311 of you voted on facebook to decide what I should wear to a baby shower today. THREE HUNDRED AND ELEVEN. People like to tell other people what to do. Fact. It’s ok because I need the help.

And after a landslide, you all decided on option B. Good choice.

So because the internet told me to, I wore option B. Option A was a little too power slut. You were right. Also, my Spanx are working overtime here.

And now I’m going to tell you my secret about these dresses. And I don’t wanna tell you. But I’m gonna tell you. Right after I never say wanna or gonna again. Slap to my own face.

My secret is where I acquired these dresses. And how I acquired them on like no money. And also why I am determined to pretend that it’s still 1956 (wardrobe style… minus racism and tv dinners).

Loyal readers may remember that when I was pregnant I had a wedding to go to and had to get a dress that fit the bump, that I’d probably never wear ever again. Well my experience with Rent the Runway was SO good that I kept using them. Over and Over and OVER. So yes, these dresses are rented and they are the best thing on earth.

In the past year, for every shower, party or anything that didn’t involve baby puke, I rented a dress. And it wasn’t really because I had to, it was because I never ever got to dress up anymore and let’s be honest, I didn’t have the money to buy new dresses. So I got just as much satisfaction from renting dresses.

For those of you not in the know, Rent the Runway is maybe the best internet invention since britney dance videos on you tube. I can’t tell you how many dresses I’ve bought for events that I wore once. Super dumb. With RTR, you pick a dress, pay usually about 50 bucks and get 2 sizes in the dress. If you want to go wild, get a 2nd option for 25 dollars more. You get the dresses for 4 days. They send you prepaid shipping envelopes to send them back. You drop it in a mailbox and you are on your way. And just like magic, everyone things you are a super fancy dress star. And the dresses are awesome. Like really nice things that I could never afford in real life.

So yes, both of these dresses showed up to my house on Saturday morning and I was just as excited as if I bought them myself. I did a mini toilet photoshoot, shared the pics with 4,000 of you on facebook and I’m ready to go. And guess what? Even the necklace is rented. I know I’m so damn lazy. I wish I could take credit for all of that. But I can’t.

See here

And now here is the 2nd part of this secret. I didn’t even pay the rental fee. *You* did. It’s ok, stop cancelling your credit cards. So many of you signed up and gave me referral credit the first time around, which allowed me to wear cute dresses this year. So thank you for that. It’s times like this when I’m happy to be a blogger. Also the WANA stuff. But also the free dress stuff.

So, if you’ve enjoyed my toilet dresses and you’ve enjoyed my honesty and you enjoy helping out internet friends, I encourage you to sign up for Rent the Runway and help me to continue to spread the word about things like cloth diapers, butt nuts and cheap dresses. B thanks you and so does our bank account.

Happy baby shower Box.

xoxo

Your smartest most stylish box friend,

MODG

I LOVE RENT THE RUNWAY.

What do you think…did I make the right choice? Did you vote? Some of you voted for A. Do you like power sluts? (me too)

You only get to sing that part of the song if your kid is in cloth diapers. Since I KNOW you want to sing that part, I’m going to teach you everything I know.

Just about cloth. Not about life. That’s for my book.

How do you catch and release your baby’s pee and poop? This is apparently a very interesting topic to talk about.

This actually happened to me once.

No I’m lying.

No I’m not.

Many of you have asked me for an update on the cloth diapering. If you missed the first post on my pending saint-hood, please read here and come on back.

So here we are, a year into cloth diapering. I’m going to give you some genius tips that I’ve learned in this year of the hippie butt. I’m also going to tell you why in fact it doesn’t take a saint to do this and you can catch and release too. I’ll even certify you.

We use bumGenius One-Size pocket 4.0. When I did my research, BumGenius had the highest ratings for durability and non pee all over my shirt-ness. 2 important qualities. A billion washes later, they are still in perfect condition. Literally look like new. The other type you can get is the AIO (Bumgenius All in One…clothies are big on acronyms. It’s to make you feel dumb). This just means that instead of inserting an absorbing terrycloth thing into a pocket to absorb pee and poop, it’s all in one diaper. We picked the pocket kind because you can add inserts at night, you can use different types of insert and you can trash them if they get gross.

Now I’m going to tell you about the stuff I learned that will help you:

Acquiring them:

We have 20 and were using 10 a day when he was little. Now we use about 5 a day. You can get them on ebay or craigslist. No it’s not gross. You can literally sterilize them. Also it’s babies, not meth addicts. My diapers are in primo conditioned and we’ve washed them almost every other day for a year. They are expensive, this saves money.

