”It’s great, there’s nothing like it, everyone should go!”

And so you plan your trip and book it with the travel agent.

When you ask what it’s like after you go to Neptune, she won’t give you a straight answer.  But the fact is, everyone you know who has gone to Neptune is just DIFFERENT now.  They are changed and can’t explain all the reasons why.  But you think, that won’t happen to me, what could happen, I’ll still be the same person right?  I mean, REALLY, how different could my life be?

So the time comes, and you and your partner get in the rocket ship and go. For some people the trip is really amazing and easy and fast, and for some it’s awful and they puke the whole entire time, and for others they have a really long, beautiful experience, while for others it’s quick and painless. And when you get back, all you can do is talk about the trip at first, that’s all anyone who knows you wants to talk about anyway.  And then, about 3 weeks later you realize how different you are.  How your life will never be the same. The things you’ve had to give up, the things you now are asked to do.  Sometimes you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and you can see your old self in there, but just slightly, oops, wait, shit, now it’s gone. You’ll hear a song on the radio and remember a time before going to Neptune when that song meant it’s THE WEEKEND and you CAN’T WAIT for so and so’s party, or having a martini after work with friends, or that trip to VEGAS that was off the hook.  But now you’ve been to Neptune, and you only hear that song in the car rushing to the supermarket. Or you’ll look in your closet and you can’t BELIEVE you once wore a skirt that small, or that short, or heels that high, or that EXPENSIVE? What were you thinking?  Didn’t you realize that you were going to Neptune someday and all those things would become utterly useless?  Where are you going in $745 red suede Christian Louboutins now?  And now that you’ve gone to Neptune, do they even fit?

It’s so much easier to talk to those who have traveled to Neptune. They walk around in the same fog that you do.  They speak the same foreign tongue, “onesie, binky, episiotomy, tummy time.”  They understand when you have to rush off to “pump”, or deal with your “sleep schedule”.  They empathize about the witching hour and colic, or your desperation to have time to watch Project Runway, that Tivo is your lifeline to the outside world.  They know. They too have been to Neptune, and know, you can never go home again.

Now that I’ve been, I have a few things to say. I want to start by apologizing to my vagina. I just…I just didn’t know what was going to happen. I thought it might be easy, or, well, easier than it was. All my life being told I have “child-birthing hips.”  Which is just a lie, it’s a dirty goddamned lie. It’s like when people say “don’t kill spiders they’re lucky,” it’s all lies to make you feel better about the situation you are in. I pushed for 3 hours and I put you, dear vagina through hell and I’m sorry.  I just wish I could go back in time, and get to know you better and appreciate your work more.  I just…I just didn’t know.  I appreciate all your hard work and effort and I know you tried.  I tried to protect you, I did my best and I’m really, really sorry.   I can only hope that someday soon the bad feelings between us can be healed.  I really hope that happens soon, this relationship has gotten really painful, and honestly, it’s been weeks now. Please let the healing begin.

I would also like to apologize to my husband for many things.  The inappropriate name calling in the delivery room.  All the resentment I had toward you because I had to carry her for 9 months and you did not.  And the name-calling I did then as well.  I will have sex with you again someday, I promise, that will happen.  I mean, don’t hold your breath or anything, but we’ll get there.  I will wear attractive lingerie again as well.  These grandma underpants aren’t FOREVER!… Um…about my boobs.  While I appreciate your attempts to touch them, I hope you understand that these are not for you at this time, these are working breasts, and they are under construction at the moment, and we appreciate your patience at this time.  It’s funny; I can see both fear and delight in your eyes at the size of them.  And trust me, they are something to fear. I never thought one boob could dwarf the size of my baby’s head, but it’s true. Her bravery to attack it  literally head on, day after day is impressive.  I must apologize to her as well. I had no idea that my boobs would operate in a prinkler type fashion when it came to feeding, and I have shot her in the face many, many, many times. My apologies there. But the way she fights back through the force of the spray, which is a force to be reckoned with, it is quite something. She is a brave, strong gal.

I apologize to any woman whose baby shower I attended before I had a baby.  I just didn’t know what you really needed, and all those useless stuffed animals and baby booties …well, I’m sure they came in handy at some point, I just should have stuck to the registry and got you some things you could have used right away.  So sorry.

I need to quickly apologize to my cats for bringing home the “new hairless cat that gets all the attention these days”.  I’m sorry you can no longer sleep on the bed, and you have let me know how you feel about that with your poo.  Message received.

