Bob Gets Stuck Downtown

Yesterday, Anthony and I went to the Los Angeles Beer Festival in Downtown L.A. We were driving around looking for parking and spotted a garage that was fairly close and fairly cheap. Perfect! We took a ticket, drove my car (I call him Bob) in, and parked in a spot closest to the stairs. That was easy! We headed out onto the street, walked to the festival to meet his friend and went about our day tasting a bunch of different local beers. Overall, the festival was a blast and afterward we decided to head over to Plan Check for a burger since it was right next to the garage we parked in. When we were finished, we walked to the garage to get my car and head home. Anthony's friend was with us because we told him that we would give him a ride home since it was on the way. When we walked up to the parking garage, we noticed that the doors were shut. What the hell? There was a guy standing outside on the curb that told us the garage closed at 4:00 pm. WHAT!!?? Sure enough, we looked at the sign and it said, as clear as day, that it closed at 4:00 pm. We didn't even see that! Does anyone really even look at those signs when pulling into a garage in Downtown L.A? We assumed that garages stay open until at least 10:00 pm, right? It was only 7:00 pm right now but according to that sign, we were 3 hours late. Shit! What were we going to do? We called the number on the sign and luckily an operator picked up and told us that if we can get into the garage to get to the car, the doors would open and we would be able to get out. Okay, that sounded easy enough right? We just had to get into the building. Anthony and his friend tried every door imaginable (locked) and even tried to go down the ramp adjacent to the garage for the residences in the building. Fail. I noticed that there was a medical office attached to the garage and there was a lady sitting in the waiting room. I knocked on the door to see if she could open the glass door for us that was directly outside of the office door but she shook her head and told me through the glass that she was locked in the lobby of that medical office. What was happening? How was she locked in and we were locked out yet neither of us could help each other. This seemed a little Twilight Zone-ish.

The three of us were pacing and running around trying everything and calling every number on the building desperately. All we wanted to do was go home! Realistically, we could just Uber home and come back in the morning but what a headache. All of a sudden, this girl emerged out of a random door, did one of those running trips where she couldn't catch herself but was about to take a big digger, ate shit on the concrete, then picked herself up and disappeared. I looked at Anthony, then his friend, acknowledged that we all saw that mysterious girl fall, and then went right back to trying to find a way into that damn parking garage. I swear if I was the only one who saw that I would have thought I was dreaming and/or intoxicated. Thank goodness there were other witnesses. Finally, Anthony's friend had a genius idea and slipped a piece of paper into the crack of the sliding glass door leading to the building attached to the garage. It opened enough for him to slip his fingers in and pull the doors open....YES! We were saved! We ran into the building like we were escaping a police chase and made our way into the parking garage. And there he was, my poor Bob, waiting for us to come back like a sad puppy. Anthony jumped in and started the car. "We're here, Bob!" I said as I made my way up the ramp. Again, as if we were running from the authorities after a mad jewelry heist, we dove into car as the tires squealed and Anthony drove towards the exit. Praying that the gates would open like the man on the phone told us, they slowly opened as we crept up toward the exit and we beeped the horn in pure joy. We were finally out! And because there was no attendant on duty, it was free to boot! So I guess it worked out in our favor after all. We were all cheering as we turned onto the street, so happy that our adventure was finally over. "Hey guys?" I said. "Can we talk about that chick who took a digger on the curb next to us?" We all started laughing so hard we were crying. It felt so good to be free!

