And the award for worst blogger ever goes to...

MRS. VALENTINE!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Woot. I'm a winner. At losing. Or something.

So I haven't written in like 3000 years and then just the other day my little sister in law tells me that she loves my blog and I'm all, "Blog? What blog?" and then I was like oh, right that blog whose existence I've been ignoring. (You can tell it's been a while by that killer run-on sentence. WINNING!)

Anyballs, I am totally blaming this on the bambina since she learned to crawl. Basically I wake up, feed the kid, try to keep her from mortally wounding herself, go to work, get her, feed her again and try to keep her from eating tile grout (that is not a joke) and put her to bed.

Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

After that there is precious little time to blog since I try to squeeze in feeding the hubs, working out and bathing whenever possible. But I promise I'll be better. I love you. It's not you, it's me. I hit you 'cause I love you.

(Sorry, I just watched that Ike & Tina Turner movie again. It's really good.)

I'm also thinking of taking the blog in a new direction, perhaps more about my attempt to remain relatively stylish and cool even with baby barf on my pants. We shall see. I just hired a kid who was born in 19-f*cking-91 so at this moment I'm feeling anything but hip. I actually feel more like a Golden Girl (but not the slutty one, the sassy one, Sofia I think?)This new blog idea though is predicated on the notion that anyone still reads this one...so if you are out there, big smooches to you all.

Gotta run, I've got a 4th cup of coffee calling my name.

XOXO,

Friday Flashback - Wedding Edition

While I am no Anglophile, I did have a passing curiosity with today's royal nuptials. Like any girl, it's hard not to be awed by the concept of being plucked from relative obscurity to become a living, breathing princess. And it's impossible to not like beautiful Kate Middleton. She just oozes class & sophistication which is sorely lacking from a pop culture universe populated with such fixtures as Snooki, Lindsay Lohan & Charlie Sheen. I sort of doubt we will ever hear about Kate going to rehab, videotaping non-sensical rants with her "Gods" or giving a crotch shot getting out of a limo, and for that I love her.

She looked incredible, no surprise there, but like my darling T at Curly in the City, I couldn't help think about my own wedding. While it was no royal wedding at Westminster Abbey, it was and will always remain the most perfect wedding I ever attended. It was beautiful and heartfelt and filled up with love, the way any good wedding should be. I've noticed that since I got married, any other wedding reminds my of my own: how that day felt, the love that surrounded me, the vows I took and helps renew them in my heart and mind. To that end, here's a flashback to that wonderful day, almost 3 years ago when I made the best decision of my life.



And for the record, I did manage to pull off wearing a couture bridal gown...so Kate and I do have that in common. ;)

XOXO,

An open letter to my d-bag neighbor.

Dear Owner of the muffler-less, black, souped up coupe that once again, woke my baby up from a rare episode of peaceful slumber:

I'm going to murder you in your sleep.

Kidding.

Sort of.

Look dude, I get it, you live in a townhouse subdivision of the burbs, you're winding your way through community college while playing bass in a way below average Death Cab for Cutie cover band & meeting your townie friends for Presidente Margaritas at the local Chilis. Long story short, life isn't quite as kick ass as you thought it would be when you were 16. I also totally understand the transformative powers of seeing "The Fast & The Furious" about 900 times. But seriously? If you insist on gunning your shitty little engine every time you hop in the car and tearing down the street with your not-quite-street-legal absentee muffler waking the dead, you will leave me with no choice but to slather you in Carne Asada and let this little fella have his way with you:



In case you don't know, that is what I affectionately refer to as a "Shartweilerbull". Translation? That is a Shar Pei/Rottweiler/Pit Bull mix named Jakers. Up until this point I've tried to quell Jake's urge to eat human flesh but you might just make me change my mind.

So unless you are actually Paul Walker, and are using this suburban douchebag persona as a cover for your infiltration of an elaborate drug smuggling/gun running/human trafficking ring I ask you one final time to shut the f*** up. Otherwise, you have a date with destiny, and destiny's name is Jake.

OK OK, so I may not actually let Jake eat your face off, but I probably will let him pee on your car.

Oh, and by the way? That car makes me think you have a tiny penis. Just some constructive criticism.

XOXO,

The gas crisis.

I used to think that a gas crisis was when I had to pay over $2 per gallon for fuel. Now I know better. The true gas crisis?

