First it was Kobe...

Then it was A-Rod...

Followed by Steve McNair...

Et tu, Tiger?
I hold part of the blame for this situation. No, I didn't cheat with Tiger Woods. But I put him on a pedestal, thinking a man with his background-- raised in a good home by both parents-- would have known better.

I was wrong.

Just like so many professional athletes before him, and I'm sure, many more who will follow him, Tiger Woods is the latest star (can I use the word superstar to describe the highest paid athlete in the world?) to succomb to rumors of infidelity.

Unless you've been hiding under a rock (you can't even use being out of the country as an excuse on this one), you've probably heard about the late night car accident that sent Woods to the hospital before dawn on Black Friday. Woods, playing the ultimate celebrity trump card, has refused to discuss the accident with Florida Highway Patrol (it's his right, I guess), leading to a lot of speculation as to exactly what happened... and exactly what's been happening in the Woods' household.

Turns out, the world's best golfer has been putting in a different hole (oh my gosh, I can not believe I just wrote that...). Everyone from the Huffington Post (a source I would NEVER use at my day job, by the way) to ESPN to the BBC are reporting that Woods has been having an affair with a night club waitress from New York City.


As near as I can tell, the mere mention that El Tigre might hold a candle for both these women-- his wife (on left), Elin Nordegren, and his mistress (on right), Rachel Uchitel-- leads me to believe two things:

First, Woods only dates women with last names that are impossible to pronounce; and second, that if I wore massive aviator sunglasses, he might find me attractive, too.
What on earth would cause a man-- a man who has more money in his pocket right now than I'll probably make in the next two decades-- to cheat on his wife? What if that wife were a former Norwegian model, with gorgeous blonde hair, long legs, and a chest that begs to be looked at? What if that wife had helped you through the death of your father? What if that wife had fathered your two children-- your two daughters?

Doesn't he owe her something for standing by him through so much?
I tend to believe that my own DH would never cheat on me. I think he knows better than to wake a sleeping giant. But this incident gives me pause. If a beautiful woman like Elin Nordegren Woods can't keep her husband faithful, what about me? What about you? Are any of our marriages safe?

I am so stinking excited for my first giveaway... so excited that I couldn't wait til Monday to post about it!

BabyLegs, anyone?

If you've got a little one in your house, or you've leafed through a baby/toddler magazine any time recently, you've probably heard of these cool little leg warmers.


I got G her first pair when she was just four months old; over the past year, they have grown with her (well, grown might be the wrong word, because they haven't stretched out at all). They kept her warm during her first winter; they protected her tender little legs from carpet burn as she learned to crawl; they softened her falls as she took her first timid steps. And they've kept up with her, too-- they look just as good today (despite all those falls and all those tumbles!) as they did when I bought them. And, I'm so sure G will love them into the future, I've just bought two new pairs for her!

Now, I am going to pass four-- YES, FOUR!-- pairs on to you. Of those four pairs I mentioned, two are more "for boys" and two are more "for girls". Here is how this oh-so-exciting-very-first-giveaway is going to work:

You can enter one of ways...
1. Follow me! (new and current followers both count!)
2. Leave a comment
3. Take my button and place it on your blog
4. Write a post about this giveaway
5. Add me to the list of "blogs you follow" on your blog's home page

...and remember, people, I'm a journalist... so I will "fact check"!

Leave me one comment for each "entry." If you want to win the boy pairs, please write BOY in each of your entries. If you want the girl pairs, write GIRL. If you don't care which lot you win, write BOTH.

You have until Thursday at 11:59pm EASTERN time to enter. I will assign a number to each entry, and use a random number generator to pick the winners. They'll be announced on Friday, and if you are the winner and can get in touch with me quickly, I will get your prize in the mail heading to you on Saturday.

So comment... post... follow... just don't let this giveaway slip through your fingers.

I hope you're all enjoying this day with your families, friends, and other loved ones!

This year, I have so much to be thankful for... my amazing daughter, my supportive husband, family who love me unconditionally and friends who are like family...

But tonight, I am especially thankful for the opportunity to give G one last drink.

It was now one year, two months, and 12 days since we welcomed G into our family. But because of a medical condition present at her delivery, I wasn't able to nurse her until she was 4 days old (yes, the picture at left is a photo of my first attempt at nursing her in our NICU cubby... that should explain the greasy, hasn't-been-washed-in-days hair, no make-up, and sweatsuit. I think it's a beautiful photo, and I don't think it shows anything inappropriate; if you disagree, please keep that comment to yourself!) Ever since that first time, when was she was just four days old, it is something she and I have done every single night of her life...

...until now...

Tonight, I will officially wean my little girl.

