I get much of my blogging inspiration from life experiences, other moms, or US Weekly. I can thank US Weekly & my obsession with bloated-for-the-1st-time celeb moms for my latest. The hidden secret, or maybe not so hidden secret, in the mommy world, is the debate over having or not having an epidural during labor. As I've discovered in my short 1 year of being a mother, moms can be each others strongest allies or harshest critics, and it pretty much starts from day 1 of conception. "I didn't use drugs" or "Pain free PLEASE!" becomes as hot a topic as Republican or Democrat. Who knew that someone's medical decisions could create such a firestorm of opinion and finger pointing? I don't judge when someone has a tooth pulled with or without novocane, yet I too have jumped on the mommy crazytrain, voicing my many thoughts on why drugs are the right way to go. I'm not Barbara Walters & I don't work for the View, so why I feel my opinion matters is beyond me, but it's topic all moms seem to feel strongly about.

So why the debate over something so insignificant in the grand scheme of things? US Weekly featured a 2 page spread in their latest July issue on the many celebs that went au naturelle.  Lets take Giselle, for instance. She said childbirth was a zen experience, like doing yoga. To that, I say, up yours. I had a baby, with drugs, & it was exciting, and scary, and certainly hurt much like attempting yoga, but I would not say it was zen. Good for you, Giselle, for feeling no pain, but 95% of women would probably compare childbirth to someone pulling out their liver with pliers. You probably also don't eat, we all know you don't smile & you most likely never poop or sweat either. AND since you don't have cellulite, I've decided you're not really human & therefore, I can't take your opinion seriously and neither should the rest of America.

Do you see what anger this whole epidural thing brings out in a person? If you want to feel every ache & pain during labor, good for you. If you want to be drugged up and feel almost nothing, good for you too. In the end,  all Joe and I wanted was a healthy baby (coming out of my end) and that's all other moms should want for each other as well. If you want to dress your baby boy in pink, have at it. If you want to drink wine every day while prego, it's all you. My opinion and anyone else's opinion certainly should not matter cause 1. It's your body & 2. It's your baby. And who knows, maybe you'll go drug free, and it will be as zen for you as it was for Giselle. Either way, all moms are so fortunate in this country to have a choice during labor to do whatever they want, and that's what we should be celebrating.

Moral of my story...it doesn't make you weak to have an epidural, and it doesn't make you crazy to not have one. Either way, we'll all be sitting on ice packs together post-labor anyways, so who really cares. Happy contractions to you all (except you, Giselle & your perfect non-contracting uterus)!




I used to be fun. I realized this at a recent work convention for my highly mom-focused company. As is typical of many sales conferences, the company usually brings in a few random speakers that always cover off on the following topics: 1. selling more, 2. why that speaker has been awesome in their career & you haven't, and 3. why you are crazy & it's holding you back. The "crazy" speaker really hit a nerve & brought out this deep, dark secret of mine, that, surprise! I used to be fun. I shared this finding with the room of 150+ moms. They responded in laughter & then proceeded to try and get me drunk all night. No fun Karyn should have kept her "I can't hold my liquor anymore" mouth shut.

When I say I used to be fun, I mean, I used to be the life of the party, but I was fun because I wanted to be, not because it was expected. I just loved being crazy because in my daily life, I was perfect, an A student, always had my act together, paid my bills on time, totally boring stuff. But when I could let loose, I went nuts, and I really enjoyed it. I was "dance-on-tables" fun. I was "pull-your-shirt-up-over-your-head" fun (yes, mom, I was at least wearing a bra & yes, mom, I did apologize to God for my actions).

Now, I've become "you-dance-on-the-tables-&-I'll-pick-up-the-beer-cans-under-you" fun. I blame this on many things. 1. I officially became an adult (aka: bought a house, had a child, live in the burbs) and 2. Quality beauty sleep sooooo outweighs 15 glasses of wine & staying out until 2:00 in the morning. I also blame this on the fact that I had 4 months straight of morning / afternoon / evening sickness when I was pregnant, so I'd rather jump in a pile of poop than be hungover.