Chaos At The Gudino Household

Most of the time when you have a new baby, you figure that you aren't going to get a lot of sleep at night. But you don't think that it will be your house guests (aka your parents) that will be keeping you up. When my parents were visiting last month, we had one of those nights of complete chaos at the Gudino household. With a new baby, we get up every 3-4 hours to feed the little guy and our daughter Meyer's new habit of jumping out of her bed and crawling into ours seems to be a nightly occurrence, so we are no strangers to the wee hours of dawn. But we never expected a constipated dog to take over the night and turn our house into a serious case of the midnight crazies. My parents are from Maine, so they don't lock their doors or set any sort of alarms and when they come to our house they have to adjust to the chimes, the apps and the alarms that we use to run our household. So on this particular chaotic night, I wasn't really shocked to wake up to the alarm going off only to see my dad on the camera walking outside with Nelly, their dog. The best part though was that he didn't even notice that the alarm was blaring throughout the house at 1:00 am. Oye! When he came back several minutes later, I didn't even bother to set the alarm again because I figured he may do it again. And was I right. But this time it was almost 3:00 am and it was only him walking out the front door, without the dog and without his shirt. What the hell? At the same time, the baby woke up hungry so I was busy feeding him while Meyer waltzed on into our bedroom like she owned the place, carrying her Boppy, blankie and Belle doll. I woke up Anthony and asked him to go see what was happening downstairs. When he came back up, he said that my dad was wandering around the neighborhood (shirtless) looking for my mom who was walking Nelly, trying to get her to poop. Apparently she was constipated and wouldn't lay down. She kept whimpering and pacing back and forth in the bedroom. And when the dog can't sleep, neither can the parents, or the whole household in this case. What the heck was happening? I decided to go check on the situation myself. So there I was at 3:30 am, walking around my neighborhood, without a bra or shoes, calling for my parents and the dog. This was definitely going to appear on my Nextdoor neighborhood app the next morning. 'Shirtless man and braless girl walking around neighborhood at 3:00 am shouting 'Nelly! Rhoda!' Anyone know what was going on?' When I couldn't find anyone (seriously where did they go? Did they get abducted by aliens?), I figured I would go back inside and get some sleep. But while I was headed up the stairs, I heard a dog whimpering inside the house. Okay, what was going on? I went into the spare bedroom to find it empty. I then opened up the bathroom door to find my mom standing in her robe holding onto Nelly, who was on her leash. "Mom, what are you doing? Pop is canvasing the neighborhood looking for you guys!" I said. She looked puzzled. "He is? I thought I would come in here with Nelly to calm her down and keep her quiet." Well, that plan backfired. So now my mom and the dog headed out into the night looking for my wandering father. My head was spinning and I needed my bed. I woke up about a half an hour later to the front door chime and saw on the camera that my dad came back inside, alone. Then, I saw my mom and the dog sitting out on the front porch...at 4:00 am. I went out to see what they were doing and woke my mom up in the process. Immediately, when I said "Mom!" she snapped her head up like she was awake the whole time. Just like she does on the couch almost every night after 8:00 pm and like that one time we went to see Sherlock Holmes (she was asleep the whole time but tried to convince my sister and I that she saw the whole movie). Don't believe it! I asked her what she was doing outside and she said she was going to hang out with Nelly until she poops. What!?! So now I had two guards at my door instead of the alarm?? This was also going to end up on the Nextdoor neighborhood app, for sure! I shrugged and went back to bed. I was exhausted and needed at least 8 more hours after all that chaos!

Owl On Guard?

Lately, we have been having some bird issues in the backyard, which I guess aren't as bad as the possible issues we could be having, but annoying nonetheless. We have a ceiling fan in the gazebo that the robins made a nest in, which we can't touch since they already managed to lay their eggs and now they have moved on to the satellite dish. I don't mind the nest in the fan so much but the satellite dish?...REALLY!!?? Not only am I afraid they will somehow ruin it, but it is more visible than the ceiling fan and it is right above our patio furniture which is now being sprinkled with bird poop! Because this new location they have chosen is more visible, we can see their progress before it is too late, unlike the ceiling fan in the gazebo. Anytime I see a few twigs up there, we get the ladder out and remove them. Yet, the birds (who are watching us with laser eyes from the tree next door) just laugh and return with their twigs the next day. It was becoming a vicious cycle, especially when we went away for the weekend and came back to a half-built nest. Next, we decided to wrap the base of the dish in mesh, so they couldn't put anything in it. What did they do? They found a way to put the twigs on top of the mesh, brushing off our amateur efforts to get rid of them. I swear they were mocking us with their loud chirps in the morning asking, 'what have you got for us today Gudinos?' I read that they fear owls, which is why you always see those hideous plastic statues on the roofs of businesses, which gave me an idea. I asked Meyer if I could borrow her stuffed owl for a few days to help Mommy with the birds and after a bit of hesitation, she agreed. I had Anthony put the stuffed owl up on the satellite dish to ward off those little pests. Meyer just watched and commented, 'my owl is going to scare the birds, so they won't build a nest?' Let's just hope young one, let’s just hope....The next day we went out to look and those birds literally just went right around the owl (I swear they gave him a high five when they passed him) and placed a few twigs on the base again, ignoring his cute (yet intimidating?) face. I’m sure that if they were Cinderella's birds, they would have dressed the owl up in a cute pink dress and Incorporated him into their nest somehow while chirping/mocking us happily. Jerks! Then, this morning there were two ducks hanging out in the hot tub like the robins called them over and welcomed them to the bird party! Oh, hell no!!! I ran out there in my pajamas chasing them away and declared war. Bird war. 

