Things You Can Kiss Goodbye After Having Kids

You have heard me say many times that life changes when you have kids. No matter how hard you try to hold on to your past, your future will always seem to get in the way.  Your new life will be filled with much more purpose and it will most certainly give you a new perspective; however you need to be prepared to let a few things go.  Some of the hardest things to part ways with are listed below:

  • Friends:  I have lost a few friends after having kids. In the end they expected way more of my time and attention than I was able to give.  I couldn’t balance keeping up with their lives and mine and unfortunately that wasn’t good enough. Other relationships have ceased because my idea of hanging out now entails day activities verses night activities. As much as I would love to go chug a few cocktails until the wee hours of the morning, I still have to wake up and be Mom at 7 am. Playing Mom with a hangover is pure torture. Lesson I have learned so far: To have a friend you have to be a friend, so try to reconnect as often as you can with those friends who do still make an effort to be a part of your life.
  • Money:  Makin’ it rain is a thing of the past. News flash: kids are expensive!  This is always a surprise to new parents.  You might think you have an idea of what it costs to raise a child.  Think again and while you’re at it – add a few more zeros. I remember experiencing sticker shock many times when we first had our son.  Daycare, schooling, diapers, formula, clothing, insurance and activities add up real quick. All of those weekend trips, dinners, nights on the town with friends, spa treatments – go ahead and kiss them goodbye.  Even when you do have the extra money, the guilt stops you from proceeding because you know the money could be better spent on your kids. Damn parenting guilt will get you every time! I pray every night my kid will be a pop star or a professional athlete one day so he can pay me back after he bankrupts me.  My advice: do your research so you don’t feel blind-sided, but also know you will always find a way to make it work.
What happened to all my Benjamin's?
What happened to all my Benjamin’s?
  • Your Body:  Remember that bikini body you once had? You will spend the rest of your life chasing after it once you have kids.  I know I am not the only vain one around here. We are all critical of ourselves and even if you are able to get the weight off, you will over analyze every mark on your body post-baby.  Your body changes – get over it and learn to love your new one.  I’m still working on this so no profound advice here, sorry to disappoint you.
  • Your Sleep:  All those naps I protested in Kindergarten – how do I submit a rebuttal? What I would give to take a two-hour nap every day. Sleep becomes a luxury once you have kids.  Even when your kids are sleeping, you can’t shut your mind off long enough to get the sleep you need. Your internal clock will never let you sleep in late again.  The only real uninterrupted sleep I get is when I have the Flu. Luckily Flu season is upon us!
True story...
True story…
  • Your Heart and Mind:  Every decision you make moving forward will be centered around your kids. You lie awake worrying about how you can make their life better, if you are a good parent, if you washed their favorite Batman shirt for school in the morning and if they will love you forever.  They will melt your heart telling you how much they love you, and break your heart for doing something they know they shouldn’t on a daily basis.  There is no pain greater then the look of disappointment on their face when you can’t help them when they are sick or afford that toy they want. They truly own you which is a blessing and a curse all at the same time. Prepare yourself because I guarantee you are in for a ride. 

What are things you have noticed missing from your life once you had kids? What we have gained is for another post.







My Brain and Body Have Betrayed Me


First time mom-to-be’s or those trying to get pregnant: DO NOT READ!  I don’t want to scare you. You’re welcome.

I am feeling a little betrayed these days because I tricked myself into having another baby.  First let me point out: I am obsessed with babies, it’s somewhat of a problem. I think they’re amazing and I would have ten if I were younger – and rich. What I am not obsessed with is baking them or pushing them out of my lady parts.

Following my last baby, I told my husband he would have to drug me to knock me up again. I hated every minute of pregnancy and when people told me I would miss it once it was over; I would violently laugh while portraying the world’s most disingenuous smile. Noticing my distain they would often follow up with,”Trust me. God made us so we would forget the pain or we definitely wouldn’t do it again.”  I would listen nicely but ultimately tucked the information away in my I’ll  believe it when I see it section of my brain.