Really, she's not so little anymore. She was just a hair under seven pounds at birth, and today, she's closing in on 23 pounds. I like to credit most of that healthy weight gain is due to my milk-- the source of life, the fountain of youth!-- but in all honesty, although she's never had a drop of formula, she did start solids the day she hit four months and I eagerly anticipated didn't mind her first birthday, because I knew it meant she could finally move on to cow's milk.

That's not to say it's been all smooth-sailing. It was tough at first-- ok, really tough-- there was the initial engorgement; maddening, sleepless nights when she refused to latch on at 3am, yet wailed for hunger; two bouts of mastitis in just the first two months. She's bit me I don't know how many times, especially when she was first teething and didn't know what to make of those razor-sharp little chompers. There have been nights when she's cried, then I've cried, out of confusion and frustration over exactly what we were doing. There were months... and months and months... of pumping in a cold, uninviting women's bathroom in the bowels of the TV station, where I saw more cockroaches than people.

I didn't set out to nurse her for 14 and a half months, either. At first, my goal was just to get through for first two weeks. Then, a month. Two months. Four. Through my transition back to work. Six months. Nine. It wasn't until I surpassed the year mark that I finally allowed myself to relax, to breathe a sigh of relief... that I could stop nursing her any time I wanted to. But I didn't want to. The more I thought about weaning her, the more rabid about nursing her I became. Even now-- with that last session a mere 11 hours away-- I'm still thinking about backing out, about changing my mind, about nursing her until she's eight years old and going off to a sleepover at her friend's house and tells me, "Mom, that's simply not cool." Saying tonight is her "last drink" almost sounds like we're about to enter rehab... and in a way, it kind of feels like I'm embarking on a 12-step program. I know there will be a little sadness; there will be some regrets; I will probably make excuses for why I did it for so long, and excuses for why I stopped too soon; but, in the end, I know I will accept my decision because it's a way of letting my little girl grow up. It's not the end. It's just the beginning of a new, bittersweet phase. For her. For me, too.

So, tonight when I lay her across my lap on that Boppy pillow we have more than gotten our money's worth for, I will stroke her hair one last time. I will smell in her freshly-washed baby sweetness. I will whisper into her ear how much I love her, how much I've adored our time like this together. I will place her into her crib, kiss her goodnight, and close the door on one chapter of our relationship as mother and daughter... and open the door to new possibilities.

Want to see what others are thankful for? Head to Welcome to the Nut House for more Thankful Thursdays... a great way to give thanks YEAR ROUND!

**************************************
I also wanted to use this day of thanks to thank Dondi at Confessions Of A Housewife and Heidi at "From 3 To 5" for giving me this award:


Thanks, Ladies!
I've been fortunate enough to win the "Best Blog" Award once before; if you'd like to see that original post (and who I passed the award on to then), just head here.

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I'm going to take the rest of the holiday weekend off from blogging, and when I return on Monday (Cyber Monday, for those of you who plan on spending a good chunk of the day doing your holiday shopping online!), I will have my first giveaway to share with all of you... and maybe make your holiday shopping a little easier!

By the way, the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade starts in exactly 21 minutes, and you know I will be front row and center in front of my TV to see it, and share it with G...

Forget the turkey.

Forget the stuffing.

You can even forget the gosh darn pumpkin pie. but not the whipped cream... don't ever forget the Redi-Whip!

What I am really looking forward to tomorrow is this:

Ahhhh, yes...

The Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade!The balloons... the floats... the B-list musical guests... yes, this is the standard of my Turkey Day mornings over the years.

Come a little closer though... and I'll tell you a secret... don't tell, but in the scope of holiday parades, it's not as flambuoyant or even as impressive as the Rose Bowl Parade on New Year's Day... but I'm usually tearing down all my holiday decorations by then, so that parade takes on a far more somber feel.)

While I adore watching Snoopy soar dozens of feet above the streets of the Big Apple, and listening to The Jonas Brothers croon their latest teeny bopper hit (I wish I was being sarcastic here... but I'm not), my favorite part of the entire parade, hands down, are these girls:


That's right-- the one...

The only...

Radio City Music Hall Rockettes!
Growing up, the holidays did not officially begin in my house until these long-legged ladies cleared the way for Santa Claus in Herald Square. As soon as they high kicked their way for Santa's arrival, my mom brought our "holiday pins" out of hiding and ceremoniously placed them on our winter coats. It signified the start of the season. Although the beginning of advent may still have been days away, the countdown to Christmas was offically on.

The fact of the matter is, I didn't actually set foot in a Macy's until I was 18 and off to college. And even then, it wasn't a real Macy's-- I mean, it was, the sign was there and everything (and so were the prices)-- it was simply a re-named "Hecht's" after Macy's bought out nearly half a dozen department store chains nationwide.

But I digress...

I knew everything I needed to know about that store because of the parade... and because of them...