Just Another Day At The Pool

Meyer takes swim lessons every week, which she normally loves, but this week we got in the pool and I could tell that she wasn’t having it. I couldn’t figure out what her deal was but she was just not as into it as she normally was. Even though she is 99% potty trained, she still wears a swim diaper under her bathing suit in the pool so I was pretty confident that it wasn’t an issue with her having to pee that was holding her back. I started to wonder if the chlorine was hurting her eyes or if her bathing suit was uncomfortable? Then she started to tell me that she did have to go pee. I told her that it was fine and she was wearing a swim diaper and that she could go pee in it if she wanted to. She was adamant that she wanted to get out of the pool to go on the potty and started to cry telling me over and over that she had to go pee. Then it happened. The inevitable poop face. ‘OH NO!’ Then I remembered that she often says she has to go pee even though she actually means poop (we are working on that). ‘Shit!!!’ Literally. I grabbed her and ran out of the pool to the bathroom (both of us barefoot mind you) and even though the bathroom floors at the pool have that shower matting, I still felt like Britney Spears at the gas station restroom. But at this point, I didn’t really care. And of course this week was Safety Week, so the instructors encouraged the kids to wear their street clothes over their bathing suits in the pool so they would know what it felt like if they fell in the pool fully clothed. Which actually worked in my benefit since she had that extra layer to keep the poop in when she let it go in the pool. But as I was in the stall trying to get her undressed so she could finish on the potty, it was working very much against me. You try taking a pair of wet pants, then a wet bathing suit and then a swim diaper off a squirmy toddler who is trying not to finish pooping in her pants. Nightmare! When I finally got her undressed, it was another struggle trying to empty out her swim diaper in the potty (and not on me or on the floor) but still trying to get her on the potty at the same time. I’m pretty sure I had poop somewhere on me (what mom hasn’t had poop on them?) by the time I got her on the potty just in time for her to finish. Thank God no one else was in the bathroom at that time! Once she was done, she proudly announced as sweet as can be in her little high pitched voice that she was 'all done' and gave me a proud smile. Oh sure kid, you are happy now but I am standing here barefoot in the bathroom stall with poop somewhere on my hand and/or arm and wet toilet paper stuck to my leg. And now for the cleanup. Again, thank goodness no one else was in that bathroom as I cleaned myself off and put my half naked toddler (still as happy as can be) on the counter while I rinsed out her swim diaper and got her bathing suit back on. We rushed back out to the pool (I felt like I was gone so long that the class was probably over, everyone had left and the employees had locked up for the night) and slid back in the pool inconspicuously. Nothing to see here, folks!

What's That Smell?

On Monday morning, I got into my car to go to work after it had been in the garage all weekend and I was almost knocked out by a pungent odor that oozed out like the green funk that followed Beetlejuice around. Immediately, I blamed my husband and/or daughter because I kept my car so tidy and never left anything inside overnight, let alone over the weekend. Anthony did take my car last weekend, maybe he left food in the backseat or something? (He once left an In-N-Out bag under my seat, which I found while on my way to Stagecoach). I checked all around…nothing! Maybe Meyer dropped something in the car seat that stinks? She can be messy, especially if you give her a baggie of popcorn on the ride home from Oceanside and it ends up all over the floor instead of in her mouth. I checked the car seat…nothing. Very strange. I rolled down both windows and headed to work figuring that I would buy an air freshener at CVS that afternoon and it would solve my problem…Well, an incredibly strong Yankee Candle air freshener later and my car still smells like someone left a dirty diaper in a wet cooler all day in the hot sun. What the hell was that? I checked the trunk to make sure that my pregnancy brain didn’t leave a bag of groceries in there. Negative. Then, I got my flashlight out and checked to make sure I didn’t drop any food down the side of my seat while I was driving. I admit, my pregnancy appetite is in full effect and I am constantly snacking, especially during my hour long commute home. Maybe I dropped an orange slice down there? Didn’t I eat some asparagus on the ride home the other day? Weird, I know…damn pregnancy! But from what I could see, there was nothing in the crack. Did I have a dead animal under my hood? Nope. What the hell was it and why was it not going away? Thanks to my new air freshener, my car now smells like a heavily-cologned Italian man who has been playing in a dumpster for hours. There was nothing I could do for the time being, so every night, I left my windows down to air it out, which is helping a little but I still couldn’t find the cause of the stench! I even checked under my spare tire to make sure the AAA guy didn’t leave his bologna sandwich under there when he changed my tire a few weeks ago...Well, it has been a week and the lingering odor has finally gone away. (Thankfully because I had to valet park my car at Pizzeria Mozza the other night). So, that orange slice/asparagus/dead animal/bologna sandwich must have finally disintegrated...Eww!

