Tag Archives: st louis

It’s Been A Long Time Since I’ve Blogged On Here

Posted on August 6, 2010 | 4 Comments

Since birthing Baby Boogie we decided to do what any logical masochists would do, buy a house while adjusting to being parents. We really aren’t as crazy as we sound. With the housing market you would have thought selling a condo would take a while, we would put it on the market and wait… and wait, thereby giving us enough time to find a house we love.

Lo and behold, someone decided they would come along a mere three weeks later and buy the place pretty much for what we were asking. Commence Operation Picky House Shoppers.

We have looked at every house in the semiburbs surrounding our current abode. We may have baskets of baby books and toys littering the floors, but we do not live in the suburbs. Denial is the step that I am comfortable being stuck on at this juncture.

The strongest current contender for Chez Meiners Part Deux is located in the fabulous, and oh so glamorous, Webster Groves. I may have to move beyond denial, but then again with enough martinis I can’t even pronounce the word, let alone think about Egyptian geography.

I am glad I never created a list of must-haves in a man because if the house shopping experience has shown me anything it is that, when left to my own devices, I can construct the impossible and convince myself that it exists. I must humbly apologize to my realtor. To compound the problem, did I mention that I am married to a third-generation engineer? Anyone who has spent any time grocery shopping, let alone house shopping, with an engineer is chuckling and shaking their head knowingly right now. It’s like peeling apart the individual wood slivers that make up a toothpick. His mind never ceases to fascinate and confound me… and I would venture to guess that my realtor was past the point of the latter about 20 houses and four unsubmitted offers ago. However, I am confident that any house that does pass muster with The Mister probably will come with it’s own food rehydrator. Say it with me… Epic!

This is all part of the master plan. You know, the one where we pretend we know what we are doing as parents and Baby Boogie has a pegasus in the yard?

Gratuitous cuteness

Gratuitous cuteness

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Posted in DomesticPants, ParentPants

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But you’ll never sleep again!

Posted on March 2, 2010 | 5 Comments

Told ya I was pregnant...

I have pouted on here plenty of times about the things you don’t hear about when people want you to get knocked up. There is, however, one of thing people lurve to talk about- how little sleep your going to get for the rest of your ever loving life. I have heard it almost as many times as people have said congratulations, or questions me about what kind of kid I am having (answer: human, girl).

Don’t get me wrong, I have been tired ever since my third trimester hit me (like a ton of sleepy, chubby bricks). In fact, I may or may not have slept for 20 hours recently, waking only long enough to eat and check my email every four hours. I think I am learning a little something about this “tired” thing. But, anyone who has ever raised themselves an infant would be completely offended by my claiming any kind of knowledge of tired.

However, I remember surviving quite swimmingly on four hours of sleep. In fact, I fondly remember burning the candle at both ends on four hours of drunk people sleep- which we all know is the worst kind of sleep a person can get. And it wasn’t even that long ago. Getting up for class with the smell of stale smoke, fries and vodka permeating not only my breath, hair and clothing, but a measurable amount of air space surrounding me. Dragging my hungover butt to class. Eating cheese filled bread sticks and sucking down my weight in espresso during class breaks. Working, studying, then off to grab drinks and dinner with friends again. The cycle repeats. Four hours was a lucky stretch sometimes.

Aren’t I just replacing the smell of cigarettes, booze and fried food with the varying smells of diapers, baby powder and milk? And isn’t the quality of my rest going to be at least a teensy-bit better since I won’t be sleeping under the influence? I have to be missing something when those parents are laughing and lauding the sleeplessness that awaits me, since, you know, ‘I don’t even know what tired is yet.’

It seems a badge of honor that parents have bestowed upon themselves- this not sleeping and all thing- so I have refrained from questioning. But I do hope that Baby Monkey Meiners is as much a fan of late night dance parties and crappy nighttime television as I was in college because we evidently have lots of those in store for us. How else are we going to fill all of those sleepless hours, right?

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Posted in ParentPants

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