For years, I dreamed of being one of them... the few, the proud, the Rockettes. I had the size; you have to be between 5' 6" and 5' 10" to audition, and I split the difference at 5' 8". I had the training. But what I lacked (sigh) was the talent.

Sure, I can kick. I can tap. I can twirl. But when it comes right down to it, my dance skills are pretty average. Enough to shine in the hometown dance recital, enough to hold my own in collegiate performances, even enough to coach a college dance team. But (sadly... and even I am shocked by my own honesty here-- it's not even Tuesday!), not enough to swallow my pride and strut my stuff on the hallowed grounds of Radio City. I almost got up the nerve to go to New York City once to audition. It was right after I got my master's degree, the first year DH & I were married. But I chickened out. I knew my time on stage... in the spotlight... was over. And I moved on.

As I talked about here, I've recently begun dancing again, and it feels divine. But I know my time to perform is over. I'm ok with that; I'll always miss it, but otherwise, that suits me just fine. But tomorrow, when those girls-- those amazing dancers-- take to the streets of the Big Apple, I'll be living vicariously through each and every one of them. And I'll pin my daughter's brand new holiday pin on her brand new holiday jacket, and I'll dream new dreams, about what's to come over the next five weeks in my very own world.

What is your favorite part about Thanksgiving? Please, share!

It's time for a rousing Turkey Day edition of...

Truthful Tuesdays!
Grab the button, play along with the MckLinky on your own blog, or just answer the question by leaving a comment. And if this is your first time visiting, thanks for stopping by!

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This week's question is...

How early is too early to decorate for Christmas?
First, I want to start off by saying there is no wrong answer to this question. I know my sister-in-law has already decked out her entire house. One of my co-workers said on air this week, she already has the wrapped presents underneath her tree.

...ahhh... life without a toddler in the house!

In past years, I have been one of those obnoxious jovial souls who begins celebrating this most-joyous holiday the moment some neighborhood deliquent smashed my Halloween pumpkin into a million pieces in the street. Last year, with a newborn in the house, I had everything in its place by Thanksgiving. The tree was decked with more than 500 lights (we still live in the stone age in our house, and DH had to string the lights by hand because we still don't have a pre-lit tree), my collectable, handmade bulbs were strategically scattered high and low, left and right, so you could see one from every angle. And you can't see it here, but I found the time to not only buy new Christmas stockings for the entire family, I found someone who would monogram them with the initials of each family member-- even the then-3-month-old G and the dog.

I decorated my dining room table, too (the one nobody eats at all year, even during the holiday season). I put my boring "rest-of-the-year" dishes away and brought out my special Christmas plates, chargers, and napkin rings. In the midst of my new mother haze, I even managed to come up with a new creative centerpiece-- a large glass vase stuffed with a variety of sparkly ornaments. And of course, DH trudged up the ladder and on to the eaves of our roof to meticulously string the exterior lights, even the snow flakes and candy canes you see in the picture.

Heck, DH & I even had time to engage in a Mousekegame (Mickey Mouse Club House, anyone?). We bought a 3-foot tall Mickey (who is sure to catch G's eye this year), and took turns hiding him around the house every morning during the entire month of December...


(Hmmm, so that's how I got everything done last year... Mickey was doing half my chores!)

But this year?

This year???

Puh-leeze. Like I have time for decorating! (Or the space-- we have toys everywhere these days!) I have bought exactly three Christmas presents for everyone on my list. I have yet to haul any of the nearly-dozen boxes of holiday junk paraphrenalia down from the attic. I haven't even planned our Thanksgiving dinner meal (although, after reading yesterday's post, that might not be a shock to you!). I've done zip. Zilch. Nada.

I could lie, put a smile on my face and say I'm ok with that. But the truth is, I'm NOT ok with it. Any of it. I'm Alarmed. Panicked. Frenzied. I'm terrified that if I don't start organizing things rightthissecond, it will never get done, and Santa will by-pass our house completely. I keep wondering how I got everything done in such a timely fashion last year... what's different this year. I'm a more-experienced mom. Why am I so far behind?

...and then it hits her...

I wasn't working last year!
In all seriousness, it all will get done (even if I have to stay up til 2am on Christmas morning, by golly, it will get done!). I know that. DH knows it. Old Kris Kringle himself probably knows it.

So, to finally-- circuitously-- answer my own question...

How early is too early to decorate for Christmas?
It's never too early. It's never too late. Whether you're a working mom, a stay at home mom, or a mom with an empty nest, you just do it when you get the time!

...just don't remind me we only have 31 days til Christmas!...

In the spirit of Thanksgiving, all my posts this week will focus on the holiday. And today, it just so happens that this farcical recipe coincides with MckMama's "Not Me! Monday"... I always love it when my posts coordinate with some of my favorite blog hops!