Another Blonde Moment

I have been looking for a hall tree/bench for our entryway for what seems like forever now and finally, I found the perfect one! I bought an inexpensive piece on Wayfair that seemed to have great reviews and would look perfect in our entryway. I am always very good at building furniture like this, so when it arrived, I tore open the box and got to work. I just put together two night stands earlier this week and my husband was upstairs assembling a TV stand, so I had this one in the bag. I laid out all of the parts in order, opened the box of screws (careful not to mix them up) and began to read the manual. Easy peasy lemon squeezy. It was coming together nicely and I was almost finished when I called Anthony to help me lift up the bench part and screw it onto the top of the piece. That is when I saw it. When I flipped up the front of the bench (it had been laying face down while I screwed in the 4 screws that held it together), I realized that I had used the wrong screws. I was screwing the longer screws in and they broke through the front of the bench! I should have been using the screws that were half the size of the ones I used. I looked down and just slapped my hand against my forehead. Doh! I’m lucky I didn’t screw the piece into my hardwood floor! As Anthony came down the stairs he started laughing and asked me how I didn’t hear the screws ripping through the front of the bench. “I don’t know, I just didn’t!” What the hell was I going to do now? I looked on the front of the manual and they gave a number to call for replacement parts. But I clearly did it myself and it didn’t come damaged. What if they ask me for pictures or to send the part back first? Shit! I was the worst liar ever! There was no way I was going to convince them that it just came like that! I thought that maybe I could sand and paint it over, or maybe just put 4 stickers over the problem spots? Shaking, I dialed the number and sat there sweating, waiting for someone to answer. Please don’t ask me what happened, please don’t ask me…..When she picked up the phone, she simply asked what piece was damaged, confirmed my address and told me the part was on its way. Gulp. That was it? Ahhhhh deep breath out.

Tut Tut, It Looks Like Rain!

Earlier this week, I read that it was going to rain (which I was excited about) but so far, it was still dry outside. So at 5:30 AM this morning when I stepped out into the garage to get into my car for work, I was delighted when I heard what sounded like buckets of water coming down. “Nice, it’s finally raining out!” So, I went back inside the house, grabbed my rain jacket, rain boots and umbrella and got myself prepared for the storm outside. When I got back into the garage and pushed the garage door opener, something just wasn’t adding up as the door began to rise. The driveway wasn’t wet at all. (Door continues to open). I don’t see any raindrops coming down. (Door continues to open). Why do I still hear water? (Door now fully open exposing a beautiful morning and me standing head to toe in rain gear). I look over to the left and see that one of our sprinkler heads had busted and we literally have Old Faithful in our front yard. Dammit! 

What Am I?

I am sure everyone has been in this situation before…you are at a restaurant or bar and you have to use the bathroom. You get to the bathroom doors and have no clue which one to walk in! Am I a ‘Skunk’ or a ‘Sloth?’ A ‘Clover’ or a ‘Flower?’ A ‘Gypsy’ or a ‘Pirate?’ Can’t these people just say ‘Men’ or ‘Women’ already!? By the time you figure it out, your bladder is about ready to explode and you are ready to bust through the door with the ‘Rooster’ on it, forgetting that you are most likely a ‘Cat.’ And if you have had a few drinks? Forget about it- the signs may have well be in French! This exact situation has happened to me a few times (am I just not as witty and clever as I think I am?) but this time it was a whole different story…