I apologize once again to my husband, this time for criticizing you every time you dress our daughter. I know that she is my very own personal doll come to life, and I like to play dress up, but you make such weird choices.  Why would you put her in a sweater in August?  It’s the middle of the day, a nightgown, really?  It’s bedtime, sweetheart, why is she wearing a hat?  I am going to try to hold my tongue, I recognize this is not America’s Top Model, but I do ask you to just think about what makes sense sometimes, that’s all.

I apologize to every mother I saw before I had a baby for judging your appearance. I mentally criticized those old sweat pants, big t-shirts and haphazard ponytails.  I thought you just hadn’t taken the time to get ready before you went out, or you were in need of a makeover. Now I understand that you had simply fallen in to that “mom thing.”  Perhaps we should get you on one of those special Oprah episodes.  I am sorry because I was mean and misunderstood, and I get it now. I understand those precious minutes that are savored when the baby goes down for a nap.  The desperation to stretch them out, make the most of every minute!  I could shower! I could eat! I could sleep! Email! Workout! Laundry! Have sex! (Well, maybe not just yet, but…) I could do so much if she would just sleep for a few more minutes!  And inevitably, there’s that sound through the monitor.  [Stop.  Wait. Listen]… Was it for real?… That was just a sneeze, right?… Is she up? …She’s not up, right?… Oh, please, I’m almost done, I’m almost done eating, the coffee’s almost ready, I thought I could shower,  just 5 more just 5 more minutes please just…NOPE. Fuck. She’s up.  She’s hungry. She’s wet.  She’s something. And once you’ve got her set, fed, watered and changed, there you are, now on the clock to get that errand done before it all unravels again. There is absolutely NO time for a blow out or blusher.  I get it. I was a complete bitch and I’m sorry.  I’m really sorry because I see how people look at me now in the market, with that mixture of pity and disgust, in my old Old Navy nursing tank covered in spit-up and the same maternity shorts that I wear every goddamned day .I am like the elephant man.  I put my daughter in fancy clothes when we go out to compensate for the monster that is pushing her around.  I see the stares, I know what you’re saying.  Well fuck you, you small pants wearing Miley Cyrus loving fuckhead.  I just had a baby.  I am not always this fat. And I used to be on TV.  Fuck you.

I guess I should also apologize for my anger. But in solidarity to new mothers everywhere I am NOT going to.

Finally, I’d like to apologize to my former self. I always thought you had a few pounds to lose and maybe you could look better.  I never knew how good I had it, and I am really sorry.  What I would give to fit into my clothes again!  I look at you longingly, day after day. Hi jeans.  Hello Diane Von Furstenburg wrap dress. You were all so good to me. Sigh.  Good times.

I never appreciated my boobs enough. They were great boobs too, not too big, just enough décolletage. I mean, a really solid bunch of gals. They got the job done. And now…sigh…who knows what’s left.

I should have slept in more.  I used to beat myself up if I slept past 8, or stayed out too late.  I was a fool.  A FOOL. What did I know?

And to do anything at all at a leisurely pace…shop, eat, read the newspaper ANYTHING without having to wear a monitor like a tricorder out of Star Trek.  Waiting. Listening. For her. I’m sorry former self.  I truly am.

One thing I will never be sorry about is that I took that trip to Neptune.  I don’t know if I’ll go again, but I know it was worth it no matter how much it cost me.  I can’t really explain it.  You wouldn’t understand.  Not unless you’ve been.

Afterbirth Stories

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I’m alone.

She’s gone.

She told me she was leaving me and that she was taking my kids away from me too.

At first I was stunned.

Why would she leave?

Did she not want to be with me?

And the kids. How could she take care of them, all by herself.

This is the first time I’ve been alone since the day we met.

The house feels empty.

Cold.

I would always yell at them to turn the lights off when they leave the room.

“You’re wasting electricity! Doesn’t anyone in the house care?”

Now I walk around the house, turning all the lights on. Room after room. Light after light.

Click.
Click.
Click.

I don’t know what to do with myself. The sound of the television reminds me of them.

I watch Blues Clues. It makes me cry.

I didn’t get in until 5am this morning.

I’m tired.

Maybe I’ll just try and sleep all day.

Shut down. Recharge the battery.

I made some plans with they guys. OutBack Steakhouse and Shutter Island.

