Name drops keep falling on my head…

picture from, decoration by moi.

Whoohoo! What a good week in Soap Land, although still no word on my Embassy and my diplomatic license plates have not yet arrived. I’m wondering if I have immunity in Port Charles because if so, I am headed there right this very minute to kill a stripper. (What? That is what diplomats are always doing on Law & Order? ) Then I can totally say to Mac: “I have immunity. You cannot touch me. Go make out with the D.A.”

 I’m picturing some sort of vaguely evil Russian accent when I say it.

One flaw in my plan, there are no strippers in Port Charles anymore because Coleman the Evil and Despicable who forced Jason’s old love Courtney the Good and Pure to strip is now just Coleman. The dude who hosts karaoke at the bar and refuses to serve underage minors, even if they are the Mob Boss’ son.
Everyone in Port Charles clearly suffered some sort of Flash Forward moment, except that instead of seeing the future they all had their minds erased of Coleman’s past evilosity.

Thus exhibiting one of my favorite things about Soap Life. I love it when whole characters are miraculously shifted (or aged, or recast) to suit the new story line. Love it! My fav example of this is Rick, Sonny’s half bro who was sooooo evil what while married to the Lovely Liz (now in the looney bin for sleeping with the Brothers Grimm), he kidnapped Carly and kept her (pregnant with Sonny’s actual baby) chained to a table in a back room of his house. Poor woman. A table? Dude, I have most comfortable bed evah and I was crazy uncomfy when pg. He could have at least chained her to a Lazy Boy recliner!  Is Rick in jail? Oh no. He is a big wig lawyer man in P.C., and had a baby with Alexis, who also has a baby with Sonny.

Hmmmm. Rick and Sonny are way more grimm than Nikolas and Lucky( a.k.a. the Brothers Grimm) and yet Alexis? Not binned once.

This week begins Sonny’s Murder Trial (part duex) for murdering his wife Claudia and HOLY BUCKETS! (did it work? Can I pull it off?) Dakin Matthews  is playing the judge! Squee of delight as, to quote Buddy the Elf: “I know him!” Dakin is a huge deal in the LA Theatre world, working all over creation in everything from small under 99 seat houses to the Ahmandson, where he did Jersey boys with my future brother in law Mahmood! He is a rock star and while I never was blessed to work from him he was always kind and generous with both compliments and advice.

Sooooooo, Sonny was on trial before when he shot Carly,  but he isn’t on trial yet for shooting Dante yet…maybe later. Unless Dante suddenly has a come-to-daddy moment. ( He ‘accidentally’ shot himself.) Anything is possible.

Sonny  is *gasp* innocent this time, he lied to protect his son Michael who actually murdered Claudia (Sarah Joy Brown). (sidenote *total name drop #2, I met SJB at a party/fundraiser at a mutual friends house and she is tiny. Tiny. She has bird bones. If you sneezed on her she’d probably fall right over.  Except that she is all muscle. So if you sneezed on her she’d probably be like ‘eeeeewwww!’ and then junk punch you and you’d fall over. So make yourselves a note: Self, don’t sneeze on SJB. It’s rude. Also? she gave me the last chocolate covered strawberry, so she’s good people.)

Anyway, Sonny lied to protect his son Michael. Of course Sonny isn’t actually Michael’s baby daddy, Carly was straight married to AJ (Jason’s brother) who was a total loooooser, but after lots of drama, Sonny and Carly’s star crossed status got un-crossed and the Mob Boss steps to the plate as the exemplification of the good father. Daddy!!!

Here’s the thing, if they had just told the truth from the start (I know…I know,what am I thinking?)it would have been fine, but nooooooooooooooooooo.
If your step-mom kidnaps your 9 month pg mom (this time by Jax; which is a whole other kettle of fish and also reminds me that I still miss Brenda) and takes her to a remote cabin in the woods where mom goes into stress labor and pops out a baby sans drugs and then threatens to leave your mom to die and takes the new, amazingly large and clean, baby…well then, you’d have to stop her! And Michael didn’t mean to kill her…but oh no! Sonny and Jason have been outside the law too long people. They’ve no idea that sometimes shizz just happens and telling the truth is good. Ah well…how else would we get to glimpse into the slow destruction of Michael’s mental state?