Please don't think that my fun only came cause I was a lush. When sober, I was way more carefree, didn't stress out if groceries needed to be bought or there was laundry to fold. I bought myself nice things, I took the time to relax, and worried so much less, hence, the lack of gray hair some 3 years ago. Why can't I, as Julia Roberts so eloquently put it, "Fly by the seat of my pants, ya know, moment to moment" (I can quote Pretty Woman / a prostitute but can't remember what I did yesterday. I may need to rethink things)? Ohhhhhhhhhhh, that's right, I pushed a baby out of my vagina, gained fat in places I didn't know existed, & now, all of the energy I used to put towards being fun goes towards feeding, loving & diapering this amazing new person in my life. It's all starting to make sense.

I guess I need to realize that fun comes in many shapes and sizes. My new fun might not be a 3 hour bike ride around Manhattan or a day at a Yankee's game, but it doesn't mean I can't have fun rolling outside in the grass with Isabel, singing "I'm a Little Teapot" as she's eating dinner or chasing her around the house till her giggles turn into hiccups. And ya know what, she thinks I'm lots of fun, so that has to count for something! I do need to take more time to smell the roses instead of the poppy diapers, but what mom doesn't. There's always going to be a push & shove between the old "fun" me and the "new" fun me and hopefully, one day, those worlds will collide once more. I only have 17 more years to really have fun with my daughter, so I better enjoy it while it lasts (and I can always look back at the pics of when I danced on tables, right?). 

The old, fun me (Yes, I am a Candy Cane and yes, that is a piece of bacon drinking a beer in the background)!

The new, fun me!




Why moms gain weight once their child starts eating table food...let me count the ways:

1. Baby puts a graham cracker in their mouth, a soggy / mushy piece falls out & onto the floor. Mom picks up soggy / mushy cracker, but do we throw it away? No. We proceed to eat it without a second thought.
2. You decide to introduce a food to your baby that you haven't had since you were 2 years old, for example, fish sticks. Fish sticks...gross, right? Um, no. They are possibly the best tasting thing that I've had in the last 15 years. Amazing & now I just might need to feed them to Isabel (aka ME) weekly.
3. If she still can't gum the crust of the grilled cheese, who else is gonna eat it?
4. Didn't finish her 100% full-fat yogurt? Don't mind if I do.
5. 1 Cheerio for you, 9,452 for me. And repeat.
6. No napkin around to wipe up every drop of food that I've caught falling from her mouth? Guess I'll just need to lick it clean.
7. Baby loves the Happy Baby & Plum Organics bagged pureed fruits, but mommy might possibly love them more. It's fruit...how bad can it be?
8. Avocados low fat, right?
9. I'm trying to lead by example. If I eat, she'll eat it & besides, people are starving in Africa (and Westwood, NJ).
10. There's just no way she'll finish a whole slice of cheese on her own.

As per the above, lets just say I'm in a whole lot of trouble once this kid sprouts a few teeth & falls in love with french fries & chicken fingers. Good-bye wasteline, hello spanx & Jenny Craig.

Isabel is probably thinking "Mom, OMG! Stop eating my food, fatty-pants!"




Today I officially became "that person." Isabel & I flew from Maine to NYC, my 1st time flying without Joe by my side to haul around our 27 bags, keep Isabel entertained long enough for me to read People, and to be my moral support with every bump of turbulence we hit. This was a big day for me & yes, it 100% made the baby book, along with a very cute pair of Jetblue wings (for Isabel, not me).

The  minute I entered the airport, I was everything I hated about parents pre-Isabel. I was "that poor girl" who was all by herself with her baby, pitied & at the same time disliked by every person in the Portland Jetport (apparently, we Mainers don't fly airplanes, we fly jets, hence "Jetport"). I was "that bad mother" who gave her child whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted it, in hopes she didn't make one sound from take-off to landing. I was "that person" who pre-boarded yet still blocked the plane door as I unloaded 15 bags & a baby from an over-priced stroller that wouldn't fold without me having to LIE Isabel on the jetway floor to get the damn thing shut (PS...I also asked the luggage dude to make sure he kept it clean. He was very impressed and most definitely dragged it through jet fuel ).

I quickly escalated to "that bitch" when I spent 20+ minutes hogging the airplane bathroom after Isabel peed through her outfit (and mine) & needed a change mid-air / mid-turbulence. I was "that weirdo" by snapping pics with my illegally turned on electronic device (rules don't scare a die-hard blogger). And lastly, I was "that mom" who dumped mass amounts of Cheerios on the floor, expected everyone to think my baby was SOOOOO cute as Isabel played peek-a-boo with the last 20 rows of the plane & took up 14 seats with her toys, food, diapers and additional baby entertaining supplies. And ya know what, I couldn't have cared less, jerky Jetbluer's who were just bitter cause my baby didn't make a peep & you didn't get any good snacks. First baby & me flight down, many more to go. Look out Jetport, here we come!