How not to cook a turkey:


STEP 1:
Find a recipe that involves as little prep time and cooking time as possible. Good sources are Better Homes And Gardens and Good Housekeeping. Try not to get waylaid by the sex-advice columns.

STEP 2:
Head to your local grocery store to pick up the ingredients. *NOTE TO SELF*-- deli meat is not the ideal type of holiday turkey. Also on the do not buy list: turducken and tofurkey.

STEP 3:
Come home, pour yourself a cold drink, and contemplate a warm bubble bath. You've done enough work already.

STEP 4:
Thanksgiving morning, begin preparing the bird for the oven. Pre-heat to 350 degrees and cook until you start smelling the musk of wild game. Forgot to thaw it? Then turn up the overn to 450 degrees and pray.

STEP 5:
Wait until the built-in thermometer ejaculates ejects from the bird's flesh. Pull the turkey out of the oven. If you're feeling brave, use the excess oils to create a gravy baste. If you're me, pull out a jar of pre-made "Boston Market" gravy from the cupboard.

STEP 6:
Who forgot to take the giblets out of the bird's belly?

STEP 7:
Serve. Pray your guests are all up to date on their vaccinations, and that no one contracts e. coli or salmonella. Make sure you have poison control's number on speed dial just in case.

STEP 8:
Dig through the turkey's carcass and locate the wishbone. Pull it apart with your weakest guest (Grama? Are you there?). You win, and wish that somebody else hosts Christmas.... (and Easter... and Flag Day...)

STEP 9:
Make your male guests do the dishes. You've worked hard. Finally reward yourself with a glass of wine and that bath you've been thinking about. Nap in front of the tv while watching football.

On second thought, maybe I should just...

Two weeks ago, I wrote this post. I begged. I pleaded. I asked you for any advice to help me from becoming that mom again.

You listened...

You told me to try sitting in a new area. You told me to pack special toys, special books, special foods that would capture G's attention. You told me not to sweat the small stuff.

And today, we listened to your advice.

We didn't bother getting to church early, like we've done in the past. We waited until the priest was just about to walk down the center aisle before taking our seats (no need to maximize G's time in the pews, right?). Instead of choosing a seat near the cry room (which just tempts her, I think), we opted for a seat just a few feet for the choir (it was like G's own personal concert). We watched in amazement as the choir captivated her attention... for about 15 minutes. But we came prepared. Once the awe of the choir wore off, we brought out a baby doll that doesn't get a lot of love at the house, but that was new enough to keep G occupied. That worked for another 10 minutes.

25 minutes down, 35 minutes to go...

...actually, more like 30 minutes to go, because blessedly, Father Jack was our priest today, and his services are snappy...

I brought out the "Baby Bible", a great board book with a soft (re: chewable) cover. DH's parents bought it for G last year for her baptism. I figured it was utterly appropriate for distracting her at church.

10 more minutes!

Then, we hit the part of the mass where there's a lot of kneeling... the part of the mass where there's little singing... the most sacred part, where any little baby squeak reverberates througout the sanctuary. The part that leaves me quaking, and not because of the awe-inspiring nature of God.

But I was prepared...

That's when I pulled out the big guns... Two "American Baby" magazines G had never laid eyes on before. She loves magazines-- she just adores that "glossy paper", and flipping through the pages. She points out each and every baby (even those who are significantly older than her).


TOUCHDOWN!

...just ten minutes left...

...the home stretch...

...G started to get antsy, but that's when the other "G"-- as in "G-O-D"-- smiled down on us, and allowed the choir to launch in a 4-minute long, theatrically-inspired version of Handel's Alleluiah Chorus.

Can you say Alleluiah?

Six minutes... Five minutes... Four minutes... Three minutes... Two minutes... One minute...

WE DID IT!

G's reward for such stellar behavior?

Well, of course there's eternal salvation...

...but she also got to pick out her Christmas gifts at Toys R Us after we left church, too...

Thanks for all your helpful advice!!!

GEEZ, I feel like a traitor...

Usually on Fridays, I look forward to doing Mama M's "Five Question Friday"-- but it's now the middle of the day, she's no where to be seen, and my fingers are dying to type it up on my blog!

So, in the spirit of trying something new, I am playing along with Mrs.4444's "Friday Fragments." Mama M, don't hate me!

Now, I'm still learning the rules... and let me just admit, I never was very good with rules growing up. I once got kicked out of enrichment class in fifth grade because I cheated bent the rules... so if I break them, I'm sorry!

Like sands through the hour glass, here are the fragments of our lives...

I was listening to Dan Patrick's radio show this morning (isn't that what all working moms listen to on the way to work?), when I heard them talking about this Sports Illustrated article. Apparently, working moms are up for SI's sportsman (shouldn't the award be renamed, "sportsperson"?) award. DUH! Whether you're a 3-time Olympian like Christie Rampone or just a mom shuffling her kids to and front soccer practice, all moms deserve this type of recognition. AMEN! If you think all us "working moms" deserve to be SI's sportswomen of the year-- even if you only get as near a basketball as Sporty Spice-- then follow this link and make your voice heard!