**DO NOT BUY THE VELCRO KIND EVER EVER IN YOUR LIFE EVER.***

There are people out there whose only job it is to switch from velcro to snaps. This is because velcro is stupid. It doesn’t last forever. Snaps do. It’s science really. I had to convert 5 of mine.

I have a friend that switched to cloth when her baby was 15 months to save money. You can switch over any time. It’s never too late.

Cleaning them:

Charlie’s Soap is the best. Use it actually for all of your clothes. It’s gentle but will kill dirt and crap with a sledge hammer. I love this stuff. B thinks I buy it from some man named Uncle Charlie off of his porch in Alabama. B is a fool. You need a soap like this to make your diapers last.

When you are ready to wash them, do a speed cycle on cold and then a cycle on hot with an extra rinse. Throw in the dryer (it says don’t but I say do. You don’t have all GD day) and you’re done.

Bleach those bitches once a month.

Once in a blue moon you need to put like 4 tiny teeny drops of dawn dish soap in. This strips the diapers and yes it’s totally as sexy as it sounds. It helps with absorption.

Extra stuff:

Dudes. I WISH I knew about this during the breastmilk poop days. GET FLUSHABLE LINERS. It literally looks like big toiler paper. Line the diaper and when they take a massive peanut butter crap, peel off the liner and flush. SO EASY AND BETTER THAN ANYTHING ELSE.

We do have the Diaper Sprayer that hooks to your toilet and barely use it. Now that he eats solids, the poops just fall into the toilet. I love a good solid poop.

Eventually G got to the point where he was peeing a lot at night and the diapers weren’t doing the job. TRUST when I tell you that I was not waking me or him up to change his diaper. Then we got hemp inserts and problem solved. They are just super absorbable and wash the same way everything else does. We have 3.

I have to tell you that sadly, your run of the  mill diaper bag will not cut it with clothies. You should have 2 with you at all times and a wet bag (washable waterproof bag to hold the dirty ones.). With all that shit (literally) you don’t have room for drink, snacks, toys, pacifiers, change of clothes, etc. Even my fancy bag that I bragged about isn’t big enough. Get the biggest GD tote bag you can find and rock it.

And that’s it my friends. It’s honestly so easy I can’t believe everyone doesn’t do it. We always keep a pack of disposables on hand in case I get lazy with the wash or just in case I need him to wear skinny jeans (need). But I really really believe that anyone can do this. Not just saints and hippies. I’m going to be way honest here, sometimes I’m too lazy to recycle. But I’m not too lazy to cloth diaper.

There’s a cost upfront but a big savings in the long run.

Ask your questions and I’ll answer every damn one of them. Because I love you and the baby penguins. Also, you are now certified in cloth diapering. Here is your certificate:

I just really wanted to use a picture of that weird baby again.

________________________

Coming up in MODG

-My hunt for the perfect white T shirt. From low end to high end. I’ve found fashion gold.

-Did you know G speaks sign language? He tells me to F off. I’ll tell you how we did it.

-My interview with a robot. Well, she makes robots. Well she works for people who do. SECRET ROBOTS.

xoxo

MODG

Things I didn’t know as a parent:

#654) Getting into preschool is more stressful than getting into college.

But you’re saying “MODG, you only have a 14 month old child.” I KNOW. Let me give you this advice mothers, get yourself some mom friends with kids who are a little older than yours. Because without them I would know nothing of this world of parenting. There is no book out there that tell you to hang toys and shit from your baby’s infant car seat or that you have to enroll in preschool when your kid is barely walking (barely means he sort of is (!!!)). No, you have to learn when you show up to your first breastfeeding group and your baby’s car seat is the only one without elmo and shit hanging from it. And your kid is the one that is screaming bloody murder. And they look at you like, “should have put toys on the car seat”. And you’re like HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO KNOW ABOUT THE DAMN TOYS?

But we’re not talking about infant car seat toys. Thank you baby penguins, that phase is over. We’re talking about preschool. G will most likely never be in any sort of day care, which is where I think most of you knowy moms find stuff out. I have to learn my shit on the street. And I learned today that getting into a hippie preschool isn’t any less stressful than getting into your fancy manhattan donate 5 grand to get in preschool.

So we were told about this playhouse (that’s what hippies call preschool) a few months back. I was like, bitch please, my child is playing with his drool on the floor. It’s way too early for playhouses and the like. Fast forward to a week ago and we’re setting up a tour. A tour that this morning, a half hour before the tour, I completely forget about said tour.

Me: shitshitshitshit we have a TOUR now. We have to go to the hippie playhouse G!