Mom gets crazy drugs & I get a banana for my nerves. Yippee.
Safety 1st.
Pee stains, compliments of Isabel.
If she doesn't get an infection after this little moment of fun, than she's pretty much immune to everything.
Helping us find our way back to our seat.

What she really thinks of flying.
Nothing like a sexy & loving daddy to meet ya at the gate (and carry some of my bags too!)




Going to the bathroom has taken on a whole new meaning over the last few weeks. Isabel has started crawling & what once was an easy and enjoyable task (close door, pull down pants, do my business, wash hands, exit bathroom) has become a juggling act. My mom has always said "Just wait! Once you have kids, you'll never go to the bathroom alone again." This always puzzled me. "Just shut the door...how hard could it be??" was my pre-crawling baby answer. Then Isabel discovered movement, and I realized that shutting the door is actually the trick for keeping them IN while you answer the call of nature. Keeping them out is certainly not the answer, as they wreck havoc on your house in the 4.2 seconds they're on their own. Freedom!!!!

Growing up, the door to our 1st floor bathroom had a folding door made of very thin slats. My siblings and I discovered that even when mom shut the door, we could actually stick notes, drawings, old mail, magazine subscription cards, whatever we could find would go through that door to her. If I was my mother, I would have quickly ran out after the 1st kiddy love note fell & purchased a new door, but it became a joke to send mom messages while she tried to sneak away for a few minutes of non-kid sanity. Now, being a mom myself and experiencing 2 weeks of bathroom breaks with Isabel literally at my side, I think I owe my mom a HUGE apology (which won't be send to her via the bathroom door).

As you'll see from the below picture, my new view from the toilet has changed substantially. It used to be an US Weekly or my iPhone (I'm not ashamed to say it...I love reading on the toilet. Who doesn't?!). And as cute as Isabel's face is, it's just not the same as 64 magical pages of non-noise making, bathroom curtain pulling, toilet paper roll destroying celeb gossip. I'm sure one day I'll miss my time with Isabel in the bathroom as much as I now miss my non-Isabel outings, but it's hard to imagine it right now. Non-baby friends, enjoy your non-baby bathroom time. And for me, I guess I'll learn to enjoy the new view.

Bathroom with a view.




Confession time. I love McDonald's. Seriously...I reallllyyyy love McDonald's. I love it like Posh loves her 8" heels. Like Howard Stern loves his strippers. I would eat it every day if it wouldn't result in me being 400 lbs and having a massive heart attack. Plus, with Oprah going off the air, my chances of being 400 lbs AND having her save me are out the window. So, I eat healthy. Boooooooooooooo.

When I was in high school and ate a TCBY chocolate chip ice cream sandwich every day after school as my pre-practice snack, I can't really remember ever caring about calories, fat or what I ate. I was never thin (except for when I had mono, dropped 20 lbs in a hot-second & looked like a crack head for about a month), but I was also never heavy. I was average, athletic and active...straight A's, and it allowed me eat Snickers at least 3x a week, ice cream before bed & McDonald's whenever I damn well pleased. I didn't hang my head in shame when I'd order 2, yes ladies, 2 Sausage Egg McMuffin's for breakfast. I'd scarf those bad-boys down with pride and head off to school, bragging to the boys about how much I could eat. Wasn't I cool???!! Surprisingly, boys still liked me, but I think they just couldn't resist my charming personality (or the fact that I'd put out...kidding mom, KIDDING). Then college hit, and I continued my McDonald's binges, washing it all down with 9,000 calories of beer (lite, of course) a day. I'm lucky I got out of there alive and under 400 lbs (Certainly came pretty close my junior year).

