you have the right to remain silent

i dated t.j. for 5 years before marrying him and had never farted in front of him once. on the night of our wedding after the reception we drove to our new house for the first time together. he was having a really hard time getting the key to go in the lock properly and i was getting impatient. in my wedding dress i yanked the key from him and said "here - let me do it. geeze." then proceeded to bend over reaching for the handle through the darkness and ripped one.


it's stories like that that i want to make sure i put in writing for roz before i forget. that is the point of this blog; i will one day put all of these posts with their accompanying illustrations and make a book for her. a lot of kids live their entire lives not knowing who their parents were before they were 'mom' and 'dad.' i think she should know about who me and t.j. were pre-roz.


i showed up at t.j.'s house when we were dating and he has the horrible open wound on his nose.
"tj! what happened to your nose?!?!" i demanded.
"huh... um... what? what is it?" he sheepishly replied.
"what do you mean 'what is it?' have you seen yourself in the mirror?!?!?!?!? my lord!" i screamed.
after going back and forth for a while, he finally confessed: t.j. had used one of his mom's biore cleansing strips. since he was a dude he felt that his blackheads were more badass than what the 8 minute application period could handle. after the self-imposed 20 minutes of biore cleansing action, t.j. damn-near ripped his entire nose off of his face.


t.j. and i actually spent 12 years together before rozzy made her debut. that means i have 12 years worth of stories stockpiled in my memory, not to mention my 18 years on earth before t.j. and i started dating. of course she doesn't need to know about the time we ran from the cops on purdue's campus - or the time we ran from the cops on ohio state's campus, for that matter. she doesn't need to know t.j. stole a wallet from j.c. penny's or the time that i stole my dad's car with kelly to buy a pack of smokes when i was 15 years old - with my 9 year old brother in the backseat. she could do without the tales of me and t.j. getting kicked out of the fairfield commons for mocking a beefed-up mall cop, or how after drinking too much at a restaurant i decided that the plates were so nice that i needed to take one home with me.

I'm still up in the air about sharing the funniest night ever with her. maybe when she is 30 i will tell her about me and t.j.'s infamous night at the fox and the hound. we had both had too much to drink. as we got out to the car, i told t.j. that maybe it was best that we called a taxi because it would be the responsible thing to do. well, t.j. had a better idea: the car parked next to us apparently belonged to a volunteer fireman, as evidenced by the nice set of siren lights affixed to the top of it. t.j. figured if we could transfer the sirens from that car to ours, that we'd be safe. a cop wouldn't pull us over if we had lights on top of our car, right? well, what transpired over the next 15 minutes is indescribable. it was one of those things you would have just had to be there and experience if for yourself. i'll do my best to describe how t.j. got into a tug-o-war match with those sirens that had an electrical cord attached to them that went through the passenger-side window that was rolled up around it. at one point he had his feet on the side of the door and was hanging from the cord.

well, when i saw my husband hanging from a set of sirens i laughed like never before. anyone that knows me knows that when i laugh, my entire body laughs. i jerk around like i'm being electrocuted - well the electricity zapping me during this laugh session caused me to slam my head on the steering wheel - causing the horn to honk. this honking scared t.j. so much that he fell of the sirens he had been holding onto for dear life. when he fell, i peed myself.

on second thought... maybe she doesn't need to know that one, either.

viral rozzy

1&done

supposedly a mind-erasing cocktail consisting of hormones and other biological chemicals ensures the continuation of our species by removing the horror that is labor and delivery from a survivor's mind. i have called bullshit on mother nature: i remember it. vividly. (i also remember a time in my youth when i thought the true test of vaginal elasticity was upgrading to the "super-plus" absorbent tampon from the plain 'ol "super" ones - silly me.) the process of giving birth, however, is not the reason why i do not want another child; it is actually the months that proceeded childbirth that has solidified my "one and done" attitude toward our family.

