well, we were NOT staying there. Hell, the fucking valet was $20! Could you imagine how much they charge for a room? Actually, their valet service was a point of contemption for me all weekend. We stayed at a hotel a few blocks away and they were amazing. Our valet was a rockstar. See?
ANY-FUCKING-WAY, we took about nineteen years to check in because we had to get cash to pay for the room since we both had our husband's credit cards, blah blah blah. I probably spent $30 in ATM fees over the weekend. STAB.
We got ready and walked to the Four Seasons for the Mad Men party. It was crowded and hot but I had a decent time and so did Avery. My drink was vodka-tastic.
Bobbi getting her hair Mad Men-ified for the party.
I met Lindsay (@rockanrollmama) which was killer because I fucking love her. Rockin' red heads UNITE!
BOOBS!
The conference itself was pretty rad. I learned a lot and will hopefully implement some of the tips into my blog soon. When I have time. Which I don't right now. #whatev
ALSO ALSO ALSO during the breakout session "Creating Experiences Combining Online and Offline Campaigns for Maximum Impact and Results" with the amazing Rachael Herrscher (@todaysmama), Jyl Johnson Pattee (@jyl_MomIF), Allison Czarnecki (@petitelefant), and Jenny Lawson (@thebloggess) my daughter WALKED. Like, not just took a little step, but WALKED, for the VERY FIRST TIME.
In front of everyone (we were sitting in the front of the room). Laura(@lmayes), the creator of the conference (of of Kirtsy fame) announced it over the microphone. I was in tears holding my little one while everyone else witnessed this awesome milestone.
And you know what crossed my mind once I calmed down? MY DAUGHTER IS SUCH A ROCK STAR. She also kept crawling onto the stage during the panel.
Avery stole the show & tried to steal Jenny's tiara.
I also won a Wii Fit Plus which I gave to Bobbi since we don't have a Wii. It was a swag-light conference which was totally okay with me (but free shit is always nice). I met some nice businesses but honestly didn't know what to do with the contacts since I don't do product reviews and haven't really pursued advertising on the blog.
Playing with the Wii Fit Plus vendors.
I don't want to go into too much detail about it since this post is already way too long but I will be doing what I can to work with businesses and find a good fit for me in regards to advertising and sponsorship. Don't worry, content will NOT change. Enough of that for now.
No sexy heels for me this weekend.
I was ready to go home after the closing announcements. I was ready to get back to work, back to writing, back to having consistent wireless internet (Four Seasons- Get your shit together! Wifi was totally spotty or nonexistant during the conference!). I missed Jacob. I missed vegetables. I missed my hair dryer.
I want to write another post about my travel mate Bobbi so look for that soon.
Thank you, Mom 2.0 Summit, for popping my conference cherry. You were gentle with me and I appreciate it.
Friday, February 19, 2010
Blogging live! Because I normally blog... dead?
I am blogging LIVE from a panel at #mom2summit.
But who cares?
I'm having a decent time so far but I would give a kidney for Avery be better behaved.
Also? No one knows my name. But they all know hers.
More on that later. And, it's fucking hot in this hotel. Four Seasons? More like FUCKING HOT IN THE DESERT.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
THAT'S RIGHT, BITCHES!
My BFF Bobbi and I scored tickets from two darling women who were unable to attend so we will be at the conference with our two babies. This is our first conference and I know I speak for both of us when I say IT IS GOING TO BE AWESOME! I will be wearing my daughter and will probably look nervous as hell so please come up to me and say hi. I like hugs.
Monday, February 15, 2010
It's like grandma's house but with more bodily fluids.
Bobbi from When did I go from a kid to a grownup? and I had an adventure last week She asked me to write about it for her blog so I did. And since I'm wicked lazy I'm going to cross post it here.
On Wednesday Bobbi and I bundled up our kids and went on an adventure to the Birth and Women's Center in Dallas for Bobbi's first prenatal appointment with the nurse/midwife/whatever.
I was stoked because after doing some research (okay, I consulted Dr. Google) and tweeting my fears about a repeat cesarean I have decided that when I get pregnant again I will do whatever I can to have my baby delivered in the most natural way with the least interventions which is what I should have done the first time around.
Hindsight. It's a mother fucker.
Anyway, this was my first visit to a birthing center (Bobbi's too) so I didn't quite know what to expect but I knew that it would be perfect. Like a bed and breakfast for labor and delivery. The adjacent park was beautiful and I could see myself holding hands with my husband walking along the tree-lined path through contractions and feeling at peace with what I was doing.