I do still indulge my McDonald's lust every few months and when I go, I go BIG, like Super Size x 4 big. Another confession. When I go to McDonald's, I order so much food for myself that I've actually caught myself PRETENDING  to be ordering for 2 people!!! Dr. Phil, save me now. Back in my single NYC days, I hit up a McDonald's post-drinking and actually said outloud to myself / the cashier as I was ordering my 15 value meals "What did he tell me he wanted again???" The cashier's response should have been, ""He" wants you committed to over-eaters annoymous." Ya want another proud moment? After a 3 day bachelorette party binge, 2 friends and I, whom shall remain nameless to protect their fat-girl innocence, not only ate our hot fudge sundae "appetizers" on the walk back to our car, but also split a 30 piece nugget ON TOP of what we each ordered. How I fit into my wedding dress after that, I'll never know. And when I was pregnant, forget it! After each appointment, I'd beeline it to my local McDonald's (unbeknownst to Joe) to celebrate the baby, a strong heartbeat, only gaining 8 instead of my standard 10 lbs a month, surpassing 200 lbs. Isabel should be very proud.

The moral of this story is that girls can eat McDonald's. We act all ashamed & hide our Mickey D obsession, but it's ok to indulge our cravings. Boys still check me out, Joe still thinks I'm hot, and little do they know that I just ate 3 Quarter Pounders (with cheese). Eat your heart out, literally, and see ya at the drive-thru!

Joe ordering McDonald's for me.




I had a major "I've become my mother" moment on Friday night. Joe and I had planned a VERY hot date night at Lowe's with baby in tow. Nothing says "I want to sex you up" like an evening in the gardening section, fighting over the best color of mulch. As the week went by, Joe and I had numerous conversations about our impending Lowe's date, so in my mind, it was on the calendar, a done deal. I even put on make-up, I was that psyched for a little romance with a side of fertilizer.

To be honest, it wasn't Lowe itself that had me all hot in the pants. I was just excited to go somewhere, anywhere. Yes, we lead a very busy & active life. We travel, see our friends, and, in my personal opinion, still have a pretty solid social life for new parents. BUT, when your husband works late most nights, you work from home & you spend every evening talking to a 9 month old,  you're officially climbing the walls by Friday, excited for his bedtime help and adult conversation.

Joe obviously 1. wasn't aware of my love of Lowe's and 2. wasn't as excited as I about a night in the hardware store because he forgot and by the time he got home, Isabel was ready for bed. I lost it. You would have thought he was cheating on me. "I guess we're not going to Lowe's?!" was my 1st question to him as he walked through the door. "I wasn't aware of your love for Lowe's" was his highly sensitive response. And that is when I realized I was my mother OR any mother who just needs to get out of the house, no matter the destination.

Joe has learned his lesson...Lowe's, a sand pit, the dentist, it doesn't matter. If it gives me the chance to get out of the house & socialize with other adults, please don't break my heart by breaking our plans. Especially if I've put on make-up.




I awarded myself the mom-of-the-year award last night. It's a huge honor to accept this award on behalf of my 9  month old daughter who could have chopped her hand off after I left a very sharp knife on her highchair tray. Yes, I said I left a knife about an inch out of Isabel's reach. She just started eating finger foods, I was cutting up blueberries, and you can put the rest of the story together from here. I apparently think it's a good idea for my child, who grabs for everything within a 10 ft radius of her, to play with knives, cause what other reason would I have to put a sharp object inches from a major vein & 10 little fingers. OHHHH, I know my reason...I'M AN IDIOT & WAS TALKING ON THE PHONE AND NOT PAYING ATTENTION!! Take this as a lesson ladies, cell phones & cars don't mix & now feeding a baby & cell phones don't mix either. Maybe I'll become the next Oprah and start a "no cell phone & feeding" campaign in hopes of avoiding another bad mommy moment like this one. If I can save one child from chocking on a pencil, hair tie or screw as their dumb mother talks on the phone, I'll feel redeemed. 2 minutes after posting this blog, I expect a knock on the door from DYFS, who'll probably take my child & Martha Stewart, who'll definitely take my sharp knives (and tell me to remodel my kitchen). Wish me luck.

I Googled "baby holding a knife" and got "Bieber holding a knife" instead. Pretty much the same thing.




We took our 1st real "vacation" with Isabel in early April. Joe and I have always said, both pre & post baby, that our goal is to be that couple that travels with kids. Fortunately, we were blessed with an easy going child,  happily amused by a squeaking rubber giraffe & food. We also have become smart in our old age & took her pre-crawling, so carting around a baby with limited range of motion also added to our ease of travel. Otherwise, we'd probably still be sitting in Jersey, watching the travel channel in our bathing suits, drinking pre-mixed margaritas & remembering the glory days when we use to leave the house.

