Monster Mama

I walked in on you and your Daddy drawing a picture last night. Your Daddy asked me who I thought it was, and naturally I said a Monster Lady...


Look at her. She has scary teeth and crazy hair and garbage all over her. Then, Daddy asked you who it was.

You said, "Mama." Naturally.

Wings of Joy

Remember these?


They haven't gone away. In fact, I think they've gotten longer and curlier. What. the. fudgesicle.

And The Winner Is...

What a fitting 100th post!! Without further adieu, random.org chose number...


MARY B!!!!!

Congrats Mary, please email me (siri at siriouslydelicious dot com) with the initial you would like on the necklace and your address.

Thanks everyone else for playing, and especially to Posh Mommy for making such lovely jewelry!!

p.s. Thank YOU Jackson for sleeping through the night. I love you.

Giveaway!!

Posh Mommy Jewelry has been kind enough to offer a One-Disc Initial Necklace for this Giveaway! If you're the lucky winner, you'll be able to choose posh lowercase or vintage style font, as seen in these examples:



Perfect gift for yourself, a grandmother, a friend... you can choose your own initial, your child's initial, your cat's initial... whatever may please you!!

The rules:

1. You must be an official "follower" of this blog (click the "follow" button on the right margin).
2. You must leave a comment to win, it can be about anything!
3. The winner will be drawn at random on Sunday, 7/25, at 5pm PT.

That's all! I have one of these necklaces and they're divine. Check out Posh Mommy's website, Twitter and Facebook page!

Swank Mommy

Dear Moms, Dads, Friends of Moms and Friends of Dads,

Check out this site, Swank Mommy. They make the most beautiful, customized jewelry. Here's what they did for my son...


That's his birthstone, aquamarine. What a great Mother's Day gift! Also, for Dads...


Daddy Dog Tags! Quick, order yours now for Mom's Day, Dad's Day or for no reason at all!

the flying mum

That's me, your mother.

Ever since giving birth to a child (you), my hair has done all sorts of funky things. Mainly fall out. But these things are new. These... wing things. Staring straight at the person on my left and the person on my right. No matter what I do, they won't tuck behind my ear. Your dad says, I like them, they're funny, they make me laugh. Not exactly the sentiment I'm trying to evoke with my looks.

Oh well. At least I know what I'll be for Halloween next year:

I'm too sexy for the market.

Yesterday, I put on lipstick to take you to the market. That was a weird thing for me to do, you see, because on an average day I do not wear lipstick. But I don't know, I guess yesterday I wanted to feel like I was Angelina Jolie or Heidi Klum because they have eight kids and still, you know, wear lipstick and stuff.

Anyway, while I thought I looked like a super model, you must have thought I looked like a clown, because you immediately stuck your little finger straight into my glossy goo and smeared it across my chin. Evidence:



Well, you can't really tell, but it looks like I've been punched in the chin. What's more upsetting is... that is my sexy face. If you want to leave me for Heidi Klum, I will understand.

whatever may be may be

Yesterday at the park, a mother came up to you and I with her 2-year-old daughter to say hello. After a bit of conversation, she asked me how much you weighed when you were born. Well of course I know the answer to THAT. But, I blanked. Had no idea. Eight pounds, I said, instantly knowing that was wrong. We chatted for a second more, but I was no longer listening to a word she was saying. Seven pounds, nine ounces, seven pounds, nine ounces. That was all I was thinking about.

The lady and her daughter walked away (thanks so much for the pop quiz woman), and you and I were left alone. For a very brief moment, I felt shame and embarrassment. What kind of mother can't remember her only child's birth stats? (Just in case, here it is in writing: you were born at 8:41pm on a Sunday, 20 inches long, 7 pounds and 9 ounces... oh, March 15th. 2009.)

But then, I looked at you, you smiled at me, and suddenly I remembered... I don't care about any of that!!! Becoming a mother means joining the club of motherhood. Members of this club love to share, compare, offer advice, ask questions, vent, laugh, cry... it makes us feel like we aren't going through this alone. While that's important and very necessary at times, there's really only one TRUE important thing and that's you. Our children. Which means there's a SLEW of UNimportant things. Like...

Remembering the date and time of your first smile (besides when I close my eyes, I can see it).

What my hair looks like.

Is your nursery cute, funky, unique enough?

What my clothes look like.

Is my house organized, clean, does it look the way I want it to look?

What my face looks like. Yes, that's poop on my face.

The list goes on and on. At the end of the day, I don't care about those things, thanks to you. You have freed me of the desire to meet any and all expectations that don't have to do with being a good person and mother. Thank you little buddy, it's quite a relief.

(See, I am capable of writing something serious and thoughtful. And yes, I do have poop on my face. It's pretty.)

buzzzzzz

Last night I let you play with my hair:

Please don't make me get a buzz cut.