Oh! Liz/Michael hook up in the Looney Bin? Stranger things have happened.
Whatever. I can’t wait for next week, cause yay! more Dakin!

*I am a participant in a Mom Central campaign for ABC Daytime and will receive a tote bag or other General Hospital branded items to facilitate my review.

Does Dunkin’ Donuts count as exercise?

Everyday I go to the gym. Monday through Friday I get The King all ready and we head out to to play. He now loves it and asks to go on the weekends too. Alas, Anna Maria the goddess of gym childcare isn’t there and try as I might, I’m just not feelin leaving my baby with the teenage dude who watches sports on the daycare tv all weekend. Sorry, kid.

 I can’t blame The King for loving it, it’s humongous room filled with other kids his age and like, eleventy-billion toys. He used to cry when I dropped him off, now he doesn’t want to leave.

And how I love the one hour of working out and watching something other than that blasted Dora! I love it. And I truly am digging the rag tag group that I see at the gym on the daily. I can always count on Bath Towel Turban man to make a silly joke before he hops on the bike. (Oh yes, he wraps a bath towel around his head and somehow manages to tie it in a bow. I’ve NO idea how this happens, I mean how tiny is his head? I wouldn’t know, I’ve never seen it sans towel.) There are of course, 20 or so moms like me, sporting yoga pants and hoodies,  bringing their kids decked out in gymboree finery to play with all the wonderful toys. NBA Guy who is always there…always. If I go at night after Max goes to bed, there he is. Early morning, there he is. Noon? There he is. He is either stalking me or living at the gym.  But my very favorite of all my fellow workout companions is Combover Guy, he’s 75 if he’s a day, hair dyed a brilliant warm auburn and combed over, he always sports a wife beater, short shorts with knee socks, black tennies and he runs like the wind on the treadmill every morning for no less than 1.5 hours.

I couldn’t do that if my life depends on it. 
Running, I mean. I can certainly dye my hair and comb it over whilst wearing a wife beater. It wouldn’t be pretty, but I could manage.

Today the mood in the gym was decidedly grumpy and I couldn’t quite figure out why! That is until I hooked into an episode of Los Vegas and began climbing those Random Hills on ye olde elliptical machine (Dear whoever invented the elliptical, marry me?)  I climbed and watched and perhaps even laughed out loud a time or two at the show and wait – what is that? What is this happening in the manager’s office? 
His office is, of course, facing the workout floor and comprised of huge glass windows. There he is. happy as can be feet propped up with a whole Domino’s pizza and huge box of Dunkin’ Donuts. And he is eating. A piece of pizza. A donut. Alternating savory and sweet… seriously if looks could kill he would have been instantly incinerated as he watched the little tv in his office and ingested 20,000 of the most envied calories ever. 
I shared a grumpy look with Combover Guy and we pressed on, silently resolving to do as the manager says and not as he does.

Uh…who am I again?

I seem to have lost myself a bit. I know this is for certain because just three minutes ago my local NBC station announced that it is moving the Ellen Degeneres show to 3 p.m.

Hello??? That’s the same time that General Hospital is on ABC!! Whatever will I do! I love me some Ellen, but as I may have mentioned I am Ambassador to Port Charles! (Drowns in fictional ego boost)

I was for real and for true upset at this move and for a few minutes considered writing them a letter to give em a piece of my mommy brain addled mind! (I write a LOT of letters, I’m always penning some missive when, as Zach says I’ve been ‘notoriously wronged’. hmpf)

Not to mention that King Max loves Ellen, so depending on how late he sleeps in (in direct relation to how many time he is up at night) we either watch it and snack pre or post nap)

Shortly after being all upended by my tv listing time change, I thought…what.the.heck? (Lent!) Am I seriously upset about ELLEN? Who in the fickety frack am I? When oh when did I become such the stereotype of the SAHM? Now, not that it’s a BAD thing to be…but clearly reading back the last few posts I am indeed a pj wearing, no make up applying, daytime tv stay at home mom.