About a year after my son was born, those words of wisdom started to see some truth. I would see a pregnant woman and reminisce about feeling the baby move and the anticipation of meeting them.  When I saw a newborn I certainly urned for one, not remembering the slightest bit of torture I experienced during the birth of my own. By year two, I was begging my husband to give me a baby and tracking my ovulation cycle diligently on my iPhone. Once we became pregnant, all I could remember was the moment I saw my son the first time and the joy he has brought me every day since then.  I felt truly blessed to get to experience it all…again.

Baby Sebastian 1 day old
Baby Sebastian
1 day old

I still feel blessed and can hardly wait to hold my baby; however, all those painful, disgusting, annoying memories about giving birth have come back to me….with a vengeance.  I am officially terrified! I had what most would consider a very by-the-book delivery, yet lately I can only remember all the awful things I had to endure. I am starting to have nightmares conjuring up every what-if story my brain can process, and trust me when I say even Stephen King would be proud.

I further torture myself by reading every headline I see about dramatic births.  I remember doing this to myself right before I gave birth last time but when my water finally broke a calm came over me.  It wasn’t until that moment I knew I could do it.  I know I can do it again, it is just the what-if’s that are sending me into a downward spiral. What if I go into labor and my husband can’t get there in time?  What if I have the baby in the car or a taxi?  What if labor goes too fast and I can’t get an epidural?  What if he comes early? What if my vagina breaks? What if he is an alien?  You name it, I have thought about it.

Baby Alex already laughing at me
Baby Alex
already laughing at me

WTF is my problem? Am I a masochist?  Why am I doing this to myself?  Why am I remembering this now when I don’t have a choice in the matter?  News Flash Holly: This baby is coming with or without your participation. I decided to make a list of the all the things I hated about labor that have kept me up at night.  I hope by sharing them it will help me come to terms with the inevitable and render any support from you.  It is okay if you call me a psycho, I will not be offended.

Things I hate about having a baby:

  • The IV:  I HATE IV’s.  The one they use during labor is a larger gauge in case you need an emergency blood transfusion. Awesome.  Plus, during labor you sweat like a whore in church and the tape keeps coming off leaving the IV to wiggle around.  This gives me the creeps. You already have a ton of wires connected to you and people are always bumping them.  This was the only time I yelled at my husband.  I told him if he touched or tripped over my wires again, I was divorcing him. I was serious.
  • Contractions:  My contractions coupled.  This means they would spike, only to come down half way before spiking again.  This happened two or three times before they would go away completely.  You can feel them coming on like a freight train and there is nothing you can do about it – not good for control freaks. Contractions literally feel like someone is crushing your pelvis. No matter your tolerance of pain, these suck.. bad.
  • Epidural: The epidural is amazing however the thought of it going into my spine freaks me out.
  • Catheter:  After the epidural you have to get a catheter.  No explanation needed, it just sucks.
  • Birth: It’s humiliating.  Luckily it is overshadowed by the joy of your baby – so this I can live with again.
  • Epidural tape: This tape holds the epidural in place and covers your ENTIRE back.  They also spray on an adhesive to help it stick even more.  Taking it off is a b*tch!  Imagine the world’s largest band aid with super power stickiness.
  • Bleeding:  You bleed… a lot. After raiding the hospital supply of underwear and cleaning myself up the nurse would inevitably come in, put all her weight on my stomach, and pull a WWE move to release any blood. This is disgusting and it hurts.
  • The hospital team:  They are amazing, but they deal with chicks like you every day.  I can only imagine how many times they are asked, “Does it hurt?”  I felt bad whining or complaining because I wanted them to like me and give me more attention. My plan worked but I had to act like a rockstar, when in reality I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs.

This is all I can think of right now. For the record and as all of you as my witness:  This is the LAST time I am doing this. Baby maker is officially retiring.

Your crazy friend,


End of day - All worth it!
End of day – All worth it!