I've been thinking a lot about blogging lately... why I do it, what's in it for me. Someone recently commented that my love of all things bloggy amounted to obsession compulsion narcissism... oh, whatever! Maybe it does. I mean, in a way, isn't writing about my life for the whole world (or just 184 of the BEST DARN READERS!) intensely voyueristic?

And while I'm thinking about it, time for a little shameless self promotion (because, again, isn't that what blogging is all about?). I have been working my poor little fingers to the bone (evidence? I had to chop off my lengthy fingernails because they were making it problematic for me to hack away at my keyboard). For what, you ask? Well, my new blogging-buddy Julia and I are planning something big for the new year. I don't want to give anything away... or maybe I do... maybe we want to give away a LOT of stuff! So stay tuned for more!

I just got passed over for a promotion... again. This marks the second time in 18 months that I've lost out on the same position in my newsroom. There have been very good reasons both times. The first time, I was literally about to take five months off to have a baby; both my boss and I knew it wasn't the right time in my life. This time, I can blame my husband. He works overnights, and the promotion would entail me working overnights, too. That doesn't quite add up when you have a toddler in the house! So, I'm not insulted... but to say that I wasn't completely bummed out disappointed when my boss informed me of the new hire would be a lie. This whole episode has just made me realize that if I'm going to move up in the business world, it won't be here. Le sigh.

Well, I think that's it for right now. That was fun! Maybe if I can really budget my time well (that's a laugh!) I can do both this and Mama M's blog hop next Friday... oooh, I'm off work next Friday for Turkey Day (sorta)... that's a definitely possibility!

As promised, here are the winners of my latest blogging award. The rules of the award stipulated I should pass it on to five of my favorite bloggers-- but I'm bending the rules. Since six of you commented on my original post, all six of you will receive it in return!

So, the winners are:

1) Stephanie
2) Brandee
3) Bernie
4) Tamara
5) Eevee
6) Krimsin

The award, the rules, and the original post are all below... ENJOY

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A big shout out to Stephanie at "I Do At The Zoo"-- She's given me this great award! I really appreciate it! And I'd appreciate if all of you would head over to Stephanie's blog and gave her a little love!


My favorite part about this award is that all I have to do to accept it is pass it on to 5 of my favorite bloggers... which I will do later this week!

You could call me Dr. Jekyll & Ms. Hyde.

During the work day, I don't just dress for success. I dress to impress.

You see, I work with this girl. She is one of our reporters, and she is hands down one of the most fashionable people I have ever worked with/known/seen/heard of. She just has it all together.

But it's not just her. It's everyone I work with. These girls/women have style... flare... (I'm starting to sound like the theme song from "The Nanny")... consultants. Plus, some of them have clothing/hair/make-up budgets built into their contracts at the TV station. As a lowly producer who merely works behind the scenes, I do not. So, new clothing and accessories ends up at the very bottom of my shopping list, far below diapers, wipes, cheesy poofs and board books.

That's not necessarily a bad thing. It just means I have to be creative with what I've got. Such as this...

I bought this skirt (see left) my sophomore year of college. It's gone in and out of style twice since then, but I've held on to it over the years! The shoes are from Payless (proof that even the cheapest stores can have great style).










Or, consider this ensemble (at right): I bought every single piece of it at Tar-jay ("Target" to those of you who aren't in the know). I think it all came in-- shoes included-- at less than $75!

Those pictures would showcase my "Dr. Jekyll" character-- the sharp-dressed, career-centric woman. But when I get home... I change... I morph... I evolve... into the messy, the sloppy, the slovenly Ms. Hyde. And honestly sometimes I want to "hyde" from the public eye when I'm dressed in my weekend/weeknight clothes.

In fact, even though I gave DH the task of photographing me in my off-the-job wear, he had a hard time doing it. Most of the time, I hid or ducked away from the camera's private eye. Other times, I'd simply take the camera away from him and erase the pictures he'd just taken. Here are the only weekend-wear pictures he could snap over his two-week-long "assignment":

OK, the last picture isn't actually me... It's DH's feet in my purple Crocs. I took it to get back at him for the picture of me in my warm-ups!
On the weekends, I never wear skirts or dresses. I live in my jeans-- and not my "dress down Friday" pair. I mean, my gritty, nasty, have a huge whole in the a$$ jeans. I don't wear make-up, and usually, I don't bother putting in my contacts either. Sometimes, I even skip brushing my hair in the morning. On the weekends, I really look like a schlub.