That should keep me busy for awhile but they’ll ask how I’m doing and I’ll probably lie to them.

They’ll make some jokes about me finally having my space. They’ll say that they wish their wives would leave them too.

I’ll tell them it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.

“Who’s gonna do my laundry?”

Everyone will laugh.

I guess I will too.

After all…

It’s only a quick trip to see her parents. She’ll be back on Monday. Kids and all.

I’ll enjoy it while I can.

No detail is too small…

Now if you’ll excuse me. I have a Zombie movie with a side of Beef Jerky, waiting for me in the den. I think I’ll watch it in my underwear. Thank you very much.

No one is Out-Numbered in this house, this weekend…

I had no idea how temperamental this teeny weeny could be. Being a new mom, it took me forever to realize that using a washcloth to cover “his business” would work. So I learned, by trial and error – which means that I was doing a TON of laundry everyday. The minute the diaper came off, it was every man for himself.

But there is one story in particular that makes me laugh everytime I think about it.

My husband and I took our little guy to his doctor’s appointment for his 3-month well-baby check. Once in the room, I told the nurse that I would have to change him because his diaper was full. She told us to take our time and that she would be back in a couple of minutes. So I lay the little man down on the examination table and start taking his stuff off. I got down to everything but the diaper. I had the clean diaper ready to go. With the sides of the diaper open, I pull the diaper down away from the baby; and then, all hell broke loose.

It was as if someone turned on this crazy fire hose that no one was holding on to – he started peeing everywhere. He was spraying the walls, me, daddy, himself – EVERYTHING. The funniest thing was that the baby had no idea that he had transformed into an out-of-control fire hydrant. My husband and I were laughing so hard, I nearly peed my pants. It was as if the kid hadn’t peed at all during those first 3 months, and decided to empty it all out right there. It was HYSTERICAL.

Finally, it was over. The wall was DRIPPING urine (no, I’m not even kidding). His clothes were drenched. I was wet. And, he just lay there looking around, looking bored, covered in pee. The nurse walked in at that moment. She stopped in her tracks as soon as she noticed the wall. She looked at us – we looked at her.

“We’re going to need a moment” I said to her, “and some paper towel”.

You think?

One woman told me that I shouldn’t even be outside with them! I’ve had people comment on my stroller being too big, and the babies being too old for pacifiers. I don’t invite these comments but people, it seems, have lots of opinions about child rearing.

My favorite story was when my 63-year-old mother was out walking my newborn twins so I could take a nap. Someone walked over to her to say that they thought it was disgusting what modern medicine was able to do. My mom just looked at her and explained that she was the grandmother and the mother was home sleeping. The woman just looked at her and said oh, and kept walking.

It seems like it was only yesterday that she was shitting in the bath tub, eating chalk and falling down the stairs. It all happens so fast, I tell ya.

Some Dads get a bit timid when it comes to dealing with their daughter’s progression. I personally don’t see the problem. Every time my little princess says something that indicates she’s advancing on to the next level, it makes me smile. It’s like watching someone break the high score on Ms Pac-Man. Did you know there are 256 levels on Ms Pac-Man?

There are way more levels in life.

Anyway, instead of getting sentimental and teary eyed when my baby shows signs of growing up, it gets me charged. For instance, the other day I picked my family up from the airport. We were all in the car and she asked me…

“Dad, how was your *quotation marks* man weekend O fun?”

Aside from her making my weekend sound like a gay porn retreat, the question itself isn’t much of an indication of level advancement. But she actually utilized the finger “quotation marks” in the correct context.

That’s a huge leap right there.

Then the next morning when I was getting her ready for school, she turned to me while she was brushing her teeth and had this to tell me…

“When I was getting on the plane, I asked the Pilot how much horse power the plane has. He said it has about 50,000 horse power. That means you can fit 50,000 horses on the plane and it will still fly.”

OK so she doesn’t quite get the concept of horse power. But who the fuck does? I couldn’t explain it. I didn’t even try. The point is, she was curious enough to ask an airplane pilot an intelligent question on her own. That is really impressive to me.

I’m definitely torn.

I love my little angel as this intuitive, smart ass, little munchkin. Part of me wants to freeze her, like the head of Ted Williams and keep her safe in my basement. But the other part of me wants her to be 21 tomorrow, so we can go out for sushi, guzzle jugs of Sake and talk about the mysteries of life, until we can’t see straight anymore.

