Back...

A year ago...

I went away...for a long time.  I had a baby, had a meltdown, learned how to love and had another meltdown.  I had many, many meltdowns in the past year of my baby's life.

I forgot about this.  I forgot about this blog, where I used to go to write what I needed to write, whenever I needed to write it.  A friend began a blog, which I became a contributor to:  Drink with Aloha.  Go to the "mommy needs a cocktail" posts to find what I've written there.  I might reprint them here, because I like having everything I muse about on one site.

I began a new blog, A Perfect Sip, which was a collection of my recipes and the perfect drink pairings for them.  Then I gave it to my husband, who, along with his friend, began a wine radio show on Hawaii AM radio.  My perfect blog name became their perfect radio podcast name...and that became my life for a little while.  Unfortunately all my past posts are gone...hacked by an evil hacker...recipes, thoughts, musings...gone.  Very sad.  But the site is back up, better than ever, and full of insightful wine podcasts from a Master Sommelier and an Advanced Sommelier.

But this isn't about them.  It's about this.

I missed this.  I forgot about this, forgot about the freedom of writing for myself.  There have been so many times I had something to write about that I couldn't because it didn't fit the genre of the other websites...and I forgot about my beloved Pampers and Patron.  This is what happens when you become a mother - you forget everything except what is in front of you (at least, I do).

I can't remember a damn thing anymore...but I do remember this.  

This.

This makes it all worthwhile, everyday.  Even when he screams for 2 hours straight at 1am, even when I'm so tired I want to gauge my eyes out with a toothpick, even when he bites so hard I bleed...it makes it all worthwhile.  Because he wakes up happy, smiling, and sweet.  Because he big-bear-hugs like the big boy he is.  Because he's the biggest daddy's boy ever, and could spend his life in his daddy's arms and I love watching them.  Because from two funny-looking people came the most beautiful child.  He has his daddy's lips and cheekbones, and my eyes and nose.  But somehow it all works out perfectly.  He stumbles around like a little drunk man, and his first word was "Uh-oh."  He does pull-ups on our oven door.  He tries to give kitty his pacifier, and shares everything with everyone.  He reminded me that I liked sharing my thoughts too.  And then I remembered I had a place to go to share them...and I remembered this.  

And now I'm back.  I'll be seeing you again soon.          

Yuppie + Hippie = Yippie. Welcome to my new Yippie World

As the main grocery consumer in my household, it is a weekly – if not daily – challenge to find the most economic and healthy consumables.  There’s Whole Foods (Whole Paycheck) and the local Farmer’s Market.  While my beloved Farmer’s Market is an affordable foodie’s paradise, they’re lacking in availability and convenience.  After that, there’s always a (generic)grocery store.   

But then, one sunny afternoon, I found the golden fleece of produce:  Perfect, pesticide-free strawberries.  And I bought them, and the guilt began.  I found them at a warehouse superstore.

More from the Yippie...

Tsunami-Not. Or: Mother Nature and Pele have a discussion.

This past Friday night, Chile was rocked with a gimoungous earthquake that devastated the country.  That earthquake sparked a Tsunami warning for the Hawaiian Islands, West Coast of the Continental United States, and Japan.  I'm missing a country in here somewhere that was threatened.  Please forgive me, I was preoccupied with the fact that:

1.  I live in Hawaii
-----and-----
2.  People were freaking out, and by 4:30am my parents were already packing their bags to evacuate because they live in an evacuation zone.   

6am:  I wake up to the sound of the sirens.  Wonder why the sirens are going off, since it's only Saturday, and the siren test day is Monday.  Reality:  Siren sounding was completely lost on me as I figured they had the wrong day and went back to sleep.  

8am:  My house was overrun by parents and 2 dogs while my cat and husband continue to sleep.  (Eff them!  I was woken up at 7am!) 

11am:  My grandmother and brother enter the picture, and my normally calm house was a mess of noise.

12pm:  We watch one little camera pointed at one portion of the Big Island.  This was it!  This was the big one!  OMG this is going to be crazy!

CNN reports:  Tsunami Surges Into Hawaii!  Tsunami Hits the Hawaiian Island Chain  AHHHH!!!!