Emergency Room Visits Are In My Near Future

Now that I have succumbed to the reality of having two boys, my thoughts are now starting to evolve into ways to keep those little a-holes out of the ER.  We all know boys are Tasmanian Devils that apparently don’t hear what their parents say unless it involves ice cream or boobs.  Their ability to listen is most certainly selective, because screaming their names or saying no doesn’t seem to resonate.

Being the helicopter mom that I currently am, I know this helicopter is in for a crash landing. There is no way I can maintain my lunatic-self with two boys OR the future emergency room patient – will be me.

I have two older brothers and have heard the horror stories from their childhoods and witness many of these stories myself.   Yes, in hindsight the stories seem funny, but I am sure my parents were not laughing when they stamped their Frequent Rewards Card at the ER every week when those two were little.  You name it; they had it happen to them. One brother broke his chin trying to boobie-trap the other one. Who the hell breaks their chin? The other brother broke both of his wrists while trying to do a flip out of a swing.  The poor guy had to wear casts, which were held up with rods attached to a belt around his waist.  Know what this meant?  My mom had to help him pee, shower, eat, etc. He was in Junior High school at the time.  I’m sure having your mom help you pee at that age was humiliating. For the record: I am not holding either of my son’s man parts if their dumb a** breaks their wrists. Take note boys.


Now, I had my fair share of doing stupid sh*t.  I was a definitely a tomboy who didn’t have fear of much.  For example: once while on my way to work at my lifeguard job, I got a flat tire.  No biggie – right?  Wrong. Obviously, I don’t know how nor am strong enough to change a tire, so I pulled over on the left hand side of the road.  Yes, left side. Way to go brainiac! I then proceeded to walk down Interstate 35 in a bathing suit, all the while hitchhiking to get a ride to a phone.  Now this was, of course, before cell phones if you can even imagine that. I finally caught a ride with an 80-year-old couple that I first asked, “Promise you aren’t going to kill me?  It’s hot and I can’t walk anymore.”  They replied with a resounding, and almost defensive, “No, we aren’t going to hurt you!” And continued with, “You really shouldn’t be walking down the highway in a bathing suit.”  No sh*t Sherlock. Thanks for the words of wisdom.

bathing suit hitch hiker

Either way my stupidity didn’t land me in the ER (knock on wood), or on a black market in some foreign country, so that was a plus.   Point being: I know my boys will make stupid choices, it’s all part of being a kid and learning. However, if those choices involve blood; I’ll be the mom passed out in the corner with a hand full of rosary beads, praying it’s only stiches or casts. Wish me luck.

"Please Jesus, no blood!"
“Please Jesus, no blood!”

Gender Reveal: Surprise!

Whether you find out the gender of your baby during pregnancy or at birth, it is a very special moment. It is in this moment you begin to picture your life with this tiny being, choose a name, and fall in love with them even more than you were the day before.

With this pregnancy I have had many surprises. It’s been very unconventional, to say the least. Since I’m high risk and had an ovarian cyst burst in the first month of pregnancy, I’ve had many ultrasounds to confirm the baby’s health. At twelve weeks I went in for my second ultrasound. I took Sebastian with me so he could see the baby, however my husband was traveling on business and was unable to make it.

Once we arrived, the tech was finally able to confirm my due date and that the baby was healthy. I had seen this same tech several times before, so we began to build somewhat of a tech-patient friendship. Right before my appointment ended she turned to me and asked, “Are you finding out the sex?” I stopped breathing. Am I? Did I want to find out without my husband? Did I want to find out this time around? Was I ready for this news? But before I could let my brain control my mouth, my lunatic, control freak side took over: “Yes! Can you tell this early?” She confirmed you could and followed up by saying, “Now don’t going buying a bunch of sh*t just yet, but I pretty sure it’s a girl.”

My eyes welled up. Sebastian yelled, “Baby sister!” I couldn’t believe it. I walked out on cloud nine. I felt so blessed to be a mom to one of each. Even though I thought I wanted two boys, my mind started scrolling through years of ballet classes, mani-pedis, wedding dresses, and suddenly I was excited. Very excited.