*author’s note: in the south right before you talk unfavorably towards someone you god-bless them first. (example: “god-bless her, but shirleen's daughter is a real whore.”) so, here is where i am going to god-bless my daughter before I continue on with this essay. i love her more than anything on earth. she is the world to me and i cannot imagine a day without her. god-bless my little roz. ok… now i can continue.

rozzy is what famed pediatrician dr. sears refers to as "high needs." the good doctor has a checklist of 12 characteristics and accompanying descriptions on his website so that you can properly diagnose your child as crazy from the comfort of your own living room. every single one of the 12 items listed combine together to create one thing: my child. at one point in time i am sure that every mother thinks their child is high needs; with the key words being "at one point in time." for me, that point in time happens to be Every. Single. Day. recently i submitted a picture of rozzy to the webmaster at sears' site so they could have a descriptive illustration to accompany their informative article.

i knew that having a baby would change my life, but I was thinking about regular babies – not crazy ones. i had googled enough baby articles during pregnancy that i was prepared for another human to be dependant on me to the point where my life would change. what i was not prepared for was learning how to wipe after peeing while said human is on my lap. i had heard that a baby would display cues as to when they were satisfied after a bottle or a meal. what i didn’t expect was for her to show her satiation by ripping my glasses off of my face and slamming them down into three separate pieces. i had heard all the tales about new mom sleep-deprivation, but didn’t know that 46 consecutive minutes of sleep would be facebook status update-worthy.

on the rare occasion that t.j. and i dare to eat a meal outside of our own home, we have to keep in mind that our precious little rozzy doesn’t like to be restrained. after learning how to crawl, most babies assert their independence by refusing constraint systems such as high chairs. rozzy asserts her independence with a blood-curdling scream followed by projectile vomit that she then chokes on; that is then followed by 5 rapid back blows and two parental panic attacks. it’s these carrie-style scenes that make me wonder why in the world t.j. wants to do this all over again. he seems to think that because we have a girl that we automatically win the boy lottery next time. what i know is that both of our familial histories - combined with my old age - could end with my next pregnancy being with twin girls. *insert picture of me jumping off a cliff here*

when i state out loud that i do not want any more children apparently what people hear me say is, “i am evil. i hate babies.”  this, of course, is not the case. as a matter of fact, before rozzy was born i was never a baby person. now that i've had rozzy, i am a baby person. pre-roz, if you had a baby i'd say how cute they are and then go about my day. now when i see a baby i grab them out of their mothers' hands, kiss them all over their cute little faces, and then a demand a full report on their sleeping, pooping, and overall disposition and then ask if i can take them home with me. this can get awkward for some strangers at the grocery store.

even though i volunteer to take other babies home with us, if i had my way, t.j. would go get his boys snipped. if he had his way, i would have 3 more children. my course of action for birth control is leaving him in charge of the baby for an entire week - including the nighttime shift that requires an every 2 hour wakeful period. after having his beauty sleep interrupted and his 17 rounds of golf a week eliminated, i am sure that t.j. will come to see that 1 & done is the way to go.

with all that being said, roz is awfully adorable and very smart... it would be interesting to see what the next one would be like... maybe one more wouldn't be so bad after all...

sweet revenge

i'm at costco last night and i see a couple with one of those flat-bed shopping carts. placed on top of it is eight 50lb. bags of baking flour. i was very curious as to why someone would need 400lbs. of flour. i was intrigued, but moved on to my 250lb. tub of cottage cheese that was next on my list. after paying, i go out to load my car and whatdaya know... i'm parked right next to the lady who emptied costco of flour. her minivan was wrapped in crazy advertising for "deb's crown bakery." aha. it made sense now. who else would need that much flour except for a baker? duh. for a second we locked eyes, so me being mrs. social chatter-box said through a friendly giggle "ya know, i noticed you guys and all that flour while i was inside and i was wondering to myself what in the world you'd be doing with all that flour... now it makes sense. ha! then deb of deb's crown bakery just stared at me. i had just started to hear crickets when deb's husband flipped his mullet around and stared at me as well. no smile, no response, no screw you... nothin'. they appeared to be so bothered by me speaking to them. then they both went back to loading their van, apparently allergic to some friendly banter. i got into my car. i didn't have the baby with me so i spent the next 15 seconds contemplating getting back out of my vehicle and kicking that woman's ass. i'd for sure punch her husband's mullet just to say i punched a mullet. but i didn't. i just got in my car and drove home. and now I'm typing this blog. the moral of the story: if you live in a 50 mile radius of the chicago-land area and need a cake be forewarned:

deb of deb's crown bakery and her husband are assholes.

(not really) wanted: babysitter

apparently during my 7 month inaugural period of motherhood, i had been doing a huge disservice to my own flesh and blood by never entrusting her in the hands of someone inflicted with bad acne and bieber fever. to everyone’s dismay, getting a babysitter was not at the forefront of my things-to-do list.