We were at the Temecula Creek Inn for our friend’s 40^th birthday party. We had been wine tasting all day and when we got back to the hotel, we went to the bar to continue the festivities. I had a few martinis and then had to go to the bathroom. I asked Anthony where the bathroom was and he pointed behind the bar and told me the doors were to the left. I got up, walked exactly where he told me and came upon 2 doors next to each other. One said ‘Sage 1’ and one said ‘Sage 2.’ SHIT. Okay, this one was like a riddle- how the heck was I supposed to know what kind of Sage I am? Are they talking about the herb? Maybe these are gender neutral bathrooms and if you have to go number one you go to the ‘Sage 1’ door? Ugh. No, that wouldn’t be possible…..right? Not only did I have to pee badly, I was wearing a romper so the process of taking it off was going to take a while so there was no time to waste! Just as I was racking my brain for anagrams for the letters SAGE, I saw a few girls walk by me and head around the corner. I followed them and saw two clearly marked doors: 'Gentleman’ & ‘Ladies.’ Duh! I still have no clue what those 'Sage' doors lead to. Probably the electrical room or something….

Santa Claus is Coming to Town (in an Uber)

Last December, we decided to take Meyer to Santa’s Village in Lake Arrowhead so she could get a second shot with the big guy. The first time she met him with Grandma, she was NOT a fan! Although our experience at Santa's Village was not the best (it had just re-opened but nothing was fully operating ‘yet’) and we had to buy cables to put on the Tahoe to get there (I am from Maine and have NEVER had to use these), Meyer actually smiled for her picture with Santa this time! The best part? We got to meet him twice! First, when he was in his work attire (aka Jolly Old St. Nick) sitting in the sleigh, and again as we were leaving the park, as casual Santa. 

Before we got on the road, we had pulled over to the side of the parking lot to adjust the cables on the Tahoe. A baby blue minivan pulled up next to us and out stepped Mr. Claus himself, except this time he was in his regular clothes (but clearly recognizable). He asked if we needed any help and I thought, ‘what is this, Miracle on 34^th Street?’ We told him thanks but we were just adjusting the cables on the tires, yet he stayed and decided to make small talk. He asked if we remembered him (like he was Clark Kent and just removed his glasses)…umm duh, we just sat on your lap! I looked over at his van and noticed that he had the familiar Uber sticker on his dashboard and thought, holy crap! Santa is an Uber driver too? What else does this guy do? Can you imagine if you called an Uber and on the app and it said 'Nick' will be arriving in 2 minutes in a red Toyota sleigh? He agreed with us that it sucked about having to put cables on the tires to make it up to Santa’s Village and confessed that he was almost late to work because he didn’t have any and had to go out of his way to buy some. To that I replied, “why didn’t you take the sleigh?”

Thanks. I’ll be here all night. Ho ho ho.

Meyer 2, Mister Bear 0

I am a mother. I get pooped on. A lot. I don't even flinch when it happens anymore. I just clean it up and move on. But poor Mister Bear...he didn't even see it coming! Either time....I guess it is my fault considering I keep Mister Bear on the changing table in clear view of Meyer's bare butt, so I apologize Mister Bear! The first time Mister Bear got pooped on was when Meyer was a tiny newborn and my mom and I were changing her right after I told her pediatrician that she hadn't had a poop yet since I brought her home. Well, I should have held my tongue because as soon as we got home and I took off the diaper, it was a poop storm! All over me, all over my mom, all over the floor and all over Mister Bear....into the wash he went...The second time though, Mister Bear had to uncomfortably sit covered in poop all day as my hubby failed to notice Meyer had even pooped on him. I was in bed that morning while Anthony was changing her when I heard a little baby shart followed by, 'Oh SHIT!' (No pun intended). I rolled over to see Anthony only slightly covered in poop and Meyer with a big smile on her face. He quickly cleaned her up and went off to work. It was only after I returned home from work that day and took Meyer upstairs to be changed when I noticed Mister Bear's pink hoodie now had brown polka dots all over it. Did he really not see those poop splatters this morning or did he choose not to see them? I'll never know....Nonetheless, I gave him a good soak and dry but he was not happy about it! Poor Mister Bear had to drown his sorrows in the sink and yet he returned right back on the changing table that night ...I'll never learn and Mister Bear will never catch a break!

Another Dumb Blonde Moment

What can I say, we all have our dumb blonde moments, right? My latest one came while I was driving in my car. I always plug my phone into the USB adapter in the glove box so I can listen to my music. On the screen on my dashboard it says 'AMI' and then the title of the song that is playing. I just always assumed my phone knew where I worked (AMI Asset Management) until I was looking through my Audi User's Manual for an unrelated item and I saw it...'Audi Music Interface.' That's what AMI stands for! Duh!