Yeah. Notsomuch.
We walked into the converted home (I believe it's about 100 years old) and were immediately confronted by an adorable waiting room. Seriously. Your grandma lives here. Our presence was detected and we were invited upstairs to to wait outside the office so Bobbi could fill out some paperwork.
The walls along the stairwell were lined with baby footprints from the babies that were delivered at the birthing center. My uterus cried out. They were so tiny.
We all go into the exam room and the midwife/nurse/whatever starts asking Bobbi the routine medical history questions (you had eye surgery twice? You will definitely need to fill me in on that!). She seemed cold. Mechanical. Not like the crunchy hippy embracing midwife that I was expecting to encounter. In fact, there was a lot about her that was off-putting. Not only that but I felt like she was annoyed that our children were in the room. I kept them occupied during the exam but it's kind of hard to chase down one-year-old Ian while he's running around the sofa while I'm nursing Avery so that she'll quit fussing. Gimme a fucking break. I only have two hands, nursey!
I digress. Like, a lot.
Afterwards we were asked no less than ninety billion times how we got in without taking the tour first. OH THE MOTHER FUCKING TOUR! Apparently the tour of the birthing center is a sacred ritual that gains you access to the building and allows you to schedule appointments.
One of the midwives (I assume she was a midwife; she did not introduce herself) finally offered to give us a quick tour (Halle-fuckin'-lujah) of the place.
The birthing suite was really nice and the bathroom was sparklingly clean. No afterbirth chunks in sight!
OH! Speaking of bathrooms. The birthing center is a place where human beings come out of your vagina. GET SOFTER TOILET PAPER. It was like cheap gas station toilet paper in the bathroom. My ass did not appreciate their stinginess.
After the tour Bobbi and I asked the midwife some basic questions about the center and I asked her about VBAC (vaginal birth after ceserean). She pretty much said that they don't do them at the center but that they have a relationship with OB's that feed into Baylor Hospital who do them and they don't want to rock the boat on that relationship. Really? I thought that birthing centers were a safe haven for women to get away from the CUT 'EM UP GET 'EM OUT TAKE THEIR MONEY mentality of the hospital.
Apparently not.
What this made me see is that birthing centers are businesses too just like hospitals. Yes, their philosophies may be different but they're in it to make money.
Oh well. It's like I always say: Mo' money, mo' problems.
On Wednesday Bobbi and I bundled up our kids and went on an adventure to the Birth and Women's Center in Dallas for Bobbi's first prenatal appointment with the nurse/midwife/whatever.
I was stoked because after doing some research (okay, I consulted Dr. Google) and tweeting my fears about a repeat cesarean I have decided that when I get pregnant again I will do whatever I can to have my baby delivered in the most natural way with the least interventions which is what I should have done the first time around.
Hindsight. It's a mother fucker.
Anyway, this was my first visit to a birthing center (Bobbi's too) so I didn't quite know what to expect but I knew that it would be perfect. Like a bed and breakfast for labor and delivery. The adjacent park was beautiful and I could see myself holding hands with my husband walking along the tree-lined path through contractions and feeling at peace with what I was doing.
Yeah. Notsomuch.
We walked into the converted home (I believe it's about 100 years old) and were immediately confronted by an adorable waiting room. Seriously. Your grandma lives here. Our presence was detected and we were invited upstairs to to wait outside the office so Bobbi could fill out some paperwork.
The walls along the stairwell were lined with baby footprints from the babies that were delivered at the birthing center. My uterus cried out. They were so tiny.
We all go into the exam room and the midwife/nurse/whatever starts asking Bobbi the routine medical history questions (you had eye surgery twice? You will definitely need to fill me in on that!). She seemed cold. Mechanical. Not like the crunchy hippy embracing midwife that I was expecting to encounter. In fact, there was a lot about her that was off-putting. Not only that but I felt like she was annoyed that our children were in the room. I kept them occupied during the exam but it's kind of hard to chase down one-year-old Ian while he's running around the sofa while I'm nursing Avery so that she'll quit fussing. Gimme a fucking break. I only have two hands, nursey!
I digress. Like, a lot.
Afterwards we were asked no less than ninety billion times how we got in without taking the tour first. OH THE MOTHER FUCKING TOUR! Apparently the tour of the birthing center is a sacred ritual that gains you access to the building and allows you to schedule appointments.