And when did that happen??
 I thought about my past, the good parts and the bad. The crazy times with WWJD post college and the easy going lovin lifestyle we had pre-baby. The dinner parties, the shows I did, the auditions and of course…home sweet home, Los Angeles.

The King let out a barbaric yawp above the rooftops (okay fine, it was just a big dramatic yawn) and I hurried him down to the royal crib where he proceeded to not want to ‘Boo’ (nurse) but instead cuddled in my arms, giving me many, many kisses…most closed mouth and sweet but the occasional wet sloppy one snuck in there. He wiggled up in my arms and proceeded to tell me…I don’t know what, but it was VERY important and involved Daddy, Bob-Bob (grandpa) and fooball, Elmo and happy Mommy. (hey! At least I’m happy mommy!) it could have been a Shakespearean Soliloqy; it went on for ages, a good ten or so minutes and was basically awesome. Finally after one last big smack, he laid down to bed with a plaintive ‘Mommy’ rolled over and passed out.

And then I realized, oh! this is who I am now. It may be less glamorous than my previous life, I certainly have less need for earrings and stilettos, but more need for tickle fights and cuddles.

Seems like a pretty good trade to me.
I love him crazy.

Welcome….welcome!! *passes out drinks*

Check out the new digs! Things are moving forward at the American Dream! We’ve had good news all around, and we decided to go ahead and make this thing legal. I’m married to a domain name now…eeek.

Commitment phobe.
I hope you’ll all continue to follow along for more  of the silliness and comedy hijinks that is motherhood and living with you in-laws. 
Living with your in-laws. 20 kinds of awesome.
Anyway, welcome! Help yourself to some champagne
Or perhaps you’d prefer a cocktail…
Everyone enjoy some delicious chocolates and petit fours.
Ain’t I fancy schmancy with the petit fours?
I is! I is! 

Have you ever..

Have you ever been so tired that you well…have no recollection of certain things? I fear I am losing my mind, my brain is quickly turning into an Elmo addled bowl of mush.

(Goodnight mush)

Last night while playing with my oh so sweet baby I popped on one of my tiaras to make him giggle. He likes the sparkle. Andyes I said one of.  I have more than one. I have many. I am a princess, deal with it.

Also? You should all order some tiaras because, for reals, vacuuming is way more fun whilst wearing a tiara. 

This morning I achingly roused myself from my way too comfy, way too snuggly, way too warm bed to
respond to the shaky new voiced cries of King Max. I got him up and brought him back to my oh so snuggly bed to cuddle. We snuggled and giggled, enjoying our morning routine. Finally we crawled out of bed and headed up stairs for a wonderful breakfast of oatmeal and banana. You can’t keep King Max from a banana, he will cut a **** (ARGH LENT!) to get to a nana. I got my coffee and settled down with him to munch and ran my hand through my hair. Where it got stuck. On my tiara.

Can I put that on my resume? Can sleep whilst wearing a crown? 
Good Morning, your Highness.

I wonder if I can talk The Lying Liar who Lies in to calling me Her Royal Highness along with Madame Ambassador.
Oh who are we kidding, he already does.

*It should be noted that this is not the first time I have forgotten I was wearing a tiara. Not too far in the distant past I sat through an entire dinner with my WHOLE FAMILY while wearing one, until I realized it and embarrassed said “why didn’t you guys tell me I was wearing it?” My father in law said “oh, I didn’t even notice, it’s so natural on you.”

I shall now be known as Madame Ambassador

I’m waiting for them to tell me where my Embassy will be located in Port Charles. Near Sonny’s Mansion? Near the Metro Court Hotel? Windemere??? Where is my EMBASSY?!?!? What? I don’t get an Embassy, just some awesome insider knowledge and possibly a tote bag and a coffee mug?