The Multi Functioning Breast Friend

Now that I am a mother, I spend 99% of my time breastfeeding my little one. And thanks to my Breast Friend (a super handy breast feeding pillow) it is as easy as pie! But I have found that once I am done breast feeding, I can continue using the Breast Friend for many different things:

I can be a stand in for the dancing ballerina hippo in Disney's Fantasia

I can be a lifeguard at the local community pool

I can sell popcorn, peanuts or Dodger Dogs at Dodger Stadium on opening day

I can be a cocktail waitress at one of the many Vegas casinos

If I encounter another mom with a Breast Friend, we can have an impromptu Sumo Wrestling match

I can work on my solitaire skills anytime during the day, with no table required

Who knew that it was such a multi functioning product?

That's Just Me...Naked In The Field!

Ever since I saw the Vanity Fair with the gorgeous and pregnant Demi Moore on the cover, I knew I wanted to recreate that shot when it was time for me to have a baby. Plus, I used to be able to stick out my stomach as big as Demi's, do the pose with a straight face and make my sister, Grace practically pee herself...it was destiny that I was going to have a naked photo shoot when I was pregnant. Way before Kourtney Kardashian thought of it! Last weekend, I was lucky enough to do two photo shoots with my friends- Kari on Saturday and Ashleigh on Sunday. Although Kari and I were in the privacy of my own apartment, Ashleigh took me out into the wide-open spaces of Temecula.

The setting was perfect, quiet and way off the beaten path of any unwanted spectators. Besides Ashleigh, her friend Heather (who was playing assistant for the day) and Anthony, we were all alone. So after we took the shots in my dress, I stripped down to nothing and took the more risqué shots...I was as comfortable as ever and with the girl's encouragement (they certainly boosted my self-esteem) I felt like I was shooting the cover of Vanity Fair myself. Although we did hear a few dirt bikes zoom by below us and there was one truck that came up the road in the distance (I hid behind Anthony for that one) the pictures came out fabulous! I can't wait to embarrass Meyer one day when the photos are blown up and framed on my bathroom wall...

Beware Of The Pregnant Lady In Row 12!

Last week I flew home to Maine alone since my husband was at the Raiders game in Oakland (he was going to meet me in Maine after the game). I usually don’t have an issue flying solo but I am 7 months pregnant and had to be on the red eye flight to JFK for almost 5 hours, which I knew would be uncomfortable. I took my window seat, got out my blanket and headphones, took off my shoes and got ready to watch TV and pass out. (Side note- unless I am extremely tired or next to my husband, I need the TV to help put me to sleep). So, to my surprise, the TV on my seat was not working. Of course, everyone else’s on the plane were fine, but mine? Stuck on a channel where they were interviewing Al Gore over and over again….not something I could fall asleep to! So I called the flight attendant over to see if there was anything she could do to help me out. She said that once the flight was in the air and the TV’s were all reset again, maybe mine would also reset and start working. So basically, she couldn’t promise me anything but fingers crossed…great! After being air born for almost 20 minutes, my TV still didn’t work and I started to get really frustrated. Everyone around me was watching TV and having a good ole’ time but I was stuck staring at Al Gore talking about the environment. I called the flight attendant back over and told her that my TV was still not working and she said that she would help me after she finished the drink service. I tried to remain calm and patient but after almost an hour of her not returning, my blood was boiling. I don’t know if it was the pregnancy hormones or what but I began to cry and rang my call button furiously. When a different flight attendant returned, I asked him if he had found a solution to my problem (through my tears). He said that unfortunately he was not trained to fix the TVs and that in order to do so , they would have to be on the ground and take apart the seat, blah blah blah. I told him that he better find me another window or aisle seat ASAP because I was not happy! (I have no idea where this ‘Erin’ came from because I usually hate confrontation and am extremely patient). Again, I think it was the pregnancy hormones. I told him that I was 7 months pregnant and uncomfortable already and he needed to find me a working TV! The poor guy next to me offered up his seat after seeing how upset I was but I declined and told him I would be just as uncomfortable in a middle seat but thanks for the offer.