G: (side eye)

Me: What do we wear? Recycled clothes? Hemp? Amber teething necklaces? Should I start breastfeeding you again right now?

G: bahbahbahbah

Me: No you’re right that’s crazy.

G: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH

Me: Trust me, I KNOW it’s a bad impression to forget about your first meeting with your preschool. You don’t have to yell at me about it. We need to GO NOW.

So after getting lost, we arrive to the preschool. Both directors come out to my car to greet me. Are they checking out my outfit? Shit, I need to take my designer sunglasses off. Does G have enough layers on? It’s cold out. They are totally going to call child services on me. Breathe.

But they were so nice and welcoming and offering to take my coat and ….it seems like they are trying to impress me?

After seeing the school and the kids and the interpretive dance and the baking and the workbench with SAWS and things, I loved it. I totally loved the school. It’s a co-op so parents are there 1 day a week to help. Which I see as “more mom friends”. I’ll take it.  I asked if they were ok with cloth diapers and she looked at me confused. She says we have lots of kids in diapers and I HAVEN’T SEEN A CLOTH DIAPER IN A WHILE.

Wait.

wait.

They aren’t hippies? (hippies have seen cloth diapers. trust)

So I showed her G’s and she was impressed with the snaps and the modern pee catchiness of it. And she said it would be fine. Also you should know that I have no idea when kids actually potty train. So this could have been a very foolish question. Again, I will need to learn this on the street.

But they were just regular nice people.  Actually, I wouldn’t classify them as regulars. But I wouldn’t classify them as hippies either. Just nice people who  run a nice school sort of on a farm in the woods.

But after G ate 90 Ritz crackers that they gave him and a whole banana and signed MORE MORE MORE MORE  a hundred times, they told me what a great appetite he had and we filled out our application for 2013. I asked if there was criteria beyond the application timing to get into the school. She said no. It’s first come first serve. Ethically they feel that is the right thing to do.

But I watched like a billion tv shows and movies about how you have to work so hard to get into preschool? Don’t I have to donate a wing? Don’t I have to offer the body of a virgin goat? Don’t I have to show you that G is *this* close to solving for x?

Nope.

Whew…

Me: G, you were so worried for nothing.

G: DEEDEEDEDDEEE

Me: You shouldn’t worry so much about what other people think. Just be yourself

G: AAAAAAAAH

Me: And next time remember your appointments.

If you didn’t see it on the MODG facebook page or our twitter page OR OUR Pinterest page. Here is our little Frankenstein…walking.

Many of you met Pete when he reviewed booz for us. I think we all appreciate a good booz review around here. Especially from a dad. So when I thought about important things in life, I thought about drinking booz (check.) and next I thought about being skinny. I needed my dad to review stuff about being skinny. That’s what we want as readers, right? Booz and the skinnies. So we got Pete ON IT for us.

My dad’s 2nd favorite thing after booz is vacations. His third is finding piles of diamond and gold probably. He goes on lots of vacations and each time, about 2 weeks before he leaves, he diets like a sorority girl before spring break. Like, my whole life he’s done this. And to do such a diet, he eats pounds of meat and cheese. I swear he prays to Lord Atkins before bed every  night.

Me: Hey dad, maybe you shouldn’t eat straight up wedges of cheese on top of steak for 3 meals a day?

Pete: No, this is great. I’ll be super skinny in a week.

Me: Well it just doesn’t seem so healthy??

Pete: Just wait until my pee smells. THAT’S how you know it’s working. Wanna smell?

Me: No, I’m all set. Thanks.

So Pete took on the job of reviewing Shakeology for us. I’m going to warn you: yes, crash dieting is hereditary but so is talking about poop. you=WARNED.

I give you Pete.

_______________________________________________

Since I had my total knee replacement, my exercise program has almost disappeared. I use to love running, walking, elliptical. I guess every time I start to work it hard, I hear creaks and squeaks and other noises thinking this artificial thing is going to pop out like some kind of Alien. (gross visual Dad. PS. I will never get old, but I will also always capitalize Alien)

Then I went from a job where I was on my feet 8-10 hours a day running around a showroom to now sitting down at a desk. I know…excuse after excuse after excuse. My eating pattern hasn’t changed, just my calorie burning has. I am heavier than I have been in years and it really bothers me! (sads for dad)

So then I’m offered Shakeology before the holidays. Great! I now can have a shake in the morning. Salad for lunch and come home to Mom’s appetizers and pasta dinners, make a 2-3 martini’s and go out to eat 3 times per week and lose weight. I also can go to Grandma’s house and have 1400 kinds of desert for Christmas. (If you think any of this is an exaggeration you are wrong. My parents literally re-did their kitchen to make it more “restaurant like”) Thought I could drink the magic juice and lose weight. Not so! Needless to say I had trouble sticking to a plan over the holidays but I did start back up in earnest on Jan. 1st.

