Wednesday, September 30, 2009

Tuesday, September 29, 2009

It's better to be scrappy than crappy

I am honored that Danielle-Lee of A Little Left of Lost chose me to receive the Honest Scrap Award.  This is an award that is given for honesty and sincerity in blogging.

It means a lot to me to get this award, as my blog (although sometimes neglected) is my means to vent, express myself, remind myself of things..feelings...emotions.  I put myself out there, no holds barred, for the world (or 36 followers) to read.  

Some may not like what I have to say, and that's ok.  

I say it for me.

10 things you may (or may not) know about me:

1) I am secretly way self-conscious about my front teeth on top.  I think they are very crooked, and therefore will only smile with my lips closed.

2) I have a hard time saying no to people.  I would rather accept the burden than make another person do so.

3) Ever since I had Chloe, I am constantly late.  For everything.  No matter what time I leave the house.

4) I love watching crappy reality tv like The Real Housewives, or The City.

5) My memory is shot.  I can watch a movie one day, but have no recollection of the plot the next day.  Or the actors.  Or the name of the movie...

6) I went to 5 years of college to earn 2 degrees, but am happy working at a job that requires no education.

7) I still don't quite feel like a grown up.

8) I secretly judge people by how they look, even though I say that I don't.

9) I am afraid of falling down stairs and breaking both legs.

10) My family (bf and baby girl) mean the world to me.  The entire world.  And I don't think I could make it without them.

Here are some bloggers that deserve the Honest Scrap Award, too:

Nic @ MyBottlesUp - not only for her rape survivor post, but for everything she writes.

Katie @ Overflowing Brain - for sharing the ups and downs, highs and lows of being a graduate student while dealing with the aftermath of brain surgery in late 2007.

Heather @ The Spohrs are Multiplying - an obvious choice for the most honest blog I have ever read.  It chronicles her life before and after the loss of her sweet daughter, Madeline.

Ali @ My Life with Them - as a mom just returning to work, she lays it all out there, good or bad.  One of my first twitter friends/moms/bloggers.

Lu @ Jaded Perspective - cuz I love her, and you should, too. 

Well, I guess that's a wrap.  Enjoy your day (even though it is Tuesday, the yuckiest day of the week) and try to be honest, today and every day.  Honest with everyone else, but especially honest with yourself.

Sunday, September 27, 2009


I asked Nic @MyBottlesUp  to write a guest post for me, since I felt I needed a change of .....everything, and because she is one amazing woman and equally amazing writer, she obliged.

Thank you Nicole for everything you do.  For being my go-to gal when it comes to fevers, diarrhea, allergies, and life.  You are my fairy angel....sister from another mother.

Thank you for being you.  I love you.


i guess i should first say that i prefer to write in all lowercase letters.  second of all, many thanks to my girl, my love, sara for asking me to guest post for her.  (personally, i think she's just being a lazy ass and not wanting to write herself, but nevertheless, i shall oblige because after all, she's my gurl).

on with my post... my words...  my voice...

i developed an affinity for tattoos years ago.  ink.  needles containing colors that forever mark your skin.  the tattoos i have represent an ongoing
story for me and will continue to do so.  my story is important to me.  my tattoos are important to me.  and while my love for ink may have began as a 20 something college kid, it's developed into something so much more.  it has matured, as have i.

it is a story that i will one day share with my son.

jackson (17 months now) already points at and runs his delicate, precious fingers over the tattoos on my wrists. he has never known me without them.

i have marks.  we all have marks.  women and mothers have marks. both seen and unseen.  known and unknown.  visible and invisible.

whether our marks are as outward as some of mine, or as inward as mothers who struggle with PPD...  they are all marks.  leaving their own impression.  making their own stance.  and leaving us mothers forever changed and searching for a way to heal.


jackson was born via c-section.  so i have a scar on my lower abdomen, near my pubic bone.  that's how my son came into this world.

i love my c-section scar.

