I'm So Hot

Getting ready for a baby and just being pregnant in general opens yours eyes to some things. For some people these are beautiful, flowering, amazing things. For others it just brings forward with a severity the things that really piss you off. The things that can literally set you on fire right there in the middle of the kitchen because you are simply loading the silverware basket but the fucking fork will not go in and bounces out and of course falls through the wire drawer and when you try to move it the fork catches it so it won't budge and you are left there a flaming mess and then you realize that you have to pee and your head explodes.

We won't even have to use our heater this winter.

We spent Sunday getting our bedroom ready because that is where this baby will be sleeping. There's a nook in our room that is the exact width of the crib so it works out. Our closet was a mess and now that we have to share it with a baby that already has more clothing than Paris Hilton we had to get it in order. Did I mention that Joe also has more clothing than Paris Hilton. Like father, like son. We finally got it done and it looks pretty good, we just have to be careful what we bump into or the whole thing could implode.

Now that Joe is not working on the slope I have to get used to him being around. Home. All. Of. The. Time. It's great, I'm happy that he's going to be home and not miss holiday's and birthday's. It just takes some getting used to. Especially now that I'm in that nesting phase and a person really can't "nest" properly when her husband is hovering and asking if she still wants this notebook, this notebook here in the trash, do you want this trash notebook, the one here that is in the trash?

I love you my dear, sweet  husband. Welcome home.

The Better To Brew You With

ModCloth.com is my new favorite online shopping experience. They have clothing, accessories, shoes and home decor. They also have a vintage section where they carry unique, authentic vintage pieces. They add at least one piece per day according to the website. Another bonus: $7 shipping!

Now, if I could only find that trust fund...

I will leave the fashion reporting to my brother, Morgan, that's his field of expertise. I will however share a few of my favorite things from the decor section, but you really have to look for yourself. There are tons of items and there's no way I could do it justice with my few picks.

• The Better To Brew You With Teacup - $30
• I Am Not a Paper Cup - $20
• One Tough Chick Wall Hooks - $20
• Feed the Birds Kitchen Towel - $14
• Kawaii Bacon Air Freshener - $2.99 (don't try to lie that you wouldn't love the smell of bacon when you get in your car, I don't believe you)
• Better Than Beauty: A Guide To Charm - $16
• I Am Not a Paper Towel - $14
• St. Petersburg Pillow - $28
• Telegraph Hill Pillow - $25
• Bear Bottle Opener - $14

So, have you gone to the site yet? Why not? Go now. Click now.

Yes, Please Do That

While turning left on the green arrow please back up all of the cars behind you by stopping in the middle of the fucking intersection for no apparent reason. Other than you are a complete moron.

I love it when you do that.

Gotta Have It

Being pregnant requires certain items. For everyone this is different. For me these things are specific and I have listed them below. I cannot survive without these things, do not even think of telling me that we are out of ice or you will find yourself missing a vital appendage.

I did not put prices on here because prices can vary widely depending on where it is purchased on some items.

• Bella Band - I have a black one and a white one
• Blackout Curtains - Need to have these for the Alaska summers
• Arbonne NutrimenC Re9 Serum - Prevents stretch marks, helps to diminish existing stretch marks
• Ice - The freezer bin better be full of delicious ice at any given moment
• Blackberry Curve - Sorry to say I can't live without it, I have been spoiled by the full keyboard
• Always Pantiliners - Are you kidding? I laugh/cough/sneeze, I pee. Part of the pregnant territory.
• MAC Studio FX Foundation - Perfect for covering up Pregnancy Acne, it is so different than regular acne. Comparison would be...hmm. Being tickled lightly and being stabbed in the eye.
• Flats - Don't even ask me to try and tie a shoe
• Laptop - You mean some people remove themselves from the couch to use their computer, gaffaw
• What To Expect When You're Expecting - I love this book and it doesn't instill that blinding fear that some other books do, so nice.
• Arbonne Ginger Citrus Body Butter - One of the only scents I can stand while pregnant and it's only available September-December so I stock up and you should to!

So Proud

I have been blessed with a musically inclined child. She loves music and needs to have it on all the time and not just on but, "Louder, please.", "louder", "Hey, Momma, I said louder, please".

I figured I should start keeping a list because when she's 16 she will never believe me when I tell her about how she used to sing "Sweet Home Alabama" nonstop for hours.