Well, that’s awesome too.

Oh yeah. Mom Central selected lil ol General Hospital loving me to be a GH Mom Ambassador. It’s my first foray into marrying two of my loves, Social Media and GH (three if I get my hands on that coffee mug! Coffee!!) and I’m dang stoked to be a part of it. (did ya catch the dang? Lent people. I’m rocking it! No slip ups today…yet.)

This is a good deal on several levels, the least of which is that when The Lying Liar Who Lies (aka Zach) gets home from work early and interrupts my GH time he cannot whine “can we change the channel?” because Dude!  Did he miss the part where I am AMBASSADOR! (Do you think it’s going to my head? I’m drunk with…well, not power…but something!)

Now, Zach might tease me with the GH love but just the other day he straight schooled me on the intricacies of Liz’s brother returning to Port Charles and just how messed up it is that Sonny was married to Johnny’s sister and LuLu was with Johnny and now Johnny is with Olivia and LuLu is with Dante who is Olivia’s son – with Sonny!  Whew. (I knew all of that of course, but it was just amusing that the lad protests too much, know what I’m sayin?)

I’ve blogged about my GH love before, and of course my love for Liz. Poor Liz. Image of an Angel. Behaves like a lady of the night. Three babies, three baby daddies! This new one on the way…is it Nicholas’s? Or his brother Lucky’s? Either way the moral of the story is if you bang both of the Brothers Grimm they will put you in the looney bin.

Such is the stuff of General Hospital. Where everyone is gorgeous and has amazingly large engagement rings. Where there are like, only two criminals in the whole place and the police chief can’t make a charge stick. He’s too busy making out with the D.A. (who has a daughter by the head mobster, natch)
I love it.
Plus, I get a nifty badge for my blog! And you…yes, YOU can enter to win a trip to LA and a walk on role on GH. Sigh. I never got to be on GH. I had a rocking lil part on PASSIONS, which was so fun, but Passions was no GH. No. No it wasn’t.
You can enter till Feb 28th, so get your hot little booties over there and ENTER! Because it would rock my socks if one of my readers won!

*I am a participant in a Mom Central campaign for ABC Daytime and will receive a tote bag or other General Hospital branded items to facilitate my review.

Lenty Lent Lent.

Ah, it’s that time of year again where after gorging ourselves on holiday faire straight through the 15th of February we then deny ourselves something….something GOOD for 40 days. Till Easter, when we can again gorge ourselves on holiday faire (Cadbury Cream Eggs anyone?).

Last year I gave up cheese. Dude. That was rough. I am a vegetarian and mama eats a LOT of cheese. Swiss cheese in particular. I crave it! There is nothing like a swiss cheese, tomato, avacado, and sprout sandwich on light rye with some spicy mustard.

I hadn’t given giving up cheese much thought, and it came back to bite me in the bum. As I was about to partake of a bagel and cream cheese, it hit me! Cream Cheese is cheese. Or is there some sort of magical cream cheese loophole? Alas, no. No cream cheese for me. No pizza. No grilled cheese to go with my soup. No cheese. Sigh.
Today as I was doing my eyebrows before I hit the gym (what? like you don’t make up before you hit the gym?) I thought that perhaps this year I should give up Vanity for Lent. Then I remembered that I live in hoodies and yoga pants and thought to myself perhaps I should give up Sloth and move a bit more towards Vanity. I am totally painting my nails once I’m done with this post. Start small people. 
Max’s language is coming along at a crazy pace. Just the other day he busted out with cupcake. Ok, so it’s more like keek-keek but he and I both knew exactly what he wanted. I figure it’s a hop, skip, and a jump from keek-keek to a word that sounds a bit like ‘ducker’.
So for Lent this year I am giving up cursing. This might be harder than cheese. I already messed up once. Shame on me. 
I’ve got a sailor’s mouth. Always have. No idea why or where it came from as my mother does not like that language at all, and of all my friends only WWJD had a mouth like me. And seeing as how Godson Ben is 4 now (how on earth did that happen? The time, it flies.) she’s far ahead of me on curbing the curses. I just don’t want my sweet faced little boy whilst strapped his car seat spouting off with some string of expletives and honestly, if I don’t take the proverbial bull by the horns my kid will be ready for a Tarantino flick before he’s two.
So away I go…once more into the breach. Armed with only ‘shut the front door!’ and ‘holy buckets!’ (Do you think I can carry that last one off? My friend Katie says it and it’s when she does it. I feel ridiculous.) Ah well. I’m keeping blast and bugger and also damn. Because if cjane can say damn I can too. I mean she’s a good Mormon for the love of Ray J!
Wish me luck kids. I’m going to need it! 