The coach provided me from Shakeology was great! (That’s Demi, she’s a reader and had her work cut out for her) She sent me a great motivational and instructional letter. Some pointers I have heard over the years from being a professional dieter (Please add this to my dad’s resume after professional mixologist), but I still picked up many ideas and sound advice to move forward.

Here is what I can tell you so far from starting my Shakeology chocolate shake:

1) Very tasty as is with just plain skim milk. We bought coconut and almond extract to add but very flavorful as is.

2) Tried with orange juice…kinda weird but still good. (They provide a calendar where you can have 30 different shakes by adding stuff every day for variety)

3) Added a banana, pretty darn good but real real filling. I should state when you blend this with fruit or ice, it gets so thick you almost need a spoon.

4) The we discovered Almond Milk….OMG….can old people use this? (yes, but they can’t use OMG). Lower in calories and fat and better tasting than No Fat Milk (that’s skim milk for you novices out there). They even make a chocolate flavored one. Mixing the Chocolate Shakeology and Almond milk is unbelievable….what a taste! You will be hooked for life (for life he says! Demi, this is great news for you).

….side note: try the almond milk in cocktails with Amaretto and vodka and Jamaican Rum Cream…I will admit, probably the best decadent drink I have ever made. ok, I digress…. this is probably why I need a Shakeology lifestyle…..seriously, can we combine with low calorie Vodka? (Seriously dad? I can’t even. I mean. Ok, I like it.)

5) This is a quote from my coach: “Shakeology can be tricky for some in the beginning-but I always urge everyone to stick through it. Think of it like this-every time you drink it-picture a broom going through your colon and sweeping out a layer. Depending on how much plaque there is, it can take a while for the Shakeology to get to where it needs to be for maximum absorption. Sort of like when you get your teeth cleaned-the plaque is being cleaned out now-and the side effects are very similar to a detox. You may experience lethargy, constipation, diarrhea, trouble sleeping, etc. But trust me, these effects are absolutely temporary. Soon, the benefits will do a complete 180 and you will experience what is meant to be felt when drinking this everyday.”

I am going thru the experiences listed above and very excited and awaiting my clean colon, more energy and and good BM’s. I think today it started….. (a;lkdjf;alksdjf;alksjdf;lkasjv,mxnvkjhdfg’ah’ih…… Unfortunately I don’t think he’s talking about bridesmaids.)

6) Taste…I thought at first too chocolatey? And I love chocolate. Of course I wasn’t sent a sampler… (that’s a complaint in case you weren’t sure ) here is what my coach had to say about this: “Have you explored the recipes with Shakeology yet? Sometimes it takes a while for a person to find their “perfect match” flavor wise, as well as consistency. You can make it less chocolaty by adding more water or milk and no ice so it’s more “liquid”..or add things like blueberries, strawberries, coconut flakes, coconut milk..the list goes on. You can even make Shakeology Ice Cream: 1 scoop shakeology, 2 glasses filled with icecubes, Almond milk (this is crucial-it gives a more ice cream consistency), and any other additives to personalize the flavor to you.

So now I really am getting into this and I love replacing a meal with Shakeology. I have dropped about 10 pounds but that is the old deck chair on the Titanic kind of loss (I *really* hope that’s not another sort of poop analogy). I do enjoy it and really excited to continue….ok without alcohol. The benefits they claim are amazing. I will check back in a few months for another update.

Thanks for the opportunity.
PS…..Any more alcohol companies need my humble opinion?

__________________________________________________

And there you have it folks. A detailed report on my dad’s poop and his plea for free booz. Just another day at MODG. Be sure to leave tons of glowing comments about my dad. He just about printed them all out last time and framed them.

Thanks Dad,

Love,

The MODG team (it’s just me really)

Dudes, this week reached into my soul, poured hot honey on it and dumped it in feathers. Then it pointed and laughed.

I’ll be brief. I’m still sick. We’re back on 2 naps because G’s head spun around and venom shot out of his mouth every night at 5pm. None of my shows are on tonight because of the Puppy Bowl with Kitty half time. Which I do get, it was pretty awesome. But still, my dvr suffers.