I heard the flight attendant mumble ‘upset pregnant lady in row 12’ as he rushed to the back to consult with the other flight attendants and HOPEFULLY solve my problem. About 15 minutes later, he returned and told me I had two options. He said that I could take the empty middle seat in front of me with a working TV and take a Jet Blue voucher or move to the back where there were a few service dogs (as long as I wasn’t allergic) but I could have either an aisle or a window seat. I immediately declined the middle seat for obvious reasons and told him that I would sit with the pooches. As I began to wipe my tears away and gather all of my stuff, a vision went through my head of what the remainder of my flight might look like. I pictured a Mastiff and a German Shepherd sitting in the two seats out back, all buckled up with their headphones on watching TV. As I approached them, they would roll their eyes and growl as they were forced to move over and let the upset pregnant lady in just so she could have a working TV. In reality, it was a nice couple with two little white dogs, one in a carrier and one on their lap who nicely let me sit in the aisle seat. I thanked the flight attendant and my new neighbors, switched on my TV to The First 48 and passed out for the duration of the flight.

You Say Meyer, I Say My-uh

Coming from the Northeast, I have heard 'wicked pissah,' 'pahk the cah' and 'lobstah roll' my whole life, especially coming from my parents, who have thick Maine accents. But I didn't think my future daughter's name would be caught up in this wicked mess. When I told my mom that I was naming our daughter Meyer, I had to confirm that she heard and would pronounce it correctly- 'Meyer' and not 'Maya.' So I told her it was like Oscar Mayer, Meyer Lemon or Fort Myers. As far as I knew, she had it down perfectly. But when she would pronounce it 'Maya' on the phone, I told her again, "yes, Meyer, like the lemons and chalked up her lack of an 'r' to the Maine accent. Apparently, I was wrong. When my mom sent out the invitations to my East Coast baby shower, she wrote "It's a girl! Baby Meyer (pronounced My'uh)..." Ummm, what the what? I cleared it up finally (hopefully) but I still think Meyer is going to be confused when she goes to visit her Grandparents in Maine. I can hear it now-"Mommy, why do Nana and Peep call me Maya and Paco-lina?" Don't even get me started!

Orange You Glad That Color Wasn't Permanent?

Last week, I decided to change up my hair and go chocolate brown so I asked my friend Nicole (the only person I trust with my hair) for some advice. Since Nicole moved to Sacramento, it's not as easy just to walk over to her place to get my hair done, so she had to buy the products for me and ship them to my place. Once I got everything I needed, I called her to go over the step by step process of dying my hair. She walked me through it as I wrote every detail down in my notebook and she assured me that it wasn't that difficult and she had faith that I could do it. I have dyed my hair before so I had all the confidence in the world that it would turn out okay. Since I still had blonde in my hair, the first step was to brush the copper color over all the blonde sections, wait 20 minutes and then wash it out. It did that and patiently waited the 20 minutes until I could lean over the tub and rinse it out. When I took off the towel on my head, I noticed that my hair was bright orange. I wasn't that nervous considering that it was still saturated with the copper and I figured that it would all wash out. As I bent over the running water in the tub and the bright orange started to wash out, I noticed that my hair was still creepy clown orange. I immediately started to freak out and thought about what I was going to do for work in the morning- wear a headscarf?

There was no way I was going to show my face in public like this! I looked Merida from Disney's Brave. I looked at my notes and read that Nicole told me after I did the copper dye, to dry it and then apply the chocolate brown dye. I held my breath as I followed the steps, had faith that everything would be fine and the dark brown would cover up my nectarine head and I wouldn't have to apply for a position at The Ringling Brothers Circus. After another 25 minutes of patiently waiting with my now dark saturated hair in a clip, I was relived when it turned out perfect. After my heart stopped beating a mile a minute, I texted Nicole and asked her if that was normal. She said, "yeah, it is and I probably should have told you that your hair was going be bright orange beforehand!" Phew!

I'm Taking The Pessimistic Route On This One And Calling The Gate Halfway Down

This morning, as my husband and I do every morning, we left the apartment at 5:50 am to walk those couple of blocks to our parking garage. We noticed that the automatic gate was stuck halfway down and knew that we were in for it. The security guard who works in the parking garage every morning moves about as fast as a turtle and as much as this was a matter of urgency for us, as we had to get to work, we knew that he could care less that the garage door wasn't working. Once we got inside the building, I alerted the security guard of the situation. His response? "If your car can fit under the gate, just go ahead, you'll be fine!" I looked at Anthony and started to laugh. Um, unless I drove one of those red Fred Flintstone cars for kids with the yellow top, I don't think either of us will be driving out of the garage anytime soon. He told us that he would get right on it, so we walked to our cars hoping that by the time we got down to the first level, he would have solved the problem.. Nope.

