Hello I'am Meggan Welcome to my website.
Tummy Discrimination and Truckin’ Through Motherhood
“East bound and down, loaded up and truckin’, we’re gonna do what they say can’t be done. We’ve got a long way to go and a short time to get there, I’m east bound just watch ol’ “Bandit” run.”
- Singer Jerry Reed (lyrics from East Bound and Down from the movie Smokey and the Bandit)
Reminds me of Mommyhood. Too much to do, not enough to do it with, but that ol’ Mommy sure does get it done!
As seen on Monday
OK, so I have a belt buckle in the shape of an 18-wheeler. I have had it for years and I love it. I got it in the Central Valley when I used to live in Los Angeles and drive back and forth between L.A. and Sacramento ALL THE TIME. I would drive for hours late at night up and down I-5 and it felt like the only people on the road were myself and my roadway brethren, the long haul truckers. This belt reminds me of those truck drivers and that time in my life. The above photo is my actual belt buckle when I wore it Monday.
I was feeling particularly ferosh (and trucker tough) so I thought I would do the trucker meets NY fashion outfit. I had on my trucker belt buckle (see photo above), the latest skinny jeans with my not so skinny body (my first mistake), my Euro cool boots (see a few posts below) and my super hip white Michael Kors man’s watch that the sales girl said I needed because the man’s watch made my wrist look small…sigh. I thought I looked edgy and hot, but as it turns out it was less hot and more hot mess!
I went in my getty-up outfit to lunch with my toddler Lucas and the entire staff at the restaurant treated us like pariahs. I thought I had a case of toddler discrimination on my hands. I have been reading a lot of tongue in cheek blog posts recently about toddler discrimination. You know, when you go somewhere in public and anyone who has never had a baby or has children over the age of eighteen sees you coming with a toddler and rolls their eyes, runs madly in the other direction, huffs and puffs at the mere sight of you, or hands you some hand sanitizer and the phone number of a good nanny. I had read about toddler discrimination, but had never really experienced it first hand.
That was until today.
Something was up.
There were sideways glances from the staff, ineffective service, and almost no communication from the server, busser, or manager. I thought they must be pissed I had a toddler with me, even though this restaurant touts it qualifications as a FAMILY restaurant and Lucas was on his best behavior happily scarfing down croutons dipped in creamy pesto dressing. Everyone seemed to be doing the restaurant walk by and looking at our table, but not stopping. I know from YEARS of working in the restaurant industry a restaurant walk-by when I see one. That is where the staff ”casually” walks by to get a look at the crazy going on at a table.
“Go walk by and check out the _______ on table seven.”
Don’t kid a kidder, this ain’t my first rodeo sailor. I am proficient at the restaurant walk-bys and I know when one has been put into action.
I sat there pondering what could be going on. What was triggering off the crazy alarms to the staff? I felt really uncomfortable and asked for my check early so Lucas and I could leave. It was when I began to pack us up that I realized the true reason for the stares…the belly had gotten out!
Peek-a-boo...I see you
Not only had the belly gotten out, but it had happened to of flopped over my 18-wheeler trucker belt buckle!
OH THE HUMANITY! The belly had completely buried the top half of the trucker belt like it was buried in snow on top of Donner Summit waiting for the roads to clear. You can’t even see out the windshield.
I HAD NO IDEA!!! My tummy turtle was peeking it’s head out from under it’s shell. The puppy was poking out from under the covers. The groundhog had left the burrow signifying that winter will end soon. I was horrified! It wasn’t toddler discrimination, it was tummy discrimination. The restaurant staff had been cruising by to see the belly flung over the trucker belt….white trash at it’s finest. No shame in my game, like any self respecting Mommy blogger, I whipped out my camera to take a picture. Add that to the long list of “crazy” already going on at my table. Can you imagine that conversation among the restaurant staff?
“That woman’s stomach was TOTALLY hanging out over her truck belt buckle AND THEN she got out her camera and took a picture of it!! OMG!”
I felt like those Hollywood starlets who get breast surgeries so intense that they loose all feeling and always seem to get photographed with their tops half way off in the freezing cold, having no idea their nipples are exposed…I am talking to you Tara Reid. Apparently my pregnancy and BIG 9 lb. 11 oz. baby blew out the tummy so much that I now have no sensation to all the skin left behind. Now my tummy can just flop around out in public and I have no idea.
Good times.
I thought about explaining the situation or demanding the staff to call me in ten years after THEY HAVE BABIES and see what their belly looks like, or simply yelling out “ask your Mom about her stomach after YOU ruined her body you assholes,” but I didn’t. I folded all of me back behind the trucker belt, wiped a tear, had a laugh, scooped up my beautiful and amazing toddler and got ready to keep on truckin’ in Motherhood…belly, baby, boys, and all.
Farewell Canada
Ettore: “Sweetheart, why are you crying?”
Me: “Because the Olympics are over.”
Ettore: “But you barely had a chance to watch them.”
Me: “I know, I just love the Olympics though. The stories, the triumphs, the comradery, the struggle, the success, the world stops and comes together, and now it’s over till the Summer Games.”