But you know what? That fact doesn't really bother this wanna-be-fashionista. I love that I can look forward to dressing down (ok, way down) on the weekends. My weekend wardrobe truly signifies my priorities when I'm off the job-- it's not impressing anybody, it's being myself and having a good time kicking back and relaxing with my family.

How do you kick back and relax after work and on the weekends?

A while back, I talked about my urge to have another baby in this post.

I was willing.

I was wanting.

I was ready.

I started temping every morning again, tracking my cycles. I even made plans to get my IUD removed during my annual OB/GYN appointment. DH and I embarked in a month-long "reconnection" plan (read between the lines) to get ready for, er, all the baby-making to come.

Then a few weeks ago, my friend and I got the chance to visit another friend in the hospital, where she'd just delivered a beautiful baby boy. We both got a chance to hold this little guy and smell his new baby smell, feel how small he is, how his delicate little body just snuggled to our chests. On the way home, she turned to me and asked, "Did holding him make you want another one?"

I answered no. And I meant it.

I'm not sure what happened.

Remember when I told you how there'd been a slew of happy baby news in my world? About half a dozen of my friends are expecting children next year. That group includes three women I met last year during my maternity leave, when we were all adjusting to our first children. Now, they're expecting again. And the pressure is on like Donkey Kong.

You know how it feels when you are the only single bridesmaid, and everyone looks at you like, "Hm, when is she going to find a nice man and settle down?"

PRESSURE!

Then you do get married, and everyone from your maid of honor to your mother-in-law start openly asking at every single family gathering, "When are you going to make me a grandmother/aunt/babysitter?"

PRESSURE!

That's how I feel now! With so many of my "first-time mom" friends preggo again, I feel like I should be preggo again. The pressure is definitely on.

But when I held my friend's baby, I knew I wasn't ready to add to my family. And quite honestly, I'm not sure when I will be. DH and I were saying how nice it would be to get G out of diapers, out of her crib, and out of our hair a little more independent first. But then I wonder-- by the time that happens, will it be too much of a shake-up to our lives to go back to the "baby stage"? I'm starting to feel like, although we definitely want another baby down the road, life may get in the way. We could very easily end up a family that always planned to have a second child... but just never got around to it.

So moms... how did you know it was time to have #2? And if you're like me, and living happily with just one little one, what are your thoughts about eventually expanding your family?

Each Sunday, I create my husband's "honey do" list. Since he works in law enforcement, he has a revolving schedule, which means that many times, he has several days off in the middle of the week. This is the ideal time for him to get certain chores or tasks done (like going to the bank, or the grocery store, or even getting a haircut) without facing the standard weekend crowds. So, I write his list, and tack it up on the fridge.

Some weeks, I feel like I should put a "Honey Don't" list right next to it.

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This week's Truthful Tuesdays question is...
What is your spouse's most annoying habit?
Wow... I could go in so many directions here. Snoring? Check. Whistling? Check. Chewing on ice? Check. (What? It makes my skin crawl like nails on a chalkboard!) But those are all minor infractions compared to what he does that really drives me insane.

Actually, it's what he doesn't do.

He doesn't listen to me.

I am positive I am not the only woman out there with this problem. In fact, I'm pretty sure it's a problem that begins at birth. I swear, daughter listens better to me than my friends' boys listen to them. It's ingrained in a man's personality to not listen-- at least, not listen wholly and attentively-- to what a woman says.

That's why I write DH's weekly "to do" list. That way, there is a written record. That way, he can't claim, "You never told me that," or, "I didn't hear when you said that." That way there is some accountability for his actions... or lack thereof. That way, if I forget to write something down, he is absolved. It keeps us both sane. Most importantly to him, it keeps me from nagging reminding him.

Because, if there was a blog out there asking my hubby to share the habit of mine that bugs him the most, it would be my habit of nagging... and nagging... and nagging.

So, spill the beans...

What is your spouse's most annoying habit?
And how do you cope with it?

Take the button, play along in this blog hop, or simply leave a comment!

Ahhhh, 7th grade. Those halcyon days when it was not only cool to wear flannel and ripped jeans, your popularity hinged on just how many holes those jeans had. When Kurt Cobain and Eddie Vedder ruled, and when the death of the former just hours before my 12th birthday party was cause for a seance among my closest girlfriends. It was the dawn of the 90s, or at least, what I remember as the dawn of the decade. Grunge rock was in, and no one was hotter than Nirvana.

(Pause for a funny antedote: Years later, almost after a decade after Kurt killed himself and the band had broken up, a friend's much younger brother remarked to me how much he adored Nirvana. I asked him what his favorite song was; he replied, "Smells Like Team Spirit"... funny, especially for a kid who didn't even play sports.)

Lately, I've been finding myself turning the dial of my XM radio to the "90's on 9" station on channel-- you guessed it!-- 9. Listening to the grunge of my middle school years to the lollipop boy bands of my high school days definitely takes me back. And each song has a memory.