4 friday nights ago, i tried to appease the masses and secured a babysitter. i figured a round of golf with t.j. would be a perfect “starter” job. now, as someone who had never left rozzy for longer than 3 hours - and definitely not with anyone besides my own mother - one would imagine that the search for a babysitter would involve a rigorous hiring process. not so. i did what any parent born in 1980 and after would do: i updated my facebook status with a plea for someone – anyone – to come into my home that very night and take care of my most valuable possession.

25 comments and 12 “likes” later, danielle was coming to babysit. i had never met danielle; she was a friend of a facebook friend’s daughter. according to my facebook friend, she was very responsible and she was, in fact, CPR certified. awesome. however, 3 texts later i was informed that “certified” wasn’t really the appropriate term; although she had attended the CPR class, she hadn’t paid the class registration fee, preventing her from receiving the actual certification. in my 30 years on this earth, i have never heard of someone who had shoplifted knowledge. i was actually intrigued by this danielle character who had decided that the technique of saving a life was more priceless than the $25 price tag it carried. hired.

after approving of the mysterious thief to take care of my only child, my next task was to prepare some type of instruction manual that she could use as a reference guide – god forbid a phone call interrupt my backswing. i jotted down the obvious: how to make a bottle of formula, bedtime routine, favorite toys, which jar food to feed, and how to prevent the infant from becoming a snack to either one of our dogs. my last instruction was that she was to call me in the event of a crying episode lasting longer than 30 minutes. remembering what a diva i was a parent to, i crossed out the number 30 and promptly replaced it with 45.

danielle arrived right on time. her skin seemed to be as clear as porcelain and she showed no outward signs of suffering from boy-band infatuation. she came in and i walked her over to the instruction manual and went over each item line by line. next was the interrogation: i needed to know if she had a boyfriend, what her friends were like, why her parents were divorced and who they voted for in the last election. after telling her how I used to replace vodka with tap water when i was her age i asked her about her religious convictions and college plans.

“are you going to go to a school around here, danielle?”

“i haven’t really thought too much about it. i’m just trying to get through my high school classes right now.”

“well, don’t waste your time on 4 years of post high school education. everyone knows that you can make just as much money by going to a trade school or community college in half the time. trust me – I made that mistake. now there is a lady named sallie mae who has managed to locate me even after moving 4 times.”

after getting her to promise me she wouldn’t ruin her life with a baccalaureate degree it was finally time for danielle to meet rozzy. i had been dreading this moment. i was not afraid to hand my child over, but everyone had warned me of the epic meltdown that would occur because my child was not used to being left with strangers; this, of course, being due to my poor parenting tactics of taking care of my own child at all times.

“roooozzy… let’s go to danielle. she’s our baaaaaabysitter and we loooooove her!”

rozzy climbed into danielle’s arms like it was the most comfortable place she had ever nestled into. her wide eyes gazed with adoration as she studied the face of her new friend. i’m pretty sure if the word wasn’t already reserved for one of the dogs, she would have called her mama.

so that was it. no epic meltdown, and in fact quite the opposite: the night was a great success. it made me happy and sad at the same time. i felt sadness because i want her to only have eyes for me, and happy because I could finally tell people to shove it up their asses. now the question is not whether or not we will ask danielle back again; the question is whether or not danielle will agree to come back.

dilf day

you like to have activities planned every second of every day

you do things so oddly and you are strange in every way

gum packs have to be depleted in a certain order

if i pull one from the middle you get generalized anxiety disorder

the towels have to be folded so very precise

if i try to do the laundry you aren't very nice

the dishes have to be cleaned immediately after the last bite

you think that the way i load the dishwasher is a terrible sight

you jog and run more than forrest gump

i've never seen you relax on the couch like a lump

you freak out if your face has a mark or a spot

you act like a zit affects your golf shot

you are a healthy salad and i'm a candy bar

nobody knows how different we definitely are

last year you became a first time dad

and watching live birth wasn't the best time you've ever had

and now you are quite the seasoned pro

my oh my how baby roz loves you so

you are the greatest dad and husband anyone has had

and I'm hoping on your birthday you experience nothing bad

so here's a toast to you t.j. and tonight just maybe

our celebration will lead to yet another baby!

happy birthday to you, t.j.... here's to more birdies and less golf shirts.

i love you.