I know she told me not to buy a bunch of stuff, but I did. I posted her name, Sophia, above the crib and decorated it with purple bedding. I also bought a couple of cute dresses. We didn’t tell our families right away because we wanted to wait for confirmation. We scheduled another ultrasound at a private place, which allows your family to log on to their website and view the screen with you. We thought this would be a great way to reveal the sex, as our families live in different states. Since we already knew the sex, we were trying to act surprised.

The tech prepared me on the table and stuck the wand on my belly. We were watching the screen in front of us patiently as she tried to get the baby to open their legs. It took a few tries but when she finally got the baby turned, she wrote on the screen: It’s A Boy!

WHAT THE F**K!!! My face dropped to the ground as my family was texting and cheering. I asked her, “Are you kidding me? That can’t be right? When did she grow a penis!?” The poor women looked at me…. speechless. Then…I cried. She wasn’t sure how to react after that. She tried to cheer me up, “Look Mommy, he is waving at you!” Yeah lady, whatever, waving at me saying, “Sucker! I tricked you!” Sebastian still confused followed up, “No more baby sister?” Adam, Sebastian and I sat in awe. We then paid the fee and left. As soon as I got home I returned all the girl stuff, cried a little more, then went to sleep.

The next day, I started thinking: If that b*tch wouldn’t have told me girl and showed me a little vagina as proof, I would have never had this reaction. But she did. She was wrong. Get over it. A boy is awesome. You will always be Queen of the house and you won’t have to share your shoes and handbags with some chick you call your daughter. It was then I started getting excited – for another boy. So ladies and gentleman come November, Thanksgiving to be exact, Mr. Alexander (the Great trickster) will make me the happiest mommy alive.

To celebrate we took some cheesy gender reveal photos. Enjoy.


Bye Bye Sophia!
Bye Bye Sophia!
It's A Boy!
It’s A Boy!
Yes my son is almost my height!
Yes my son is almost my height!
We tried to do glitter but Adam was not feeling blowing glitter.. as you can tell by his face.
We tried to do glitter but Adam was not feeling blowing glitter.. as you can tell by his face.
Still not sure about "Ah-wix" (Alex), or sharing his momma.
Still not sure about “Ah-wix”
(Alex), or sharing his momma.


Not sure yet, but he'll get there..
Not sure yet, but he’ll get there..

*Special thanks to Sylvia Stutz, an amazing photographer and friend, for her patience with a toddler and the great photos!



Why Shopping for Maternity Clothes Ruins My Life

I am pretty sure there is nothing worse than shopping for maternity clothes. First off, I hate spending money on clothes that I am forced to wear. Some women –(I hate you)–, can wear regular clothes for the first five months. I am not one of those women. I have a torso the length of a paper clip and I am 5’2″. Along with having a small frame, I married a giant. My first kid was 22 1/2 inches long and came a week early because his poor legs were jammed in my rib cage. This combination of bad genes and a giant husband means I start showing the minute I get pregnant. This forces me to wear maternity clothes for the full pregnancy and postpartum.

ME preg

You really only have two choices when shopping for maternity clothes. You can either go for (moderately) cute and more expensive, or cheap and look like you are wearing a large tent, with a rope around your waist tied ever so lovely in bow on your backside. I despise bows. Why would a thirty-something want a bow tied right above her large pregnancy booty to draw more attention to that area? And pregnancy jeans… that subject I will save for another post. The only thing I will mention is that maternity jeans give a whole new meaning to swamp a**. Prepare yourself.