So instead of my usual complain champagne cocktail that I offer to you weekly, I’m going to turn this mother around and talk about how I got through my week. What saved me…

I’d like you to meet the one that I call when I need support. The one who is always there for me, day or night. The one that always tells me that I can totally wear those boots with that scarf and that pink hair and be awesome.

Meet my friend

For those of you who don’t know, Pinterest is your new religion. It’s twitter but for pictures of things like cute outfits and tiny puppies. It also holds great things like recipes or anything else awesome on the internet.

For those of you who are like DUDE, I’VE KNOWN ABOUT PINTEREST FOR LIKE EVER.

shove it up your vomit hole.

It takes me a while to get on board with new things. I’m *still* not so sure about twitter. And in 1999, I was really hoping the whole cell phone fad would pass. I digress.

Back in BP times (before pinterest), I would browse the glorious contents of the internet, saving pictures of inspirational things like ideas for G’s nursery or cute outfits on cute girls that I had to copy at a later time and date and claim them as my own. And I would have files of these pictures and there they would live. Pinterest has given me the ability to store my beautiful internet finds in a twitter type way and share them with my friends. And then my friend re-pin my ideas or like my ideas and I feel SO SMART AND AWESOME. And so will you.

In the past week Pinterest has changed my life in the following ways:

I found this perfect outfit and recreated it for myself with the help of Outblush. I am now much more casual cool mom and it was all my idea.

I learned that by putting my hair into some hipster headband at  night after my night shower (go night showerers!), I can wake up with the best most perfecto waves in my hair. I’ve done this 5 times already. I’m doing it now. See?

jesusgodbabypenguins…the things I do for you.

I  made these healthy little balls for G and he loved it and I felt like a super great mother for feeding my baby awesome.

And then I made this for B.

And he proposed to me all over again. And I just put some shit in a crock pot.

See that’s the beauty of Pinterest, it’s stuff that rules.

Next on my list?

This

And this secret potion to get rid of summer ants

Join the pinterest cult. But only if you like awesome things. I’ve started to see some glitter prom dresses on there which worries me for the future of my pinning. I need to have my eyes bombarded with awesomeness instantly.

See? Wasn’t that a happy post?

Are you pinning? Do you love it? B thinks it’s for “home makers and crafters”. As he says with his twitter machine up his butt.

It’s for STYLISH home makers and crafters.

Let me know your thoughts on Pinterest. Please tell me if you have awesome style and ideas so I can follow you. Tell me also if you suck.

xoxo

MODG

PS Next post is a review by Pete. If you don’t know, prepare yourself. 

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This display of pure awesome was brought to you by the fine folks at Birthday Suit Maternity. I WISH I knew about this when I gave birth. It’s super pretty gowns to wear so you don’t look like a half dead zombie freak in your birth pictures. It’s like the best idea ever. And great news for you, They are offering you 15% off with the code MODGBLOG2012. Go check it. Also great baby shower gift.

Dudes. World=rocked.

I’m officially in mourning. G has recovered nicely from his billion germ sickness and as the virus died so did something else. Something I’ll never get back. Something I loved dearly and held close to my heart every single day.

THE SECOND NAP.

I heard rumblings of this thing that these toddlers do, but it seemed so awful and horrific, that I brushed it off as ugly  baby rumors. There is no way MY child is giving up his second nap. He sleeps and hour and a half in both the morning AND afternoon. No, I’m not lucky. I’m smart. It took me a long time to get there and it was not easy. And that is why I was never giving up that 2nd nap. I planned to read Goodnight Moon (which is the dumbest book ever) to him twice a day in college.

But just like that, it was snatched out from under me.

Once G started “playing” in his crib for an hour, I knew it was done. I would come in and the humidifier would be on the floor, all the shit in his crib would be on the floor and he’d be breakdancing and rapping. Yeah, it was done.

And turns out in our “trial run” G was more than ready for full on awake time from 7-12. The child didn’t miss a beat. HOW CAN THIS BE? DOESN’T HE KNOW I NEED THAT TIME?

Please understand, I adore and love my child and I love playing with him. But he still doesn’t let me open the refrigerator without a melt down. And it’s the G show all the damn time.  I’m ok with this. He’s “spirted”. Which is what I’ve learned teachers call the crazy ass kids. But dudes, my internet time is cut in half. Remember The Project? Yeah the whole working out thing? That happened during the morning nap. And it took me a freaking year to figure that one out.

Do you know what else happened during the morning nap? Things like, brushing my teeth, pooping, putting on clothes and brushing my hair.