The Shit That Ruined My Day

Re:  Utah's Newest Bill to Prosecute Women for Having Miscarriages

Hey Utah,

Fuck you. Yes, I say that for every woman who has has a miscarriage. You think it's easy to miscarry a baby - whether the child is wanted or not? Fuck you. It's not. If your body miscarries, it hurts like fucking hell. If your baby dies in your womb without you knowing you have to have an operation to take him out. So fuck you. Take your stupid bill and shove it up your fat asses, because you have no idea what the fuck you're talking about. To threaten to prosecute women for this is ridiculous. What's next, prosecuting women whose children end up having psychological problems? Because they must have done SOMETHING to make them that way? You want to prosecute parents who vaccinate their kids, because Jenny McCarthy says that vaccinations cause autism? You want to prosecute mothers who drink in their first month or two, regardless of the fact that their pregnancy test came back negative - because this happens ALL THE FUCKING TIME? Because pregnancy tests are not infallible! So dear, dear Utah. Please go fuck yourself.

Sincerely,
A pro-choice woman who still mourns the loss of her child, who had to be scraped out of her womb. If you want to prosecute me because I ate a deli sandwich while pregnant (OMG LISTERIA!) you can go fuck yourself.

P.S. This is only directed at the people in Utah who are assholes. The rest of you are cool.

McPregnant WomanVille: aka The Curse of the Oreo McFlurry.

Me (sitting in my car, listening to Taylor Swift sing about boys who don't love her, waiting for my Oreo McFlurry in the drive through line of McDonald's) singing:  "Romeo save me ~ I've been feeling so alone ~ I've been waiting ~ for you but you never call"

                      ---as I pull up to the pay window with my $2.71 for my freaking Oreo McFlurry---

Dude in drive through window:  "OMGCongratulationsAreyouhavingtwinsMysisterishavingtripletsandisshegetting hugeThisissoexciting (dance, dance, dance) WowCongratulations!"

Me (mouth hanging open, staring at this guy who just did a happy dance as he handed me my receipt):  "Huh?"

I looked down, at my tummy, clad in a brown sweater.  I was sitting down.  My seat belt was on.  I'm 5 months along, and I've gained 5 pounds.  I wouldn't have known I was pregnant if I wasn't urgently wanting to pee.  Was my face pregnant?  Was it my inflated boobs?  Or did he actually see the slight swell of my stomach through the drive through window and automatically know I was pregnant?   Because if I were him, I would have thought that I had just drank too many beers the night before.

As I relayed this story to my husband later that night, he started laughing at me.  Not with me, not in agreement with me.  AT me.

Him:  "Let me get this straight.  You were sitting in your car, in the drive through of McPregnantWomanVille, listening to McPregnantWomanMusic, waiting for your McPregnantWomanIceCream thing.  And you WONDER how he knew you were pregnant?  You were the freaking epitome of a McPregnantPerson!"

Me:  "Awesome.  Thanks."

Goodbye Ambivalence

Sometimes it's the smallest thing that makes you fall in and out of love.  Go to an adored restaurant and have horrible service - out of love.  Go to a party and have a phenomenal experience - fall in love.  Try a new drink - fall in love.  Try same drink made by different bartender - out of love.  Love is a Many Splendored - and fickle - thing.

With our little fetus it was ambivalence.  Many people say that women become mothers as soon as they get pregnant - but for me?  I know for me I adore my babies (the current one and the one lost) like crazy - but love?  To quote Mariah Carey, "Love takes time".

I can't believe I just quoted Mariah Carey in reference to my fetus.  But seriously?  I think every once in a while there's a tiny butterfly of coherent thought in her gorgeous mound of hair.  Cause loving my fetus did take more time than originally thought.

The Last Hurrah

Once upon a time there was a guy who loved wine and a girl who loved tequila.  They decided to attend a build-a-baby workshop for two, and were thus gifted with a zygote that turned into a fetus that would (hopefully!) turn into a screaming child that would be a healthy non-asshole.

One day the girl looked at the boy, who was drinking his 3rd glass of wine, and got really, really jealous.
"I want booze."
"Baby, you can't have booze!"
"I KNOW that, but I still want it."
"Poor baby," as he finished his glass and poured himself another.  The girl seethed, and rubbed the rounding belly.
"I need a last hurrah."
"A wha?"
"A Last Hurrah."  The girl got very sly.  "You need one too.  I mean, the baby will be screaming to be fed every 2 hours.  You're not going to get sleep either.  I'm going to pump, so you're going to get to feed the baby every other feeding.  Really.  And if you're not feeding, or going to work, you're going to be doing laundry because we'll be covered in shit and vomit.  I mean, this *is* an equal opportunity fetus."
The boy sobered, then became horrified and slightly green.  He drained the rest of his wine bottle directly into his mouth.  "Oh my god you're right.  Let's go to Vegas."