In an attempt to score some deals on dreaded maternity clothes, I was browsing Amazon last night and suddenly felt like vomiting. Who are these ‘pregnant’ chicks they get to model the clothes? They must be wearing prosthetic bellies because there is no way they look that good pregnant! And to p*ss me off even more they are shown wearing high heels. Look, I have been pregnant and I know you can not wear heels. IT HURTS! I am convinced, just like little-miss Kim Kardashian, these models take the photo and then change into flats… immediately. Maybe I am just being a hater, but when I was pregnant my feet grew half a size and they were way too swollen to wear heels. The minute my foot touched a heel, my body quickly reminded me: Not so fast sister…

Lastly, the ultimate blow to your self esteem is shopping for a maternity bathing suit. Lucky for me I will be pregnant over summer (Yay!). Shopping for a bathing suit when you have a normal body is enough to send you into a wine filled b*tch session about how much you hate your body. Imagine shopping and trying on bathing suits when you look like this:


Again, you have these 5’10” chicks who look amazing wearing these suits. Thanks for making me feel worse Amazon! I eventually gave up and just succumbed to the thought of looking like the above and bought the first suit I saw. However, to help hide my embarrassment, I also purchased a big hat and sunglasses. Until the baby comes I shall remain incognito, especially at the pool. If you do see me out, don’t blow my cover. Also, if you ask me if I am having twins due to my large belly, I may punch you in the face. You have been warned.

Took My Pregnancy Test… I Passed!

Yes, you read right.  The ole’ baby maker came through in the clutch!

First off, I would like to thank God.  Secondly, I would like to thank my husband, family, friends and all the readers who were so supportive. Your comments and advice came at a time when I desperately needed them.   If you are thinking this sounds like an Oscar speech, you are right. This past year was a miserable, emotional roller coaster that almost ended with us giving up on expanding our family. And, I was on the brink of starting expensive, daunting fertility treatments. So…I really do feel like I won an Oscar, better yet, a baby!


I found out I was pregnant two days after I wrote this post.  I was driving back from Starbucks and made a quick stop at Walgreens to buy one more pack of pregnancy tests. As I was cashing out, I said to myself, hopefully this is the last dollar you spend on these. Once I got home, I immediately put the tests away.  I wasn’t ready to take one and have my heart broken yet again.

Later that week I felt ready.  I took the test and when I checked the stick, a positive sign glared back at me.  As I would with a negative sign, I grabbed the box and read the instructions about ten times to make sure I was reading it right.  Then I did what every girl does, I took another test.  That one, a positive too!  I ran out of the bathroom, looked at my husband and started crying.  This time he knew my cry was one of relief.  He stood up, hugged me and whispered in my ear, “Finally.”

preg tes

Besides having enourmus boobs, nose bleeds, bleeding gums, the bladder of an 80 year-old, and barely being able to keep my eyes open lately, I can’t really complain. Pregnancy does not suit me, but I’ll gladly oblige for the end result.  I know, I shouldn’t complain and should feel very blessed, which I do, however let’s be honest ladies – pregnancy sucks.

Just a couple more weeks and I will be in my second trimester, which they say is when the ‘glow’ starts. By ‘glow’ I mean I will look more pregnant and not just fat. I have already been asked, “Wow, are you having twins?”  No, I am not.  There is only one, so says my doctor, and thank you for making me feel like a whale.

I am hoping for a girl, but a boy would save me from bankruptcy.  The husband says he knows it is a boy, so we shall see.

Again, thank you for all the love and support and I will be sure to blog along the way!








The Rules of ‘Engagement’ After Marriage

Our friends keep asking us to write about sex.  Okay ladies, we will take one for the team.  You’re welcome. Mom and Dad: If you are reading this, now is the time to log off. Thanks.

As wives we can all remember how we lured our husbands to love us in the first place.  All it took was one look, and they knew what time it was.  It was so easy to get them to do whatever we wanted. Okay, who are we kidding, we still use sex as a ploy to get what we want… and so do you.  (DON’T LIE!).


Unfortunately, times have changed. Back then we had less responsibilities, less stressful jobs, hot little bodies and more time on our hands.  As that time filled up, sex became lower on the totem pole. It also became somewhat of a chore.  We know as wives we have a duty to make our men happy, but guys, help us, help you. Very simple.