The other day, I heard the old "Ace Of Base" standard "All That She Wants". I could instantly remember singing that song, along with my friends, during 6th grade homeroom. What did she want? Another baby! But to us, we didn't really hear (much less, understand) the words as much as we loved this "risque" element to a pop song.

Fast-forward though almost the entire decade, and you've got the band that-- I am so ashamed to admit-- more or less defined high school for me: Backstreet Boys. Yes, AJ, Nick, Brian, Howie and Kevin, the "men" (ahem, "boys") who guided me through relationship break-ups, dances in the high school gym, and homework sessions in my bedroom. But my pinnacle BSB moment (which is sadder? that I had a "pinnacle" moment with this band, or that I fluidly use the abbreviation BSB?) was the summer before my senior year of high school, when three of my best friends and I crammed into my little VW Jetta and rocked out to the band's newest smash hit, "I Want It That Way". Wait-- it gets worse. We also convinced our boss to play it over the loudspeaker at the pool where we worked during one slow day and performed the song for a dozen or so bathers... complete with hand gestures. Lame-O. Please don't judge.

They say music can define a generation. Rock 'n Roll defined the 50s. The Beatles characterized the 60s. For better or for worse, the 70s were the age of Disco. But for a child who came of age in the 90s, what music will define our generation? I'm not sure.

What songs do you remember from your youth? What memories do they conjure up for you today?

Seven years ago last week, I met DH at a college fraternity party. Cliche, right? I saw him hanging out with a bunch of other football players I peripherally knew from around campus, and in my somewhat-inebriated state, came over to make polite conversation. I knew by the end of that night that he was the man I would marry.

DH, pumping up the crowd during a game
Fast forward two and a half years, to a different college campus hundreds of miles away from the first. I was now a graduate student earning my Masters in broadcasting, and DH was still playing collegiate football, although in a different shade of blue. When we chose our wedding date, we did so knowing full well we would not be able to take a honeymoon; DH was entering his senior season, and this was his chance to work hard, condition well, and hopefully impress some scouts. So, we spent a one night "mini-moon" in a spa hotel about 30 minutes from our first apartment, then focused our attention on getting DH as prepared as he could possibly be for the all-important season.

Two weeks in, an image that had, up til that point, only appeared in my nightmares happened on the football field. I was in the stands with DH's parents (who had flown in from out of town to see the game) when I saw the love of my life collapse into a heap at the bottom of the pile. I knew instantly he was hurt. As the coaches flocked to him, trainers evaluated him, and teammates assisted him off the field, I knew DH's dreams of playing on Sundays were over; they had, in that instant, become nothing more than college boy's fantasy.

Yes, I took a picture of DH just moments after his career-altering injury...

I've always been a huge fan of football. It's probably a huge reason why I was attracted to DH in the first place. So it killed me when he had to sit out half his senior season with a torn MCL, shredded meniscus, and sprained foot. It was excruciating to watch him hobble around our second-floor walk-up after undergoing off-season surgery. It was debilitating watching his back-up get drafted in the 5th round of the NFL draft that next spring, knowing that was my husband's spot on an NFL roster. But by far, the saddest moment-- or rather, the saddest moments have been been some of the smallest; watching football games with DH just about every Sunday for the past four seasons, knowing that he should be on the field, doing what he loves, but for a bum knee that still doesn't work quite right.

Because you see, today DH's involvement in the NFL is purely fantasy-- as in, fantasy football. After years of pittering around the house on Sundays, mumbling under his breath about what could have been, DH found a way to express all that pent up anger, frustration, resentment, sorrow he left on the field way back when. Sure, now he doesn't compete in the stadium, he faces off in battle online instead against far less ferocious opponents. He is brutally defeated by men who would have stared at DH in awe, or maybe in fear, just a few years ago (since leaving the game, my former offensive tackle has lost 90 pounds and looks more like a basketball than a football player). But, more importantly, he's found a way to once again enjoy the game that's given him so much.

DH & I at his senior game; the last time he'd ever set foot on the field (note his massive knee brace)
So these days, while I spend Sunday afternoons (during G's naps, of course!) in front of the TV, DH spends them in front of the computer, cheering on a bunch of players who I, frankly, have never even heard of (Lawrence Tynes, anybody?). It may not be the way he fantasized spending his weekends, but at least he's been able to make peace with his "dream deferred" (yes that is an intentional "Raisin In The Sun" reference).

And the winners are...

Thank you to everyone who sent me a new blog to check out! I had a great time looking at some new sites, and I have some new blogs to follow. Woo hoo!

Here are the winners of this latest bloggie love... some who participated in my latest "carrot-dangling", and some who didn't!