This list is just songs that I remember her specifically requesting, over, and over again. Quite the medley. I will add to it as I remember more or as she adds to the list.

• George Strait
• Baby's Gotten Good At Goodbye
• Overnight Male
• When she found out that George Strait had a movie (Pure Country) she flipped out!
• Lovesick Blues
• Johnny Cash
• Ring of Fire
• Jackson
• Jim Croce
• Bad Bad Leroy Brown
• You Don't Mess Around With Jim
• Don McLean
• American Pie
• Jon Bon Jovi
• Wanted
• Lynyrd Skynyrd
• Ballad of Curtis Lowe
• Sweet Home Alabama
• Classical Music
• I have no idea any titles or composers but she could listen to classical all day
• Billy Idol
• White Wedding

Definition of a Psycho

A psycho by definition is someone afflicted with psychosis. Psychosis by definition is any severe mental disorder in which contact with reality is lost or highly distorted.

Now that I have that out of the way I would like to draw your attention to a commercial that has recently been aired on television. It is a commercial for Clorox Disinfecting Wipes. Click the link to watch the video.

Now, it seems like a normal morning. Mom and son brushing their teeth together, how sweet. Then, THEN, she takes the electric toothbrush out of her mouth only to spray the mirror and her son with her saliva and toothpaste. Please re-read that last sentence. The mother, the adult, the carer of young children. She was the one smart enough to pull a toothbrush out of her mouth and then press the button only to spray the unsuspecting mirror and young child.

After the spraying occurs, she looks down at the boy and shrugs her shoulders as if to say "Hmm, weird, didn't think that would happen."

No, not weird you fucking lunatic! You did that! You stood there and sprayed your spit everywhere and now you have no idea what happened? Please remember this when your son shows up with his knocked up sixteen year old girlfriend and he gives you shoulder shrug like, "Hmm, weird, didn't think that would happen."

Lady, you are a psycho. Afflicted with psychosis and all that jazz. No Clorox Wipe is going to clean up your mess.

The Art of Stalling

Bedtime

"Sweet dreams, I love you, goodnight"

"What?"

"Sweet dreams, I love you, goodnight"

"No, what was in the middle?"

"In the middle?"

"Yes, what was in the middle of what you said?"

"I love you?"

"No."

"Yes, I said, 'Sweet dreams, I love you, goodnight'"

"Oh. Isn't my doll beautiful?"

"Good night Madison"

Again, Like The Animal. Geez, The Simplest Thing.

"What is your last name?"

"Wolf, W-o-l-f."

"W-o-o..."

"W-o-l-f"

"Let's see, what day is your appointment?"

"Tuesday, at eight-thirty."

"Can you spell your last name for me again?"

"W-o-l-f"

"Woos?"

Stabbing myself in the eye with a blunt object. "No. Not Woos. W-o-l-f, Wolf, like the animal."

"Oh."

Scaring Small Children, Just a Hobby of Mine

Last night I attended the premiere of a trailer for a movie that I will have a small part in. Yes, the trailer. We shot the trailer first in order to shop the movie around for funding. The movie is called Proper Binge and it is going to be awesome, in case you were wondering. Dean Mitchell and Mike Burns wrote and will direct/produce it and you couldn't ask for a better couple of guys to work with, the rest of the cast and crew are fantastic too. My brother, Morgan, who did the special effects make up for the trailer and my friend Dana, who also has a small part attended the event with me.
I know what you are thinking. "Wow, an 'event', how fancy!" Yes, so fancy. The event took place in Wasilla at the local gym. Come on people, this isn't Hollywood. The fanciness level was just fine with me, we had a great time and watched the trailer about four times. Then afterwards the cast was brought onstage for introductions. This is the part that I hate. Anytime I'm in a group setting and someone inevitably brings up the fabulous idea of "Hey! How about we go around the room and introduce ourselves!", my stomach dislodges itself from my abdomen and takes place next to my heart in my throat. I can barely hear anything over the pounding of my heart, I don't know what my issue is. I know my name. I know where I'm from. This coming from a girl who would love to be in front of a camera, which for some reason doesn't bother me, but ask me my name and where I'm from and I lose all my shit.

Luckily, Dean introduced all of us, oh and I also put a Dum-Dum sucker in my mouth to deter any crazy ideas that my mouth may have of saying something out loud. Mission accomplished.