Here are some helpful hints you can share with your husbands if they want to get laid more often:

  • Numero Uno: Don’t ignore us all night, without so much as a, “How was your day honey?” Then once we climb into bed think it is go time.  The only thing going around here is ME – TO SLEEP.
  • Next, help out with the chores.  Studies show, (according to Yahoo!), when men help out with chores, women feel more appreciated.  Therefore more inclined to give it up. Hey, you can’t argue with Science!
  • If it is after 9:30 pm on a weekday, forget it…. immediately. 
  • When initiating sex during the work week, romance is not necessary.  You have about ten minutes before we fall asleep,  make them count!  We are a sure thing so stop wasting time.
  • Weekend sex, the rules are different.  Romance IS necessary. If you try to cut to the chase, we will feel used and fat. (Tip: we always think we are fat no matter how skinny we are.)
  • To clarify romance: This does not mean grab our butts as we are trying to cook or brush our teeth.  This caveman act is not sexy.  Sorry to burst your bubble guys, but it doesn’t turn us on.  Romance means massages, candles, take on an extra chores, draw a bath, etc. You get the idea (hopefully).
Nothing says I love you like alcohol!
Nothing says I love you like alcohol!
  • Last but not least, insist your wife reads 50 Shades of Grey.  The writing is horrible, however the content is smokin’ hot. It will work and it does.

I hope you enjoyed our Rules of Engagement.  Now pass them along and please feel free to add your own in the comment section below.


Holly & Kari




Lesson Learned: Ask Where The Reservations Are First

Earlier this week, Kari asked me to go to dinner.  Obviously any opportunity I get to hang out with girlfriends, I jump at the chance.  The day of Kari and I’s dinner date, my husband informed me he had to work late.  I called Kari to tell her I would have Sebastian, but asked if he could join us.  She said it shouldn’t be a problem, as he is pretty well behaved.

Later that evening in route to the restaurant she looked at me and said, “You know this place is really nice, like fine dining, right? Obama supposedly frequents this place.”  My response, “You know there is a kid in my back seat, like a toddler, right?”  My anxiety escalated as she tried to convince me all would be fine. I get embarrassed really easy, especially in public.


To save me from having a heart attack,  Kari calls the restaurant to make sure kids were allowed. The hostess, without hesitation, said it would be fine.   Once we arrive, I lean into the hostess and quietly ask, “Can you put us at a table in a dark corner, preferably away from all other living beings. Thanks.”  Kari chimes in, “We will leave if the kid gets crazy.”


Once we were seated (away from everyone else), I immediately pulled out my iPhone so the kid could watch Mickey. Phew that bought us about twenty minutes. The hostess then came over with a placemat and some crayons. Let’s be honest, she probably had to run down the street to the Cheesecake Factory to get those damn crayons, because I know kids rarely come here. The cheapest bottle of wine was $70! We made it through the salad course and much to our surprise, Sebe was a complete angel.  In fact, he was drinking out of a regular water class with such sophistication, you would have thought he was a natural.


Kari and I were able to actually have a conversation and enjoy a three course meal without interruption. At one point my son looked at me and said, “Momma I mind my manners.”  For that… he got Gelato and a kiss.


Once we settled the bill, I put his token batman jacket on and he ran through the restaurant holding his cape screaming, “I am Batman!”  He even did a little twirl by the hostess stand. Luckily all the old rich people left in the restaurant thought it was cute.

When we picked up the car, he proceeded to tell the valet attendant that he was VIP. Listen kid, let’s not get too big for our britches just yet. You’re 2. 

"I am BATMAN!"
“I am BATMAN!”



Why Do Kids Smell Like Sewage Plants?

Remember that intoxicating smell of a newborn that set your ovaries into overdrive?  Even holding a baby that isn’t yours will have your baby maker screaming for one of it’s own.  They smell of new life, hope and innocence.

I'm going to smell bad soon? Crap!
I’m going to smell bad soon? Crap!