I forgot what my hair looks like…

Every morning noon and night I wear my hair in a bun. It’s the crowing glory to my daily uniform. Tank top, hoodie, and sweat pants.
Being home all the time and still nursing I have completely fallen into the comfort zone. And yes, it is oh-so-comfortable. Perhaps not all that fashionable or feminine but definitely easy access for the little dude and super flexible for afternoon car races on the living room floor.
With snow outside currently pushing 40 inches with 10-18 more expected in the next 24 hours I’ve simplified even more. Wake up, toss hoodie over pj’s, wear allllllllllllllllllllllll day, put baby to bed, shower, put hair up,put on new pj’s, sleep, wake up, toss hoodie over pj’s….well, you get the picture.

And it ain’t pretty. 
Comfy, but not pretty.
Both yesterday and today I was able to escape the confines of the house and make a break for it to the gym. Oh, one hour of non cartoon tv and an attempt to burn off some of the Hershey Kisses that have been stalking me during this snowstorm. Heaven.
So that added another step to the daily routine. I traded my pj pants, tank and hoodie for a jogging bra, tank and yoga pants. And, oh yeah, a hoodie.
oh! The variety!

I wear the bun every day because perhaps I dream of waking up tomorrow and suddenly having achieved Prima Ballerina status at ABT, or more likely, I hate having my hair in my face. I would love to rock one of those darling pixie cuts like that new doctor with the doe eyes on Grey’s. She looks all Amelie-esque whereas I would just look like a boy.

Peoples Exibit A:

Submitted for your approval: Heather and I about age 7. Please not Dub’s fabu Jennifer Aniston gold locks. That was short for Dub. Also please note my awesome bowl cut. A real bowl cut. My mom (who is in front of Dub and rocking her very OWN version of the bowl cut) used to for real plop me on the kitchen stool put a bowl on my noggin and cut around it with the sewing shears. If the Flowbee had been invented then, I would have been hooked up to that bad boy on the regular.

Right around the time this picture was taken my mom dragged me to the good old Olan Mills for a yearly portrait. And then it happened “What a gorgeous son you have!”

HARUMPH!! (and totally true. I looked like a boy.)

I was devastated. It was a scene that repeated regularly until 8th grade when I finally took charge and began to grow out my hair.

Max and I came home -Dear God, thank you for Anna Maria at gym daycare, she is the bestest- from the gym had a quick milk and snack and then he was ready to crash out big time.
I am then afforded some shower and blogging time! Hooray! As I took my hair down from it’s scrubby bun I realized it was still wet from yesterdays shower, and oh my…it’s grown! I had completely forgotten what my hair looked like!

After the gym and my shower (oh heavens! I will never take a hot shower for granted again!) I switched it up. Big time. Stripey pj pants, tank top, *gasp* long sleeve v-neck T-shirt and a pony tail.

Change is good, yo.

CHD Awareness week

Sometimes on Twitter you end up ‘meeting’ someone in the most roundabout way, and they change your life. Such is the case with Kristine Brite McCormick.

