My Not-So-Secret Fantasies

(This Is My 50 Shades Of Grey)

My Not-So-Secret Fantasies

Most new moms can probably agree that the sex life takes a bit of a hit once you have a baby.

However, lately, I've been having some pretty wild fantasies. Let me share them with you...
*clears throat*
I have a fantasy that Johnny Depp walks into my room, crawls into my bed—places a sleep mask over my eyes...and lets me sleep.
I have a fantasy that Brad Pitt comes up behind me as I'm undressing for bed...wraps me in a soft robe, guides me over to my bed...and I fall asleep.
I have a fantasy that Bradley Cooper tickles my arm and whispers in my ear "have a nice sleep" as I nod off into dreamland.
That's right. I'm having SLEEP fantasies. That's all I want. And I'll take it anywhere, any way. 
I'll take sleep in a car, on a train, 
on a couch, on a plane. 
I'll take sleep with green eggs & f*cking ham! 
I'll take any sleep, cuz Sleepless I Am! 
I seriously daydream about what it might feel like to have more than 3 consecutive hours of sleep. I think I might even drool a little bit while my mouth is slightly agape...(It's a good look for me)
And I know it's all you hear from new moms "lack of sleep, blah blah blah." But I'm sorry—it's true. I totally expected it, and I know it could still be worse—but seriously...
I think of you...naked. All dark and handsome. You hold me in your tender arms and caress my heavy eyelids. My body gives into you as it trembles on the verge of consciousness. Oh...oh...I'm almost there...
(I think I just had a 10th of an orgasm)

Sigh. That was fun while it lasted...

Back to reality. 

It's 9:02pm and I'm going to crawl into my bed & attempt to sleep... (and by "bed" I mean piece of foam on the floor of my son's room so I can feed him easier and console him when he wakes up 12 thousand times in the night...)
PS. If you have any sleep tricks, please share them. I am allllll ears!  

I'm An Olympic Mom


I'm An Olympic Mom

After spending 2 weeks sitting on my a$$ watching the world's best athletes compete, it got me thinking:

Maybe I should train and become an Olympic athlete? (I always do this, just ask my husband.) Anytime I'm inspired by ANYTHING, I want to be a part of it. 

Two of my best friends are doctors. "Maybe I should go to medical school? I like biology & anatomy."

Husband: "But what about math?"

Me: "Oh yeah. I hate math. Nevermind."

And just like that, I forget about it. 

But not the Olympics. I'm seriously thinking about the Olympics. But I would have to pick a sport that you can just "pick up" when you're 30. Gymanstics is out. Damn.

So I thought, what about rowing? I could get into that. But I heard that it's so painful it feels like you're dying...Hmm. Maybe not.

How about shot-put? I have broad shoulders. I could throw shit.

Or speed walking? Just kidding. That's not a sport. Oh is. (sorry!) 

And then I realized...I'M ALREADY TRAINING FOR THE OLYMPICS!! Every night at 7:00pm, I begin my "routine" as I train for the MOM OLYMPICS!

To see me in action, please click HERE!

*I apologize in advance for the less-than-stellar quality of this video. I didn't have access to my real video camera, so the good old iphone camera had to step in...*





On Turning 30 and the Loss of Bladder Control


On Turning 30 and the Loss of Bladder Control

You think you have a good "I peed my pants story." You've got nothing on me. NOTHING. |

It's not a birthday celebration until someone pees their pants. That's what I always say. Or at least that's what I say now

Now that I've turned 30 and have officially lost all control of my bladder. Yep. That's what happens. Once you push a baby out of your vag and you get old like me—you pee your pants. Just accept it. It's part of aging.

And now that I'm officially old, I have the right to complain about hip and joint pain, and say things like "he's got THE diabetes" (cuz when you're old, you put the word THE in front of every ailment/illness.) I can start getting perms at the salon, and lick my finger before I turn the page of a book. I'll carry used kleenex stuffed up my sleeve, and wake up at 5:30am because "I don't want to waste the day."


Anyway, back to my birthday party festivities. You're probably wondering, "What did your lovely husband plan for you on your 30th Birthday?" Well, I must say, I was pleasantly surprised with a weekend away in the pretty lakeside city of Kingston, Ontario. He rented the three of us a hotel suite on the water, and arranged for my parents to come down on the Saturday night to look after Cole so that we could go out on our own.

And this is where SHIT WENT DOWN PEOPLE! I'm talking strip-clubs, diamonds, fireworks, illegal substances, tigers, fire-spinning orgies (is that even a thing?)...
Okay, well that's what it FELT LIKE to be free from our adorable five-month-old baby for a night. In reality, we went down to the hotel restaurant and sat on the patio to enjoy 2 bottles of wine. 

And let me tell you, four glasses later and this light weight (I'm pointing to myself) was absolutely LOADED. It was awesome. 

We talked, laughed, drank...and looked at pictures of our son. I know. How lame are we? But he's just so damn cute. We couldn't help ourselves. We also might have drunkenly talked to our server about "how great it is to be a parent." and basically urged her to go home and get pregnant...

Anyway, when it was clear that we were that annoying table that just wouldn't go home (no one else was in the restaurant at this point) we decided to pay our bill and leave. I wanted to walk home along the waterfront trail, so we took a small detour. On this detour while we were walking, my husband stubbed his toe on a rock. To subside the pain, he immediately began doing jumping jacks. For some reason, I thought this was THE MOST HILARIOUS THING IN THE WORLD and I collapsed to the ground and instantly started to pee. I couldn't stop it. I tried. I tried oh-so-hard but I couldn't hold it in. There I was, sitting on the grass in my pretty birthday dress in a puddle of my own pee. Birthday pee. 
I had always heard women say that "after you have a baby, it's harder to hold your pee" and I guess this is where those damn kegels would have come in handy (note to self: DO MORE FREAKING KEGELS) but...what's done is done—'s a story to remember, that's for sure.
On my 30th Birthday, I peed my pants.
I am, however, scared of what might happen on my 40th Birthday....?