All in due time I suppose.

I’ll have to wait. I need to let her tackle all 256 levels on her own. Even if it means seeing her get eaten by some pink ghosts along the way.

It’s the right thing to do.

I know this because I couldn’t answer this question, from the car the other night…

“Daddy, how do you make a baby exactly?”

My gut instinct was to tell her the truth. That you need Vodka, Lenny Kravitz albums and Binaca. But I couldn’t… I didn’t want her to know the truth.

Not yet.

So I did the right thing.

I told her to ask her Mom.

Then her Mom did the right thing.

She told her that when two people cuddle and they love each other, they can make a baby.

And then my daughter said…

“Me and Daddy cuddle?”

Then we offered her Ice Cream and one of those new piece of crap, Zhu Zhu pet hamster things.

I think freezing her head is the right thing to do…

outnumbered

Everyone told me that it isn’t the Terrible Two’s I had to watch out for the but Tantrum Three’s.  They were quite right. I have never seen anything so dramatic, over the top or hysterical than the tantrums thrown by my daughter.  She makes the women on ‘Rock of Love’ or the ‘Bad Girls Club’ look like nuns.  At one point right around the holidays she seemed to have turned over a new leaf.  We breathed a quiet, stealthy sigh of relief and made the sign of the cross.  Weeks went by and our house was a happy home.  Dinners were ate with quiet conversation. Errands were run without hysterical sobbing episodes.  All was quiet on the western front. 

Then I got pregnant again and now all hells broken loose.  It is as if Linda Blair invades my daughter’s body daily, especially between the hours of 4-7 p.m.  Remember when that used to be called ‘Happy Hour’? Ah, memories. Instead we have a tangle of limbs, kicking doors and me seriously considering calling Nanny 911.  No advice from friends and family has worked.  We don’t load her up on sugar. She doesn’t run wild and she isn’t too scheduled. We try to talk things through and prepare her for how the day will run in advance.  It doesn’t matter. A switch is hit and my smart, fun-loving daughter suddenly becomes the child you run from when out in public.  I am sure I am the mother you judge and ‘tsk-tsk’.  It breaks my heart and leaves me at a loss.  I am out of ideas as well.

We are in our eleventh hour  and I’m about to start acting desperate calling out for Obi-Wan Kenobi as he might be our only hope.  We truly are in need of a good tantrum tamer because I’m at my wits end.

Here’s a hint: This engine is a renegade diesel engine on the Island of Sodor who is 10 out of 10 for brutal strength and devious deeds.  Stumped? Just visit the new Engine Depot section of the revamped Thomas and Friends website. There you can see Thomas and all of his engine friends.

Each week we will feature a new Thomas and Friends engine. Guess right and you’ll be entered to win tickets to Day Out With Thomas and the latest Thomas DVD releases – Thomas & the Runaway Kite and Splish, Splash, Splosh! Get it wrong? Don’t worry, you’ll have another chance to guess next week.

Last week’s train was Rosie!

Day Out With Thomas is an exciting way for children and grown ups to enter the world of Thomas and Friends. The events at different railroad stations across the country provide an opportunity for kids to ride aboard a train led by Thomas and have their pictures taken with Sir Topham Hat! Each of the events offers visitors a fresh and unique experience that distinguishes host U.S. railroads. Different forms of entertainment – from petting zoos and pony rides to face-painting and magic shows – make each Day Out with Thomas event special.

Enter for a chance to win 4 tickets to Day Out With Thomas (winner chosen April 11th)! 1 second place winner will be chosen each week (total of 4) to receive one of the latest Thomas DVD releases – Thomas & The Runaway Kite or Splish, Splash, Splosh!

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The recently updated Bébé au Lait burp cloths — now edged with piping that provides more durability — are perfect for nursing mothers. Trimmed with Bébé au Lait patterns and featuring a swatch of printed fabric in the center, the burp cloths are made of cotton terry and come in a gift box of three. New prints for the hooded towels and burp cloths are available now on bebeaulait.com and in select juvenile specialty stores. The hooded towel has a retail price of $40 and the burp cloth 3-pack has a suggested retail price of $20.

FACEBOOK GIVEAWAY: We are giving away one Bebe au Lait Burp Cloth set in Marmont and one baby sized hooded towel in Capri on facebook this week!  Visit our  honestbaby fan page to enter!  ($60.00 Value).

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