i imagine that mothers who have delivered their babies vaginally (pain and suffering aside, though i'm not sure one can put that aside... then again i haven't blasted a human out of my vag, so i don't know)... have scars, if not internally also externally.

again, a healing must take place.

a scar takes time.

i take pride in my scar.  it may not be in my nether regions where i did not have to be sewn up, but there is a sense of pride that i have in my c-section scar.  i see it with each shower i take and think to myself "that's where the magoo exited my body."


being a tattooed mother, an "inked" mother... i have endured criticism (bleh)... judgment (eh, suck it!)... and looks from strangers who i imagine look at me and think whateverthehell they want to think.

but in being a mother with tattoos...  tattoos that my
story continues to manifest itself in ink, gives me pride.


kids love stories.  kids love marks, scars, scrapes, bruises.  they want to know "where'd ya get that?"  and i get to be one of "those inked moms" who shares with my son my
story when the time is right.

it's my hope that judgment aside, women and mothers learn to accept and embrace each other not only for their similarities in being mothers, in enduring sleepless nights, engorged breasts, etc, etc... but also in those differences that makes us truly unique women...  leaving our own mark on this world in the form of our children.


Wednesday, September 23, 2009

I don't have the words...

I found out today that a close friend...a very close friend a few years back...had taken his own life.

I found this out by going to leave him a silly facebook comment, only to find that his page had been turned into a memorial for him.

I was shocked, to say the least.

It wasn't until I spoke with his wife this evening that I really became saddened by the news.  Ok, I don't think that really explains how I feel.  I feel like somebody punched me in the gut.  I feel sick.  I feel absolutely horrible.  Maybe devastated?  I don't know.

I'm not sure if I feel this way because my friend is gone, or because I have no idea why he took his life.  I know he was having money issues.  I know he had a lot of things going on in his life.

Or maybe it is because of the circumstances surrounding his death.  His wife was at work, and couldn't reach him on the phone all day.  She thought he was sleeping, and just wasn't picking up the phone.  She came home, only to find him in the basement, lifeless.  

I don't know how he took his life.  I didn't think it was my place to ask.

I cannot imagine how traumatic it must have been for his wife to come home and find her husband.  Dead.

I cannot even wrap my mind around what must have been going through his mind...what kind of emotions he must have been take his own life.

To leave behind a new wife.

To leave behind a new daughter.

A daughter only 10 months old.  2 months older than Chloe.

He was 26.

Sunday, September 20, 2009

Get a life

I am SO over nosy neighbor lady.

In case you haven't "met" her yet, nosy neighbor lady (NNL) is a 50's ish single woman who lives in the apartment directly next to mine. I am very lucky to have such an attentive neighbor.  No really.  I mean, wouldn't YOU want somebody to come knock knock knocking on your door whenever the baby cried, or she thought the baby was crying?

Aren't you jealous that I have a nosy neighbor who lets me know that "she gets worried whenever she hears the baby crying"  and that "she really cries a lot, doesn't she?"

Yeah.  Don't hate.  I'm moving soon and this apartment can be all yours.  Maybe you can forge a close relationship w/ NNL and she can be a nosy grandmother of sorts to your kids.

Not sold on the point yet?  She is a GREAT motivator to clean!

Whenever she comes knocking at your door to see if "everything is ok in there", you will have the fear of god put into you that she is going to call child services on you, and god forbid they come to an apartment with dirty dishes in the sink or laundry on the floor.

I have considered telling her to mind her own goddamn business a few times.  I HAVE told her that babies do in fact cry, especially when they are teething.  But now, this childless woman knows better than me, and has determined that I am an unfit mother.

Also, my bf is an unfit father.  She knows this because we have tattoos.  Cuz obviously tattoos = bad parenting.

Never mind the fact that I nanny for a living.  

So, NNL, if I had a direct line to the man upstairs, I would certainly ask him to smite you (or whatever the term is that you crazy kids are using these days) with a bolt of lightening, cuz she certainly deserves every last ohm of electricity.

