Who the hell needs teeth anyway?

F*ck teeth.

Or more specifically, f*ck baby teeth.

We were just cruisin' along, feelin' badass because Sadie is awesome and sweet and happy and sleeps through the night (big ups to YOU Dr. Ferber)and then BAM!

Teeth.

And not just one or two or even three...SIX.

SIX MOTHER EFFIN BABY TEETH AT ONCE.

And now my sweet girl is like a mix of Damien from the Omen, Linda Blair from the Exorcist, Veruca Salt from Willy Wonka on a speedball bender.

Ok, she's not that bad. She still is pretty much the cutest kid ever and sweet as pie but her sleep has gone to shit. I'm up everyday between 4-5 AM pumping her full of Motrin and reverting to the old days where I tried to induce coma with my magical breasts. Dr. Ferber's about to come in her and kick my lazy ass but he can suck it. I've gotten used to sleeping through the night. I can't go back to that place.

In a moment of sleep deprived delirium I started thinking about how stupid it is for a baby to even get teeth. It's not like I've been all, "Hey Sadie, I'd sure love to feed you baby back ribs and beef jerkey. If only you had some chompers." The kid eats fricken mashed up apples, cheerios and cheese cubes for God's sake. That lady from Hoarders who lost her dentures in her trash pile could survive on Sadie's diet. Then I started thinking, shit, most of the BEST foods don't require teeth.

1. Ice cream
2. Soft cheeses
3. Creme brulee
4. Mashed potatoes
5. Chocolate souffle (or any souflee really)

So there you have it. I'm banging the gavel and saying no more teeth.

Oh, and I have to give a shout out to Mr. Val for getting a new job and kickass raise. Lord knows we need it, someone's gonna have to pay for all this Brie & Creme Brulee.

XOXO,

Half Baked.

And no I'm not talking about pot you druggies.

I'm talking about babyVal, who is officially halfway baked this week. To my knowledge this means he/she looks less fishy, although I won't have confirmation on that until Friday, which is our big ultrasound where we find out the sex! It's funny, because I always thought I wanted a little boy first but once I became pregnant I started secretly dreaming of a little girl in dresses and hair bows and ruffle butt bikinis. Don't judge - I'll be thrilled either way, but anyone who says they haven't thought of one gender of the other is full of it. Just like I know my husband is dreaming of t-ball games and teaching a little black-haired boy to play football, but would equally adore being wrapped around the little finger of a curly headed baby girl.

That said, we have taken numerous bets on the gender with a slight edge going to the girl camp. It's about a 55/45 split on guesses girl/boy. I love the logic of guessing to, it's normally something as conclusive as "Your skin looks bad. Girl." or "You don't look any different from the back. Boy." or "I've been dreaming of a mongoose eating a snake, which in Pagan folklore means boy." Obviously, Mr. Val and I couldn't care less, one healthy, happy giggling baby is all we need.

That said, here is the 20 week round of pregnancy stats. Feel free to interpret them as you will and lay a wager down on the state of babyVal's reproductive organs. There isn't any money in it for you, just the personal pride that comes from successfully guessing the genitalia of an Internet stranger's fetus.

Weight Gain/Loss: I said I'd never tell, but I'm up about 10 lbs. I wish this didn't freak me out so much but it does. I do adore the baby bump though...it makes me smile every time I catch my reflection.
Maternity clothes: I'm rocking half maternity clothes and half normal. I've pretty much only gained weight in the belly, so I'm getting away with regular tops that are either a size up or empire waisted. I do have some maternity tanks & shirts though that are heavenly. I'm still able to wear most of my normal pants with a belly band although I have a few pairs of maternity pants I'm about to bust into. Oh yeah...elasticized waistbands here I come!
Stretch Marks: Nope. Keep knocking on wood...I'm using the Medela stretch mark cream, so I'm pretty pleased with that for now.
Sleep: I am sleeping fine, exclusively on my side though which is an adjustment for a stomach sleeper like me.
Movement: It started a week ago with this weird little popping sensation, unlike anything I've ever felt. Now I feel baby all the time, and I'd describe it as a gentle rolling feeling. It's strong enough that Mr. Val can feel it too!
Food cravings/aversions: no more aversions. The last specific craving I had was for coffee ice cream. I've been eating it like crazy.
Gender: I am still leaning towards girl, but to be honest I have no idea.
What I miss: margaritas
Best moment this week: seeing Mr. Val's face light up when he felt the baby move.