I miss that smell. That lovely smell has turned into a smell that I like to compare to a rotten carcass.  A little harsh? No, have you smelled my son?  Next you may ask, “Do you give him a bath?” Yes, I do bathe him often.  Yes, he also brushes his teeth twice a day.

To be honest with you, I am convinced there is a secret society at his school which makes it mandatory to run around as much as possible, while trekking through sewage pools.  Every day I pick him up he is doused in sweat, has dirt under his nails, and painted arms compliments of Crayola markers.  Once we get home and remove his shoes: HOLD your noses people because your nostrils just may burn off. It’s worse than a teenaged boy’s locker room.

Typical Recess at School Apparently

I scrub his his feet every night, why do they smell like rotten cheese and vinegar? We are going to go broke buying new shoes every few months! We have even put powder in his shoes to no avail. Once in the airport he was telling everyone at the gate, “Momma says I have stinky feet.” Not too many found it funny.  I, of course, thought it was hilarious.


At one point I was afraid he might be the smelly kid at school, but not the case.  All those little petri dishes (a.k.a. his friends in class), have the same problem according to their parents.

When he is at home on the weekends with us, the smell-o-meter definitely drops significantly.  Maybe I should start sending him to school in a bubble.  Either way, I guess this is preparing me for when he is a teen and smells even worse. God help me, and my nose.


Shattered Hollywood Dreams

So several months ago a work colleague convinced me to submit Sebastian’s pictures to a modeling/talent agency here in Chicago.  I admit he does take pictures well, and he is also cute in real life.

Come on: Cute-a-rom-a!

I wasn’t really into it at first because I have zero time, and I don’t want to add lunatic stage mom to my resume. However when I started showing disinterest, she quickly told me about her friends kid in D.C., who makes a lot of money doing print work.  I put my cocktail down and said, “What is a lot?” Her answer was enough to have me completing the online form that night.

Look….that kid needs to go to college, and it ain’t gettin’ any cheaper! (Yes, sometimes I like to speak like a gangster- really brings home the point).  Plus with all the food that kid eats, he needs to start building up a grocery fund. I will NOT be able to afford his appetite when he is a teen.

Mi Vida Loca
Mi Vida Loca

I get a call two weeks ago that they are interested in meeting him in person today.  AWESOME!  I was very excited and somewhat nervous.  I dress him up like an East Coast/ Martha’s Vineyard/ D-Bag, popped collar and all.  He even let me put product in his hair.

Once we arrive, the place looked pretty nice and professional.  They check us in and escort us to a waiting room with about fifteen other kids.  He was (legit) the cutest one there, just saying.  A talent agent comes in and gives a speech about how they will take our kids to the other room for a minute to snap a photo, and see if they do well with direction.  In my head I am thinking:

He’s got this in the bag.  He is an angel, always listens, AND he looks fabulous. 

As she makes her way to us, he starts yelling he wants to play Angry Birds.  I quickly pull my phone out.  I realize this is the time he usually eats at school and gets ready for his nap.  Sh*t! He better chill the F out, just for a few minutes.  Please Jesus! I start to get nervous, as he is becoming a ticking time bomb. All five of the kids before us were asked to stay.  We are next.  She approaches and asks his name.  “Sebastian.” He states with a smile.  I am starting to sweat. Next she asks him to come with her and grabs his hands.

ALL HELL BREAKS LOOSE.  He yells at her not to touch his gloves, tells her he is not going with her, and starts wildly kicking his legs.  You would have thought she was trying to choke him.

add arms and legs flailing
add arms and legs flailing

The record player screeches, and all eyes are on us.  Me…. MORTIFIED. There are only a few times I have requested a ‘return to sender’ on this kid, and today was one of them. (See post: He’s Not Mine for another time.)

Needless to say that b*tch told me he wasn’t ready and needed to reapply in six months.  Even though my kid was a disaster and she had every right to say that, something came over me.  I felt the need to defend and protect him. As I gathered my stuff, I looked at her and said, “You know who isn’t ready?  You!”   I grabbed my little a-hole and walked out.  I guess my his Hollywood dreams are shattered.