There was a couple sitting in front of us that had two small children, the youngest was probably around two years old. When the little boy wasn't looking his parents moved seats, a few rows back. Why? Hell if I know, but I would think that they would take their kid with them. The little boy is standing next to our seats looking lost and I looked down at him and said, "They left.". Right then, thankfully, someone came to his rescue and about that time I realized what I had done. I look over at my brother, who has melted into an unrecognizable blob, competely mortified by my choice of words and I then lost all composure. I tried to conceal my laughter, especially since I had no idea how this kid's vocabulary was and he very well could be telling his mother right at that second that the mean pregnant lady told him that his parents had abandoned him forever. I would then be removed from the film, therefore losing any chance I had at winning an award for Best Actress in a Miniscule Part of an Independent Film.

Water Torture

Bocephus. That's pronounced Boe-see-fuss. He is named after Hank Williams Jr, who was lovingly nicknamed Bocephus by his father Hank Williams. I have vowed to name all my dogs after classic country artists. Don't ask me why. I'm from Louisiana and this is just a little way I can keep connected to my roots I guess, AND I have yet to meet another dog named Bocephus. I'm sure they are out there, but I haven't met one in Alaska; yet.

The resemblance is uncanny.

We adopted Bocephus from the animal shelter when he was three months old, the name on his temporary collar read "Trouble". I'm sure that was just a coincidence. He has grown in the last 2.5 years from a 15-pound fluff ball to a 105-pound dog-beast. He has been trained in the ways of being housebroken, he will sit, lay down, shake hands AND high-five. My dog high-fives! I can't think of a greater accomplishment to have. He will also walk up to your face while you are relaxing in the recliner, wait for you to turn towards him and then burp. He does this on purpose. Everyday. Like clockwork.

He will also walk right between your aim of the remote and the cable box so that you are rendered a blubbering idiot, begging him to move his ginourmous ass away from the TV; "You're daddy wadn't a winduh maker boy!".

He will not roll over. Flat out refuses. I tried for hours when he was a pup but he would just roll halfway and then jump up on all fours like "ta-da, where's my treat?". Then he just kept getting bigger and bigger and me trying to teach him to roll over looked more like a WWE match.

He also will not eat or drink unless he has a witness to the fact. This, this, THIS! This is the bane of my existence. One thing I cannot stand is the sound of someone eating, slurping or smacking. One thing he loves to do is wait until I'm in the room so that he can eat. I can fill his bowls and leave for the day, come back and he hasn't eaten a bite and he won't eat a bite until I am standing within visual proximity to his chomping and smacking or even better until I am relaxed in the living room reading or watching some mind-numbing television (to be honest it's probably the latter, so what).

I asked my husband last night if Guantanamo Bay was still closing soon because they could use the sound of our dog drinking water as torture. It could get confessions out of anyone. I often end up confessing to things right there in the kitchen as he's lapping away.

"Yes! I did it! I bought another pair of shoes at Nordstrom, they are in the back of the closet! Please make it stop!"

Joe says that I can't teach a dog to chew with his mouth closed or drink through a straw, that it's impossible.

Oh yeah? Well he also told me that I couldn't stop the dog from licking himself, and after 2.5 years I have squelched his desire to lick his vacant ballsac and any impulse he has to clean himself while inside the house. Every once in a while I will catch his eye as he lifts that rear leg and aims his nose at what used to be his manhood and it's a heated staring contest until that leg slowly but surely takes its place back on the floor. "That's what I thought" I say and Bocephus replies "I'll lick what I want when I get outside and then come in and burp in your face."

Can't be done. Watch me.

Yes, Please Do That.

As you are making a right hand turn into a parking lot, come to a complete effing stop before turning.

I love it when you do that.

Knock. Knock.

Madison: "Knock. Knock."

Me: "Who's there?"

Madison: "You're LATE!"

Go Here.

Awkward Family Photos

This site is one of my favorite pasttimes. Click it. Now.

A Simple Person

Each night at bedtime I crawl into bed with Madison and read her a book (or three). Afterwards she likes me to stay with her and talk. "Because I like you so much Momma." I do realize that this stage will not last and will turn into, "Don't talk to me or look at me like you know me when we are in public, got it lady?".
Well, these nighttime chats often times lead to the best pieces of dialog that I have ever had the pleasure of participating in.