Yesterday was my first day on my own with G for the 1 nap day. And for the first time in 13.5 months, I felt like a stay at home mom. Now I know that sounds Britney to you, but listen: Before I had a baby. He would nap, we would play a little. We would eat some food and repeat. The actual stuff that happened in between naps was all well and good, but he was a baby so I could throw paper on the floor and be like “GAME!”. Now I’m a mom to a toddler. A toddler who totally needs me to stimulate him and teach him things. THINGS! And that my friends in pressure.

Ok maybe I should have been doing more of this before, but we really do the best that we can with a kid who just needs us and attention so much.

So yet again I’m coming to you guys. Please help me. How do I make this transition easier? How do I not be a delinquent mother and actually do things with my child that are fun and good for him?

Am I really a stay at home mom now?

PS.

I am butt ass sick. I caught the Croup. Apparently in adults croup= we’ll clog up all the holes in your face so it all has to drip down your throat.

PPS

I’m writing this during my one and only break today. You’re welcome.

Raise your hand if you know what croup is?

If you answered a combination of crap and poop YOU ARE CORRECT.

However I also found out very quickly that it is a baby virus sent to torture sweet little smushy baby faces all around the world (and their parents). Right smack dab in the middle of my boob lump drama, G caught croup. He caught it somehow, in the dark, in his crib, in the middle of the night. I think he’s hiding shit under his mattress. Like rusty nails and saliva from friends.

We wake up to the most horrid sounding cough you can imagine. I thought my son had become a seal. Because the cough literally sounds like a barking seal. It’s HORRIFIC. The child then had trouble breathing. Like for serious you guys. I brought him into our bed and was quickly reminded how happy I am that we no longer co-sleep. So I ended up sleeping on his nursery floor while he would do this

sleep
15 minutes
seal bark SCREAM stop breathing
*trip to the steam bathroom*
sleep
15 minutes
seal bark SCREAM stop breathing
mom loses her shit
Dad takes G outside in the FREEZING cold to get night air
mom cries in a corner
sleep
15 minutes
seal bark SCREAM stop breathing

ALL.NIGHT.LONG.

I debated taking him to the ER but I’m a queen over reactor so I thought I’d be a sensible mom and wait it out.
Sensible moms are assholes.

Because not 15 minutes after sitting with the doctor, he sent us to the hospital for xrays for PNEUMONIA.
jesusgod people. BABY PNEUMONIA.

I called B in hysterics.

Me: MY BABY MY BABY
B: It’s ok, I’ll meet you there in 15 minutes
Me: SOB SOB SOB
B: IT WILL BE OK
Me: MY BAAAAABY
B: Just DRIVE.

Do you know what is sad? Yes, those Sarah McLaughlin animal commercials. I agree. But so is a tiny child getting a chest xray. But he did not have pneumonia. Thank god. He was then admitted directly to the ER because he was “working to breathe”. What a TERRIBLE sentence.

I’ll wait while you get a bandaid for your heart.

He got a tiny little breathing treatment that made him look like a dragon, some steroids and lots of fever reducer because it was 103.3 ja;sldkjfa;lskdjfa;lksdjf
My poor little monkey who bounces off the walls couldn’t even sit up. I cried maybe every odd hour.

The only thing that made the child happy the next day was a warm steamy bath. So happy that for the first time ladies and gentlemen, he shit in the tub. WARNING, I’M GOING TO SHOW YOU THE SHIT. IF YOU DON’T WANT TO SEE IT. DON’T LOOK.

NOW STOP COMPLAINING ABOUT SEEING IT. Because I am the one who had to get the very sick child out and fish the poop out with my hand in a plastic bag that OOPS looks like it has a hole in it. Awesome. And oops, the poop disintegrates into 1 million tiny poops diffusing throughout the tub of water, all through the tiny holes and crevices of rubber ducks and toy boats. I am then the one who gets the STRAINER from the kitchen to get the bigger poops out to dump them into the toilet. I am then the one who has to collect the poop toys into a bucket with the poop strainer and somehow clean out the tub because it smells like a frat toilet.

I obviously sent that picture straight to B and requested a raise in my House Manager salary.

B says this: I would have just flushed the poop.

WHAT A GREAT IDEA YOU ASSHOLE.
Please remember that B has given this child a bath every single night of his life and he poops with me.

But G was not better and today we found out that he has bronchitis and double ear infections. But he’s starting to improve and let me tell you this: This took more out of me and was 100 times more stressful for me than finding out about Mr lumpy hump.

The one thing that got me through my lump ordeal was telling myself how much worse it would be if G was the one with a mysterious lump instead of me. That made me grateful for my lump and gave me the strength and courage to face it head on. And having G sick this week was a really good constant reminder of that.

