Cake and Martha, Again.

My friend's birthday is creeping up and once again I'm in cake brainstorming mode. Lord I love cake. Look at what I ran across on Martha Stewart's site!

Lovely and amazing? Yes, of course. But isn't it also just a little... creepy? This is basically  a princess party cake, but for grownups. And according to Martha this cake is inspired by.... wait for it.... ruffled tap pants. Jesus. I try Martha. I try to understand you and Gawd knows I've defended you against the haters. But it's time to lay down the pipe, and retire the tutu and tap shoes for good. You're no Ginger Rogers,  or a princess and neither am I. Also, the Ruffle Tower Cake recipe doesn't bother to mention flavor or  taste, it just stands there, defiantly tall and ruffley. If you need further proof of Martha's impending break with reality check out this monstrosity of a birthday cake.
I welcome any and all cake suggestions this week and Martha- if you're reading, call me. I can be your stay-at-home nurse. We can take psychotropic meds together and ride horses at midnight.


In baby news, my child has successfully replaced me with a breast-shaped toy. I wish you could see the way she goes to town on this thing. Mommy who?

She also has a Bumbo chair. 

So, as the person who suckles her and props her upright, I am now redundant. Who knew it would happen so soon? *weeping*

Anyway moving on. Those of you who know me in RL (that's "real life" for those who are not as sadly geeky as me) have heard of my impending trip to Hawaii. Hawaii Hawaii Hawaii. I think and talk of nothing else. That's right Mother Truckers, Hawaii. Let me know what you think of this swimsuit. I'm not prepared to wear my bikini five months postpartum. I'm no celebrity with my post-baby body looking bodacious. No way. I have wobbly bits where wobbly bits do not belong. Luckily, I truly like the retro swimsuit look.

That is all for now. Have a great week my friends. 

Breaking News

As promised, I have some big news this week. I have an awesome new job!
Some of you may be aware of my financial situation. I am an RN, traditionally a well- paying job, but not so much for me. Here's the thing- I graduated from nursing school in 2009 and had a wedding- honeymoon-pregnant-childbirth cluster fuck all within 18 months. So that's my excuse for staying at a job that underpaid me and was super boring.
So, I finally got off my duff and my Shiny New Job allows me to work evenings so Matthew can go back to work full time. Also, it pays much more than my current job.
The downside is it will be much more stressful and challenging. That worries me a bit. When I became a mother my brain tissue transformed into cellulite. The other day I found a pair of my jogging socks in the fruit crisper. Not sure what happened there. If my brain had a window you would see my two remaining brain cells trying desperately to communicate via rusty tin cans and string. Also lots of cobwebs. And an old shoe. And maybe one of those creepy wind up monkeys. And a spider monkey eating a Reuben sandwich. Boy, I could go on all day.
Anyway, the point is I'm very nervous about Shiny New Job, but since my financial outlook is about to improve considerably I am going to have to grow a new brain right quick.
In other news, Spring has sprung in Bellingham

as evidenced by the tree in my front yard, and all the loud lovemaking coming from my neighbor's apartment window.

Also, Ceci is 5 months old!

Happy birthday Ceci! You complete me.

Wednesday's Bling is Full of Piss and Vinegar

Melanie Favreau

I love it. I am a huge fan of the multiple- finger ring. But honestly, what is up with the hand model's oddly bloated pinkie finger? God. I know that's rude but at least I'm promoting the product to my 13 faithful readers (and mystery lurkers), right?

I'm really just jealous because I had a dream to be a hand model. I was vain of my hands for many years until I had an unfortunate encounter with a bread knife while working at the Pink Door. Cutting yourself with a serrated knife is some gory shit for real. I went to the ER for stitches and felt like a big baby with my bloody finger when they roomed me between a guy who almost severed his arm with a chainsaw and another guy who was mauled by his own pit bull. These are the people you meet at the ER for folks with no health insurance. 

Seven stitches later my dream died. My left index finger is now Frankenfinger. It's all good. My beauty comes from the inside, obviously. 

So anyway, if you are a mystery reader, leave me a comment already! I'd love to know you. (Unless it's a mean comment, don't do that. I'm ridiculously sensitive).

Tummy Trouble

Guess what guys? WINNING. Seriously. Me and Charlie are rowing the same boat this week. We are eating crazyfruit from the same tree. There are major life changes afoot here. I'll update you all in a week or so when I'm sure I'm not dreaming. 

In the meantime, look at this miserable little pumpkin. She hates tummy time with the heat of a thousand suns.  Tummy time is such a bad time for her I'm thinking about canning it altogether. 

What's the worst that could happen? It's not like she will NEVER be able to hold up her head, right? I have this terrible image of Ceci in high school, all dressed up like Joan Cusack in Sixteen Candles, and her orthodontia is actually wired to her neck brace, because she can't hold up her damn neck.

So there's that. And here's my nightmare scenario- she's teased so much about her orthodontia-neck brace apparatus that she drops out of school and becomes an exotic dancer.... At the circus! The naked lady with no bones in her neck! Poor Ceci. 

Parenthood is so stressful.

This Moment

This moment. A Friday ritual. A single photo- no words- capturing a moment from the week. A single, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor, and remember. Inspired by Soule Mama.