Me: "Okay, I'm going to bed now."

Madison: "Momma? If someone was in my room would you come down here?"

Me: "Who would be in your room?"

Madison: "Just someone."

Me: "But who is it, why are they in your room?"

Madison: "Just somebody, you know, somebody in my room."

Me: "Who? Like a bad guy?"

Madison: "Just a person! A simple person!" (slaps her forehead in exasperation)

Me: "Sure, I'll come down. You let me know."

Madison: "Okay, good night Momma."

Now, I know that I drug this one out, but I knew if I kept it going she would give me something. That something was her fear that a simple person may one day wander into her room. A simple person!

If I Catch You Reaching For The Stars I'm Going To Bitch Slap You

I went home for lunch today and sat down with my bowl of Ramen to enjoy some noon-time tv. I had my bowl propped on top of my ever growing belly when an inspirational commercial came on. I expected it to be a LDS commercial or United Way, in fact writing this right now I can't tell you what the commercial was actually for. I do know it wasn't for either of the afore mentioned.

So, the commercial is being told by a girl. When she was a child this girl wanted nothing more than to be a sword fighter. She practiced day in and day out, at one point she is shown with her toothbrush fighting the mirror. Oral hygiene and dreams, this kid is going far. She finally received her first fencing sword for Christmas and boy was she happy. It then fast forwards to present day and shows her winning some fandangled fencing competition and she's there with her mom and all is well in the world.

Fade to black. Then the tagline for the commerical pops up. Prepare yourself to be inspired.

Oh, did I say inspired. I meant un-inspired, taken down a notch, just sit your ass down and stop trying to be somebody. Who the hell do you think you are?

Way to go advertising company, way to inspire our kids to do the bare minimum, to be average. I wish the tagline was "Have Common Sense". I'd rather people have more common sense than to just be competent.

How about:

Or:

Maybe something obvious like:

This works for me:

And then just to get the point across:

Basically, all that trying you've been doing is a waste of time and energy. All the world really wants from you is to function basically day to day.

Getting Laid

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Smells like...

Madison: This smells like (mumble). (shoves hand in my face)

Me: What does it smell like? (taking a whiff so big that I could have sucked up one of her knuckles)

Madison: My booty.

Unrealistically Calm

Sitting in the doctor's office today for my 78th prenatal appointment I found myself studying the wall of brochures and pamphlets. Educational resources regarding birth control, postpartum depression and of course the clap.

Something that caught my eye was the calm faces on all of the covers. The calm face on the cover of the episiotomy brochure. The calm face on the cover of the what happens past 40 weeks brochure. The calm face on the cover of the herpes brochure.

I have decided that it is high time to start being honest on the covers of these pamphlets. If not for my own entertainment, then at least to scare the shit out of some people.

Coming soon to a doctor's office near you:

A Sunday Venture

Madison and I decided to take a walk to the park today. I thought I could lug my dog and my belly down the street with no problems. I was wrong.

Bocephus weighs roughly 500 pounds, my belly weighs roughly 100 pounds. Give or take a few hundred. He has been really well-behaved on walks lately so I assumed we could make the trek without putting his Halti on. God, I have really got to stop thinking for myself.

It was all fine until he realized we were out of vision of the house and then he went batshit. I could hardly hold on to him. His eyes crossed from all the excitement and he didn't know which way was up, sniffing every pissed on pole and rock along the way. We finally got to a park bench and I hooked his leash around it so that I could use my left hand to reattach my right arm. While Madison was playing we rested at the bench. Until the inevitable happened.

A well-behaved off-leash dog came bounding into the park. This dog was playing happily with its owners, fetching a ball like a normal canine. This pup didn't even care about my dog, didn't care that my dog was strangling himself trying to get a little closer. I endured the yelping and whining for about 15 minutes, I then gave myself a pep talk, "Get a hold of yourself Amber!". Bocephus never did settle down and I picked a moment when the other dog was out of sight to unclip his leash so I could get the hell out of that park.

All the way back home I let him know that he's damn lucky that I love him and would never punch him in his big ass mouth. He gave me a look that pretty much said he didn't give a shit. True love me and this dog.

