First Impressions, Shmirst Impressions

In an effort to do something kinda cool involving my baby (that isn't Toddlers and Tiaras because Nate refuses to let me spend $1450 on Jackson's Outfit of Choice) and because I really like new stuff, I tossed my name into the mix of blogs requested by a baby product company I follow via Facebook to "give feedback and test new products". Also, Jackson was asleep on me and I was afraid to move and wake him up.


Since I've never attempted anything like that before, I sent them the following email:

Dear Baby Product Company-

I would not in any way consider myself a typical Mommy Blogger. Largely because I curse a lot and admit that I really have no clue what I'm doing (my son is 7 weeks old and he is WAY harder to take care of than a plant). I'm pretty much a hysterical-mess-turned-terrified-mom who's attempting to like Diet Coke With Splenda because I read something about regular (delicious) Diet Coke being terrible for breast-fed babies.

I tell you this only so that you aren't horribly offended upon reviewing my blog (although, heads up, you still might be), and also so that you're aware that I think I'd be a decent addition to your feedback giver/product reviewer team. I'm brutally honest (in my writing- not in real life, because that would be silly) and mildly funny (if you consider faux kitten fires funny), and quite frankly, pretty dog-gone relatable.

So, anyway, I guess just let me know your thoughts (unless they're negative- then just ignore me).

http://thewaterkatescandal.blogspot.com/

Respectfully,

Kate

What Happens When Pants Have Sex Outside Their Own Race

I have composed a list of reasons for me to spend $39.95 (plus S&H) on Pajama Jeans. I've done so largely so that Nate won't give me shit about purchasing them. Not that I have to ask him before I buy stuff or anything- mostly because I'd rather use his credit card to make this purchase just in case Pajama Jeans, Inc. has some sort of fine print that I have no intention of reading giving them full permission to send me new pants (and free grey crew neck t-shirt!) at full price every other month or something. And I do NOT need that throwing off my budgeting (as defined by me occasionally using my phone's calculator at red lights to balance my bank account based on what I vaguely recall spending at Target three days ago).

So, without further ado, I give you...

KATE'S DOUBLE-PLUS-GOOD LIST OF REASONS TO BUY PAJAMA JEANS

1. Well, there's the obvious: I like pajamas. And I like jeans. I mean really.
2. In addition to gaining 40 pounds (before I stopped looking when they weigh me) because of the BEAUTIFUL PROCESS OF PREGNANCY, I have been relegated to a huge sports-like (but not SPORTY) beige nursing bra that occasionally bursts open, and massive panties that hit my belly button because all the underoos I currently own irritate my c-section incision. So I'm certainly not making any attempts at stuffing my dumpy post-pregnant body into actual denim. That would be stupid.
3. I tend to fall asleep anytime, anywhere, regardless of what I happen to be wearing. If my kid is asleep, I'm trying to find the closest flat surface. Therefore, I've obviously developed a need to be in complete and utter comfort at all times. Have you ever slept in jeans? Sober? Effing terrible, man. (Oh my god, I just re-read this and thought I'd accidentally typed "closet flat surface" and briefly panicked. I guess there'd really be no reason to panic over that, except I didn't want to have to scroll back up to fix it, so I momentarily considered just leaving it- the closet part, if it had, in fact, been typo-ed in such a way- and hoping you were just dumb enough not to catch it or too lazy to care, but then I reconsidered because I think you're all better than that and YOU'RE WELCOME ALREADY.)
4. I caught the commercial while watching the Casey Anthony trial. And since the media has done its job in making me hate her despite knowing an embarrassingly small amount about her actual trial, I was emotionally vulnerable and felt compelled to purchase the first thing I saw when it cut to commercial. (And that could've been much worse because "the first thing I saw" could've been something like NOW That's What I Call Music Vol. 57 or that stupid shower flip flop that cleans your lazy-ass feet for you-just bend over already--that's what she said).
5. I've been drinking a lot of water because I'm somehow a bad parent if I breastfeed after drinking two Diet Monsters and blahblahblah so now I have to pee constantly and WHO HAS TIME FOR BUTTONS AND ZIPPERS, I ASK YOU!?

I had like, sixteen really damn decent reasons for buying my new favorite pants, but now I don't feel like I need to justify anything to you people and also I'm sorta tired and got a bit distracted by stupid Ocean's 11 on HBO. So I'll let you know when my pants arrive AND I'll even do a review of them and will probably be contacted by the Pajama Jeans folks to be their internet spokesperson or something even though I didn't even ask for that kind of recognition and simply wanted to share my thoughts on their product free of charge (if they're great) or without threat of lawsuit (if they suck).

I'll obviously keep you posted.

The Mother of All Annoyances

I'm going to go out on a limb here and assume that it would be wildly inappropriate of me to allofasudden switch gears completely and start rambling about my two-week-old. I mean, scroll on down and you'll see that this time last year, I was drunkenly blogging about lighting my kittens on fire. It'd stand to reason that someone who openly and publically puts her thoughts regarding flaming cats and patio bush fairies into the universe should never be allowed to have a child.

...AND YET.

So, I've decided to really shake things up and lament on various topics while under the influence of two different pain-controlling narcotics for the residual c-section stabby-feelings and severe sleep deprivation- the latter, of course, being compounded by choosing to blog away my nap time. Because you're supposed to sleep when the baby sleeps. Did anyone mention that to you? No, really. People are really effing serious about that little tidbit of advice. Just make sure you put that one under your hat prior to deciding to have children (or prior to having seven vodka sodas. Depending upon who you are.).

Essentially, this is your official warning that I had a kid and THEN the hospital let me take him home with me and now he's pretty much the only thing I talk about. So de-follow (is that even right?) homegirl now if you're not into that sort of thing. Because even when I'm not talking about him? I'm totally talking about him and tricking people into paying attention. Suckers.