The end.

Wednesday, September 16, 2009

Wordless Wednesday

Nothin' like hanging out in your underwear on a Saturday afternoon.

Tuesday, September 1, 2009

How to pee in your underpants

Saturday, the bf and I went to a friend's wedding.  Actually, we just went to the reception (I have to be honest, I didn't even want to go) and had a great time.  

What made it a great time?  I looked great!  Haha.  Ok, not really.  But I looked all nice and svelte.  Smooth.  One smooth operator.  

What helped me achieve this new trim figure?  Why, Spanx of course!  You know, those spandex like apparatuses...apparati....uh...garments that take forever to climb into, but once you are in, they hold you in place like nobody's business?  Yeah, those.

note: the real spanx do not actually cut your head off

I had purchased these beauties in two varieties: the one pictured above, and the cami version, which I wear to keep the ol' muffin top from rearing its ugly head when I throw on jeans and a tee.  Isn't post-baby fat great?

I had a *bit* of trouble climbing into the full body suit type deal, but after jumping around on one foot, then the other, the laying on my back, yanking those suckers on one slow inch at a time....SUCCESS!

I quickly put my new dress on and checked the mirror for the total effect.

Holly good god mother in heaven.  Or father.  Whatever.

I looked GREAT!  I swear.  SWEAR (sometimes).  Promise you that I dropped inches and dress sizes with these amazing inventions.  I heart spanx.

Full of excitement at my newfound body, we headed off to the reception.  I was getting compliments left and right.  Psshhh....and owning it like I was the queen of england.  Is she still alive?  

Anyways...yes.  The compliments:  I was getting a ton.  No matter that most people hadn't seen me since I was huge and 9 months pregnant, or the fact that almost all of them were drunk when we arrived... I was getting compliments.  Nectar of the gods.


And then I had to pee.  I headed off to the ladies room (yes, I say ladies room here, just to keep it klassy), and pulled my dress up in preparation to sit down to pee.

And then I realized my dilemma.  I still had this union suit of spandex on.  Hmmm....crap.

Why had I waited so long to pee???????

And then I noticed the most amazing feature of these here Spanx.  A pee hole.  Yes, a pee hole.  They make the crotch area all nice and cottony and slitted so that when you sit down, the slit spreads (total eww) and you have a nice little hole through which to pee.  

One problem.

Nobody told me this.

And I wore underwear underneath my Spanx.

Total Life Fail.

So what's a girl to do in such a dire situation?  Completely disrobe, of course!  Yes, I had to untie the sash of my dress, unzip the side zipper, pull it over my head, hang it on the freaking HOOK on the door, and then proceed to wrestle myself out of the jaws of life.

And no, it is not any easier to get OUT of them than it is to get into them.  

I was making so much noise, one of my stall mates asked if everything was "going ok in there."

No biotch.  I have to pee and I can't get out of my slimming underwear.  Happy?  Ho.

Finally, I did manage to get them down enough, and didn't have to leave the wedding due to pee pee pants.  I can only imagine the horror that would have followed such a tragedy.  I can still hear the chants of "pee pants Rausch" following me down the halls.  Or maybe that was just in my head.

After relieving myself, I did what had to be done: I pulled up my undies and wrestled myself back into my spandex diet.  Yes, I HAD to put the underwear back on.  Why?  Because the only other option was taking the Spanx off the REST of the way (down the legs and off the feet), removing the underwear, and then putting the ENTIRE set of Spanx back on.  

I just didn't have that kind of time!  I had already missed out on the appetizer and salad!!!

(I didn't really.  The salad was all kinds of good with orange segments and pecans.  Mmmm)

After checking to make sure I didn't have toilet paper stuck to my shoe, or the back of my dress tucked in god knows where, I exited the bathroom, and continued to accept the compliments thrown my way.  ;-)

And I didn't pee again for the rest of the night.