Ettore: “Wow, I didn’t know you felt so stongly about this…you don’t even ski.”
Me: “For me the Olympics are like therapy. You don’t need to go to therapy everyday, but it is a comfort to know it’s there.”
Ettore: “You are comparing the Olympic Games…to therapy?”
Me: “Uh-huh (sniffle), both make me happy and both make me want to be a better person, although therapy never made me want to be a figure skater.”
Ettore: “When is your next therapy appointment?”
Me: “Thursday.”
Ettore: “Good.”
Me: “I love you Shaun White! I love you Bob Costas! I love you Meryl Davis and Charlie White! I love you Team USA!”
Chocolate Chip Goodness
I love this video! It was one of those perfect unplanned moments. I had just finished getting Lucas’ two-year-old pictures taken and we were on our way out when I decided to stop and get us a chocolate chip cookie and milk to share. Lucas got it everywhere, rightfully so, after being dressed up in a button down shirt for waaaay longer than any two-year-old should have to. Usually about 30 seconds is Luke’s max. This video makes me smile, pure toddler joy. Even today, for me there is nothing better than a little milk and cookies. Like Mother like son.
M
Lessons I Have Learned (and Some I Have Re-Learned) From My Toddler
1. A little ketchup never hurt anybody.
2. An apple a day might keep the doctor away, but sometimes milk and cookies are just what the doctor ordered.
3. Cats REALLY don’t like to have their tails pulled.
4. Getting really really dirty and muddy can be really really fun.
5. Sometimes using your words doesn’t work and the best thing to do is scream, cry, and get all that frustration out…and then take a nap with a nice blanket. You’ll feel better when you wake up.
6. It’s awesome and exciting when Daddy comes home from work.
7. Peas are GROSS…even with ketchup.
8. Find joy in the little things daily, i.e. a pretty flower, a cool rock on the ground, a stick shaped like a sword, getting to play in the front seat of the car, sun on your face, wind in the trees, jumping on the bed when Mommy is not looking, flushing the toilet just cuz…
9. Listen to your Mother, she generally knows what’s best for you…even if you are a Mother.
When In Doubt…Throw It Out
Just went through our medicine cabinet and threw out all of our expired and unused prescriptions and medicines. There was no particular reason for me doing this. I didn’t sit down to watch an episode of Oprah, with Oprah using her ”scary Oprah voice”, about a baby dying from ingesting old prescriptions. After which, I would then go running and sobbing to the medicine cabinet throwing everything out in a feverish attempt to prevent the same from happening in my house.
Although I would have if I had watched such an episode.
Dr. Phil didn’t blast into my living room with a story of a family who’s teenagers got addicted to pain pills from taking their parent’s unused meds.
However I still got rid of my old, never taken, Vicodin from knee surgery last year.
It all got started when I was giving Lucas a bath and happened to glance way up to the top of the open towel cabinet. On the top shelf resided our box of medicines, safely out of Stretch Armstrong Jr.’s. I opened up the medicine chest and began to examine it’s contents. Old Benadryl, sticky out of date cough drops, Tylenol expiring from back when I was a size four…and I can tell you honestly that was a LONG time ago. It was time to clean it all out. In the words of Bon Qui Qui “you gots to go.”
Living in the Haus of Boys clutter is at any moment waiting to take over. I am a clutter fighter. Mail never sits on the counter for longer than thirty seconds. If Ettore sets the newspaper down to go to the bathroom, the newspaper goes in the trash. Besides isn’t he supposed to read the paper on the toilet anyway? Shoes are forever being put away, laundry folded, dishes emptied, papers from God knows where thrown away. I am drowning in papers. You would think with all the de-cluttering I do the house would be spotless. It’s not. Whatever I put or throw away, a twin replacement is brought in by elves the next day to replace the item. My house looks like we’ve been robbed, if the robbers only didn’t take anything, just ate a bunch of food, and dumped their gym clothes on the living room floor. And the socks, don’t even get me started on the socks.
With my constant de-cluttering, you would think the medicine cabinet would be spotless. Not the case, the medicine had been silently avoiding my radar for years apparently. The gig was up and it felt great to get rid of all that old stuff. It made me feel like a good Mom to clean out and purge all that old medicine and put it back up out of my son’s reach. No one told me to do it, I just did. Go Mom! I felt adult, cleansed, and in need of going to Rite Aid to restock on NyQuil and stool softener (you never know when the stools might need a little softening…and you want to be prepared…trust me).
No scary story calling me to action, just being a good Mom.
Next up I am testing the smoke alarms.
Dear Stepsons,
I know you read my blog, mostly at school, but I won’t complain at least you ARE reading and I could use the hit count. It seems my charger for my iphone has gone missing. Now I don’t want to jump to conclusions and ASSUME that one of my very sweet stepsons borrowed my iphone charger without asking and did not put it back. Assuming would be out of line….it’s just that I know you both have ipods attached to your ears at all times and your Dad wouldn’t know an iphone charger if it hit him in the head. SOOO that really leaves one of you two.