This was G’s first REAL sickness and it won’t be his last and I have NO idea how I’m going to deal with more of this. I don’t know how any of you deal with this.
I am currently working on a love bubble for my baby. It’s made of marshmallow, bunnies and clouds and it protects my super sweet baby from rusty nails and friend saliva. He can totally live in that for a good 17 years. Oh, I’m also considering accepting donated breastmilk for G. And that is not a joke. I really miss having my super sweet magical health juice for G. He was never sick with the good shit.

Now please tell me how you keep your children safe. I’m accepting blueprints for bubbles.

Also I don’t want to hear about the shit picture. Go wash your eyes.

Worn the F out,

MODG

It’s a little surreal to wake up the morning of your diagnostic ultrasound. It’s sort of like going to court to find out if that weed money you used to pay for your expensive dental treatment will send you to the slammer or not. (That was *actually* my dream that night). Will my life from this moment on be much more difficult or will I be lucky and live an “easy” life. Why do I deserve an easier path than someone who didn’t get that lucky sentencing. Answer: I don’t. We’re all equals in this game of boob roulette. i.e. boobette.

What does one wear to a mammogram? Probably not a dress. That was a good decision considering your x-ray gown is a shirt type deal and if you aren’t wearing pants you are one super slutty patient. Jeans it is. I kissed my family goodbye and headed off to my sentencing.

Of course my GPS didn’t pick up the location. NBD, I’ll use my phone. Then I thought about the irony of dying in a car crash while looking at my phone on the way to your diagnostic mammogram. And THEN I realized I was being just as stupid as Alanis Morisette.

They move shit along FAST at the boob shop. There is no real waiting. Probably because a minute feels like an hour. They take me into the boob smasher and it’s naked time. I have never had a mammogram, nor have I ever even seen one. But I was afraid. They told me not to be. They always say that when you should be afraid. Your boob is literally sandwiched between a little table and a table that slowly closes down on your boob. Sort of like being stuck in an elevator door that decides to kill you by sheer force instead of open up again. But honestly, it doesn’t hurt. It’s just beyond weird to have your boob super smashed and stand there naked, with your arm up to the left and your head to the right and the woman squeezing your boob like it’s playdoh. It’s a whole thing and it’s all weird.

But 10 minutes later and I was done.

And this was the worst part.

They send you to a little room in the back where you sit with other women wearing the same xray shirt. Everyone looks at everyone thinking “why is SHE here?” “is it routine or is she sick?” I felt like they especially looked at me because I’m younger than the standard mammogram patient. That and I was wearing ripped jeans and chucks while they had on trousers and a sensible heel. I felt their pity because I, was clearly not a routine patient.

One by one they were called back. And then I looked to my right and saw that on the little table, I was sitting next to the Holy Bible. It was right next to People and InStyle. Really? REALLY? And that’s when my stomach started knotting shit up like a sailor with a rope. I thought I was going to diarrhea right in that chair. And JUST as I picked up the People with Guiliana on the cover talking about her cancer, I was called back.

I walk into a room with 2 giant computer screens and the glare of my white xray’d boobs flash onto the screen. The doctor asks me if we’re also doing a follow up ultraound.

**Side Note** Our insurance deductible is high. Like stupid high. So that means things like mammograms are not covered until we meet that deductible. Translation, we were paying for this out of pocked and an ultrasound would double the charge**

I told her that I’d prefer not to unless it was necessary. She said it was necessary

Oh god.

But then she said these words

“Because I don’t see anything”

She didn’t see anything. SHE DIDN’T SEE ANYTHING.

I had her feel my little lumpy friend and she suggested we do the ultrasound. The doctor immediately takes me back and within 30 seconds we’re looking at the lump and it’s confirmed.

It’s a fluid filled cyst and nothing at all to worry about.

My brain stopped registering things at that point and my eyes welled up with tears. Because that was my sentence. And I was lucky. SO LUCKY. Again, I never let death and dying enter my brain, but I did think about being a mother to a baby while undergoing surgery or radiation or chemo. I thought about losing my hair or my breasts. I thought about being very sick. I thought about not being able to pick up my baby out of his crib and I thought about G being just too young to understand any of it.

But I was lucky.

And when the doctor left the room, I cried. I cried lots of tears of relief and tears for my family.

I thought about all of the women that go through that office and sat where I sat and got a much different prognosis and how they felt leaving the office. I don’t believe that I deserved this sort of outcome. Because bad things happen to good people. I’m just lucky.