1) Sherri at "Adventures Of A Middle-Aged Drama Queen"
2) Stephanie at "Mama Still Wears Gucci!"
3) Dondi at "Confessions Of A Housewife"
4) Amy at "Happily Ever After"
5) Adrienzgirl at "Think Tank Momma"
6) Julia at "Sweet As Punkin Pie"
7) Toni at "Hemp And High Heels" (she is one of the blogs I was referred to!)

So there you have it-- my original post with the award and the rules is posted below. I look forward to seeing who everyone nominates on their own blogs!

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Seriously guys, a girl could get spoiled with all this blogger love!


One of my favorite new blogs to follow, Brndoutw8ress, has gived me with this latest honor. I adore her blog because, like mine, she doesn't pull any punches when it comes to telling things like they really are. So please, go check out her awesome blog, and tell her I sent you!

As with all awards they come with rules, so here they are:

1. Thank whoever gave this to you
2. Copy award
3. Post it in your blog
4. Tell us 7 things that your readers don’t know about you
5. Link 7 new bloggers
6. Notify winners of the award with a comment on their blog
7. Keep being awesome!

And, of course, keeping with my new blogging tradition of passing on awards, there is a twist for this latest one. So, read on to the bottom and see how I can return the favor to you!

I find it's really difficult to come up with new, original things about myself when my blog is all about being honest. But, I'm going to give it my best. So..

1. I don't do any cooking in our home.
Zip, zilch, nada. I'm just awful at it, and DH has taken notice.
So, in exchange for him doing all the cooking, I do all the cleaning that includes using Lysol.

2. I must wear socks to bed every night, but I hate wearing
underwear when I'm sleeping. I just find it uncomfortable.

3. I am terrified DH & I won't make it out of the house--
let alone out of the state-- for our fifth anniversary this spring.
I find planning a cross-country vacation overwhelming, and I'm not sure where to start.

4. I am a relatively progressive mom, but I still cling to
a lot of the "habits" I developed during G's first year.
Two examples: I am still nursing her once a day, and only turned her carseat forward facing last weekend.

5. DH & I are currently engaged in a "month long intimacy
reconnection project"-- read between the lines.
I'm still trying to decide whether or not I'll blog about it when it's all said and done.

6. DH, G, & I are staying at home for the holidays,
and aren't expecting any guests until after they're over... and we're thrilld.
I'm really excited to be able to spend this time with my hubby
and daughter and develop some of our own family traditions.

7. I am a natural blonde who has never colored her hair.
Buuuuuutttttttt... I don't consider getting highlights coloring my hair.
So, take that as you will.
Now, it's my turn to pass this on to you! Once again, I'll be handing this award out bright and early Monday morning (because who doesn't like to start off their week with a little recognition!). As ya'll know, I love finding new awesome blogs to follow. So, send me your recommendations. I'll sort through those new blogs, decide on my seven favorite, and the people who NOMINATED them will get this award! Cool, right?

It's time for my favorite weekly series (well, other than my own "Truthful Tuesdays"!)... Five Question Friday, sponsored by the glamorous Mama M! Head over to her blog and check it out! If you're stopping by on the Blog Hop, welcome! I hope you'll leave me a message or sign up to follow, so I can repay the visit on your site.

This week's questions are...
1. What is your favorite "eat" on Thanksgiving?

Turkey! I love turkey! In fact, this year, since we're going solo for the holidays at my house (just DH, G, & I), you'd think maybe we'd buy a smaller turkey? Nope! We're still getting a 15 pound bird so I can have leftovers for weeks and weeks.

2. What is the name your best girl friend and the best trait about her or how you met? (Or heck, both!!)

Her name is Sarah, and like Mama M and her best friend, I also met Sarah my junior year of college. This past year, she joined my whole family and I on vacation to the beach... that's how close she is to us all!

My favorite trait of hers... that's tough! There are two that stand out, and they couldn't be more different. First, she is a phenomenal listener who always knows exactly what I'm thinking without me even having to say it. But, she's also incredibly sarcastic and snarky, and her sense of humor is always so dead on.

3. What would you say is one of your "weirdest" quirks?

Mama M, you are so funny, because I too am obsessed with straight, stiff sheets and hospital corners. But you work in a hospital... so what's my excuse?

4. What is your favorite genre of music? (Hip hop? Classical? Rock? etc.)

Can I get some jazz hands here, because I'd have to say "Broaaaadway!" (Said in my most flambuoyant New York accent) Really, anything that gets me dancing and moving is great, but I love show tunes... especially the ones I know each and every single word to (and that's the majority of them!).

5. Are you a Night Owl...or an Early Bird?

None of the above? Actually, I do really well from about 9am-7pm. So, I'm a middle of the day type of person. That made college really hard, because most classes started earlier than that, and most parties ended way later! But don't worry, I persevered... at least with the partying part!

Now it's your turn to play along!