So that's it! I should be a more regular blogger again now that I'm settled into my new job (more on that later). I've got to go...Top Gun is on which is clearly the Citizen Kane of the 80's, so I'm going to watch it with a giant bowl of ice cream on my lap.

XOXO,

The sins of the father will be visited upon my hips.

I have a bone to pick with my parents.

My dad (a chef) & my mom (Italian) are amazing cooks. I grew up eating good food, round the clock. When I was four, my favorite food was clams & linguine, not Mac & Cheese. When you all were learning how to nuke yourself a Hot Pocket, I already had mastered an authentic Viennese Wiener Schnitzel with cucumber salad. I can safely assume I am one of only a handful of first graders that ever brought homemade falafel to school in a brown bag. (Side note: it is nearly impossible to trade a fried chickpea patty for a fruit roll up. I know from experience.)

By now you're asking yourself, what's the problem you endive eating elitist? (That's for you A) Well, when I was eating all this gourmet grub I was also surfing, swimming, biking, hiking, playing water polo & engaging in many other unsavory teenage habits that burn calories like a jackrabbit (sorry mom). These days I can barely huff & puff my way through the Kwando class at Bally's without passing out or reaching for a martini shaker. Turns out I didn't "have a fast metabolism" so much as I burned calories like a mofo for the better part of eighteen years.

Now that I no longer have the luxury of devoting my life to tanning & toning my bod, I have to make adjustments so that I don't wind up on Maury Povich with an 80 lb. two year old one day. So for now, I have bid adieu to potatoes & pasta, which is no small feat considering the blood in my veins is almost entirely Irish/Italian. I'm only consuming wine when it is ABSOLUTELY necessary (i.e. most days) and I'm dragging my lazy butt back to the gym five days a week (before I drink obviously). But just because I'm legally separated from my true love (cheese) doesn't mean I don't still fantasize about our sweet reconciliation. All of which leads to this week's installment of theoretical Thursday:

Assuming you sold your soul to the devil had the discipline of those soulless bitches in the Victoria's Secret catalogue, what would you eat if calories were of no concern to you?

Mine is sadly unoriginal, but I honestly would eat cheeseburgers all the time. I have never met a cheeseburger I didn't like. Carbs, cheese, meat all in one ingenious little package, served with the best side dish ever invented: the French fry. Deep fried starch...how I love thee. No matter what anyone says about the French, they invented the fry for which we should all be eternally grateful.

I swear I heard "Taps" playing the day I gave up fries. Vive la pomme frite. We will meet again.

New Year, New Look.

My first order of business in 2010 was to get a new blog template, hope you like it. I don't really believe in New Year's Resolutions as they more often than not set you up for failure, so instead, I've got some goals for 2010.

1. Learn how to use my new camera. Between my awesome family, friends and Mr. Valentine, I was able to purchase this sexy little number:



Trouble is, I have no idea how to use it. I refuse to be the girl who has an awesome camera that never leaves auto mode so I've signed up for a photography class here in town and hope to post many envy inducing photos of my dogs, husband and cheese very soon.

2. Get back to my pre-marriage weight. I, like many newlyweds, spent the first year and a half of marriage making googly eyes at my husband over wine and cheese. It's a jolly nice way to spend your time, but unless I want to be forklifted out of my house in a year I need to dial it down a notch. This means back to the gym 5 days a week and to resist the drug pushers that work the Whole Foods cheese counter.

3. Stop swearing. I swear like Chicagoans vote, early and often. It's not really my fault, my dad is a chef and if you've spent any time in a restaurant kitchen you know that Mother Teresa would come out of one swearing like a sailor on leave. I can swear in English, French and Spanish. My dad taught me how to say "shit" in French when I was a little girl, so as you can see I never really had a chance. But it is a nasty habit that I need to kick before me and the hubs procreate. I don't really want to raise a mini Andrew Dice Clay.

There are goals of other natures too: financial, career and marriage goals, but I've learned that the only people who want to hear about those are your best friends, dogs and therapists, who incidentally are paid to care.

My Super Duper Post Thanksgiving Workout

1. Get up at 11:36 AM (still technically morning)

2. Put on workout clothes/shoes (the cuter the better)

3. Grab husband and dogs

4. Walk for 100 yards, run for 30 (repeat for roughly an hour)

5. Stop by your most favorite coffee shop in the world and get a latte (skim of course) and a Spinach-Feta cheese quiche (um...sure, this is skim too)

6. Amble home at a snail's pace...

...and watch the pounds melt away!