One of the midwives (I assume she was a midwife; she did not introduce herself) finally offered to give us a quick tour (Halle-fuckin'-lujah) of the place.
The birthing suite was really nice and the bathroom was sparklingly clean. No afterbirth chunks in sight!
OH! Speaking of bathrooms. The birthing center is a place where human beings come out of your vagina. GET SOFTER TOILET PAPER. It was like cheap gas station toilet paper in the bathroom. My ass did not appreciate their stinginess.
After the tour Bobbi and I asked the midwife some basic questions about the center and I asked her about VBAC (vaginal birth after ceserean). She pretty much said that they don't do them at the center but that they have a relationship with OB's that feed into Baylor Hospital who do them and they don't want to rock the boat on that relationship. Really? I thought that birthing centers were a safe haven for women to get away from the CUT 'EM UP GET 'EM OUT TAKE THEIR MONEY mentality of the hospital.
Apparently not.
What this made me see is that birthing centers are businesses too just like hospitals. Yes, their philosophies may be different but they're in it to make money.
Oh well. It's like I always say: Mo' money, mo' problems.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Can I call myself a writer if I haven't received a paycheck yet?
So you know how I'm totally awesome at this writing stuff?
And how I love to (force) share my opinions with others?
And how you're ALWAYS saying, "Lauren, why aren't you a professional writer? Surely publishers are blowing up your email begging for your awesomeness!"
Well, they're not. Because they're all STUPID ASSHOLES. (Potential new employers- I don't mean it, really I don't. You're pretty and have you been working out and yes I'll pick up your dog's shit for you).
What I'm trying to say is that I have a writing gig. A real one. A PAYING ONE. Oh yeah. I am the newest writer for The Examiner which is one of the largest online publications IN THE UNIVERSE.
I am a local writer (and will bully my way to a national spot someday) with my very own column because I'm kind of a big deal.
By now you are probably screaming at your monitor, "REVEAL THE DAMN URL ALREADY!"
Fine. Piss on my moment.
PLANO TWITTER EXAMINER
Oh yeah. I get paid to write about Twitter. How fucking rad is THAT?
What I need from you, my sexy readers (and Dad), is some lovin'. Please check out my page and read the articles and leave comments and tell your friends. That's all.
And how I love to (force) share my opinions with others?
And how you're ALWAYS saying, "Lauren, why aren't you a professional writer? Surely publishers are blowing up your email begging for your awesomeness!"
Well, they're not. Because they're all STUPID ASSHOLES. (Potential new employers- I don't mean it, really I don't. You're pretty and have you been working out and yes I'll pick up your dog's shit for you).
What I'm trying to say is that I have a writing gig. A real one. A PAYING ONE. Oh yeah. I am the newest writer for The Examiner which is one of the largest online publications IN THE UNIVERSE.
I am a local writer (and will bully my way to a national spot someday) with my very own column because I'm kind of a big deal.
By now you are probably screaming at your monitor, "REVEAL THE DAMN URL ALREADY!"
Fine. Piss on my moment.
PLANO TWITTER EXAMINER
Oh yeah. I get paid to write about Twitter. How fucking rad is THAT?
What I need from you, my sexy readers (and Dad), is some lovin'. Please check out my page and read the articles and leave comments and tell your friends. That's all.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Mmmmm tastes like nipples.
I haven't posted anything MOM related lately.
I still have a daughter. I guess in order to still be considering a mommy blogger I should probably mention her every now and again.
Avery has cut her two front top teeth (she already has her two bottom in). Great, right? Now she can eat bigger pieces of food, blah blah blah.
Fuck that.
She fucking bit me today. No, not on the arm or leg. YOU KNOW WHERE.
I know that if she is latching correctly it shouldn't hurt. Great. Good. Wonderful. Tell her that. I intend to nurse through her first birthday and then slowly wean her. But she better quit biting the tit that feeds her.
Sunday, February 7, 2010
#CAKEPOCOLYPSE
Last night I baked the test cake for Avery's birthday party. I know that her party is over six weeks away but I'm THAT BAD at baking. I needed a cushion. Time to work out the kinks and master this recipe and this fancy pan. I will NOT let you best me, Wilton!
Naturally I tweeted the process because I'm a fucking social media junkie. And I have to force my misery onto others.
I enjoy baking and it was fun to do something so bright and festive. I get tired of baking banana bread. It's like, tasty but totally boring.
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