Baby flatulence.

Baby gas is no joke. At its best, baby gas gets you a disgusting, barfed on shirt and a stinky bedroom. At its worst it gets you an all nighter of banshee style wailing. The Sadester has been suffering from really bad gas lately and it's KILLING me. I've resigned myself to the fact that we are a long way from sleeping through the night, but the gas turns a typical 2 wake night into a 6 wake night.

I feel terrible for her, b/c I know she's in pain but I just want to help the damn kid fart so I can catch some shut eye. And since I'm breastfeeding, I always wind up wracked with guilt; was it the Brie I just housed? God I hope not. The only thing worse than a gassy baby is a life without cheese.

Who knew procuring farts from my child was going to become such an important part of my life? Aaaah, parenthood. Now pull my finger, or better yet, Sadie's.

XOXO,

Luck o' the Valentines.

I consider myself pretty lucky. Like, stupidly, ridiculously, blissfully lucky. My husband is fun, hardworking and easy on the eyes. My baby is insanely adorable and my family & friends are healthy, happy and always there when you need them. I have a good job, a great marraige and a kickass metabolism (Yay carbs!).

It's easy to forget our blessings from day to day, but in the midst of a week that is being heavy handed with loss, it's important to step back, squeeze my baby tight and remind myself that if my worst problem in life is needing an extra latte to make it through the day, then I am a pretty lucky gal.

As St. Patty's day approaches, I'm thinking less about green beer, pinches and leprachauns and more about appreciating the incredible luck that has graced my 30 years so far. Hope y'all do the same.

But do drink some green beer. It is St. Patty's after all.

XOXO,

A day in the life.

6:00 AM: Wake up. Barf/Fart/Burp/Poop or all three. Yell at mom for some boob. Get said boob. Barf/Fart/Burp/Poop again. Have mom change diaper & put me in the first outfit of the day.

6:00-7:00 AM: Yell & flail about happily while daddy makes funny faces. Contemplate pooping again. Look in that reflective thingy and wonder who that cool baby is and why there are 2 mommas. This world is blowin' my mind.

7:00 AM: Kiss mommy & daddy goodbye. Try to barf on them so they remember me all day. Flail about happily in grandma's arms. Look generally adorable.

8:00: AM: Get in swing. Stare at the lambs that keep moving in a circle above me. Wonder where they are trying to go and zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

10:00 AM: What the hell happened? Why am I still swinging and WHY ISN'T THERE A NIPPLE IN MY MOUTH.

11:15 AM: Phew. Portable nipple put in my mouth. Crisis averted.

11:30 AM: Barf/Fart/Burp/Poop, preferably all over myself. Enter outfit #2.

12:00 PM: Lay down on floor with grandma and try to roll over. Almost got it...success! Wait, how did I get on my back? I think I'll fart and barf again until it all makes sense. Cue outfit number 3.

12:30 PM: Emergency: Grandma has pinned my arms down and put me in a straight jacket. I'm in a weird cage like contraption and a giant sheep is making whale sounds above my head and I totally don't get it and zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

2:00 PM: How do they keep tricking me into sleeping? Time to yell. NEED MORE BOOB. Mom's not here so how does grandma keep giving me her milk? I'll ask the lambs.

4:00 PM: At grandma's house. She keeps bringing me over here and putting me in another cage like thing with a giraffe that makes chirping sounds and zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

5:00 PM: NARDS! They tricked me again. I'll show them...blowout+spitup=Sadie's revenge. I was getting sick of that outfit anyway.

6:00 PM: Doorbell. I'll get it. Wait, I can't walk. In walks....MOMMY & DADDY! YAY! I'm so excited I can't decide whether to laugh or cry! How about a little of both? Wait, what the...they're strapping me down again? This time in a chair? Now we are in the giant bouncy seat that moves and zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

6:30 PM: They're sneaky, I'll give them that.

7:00 PM: Why I am I naked? I'm naked and being put in this warm, soapy bowl that feels AWESOME. So awesome I think I'll pee in it. There is a whale that spits water at me and we talk a little bit. I tell him about my day and how weird it was. He totally gets me. Good listener.

7:20 PM: Wait...this feels good, why are they taking me out? I think I'll voice my displeasure. No, I don't want to put a diaper on! LET ME BE FREE WOMAN. Hear comes the jammies. I scream a bit for good measure but truthfully, I kind of like jammies. They keep my feet so warm.