Obviously  my message to all of you is to check yourself constantly. If I could feel my entire body for lumps every day, I would. The cellulite would be tricky to navigate, but I’d find a way. I was amazed at how many of you had been through this and how many of my own friends came forward and told me that they had a lumpectomy or a mammogram at 20. I thought about why everyone is so secretive about it. I mean, I get it, it’s scary. But having this community come forward and tell me how many of you came through it ok or maybe are not ok but are fighting, meant everything to me.

I hope more people talk about this so if someone does find a lump you don’t immediately think death and cancer. But you do think doctor and xray right away.

My  next one will be at 35.

Do yourself a favor and feel your boobs tonight. Or find a friend to help you out.

It’s amazing how many of my posts are about boobs or vaginas.

That’s all friend.

xoxo

MODG

The mammogram/ultrasound results are in. Just a fluid filled cyst…normal and goes away on it’s own. Or doesn’t. But it’s ok because fluid filled cysts are the marshmallow rainbow candy canes of boob guts. That is, compared to the other stuff that it could have been i.e not rainbow things.

THAT MEANS I’M TOTALLY SUPER FINE EVERYONE.

HOORAY.

Dudes, when I tell you it’s been the worst 3 days of my life…well I guess I’m sort of exaggerating but man do I have stories to tell. G was in the hospital for Croup and possible pneumonia. And then they sat me next to the BIBLE at the radiologist.

We have a lot to discuss, but first I wanted to tell you the good news and also how much all of your comments meant to me. It seriously got me through the waiting period between not knowing and knowing. 3 cheers for oversharing with the internet.

But seriously, thank you.

xoxo

sparkle breasts

You don’t want them in in your oatmeal, in your pillow in your fat on your butt or in your breasts.

And I found one. A lump. And not in any of the stupid examples I just gave. In the important one.

And I froze.

It’s every woman’s worst nightmare. And I knew. I knew right away that this was different. I’m pretty much a breast feeling expert after a year of breastfeeding and 2 months of weaning. I’ve had plugged ducts, I’ve had general weird feeling lumpy boobs and I’ve had the period swells. This was different.

Every night in the shower I give the girls a squeeze to see if I still have milk. And would you freaking believe that 2 months after my last feeding I still have milk in there? I don’t know what my boobs are waiting for. WE ARE DONE BOOBS, TAKE MY WORD. I wish I could do  like *anything* that consistently and regularly as my boobs produce milk, LIKE WORKING OUT AND NOT EATING CANDY.

So you see I’m good at boob squeezes.

But last night I felt a pea marble. Size of a pea, felt as hard as a marble. No pain. Close to the surface. Sort of moveable. And this was different than anything I had felt before and then I stopped breathing.

Maybe it was because I had just read everything on the internet related to Guiliana Rancic and her double mastectomy with no family history of breast cancer. Maybe it was the 2 seasons in a row that we just watched of Breaking Bad. But I was done. And I mean my brain was done. There was no reeling this train back in. All I could think about was G and B and also maybe a little bit about losing my boobs.

And trust me, you don’t have to tell me that it could be 3 billion different things and I was getting ahead of myself. But brains are tricky. They do what they want.

So B came home and I cried a bit and I googled a bit and I didn’t sleep at all.

I really didn’t think that I was going to die. But I did think about any sort of surgery and I thought about the possibility of something worse like radiation or just being sick in general. And I didn’t think about my own well being, I just thought about G. And I thought about if I ever had to be away from him or if I couldn’t take care of him. Google couldn’t help me with that. GOOGLE IS PRETTY MUCH AN ASSHOLE. Hear that Google? That was directed at you.

And bright and early I got my ass to The Birth Center (my obgyn for hippies and awesomes) to have them check it out. Midwives are rockstar awesome. They sit with you as long as you want and chat and make you feel like you’re with your best friend. And then she felt for stuff.

And this is the part where I should say, it was nothing. But it’s something. And it’s not the end of the story just yet. I have a mammogram scheduled on Wednesday. However the something could still be nothing. But it’s a sort of a something-ish nothing. And that’s better than a something something. But we’re not sure.

And I thought about waiting and seeing this through before talking about it. But this is real life. And there’s nothing to hide. And if it’s nothing, we’ll all celebrate and if it’s something than I’ll have 250,000 people to help me get through it. Because I’m sure lots of you have been through scares and some of you it was a nothing nothing and some of you a something.

So this I leave to the Universe:

Dear Nothing,

I hope you are in my boob.

Love,

MODG

PS. when I think of The Nothing, I think of this:

That’s me up there. I’m a winner.