Kristine was happily tucked in at home, rocking and nursing her sweet five day old baby girl Cora when the unthinkable happened. One moment she looked down at Cora’s sweet milk drunk face happily and drowsily nursing and felt nothing but bliss. A few moments later a second glance provided nothing but terror. Sweet Cora’s face was covered with blood and she was limp. Gone. Dead. Just like that. In a matter of seconds Kristine’s life went from a dream to a nightmare.

She went through all of the thoughts I would have gone through…did I do something? Could this have been prevented? Kristine had a picture perfect pregnancy and Cora had been declared beautiful and healthy at the hospital. There was no indication that something might be wrong. What had happened?Once she had her answers Kristine began a journey that I only wish I would have the strength to embark on. She began saving babies lives. Immediately. Kristine says:

 ‘No parent should have to find out about Congenital Heart Disease from the coroner.’ 

She’d like to be the only mother who has that experience from here on out.

You see Cora suffered from CHD, Congenital Heart Disease the number one birth defect and the number one killer of children. More than all the childhood cancers combined. Kristine had never heard of such a disease, as I had never heard of it and perhaps you haven’t either.

The worst (and best) is that Cora’s chances of survival would have been helped immeasurably by one simple test administered within the first 24-48 hours of her life. A cheap, painless, non-invasive test. A pulse oximetry test. You know…that clothespin-esque thing they clip on your pointer finger when you are in labor, or anytime you are in the hospital.

That simple test might have saved her life, and the lives of many other babies. It’s not normally given, but can be requested! Kristine is on a mission to educate all mothers and mothers to be about CHD and this simple test. This week is CHD awareness week and I hope you will take a few moments to read her story and think about requesting a pulse ox test on your baby to be. I know that when (please God) I have my next baby I will be requesting one. It’s simple and easy and can save lives.

As a mother I look at my child and I see every child. Every child hurt or orphaned in Haiti is my child. Max playing and dancing is Cora…he is blessed with a life she was not to have.

If you believe everything happens for a reason then we must believe that Cora was meant to live five glorious days so that many other babies could live long healthy lives. Cora had something very, very special. Her parents Kristine and Ben.

My life is changed. I am now aware. I am certain to have that test done on any and all future babies, as will all my friends.

I hope you will too.

You can read her story here: Cora’s Story

Posted in CHD

Again with the snow…

Yes, it’s true. We are snowed in again! And whilst I while away the hours with Sprout and (more) Hershey’s kisses, looking out the window at the beauty that is a snow filled world I can’t help but think..

Man. This effing sucks.
Oh yeah, it’s gorgeous. It looks like a Hollywood movie over here. The bare branches of the trees are just the right amount of iced and the sun is lighting off them like God rays. It’s breathtaking.
And it sucks.
Thankfully someone came and plowed our street, my husband and father in law dug out the driveway but it doesn’t much matter. Everything is closed. Our neighbors who braved the freeway came back and reported:
it sucks.
Dub and WWJD have mentioned it’s raining buckets back home in LA and oh…cry them a river, right? My toes are toesicles, there’s nothing on TV and we are snowed in.  I’ll take the rain over this any day! 
I had my first snowpocalypse shopping experience. I braved ye olde Giant Grocery Store where I encountered a crazed man who was buying nothing more than 60 rolls of toilet paper and three cases of beer. I guess we’ve all got our priorities, right? I myself, had run out for snacks for the wee man and oh yes, diapers. (I did however get overwhelmed with all the Supermarket Showdown cart crashing and came home sans wipes. Big props to Zach who scooted off to Target right before closing to make sure we weren’t trapped in the house for four days without wipes. Can you imagine? The horror!)
Zach, my very own snow angel! 
We are some of the lucky ones, although we did get about 30 inches dumped on us, we didn’t loose power. This was my biggest fear. Stuck in the cold with a baby and no power! We’re slowly digging our way out, I do hope to escape out to…well, anywhere before we get dumped on again on Tuesday.
Seriously. I am over winter, how about you?
Rescuing the Puppy Bear a.k.a. Prozac Puppy