When we got to the ramp leading to the street, the security guard was standing next to the gate scratching his head. This had to be a ridiculous sight. The security guard standing in front of the half closed gate scratching his head, my car halfway down the ramp in park and Anthony's truck behind mine waiting in line to get out, like we were in some sort of parade. Finally, the security guard told us that someone had thrown the chain that would manually lift the gate up on top of it and he would have to get something to get it down. Oh Lordy! Now we were really going to be late for work. A few minutes later, he returned with a broom, walked down to the gate and attempted to get the chain down.. After a few tries, the chain successfully came free and he began to pull up the gate. We were so close...yet so far away! Not only was this guy working as fast as a turtle stuck in quicksand, but the gate seemed to be moving as slow as molasses. Finally it was open enough for me to get out and surprisingly, I was on time to work! Happy Thursday! : )

Sidewalk Conversations...

Last week was unusually hot in LA and since my parking garage is a few blocks from my apartment, I have to do that daily grueling walk from my stuffy parking garage down the street to my apartment. It was no fun last week when every day seemed to be at least 100 degrees- especially when you are carrying 20 lbs. of groceries (I can't leave anything behind!) So, here I was, at the corner of disgustingly hot and my building, waiting for the light to change. I'm pretty sure I had pit stains, a sweat mustache, red cheeks and my baby belly was out and about when a 'homeless' guy stops next to me and asks me how I was doing. I say 'homeless' because he appeared (and smelled) homeless yet he was carrying a brand new cell phone. I answered, 'fine' and asked how he was. He didn't make eye contact with me (in fact he was looking above my head) but rambled on and on about how he was fine until he went into the Metro PCS store down the street to get his new phone and they wouldn't give him one. And he's been a loyal customer for four years! The nerve of them! He wasn't going to take it anymore and made them call their manager to settle this out. Mind you- THIS IS THE LONGEST LIGHT EVER! Finally, just as the light changed, he asked me how my day was and I replied 'great!' His response? "Well, you are modeling all day so I bet your days are always great!" I wiped off my sweat mustache and smiled. Thanks?  

Now That's A Shit Storm!

First, I would like to warn you that this post is not for the queasy at heart....As some of you may know, my parent's had a fire in their house while we were at my wedding in Austin, Texas (not a good thing to come home to after such an amazing weekend). Although the actual house didn't burn down, the damage was immense and while their home is being restored, they have been living in their camper in the yard. At least they don't have to live in a van down by the river! So, for the past five months, it has been a great big happy and tight-knit Demchak family living situation in the camper. My parents, Nelly (the dog) and Riley and Stella (the cats). 

For the past week, my parents had been smelling something funky around the front door of the camper and my dad was convinced that there must have been an animal that crawled up into one of the panels underneath the camper and died. They were regularly getting the sewage tank pumped out, so it couldn't have been that! My dad was on a mission to find the root of the smell and since he happened to be on vacation that week, he had the time to search the camper thoroughly and finally find the culprit. He cleaned out every single cabinet, drawer, nook and cranny on the inside of the camper looking for some sort of dead animal or rotten food that could have been left behind. Nothing. The smell still lingered. Next, he cleaned out all of the storage spots on the outside of the camper and still he found nothing. The smell still lingered. He was at his wits' end and decided to crawl under the camper and remove all of the panels to see if somehow the dead animal had crawled beneath the camper, died and was stinking up the neighborhood! One by one, he removed the panels, looked around and found nothing. He got to the very last panel, obviously frustrated, and slowly removed it. And down came the shit storm!!!!!!!! Apparently, there was some sort of blockage under the sewage tank and even though the tank was being pumped out regularly, there were some 'stuff' that was left behind, building up in that panel and stinking up the place. And now it was all over my dad. He jumped up, stripped down, hosed himself off (and I am assuming he ran around the yard naked, screaming like a girl). Then he took two showers, hosed down the camper, hooked it up to the truck, drove to the hardware store to buy some lime solution, came home, hosed down the lawn, then doused it with the lime solution, Then, he hooked the camper back up to the truck, moved it back to the 'designated living area' took another shower and called it a day. Since my mom was at work the whole time, when she got home, since nothing looked like it was moved, she had no clue what had happened until my dad told her about the 'shit storm'........EWWW!

And Baby Makes Three....