Bocephus - Legendary Country Singer

Love It

Halti. Love it! My pooch is a little over 100 pounds and would pull me all the way to Canada if I let him. We struggled with harnesses and choke collars for a few months until we found this. It doesn't cause any pain, it goes around their snout and when they start to pull it simply shuts their mouth and turns their head back.

They come in all sizes and you can get one at Alaska Mill and Feed, PetZoo Animal Food Warehouse and others.

What Is This?

Madison: (holding a small round black object) "What is this?"

Me: "I don't know."

Madison: "What is it?"

Me: "I don't know."

Madison: Sigh. "But, what is it?"

Me: "Madison, I don't know, if I knew I promise I would tell you. It's a black thing."

Madison: "Uh. Not 'what color is it', WHAT is it?"

Me: (trying to hold together my hysterical laughter and make up a name for this alien object) "It looks like a    black cap of some sort."

Madison: (obviously not impressed with my answer) "Fine."

This conversation took place when she was 3 years old.

This Pregnant Situation

I have been pregnant, this time, for 27 weeks so far. In case you didn't know, a woman is typically with child for 40 weeks. 40 weeks. That's 40 weeks. 40 weeks of hard-ass work.

I have a 5-year old, Madison, the most beautiful and fearless human being that ever lived that anyone would love to have 2 of. What happens after you have one is that after a while you forget what it was like to carry that baby around in your body for, oh, I don't know, about 40 weeks and then give birth to that baby, and then attach that same baby to your engorged boob for however long you can take it, and then explain to that same baby why you would really prefer to use the bathroom alone and would she please stop crawling up your legs.

We forget all that and in a moment of weakness, usually induced by consumption of copious amounts of tequila, we go ahead and make another baby.

It started with the morning, I mean, all-day sickness. Along with that came the "I've hit a brick wall" fatigue. There's also the gas and the heartburn. These are all things that I remembered from my first pregnancy. This time though, this time, something is different. Something in my brain snapped. My husband heard it, it left a huge ass red mark on the side of his head.

Up until this past month I avoided all public situations and anyone that wasn't my daughter, my brother or my mother. I did this to keep the public safe. I did this to keep myself out of jail and the good patron's of Bell's Nursery on Specking out of a hostage situation.

When I was only a little pregnant and didn't realize the transformation that my hormones were under (even though my husband kept showing me the red mark on his head) I went out in...public...with my mother. She wanted to take me to the nursery to shop for some flowers at the beginning of summer. As she was roaming through the aisles and I had to stand at the outskirts to guard the cart I found myself imagining doing terrible things. Terrible things to that bitch that no matter where I go she has to step in front of me or trip over my cart and then act like I'm in her way. Terrible things to the lady who asked no less than 17 times if the cashier was sure that "these are gonna bloom in purple, like the picture". I mainly wanted to just pick up random flats of flowers and throw them at random strangers. I wondered to myself what my mom would do if I began this rampage.

She would leave and act like she didn't know me. I asked her.

After that Sunday afternoon I didn't go back out in public or talk to my in-laws until just a few weeks ago.

You're welcome.

That means no e.

Since being married on the bitterly cold day of January 5, 2008 I have had the joy of correcting everyone I meet on the street of the spelling of my last name. It's Wolf, like the animal.

I was warned of this by my sister-in-law, she often complained of her maiden name days and of common misspellings. "People misspell "Wolf", no way." I scoffed. Yes, I scoffed, I hate to even admit that. Sorry. I thought that maybe it was her, that she must have been saying her own last name in some strange, alien way that would give strangers the reason to question the spelling of such a simple name. Wolf. W-o-l-f. Easy. How hard could that be? Fucking hard apparently.

"What last name is the account under?" innocent and helpful customer service representative
"Wolf." patient and caring consumer
"W-o-l-f-e" dumbass cashier that most likely failed out of every grade except kindergarten
"NO E, like the animal" wild-eyed and drooling customer, growling just to enhance the fact that it's like the animal

I know that I will get hate-mail accusing me of being a heartless bitch that just needs to calm down and rejoice that I don't have a last name like "Brandanowitz". If you knew me you would also know that the term "calm down" will also send me into a frenzy.

I'm estimating that on average I spend about 20 minutes per week explaining that my name is Wolf, like the animal. No E, just one O, just one L, just one F. Like the animal.

Tom Wolfe, see E's are scary people.