7:30 PM: No no, not the baby straight jacket! I'll be good, I swear! I'm so mad, can't you tell by all the YELLING AND SCREAMING??? Why won't you help me dude? You just keep walking and shushing and rocking me and it's getting darker and maybe this isn't so bad and zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

Tricky bastards. Oh well, there's always tomorrow.

XOXO,

Sadie

The big 3-Oh!

Pop Quiz:

We know Val is old because:

a.)She spent last Friday night purchasing life insurance and setting up her kid's college fund.
b.)She had Mr. Val make her a cocktail on Saturday at 9:00, drank 3 sips and fell asleep by 9:15.
c.)It took her 3 sittings to watch "Inception" because she kept falling asleep.
d.)She routinely wakes her sleeping baby with her loudly cracking joints.
e.)She turns 30 this week

And the correct answer is....ALL OF THE ABOVE. Allow me to elaborate.

a.) As I mentioned last week, we bought a new ride, which requires the obligatory new ride insurance. When we called our Allstate guy (Mark) to update our policy, he casually mentioned that Allstate also does financial planning. Who knew. This led to a date with Todd, our NEW Allstate guy. Rather, our second Allstate guy. Mark is our car/renters insurance guy while Todd is now our life insurance/financial planning guy. It's a "Menage-a-Trois" of insurance and the Valentine family.

Anyway, Todd came over on Friday to talk about the dizzying array of ways Allstate can take your money. We laughed, we drank (soda) and by the end of the night Allstate now has an extra $100/month of my moolah and my kid should be totally set to go to the community college of her dreams. (I kid I kid.) Mr. Val and I are just one physical away from having a cool $2M worth of life insurance on each other. So ironically, just as Sadie is starting to sleep longer I'm sleeping with one eye open and Mr. Val now worries that my love of true crime shows has turned from entertainment to research. But anyone who's watched a Law & Order marathon knows that you don't get the money if you are involved in a homicide. Duh. That's why you can't get caught.

BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

b.) Conversation between me and Mr. Val.

Me: "Babe I want to have some drinks tonight!"
Mr. Val (elated that I'm trying to be fun): "Really? Ok I'll go to the store!"
Goes to the store and comes back with cocktail fixins'.
Mr.Val (at approximately 9:00 PM):Here's your cocktail honey!
Me: "Thanks!"
An undisclosed amount of time elapses
Mr.Val: Honey wake up, let's go to bed.
Me: What time is it?
Mr.Val: It's midnight. You fell asleep.
I look at the coffee table and see my barely touched cocktail and rub my eyes.
Me: I'll be fun again one day honey, OK?
Mr. Val: Sure you will honey. Don't forget your bra. (I apparently take it off while sleeping. Interesting.)

c.)"Inception" is a super cool movie. I think. It is SUUUUUUUUUUUUPER long though. I'm not sure I would have made it in one sitting even if I wasn't horribly sleep deprived. I'm going to try to watch it again one day once Sadie sleeps. Maybe then I'll figure out what the hell the movie was about.

d.)After a marathon session of rocking, nursing, walking and singing I finally had my little angle baby sound asleep. I placed her gently in her cradle, stroked her sweet face and turned to leave the room at which point my knee and toes cracked so loud that she woke right up. There is really nothing more to this story except to say that getting old sucks.

e.)So we get to the crux of my ramblings. I'm turning 30 this week. If you are clever you now understand why my nickname is Valentine. Now promise me you won't google me, come to my house and try to wear me like a woman suit, mkay?

I used to think this birthday would scare me, but after the birth of my daughter I realize that my life just keeps getting better, so I'll take all the additional years I can get. Since I got to scratch "Have the world's cutest kid" off my bucket list, here is the Valentine Amended Bucket List of 2011:

1. Play Monopoly with real money
2. See a title fight at Caesar's Palace in Atlantic City
3. Go to the Grand Canyon
4. Go to the Superbowl
5. Go on a Safari
6. Have a picnic under the Eiffel Tower
7. Learn to garden
8. Go to Tokyo and stay in the "Lost in Translation" hotel
9. Buy my husband season tickets to the White Sox
10. Own a true piece of art
11. Do all I can to make my daughter's dreams come true

If the next 30 years are half as good as the first, I think I'm one lucky gal.

XOXO,