Let’s take a minute and re-visit the time not too long ago when I brought a bottle of super glue into the house to repair our KOA camping mug. The mug never ended up getting repaired because the super glue went missing and all the scissors ended up getting glued together. I don’t want to point fingers, but again the suspect list was short at two. After a failed shakedown to find the serial gluer I enacted a don’t tell…just return policy for the glue…and remember…it worked. The superglue, minus one lid (details), was returned to the cabinet no questions asked. I think I will return to that policy.
I don’t care who has my iphone charger or what the dramatic teenage story is as to how it was borrowed and not returned…just return it to my office and we can all go on with our lives…no questions asked. Returning my charger is your chance NOT to get a lecture, a family meeting, or the always painful family discussion at the dinner table.
P.S. I have started dieting so I would advise the charger be returned before a carb craving kicks in. It safest for all that way.
Love,
Your Stepmom
Rain Rain Go Away…Come Again Some Other Day
It has been POURING rain in Northern California for the last TWO WEEKS. I LOVE this weather, unfortunately my two year old son and his puppy do not. They have bravely been facing their indoor internment, and with enough Sauvignon Blanc I am surviving as well.
This was the scene today at the sliding glass door with Lucas and Benny. This picture says it all…”Hello outside I miss you!” Lucas and Benny were looking at the water soaked back yard like I look longlingly at my size 4 jeans…we will ever be together again???
I did release them into the wild only to have them both go stand ankle and paw deep in puddles of water. They both became instantly relaxed standing in mud. You just got to roll with it and love it. So is life in the fabulous Haus of Boys.
Thank You Therapy
I tease Ettore that for our second date he took me to a therapist’s office saying “I love her, but can you fix her.” I kid, I kid. However it is somewhat true. Some variation of Ravazzolo has been seeing a therapist since Ettore and I first got together, me being the one who has seen a therapist the whole time. A man I affectionately refer to on this site as Therapist Richard. He is awesome and the the reason I am the happy, non-medicated, loving, kind of calm, somewhat non-neurotic, often dramatic, grateful Stepmom, Mom, and Wife I am today…and I mean it.
I am happpy. I really do love my life with all it’s mis-steps, victories, typos, successes, laughter, and daily grind.
Ettore is always a bit shocked that I am so vocal and open about seeing a therapist. I think people are relieved.
“Thank God she is seeing SOMEONE.”
Rest easy America.
I think it puts people at ease to know that somewhere in an office tucked away a man named Richard with a degree on the wall and wearing a nice sweater is helping me navigate through my brain and life simultaneously.
I feel like I should say, “Don’t worry I have a therapist. This will all be worked out by Wednesday at 11:00 a.m. next week.”
I love it. Therapy has been good for me and it has been good for my family. We all have gone. In fact I used to walk to Richard’s office with Lucas and tell him Mommy is off to Dr. Let It Out and Get Happy. Kind of like a trip to the mental colon therapist. Colon therapy is a different kind of let it out and get happy. However both therapies do make you feel lighter on your feet.
The above photo is an example of the benefits of therapy. We are a step-family. I am the new kid on the block and I made another new kid. No matter how everyone tries to adapt and take the high road from divorce and re-marriage there is emotional fall out, confusion, anger, GUILT. It is a bag of mixed emotions and I have tried to tread lightly and do the right thing. Still, it is good to talk it all out…and out…and out…and out.
Therapy.
Yes, there we all were. Walking down the river the day after Christmas blended up like a Frappucino. Sure Reilly is in the baby’s wagon holding his Dad’s hand while Lucas is the one pulling him, and Ettore and I are so tired we can barely move, and Benny the puppy refuses to pee or poo on the walk because the river is nothing in comparsion to our persian rug, but we are…together. Harrison took the picture and if you could see the photo from the other angle you would see a smile splashed across my face.
We are doing it.
Family.
One session at a time.
You Gotta Raise Them Right
Lucas loves to dance and he loves his Auntie Lady Gaga. We dance everyday together and Lucas is VERY particular about his music He likes B-I-N-G-O, Five Little Monkeys Jumping On The Bed, and Paparazzi by Lady Gaga (obviously where my DNA takes over). Speaking of gifts from his Mother, check out Lucas eating a chocolate chip cookie while dancing.
My boy.
You’re welcome Lucas.
Keep an eye out for our faithful audience of one, the puppy Benny makes a cameo as he looks on through the mirror.
M
My Faboo TV Reel
Just spent mucho dinero and seven hours of my life updating my television reel…and IT WAS WORTH IT. I love it!! My previous television reel was in bad need of some love and I wanted to include the new Kiss The Cook video series I am doing with Ettore.
This is my 2010 gift to my self, more of what I love and I love working in television and the arts. This reel is being shipped off to QVC as they are looking for new hosts…a dream job…swoon. Plus Oprah is discontinuing her show in the next year and a half. Somebody has to let Tom Cruise jump on their couch and the kids already jump on mine so I figure what do I have to lose.
I am very proud of my work in this reel as I feel that the video is true to who I am and what I feel I represent. In the end being true to your voice is all that matters…a great job at QVC never hurt a girl though.
Any readers know anybody at QVC (or Oprah) I shamelessly ask to put a good word in for me!
QVC…Oprah…call me.
Much love,
M
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