We decided on Turks & Caicos for multiple reasons. It's a relatively quick flight from NYC, so if Isabel really lost her shit on the plane, we'd suffer for under 4 hours. Manageable for us...not so much for the plane full of haters. We'd heard great things about Turk's restaurants & beaches, so that sold us too. And, as we discovered once we got there, apparantly every person vacationing in Turks & Caicos must be from NJ or NY, so it was our destiny. We were also deteremined to NOT be those people who rolled into a luxurious hotel with their screaming baby in tow while everyone else (minus screaming kids) tried to relax, so after a few recos from friends, we booked a family-friendly hotel & off we went!

Isabel was amazing on the flight to & from Turks. She was her cute, charming self, playing peek-a-boo with anyone who would look her way & coughing if someone didn't pay attention to her. I'm not sure where she gets this need to be the center of attention from??? My advice to new parents traveling with a baby for the 1st time...ask other seasoned parents for their best tips. My friend Cher learned to always book the window & aisle seat in hopes that the middle seat stayed empty. BINGO! We had a "free" seat for Isabel on both flights. I also packed a carry-on bag with her food, diapers & formula for the week, to avoid having Isabel's most important items sent to Tokyo instead of Turks & Caicos. My other advice...only conceive babies with strong men. Joe has big muscles & a big heart so he was willing to schlep around 432 bags like a pack mule for most of the week. He's also an amazing cabana boy / drink getter for anyone hoping to rent him for their next trip. Dad's rule!

Our vacation was amazing...warm weather, great food, nice accommodations, I actually read one whole book & a People Magazine, and we got some much needed wife/husband time too. Surprise...we do still like each other! Isabel also enjoyed her 1st tropical getaway, experiencing lots of other firsts in Turks too, such as first time on a plane, in a pool, in the ocean, in sand, eating sand, in a bathing suit (about 10 different ones throughout the week) and in a hotel. She also learned to go from her belly to sitting up, received her 1st passport stamp AND peed on Joe's leg while we sat at our hotel bar one night. That's the most important first cause, as I explained to the bar on our way out, "Well, if she takes after me, it won't be the last time she pees herself in a bar." The Agosto's always pack their class wherever we might be.

Have no fear 1st time parents, babies can travel, parents can still drink while they travel & you'll actually want to come home & get back to your routine by the end of the vacation. It's a win/win for everyone! Oh, and also don't leave formula anywhere that normal people would put it while in a tropical location (aka, a kitchen cupboard). Carribbean bugs really love Similiac, particularly the Costco supersized tub. Happy trails!

Ready to cry for the whole flight

Does this swim diaper make my legs look big?

Sand diet

Someone got carded & isn't impressed

Pee happens.

My. Mom. Is. Crazy.

The happy Agostos

Picture perfect!


Nanny Poopins

Everyone is well aware of how in love I was (was being the key word here) with our new nanny just a few short months ago. She was my savior! She washed our clothes, scrubbed our floors, loved our child unconditionally and every day with her was like Christmas morning.  Flash forward to now and the cleaning has stopped, the love is gone & suddenly our nanny has made it very clear that she respects Joe, she loves Isabel, and she dislikes everything about me. Last week she went as far as telling us "I guess you don't love Isabel as much as I do." Interesting statement...apparently Nanny Poopins pushed Isabel out of her vagina and not me. Who knew?!

I don't think it's one particular event that made her dislike us, or really, dislike me. From what I'm learning from other mothers, this is typical of many nannies. They kill you with kindness, make you fall in love, & when they know they've got ya, they take you for all your worth. Nanny Poopins worked for / lived with her last family for 20 years & became the "mother" of the house after the real mother passed away when the children were very young. So to her, I'm the other woman, the competition, and Nanny Poopins is having a difficult time not being the boss. At the end of the day, she really does love Isabel and is amazing with her, but at what point does her disrespecting us become more important than her taking good care of Isabel? We buy her and her daughter gifts, I say "thank you" even when she farts, I literally would run like a lunatic, pushing and shoving people out of the way to make my bus every night, all so that she wouldn't miss her bus as well. But to her, it's not enough.

We've remained in this unhealthy relationship with her because in the end, we need her more than she needs us. Don't I sound like a pathetic girl trying to win some guys affection?? That's completely how I feel with her. I'm always trying to impress her with my awesome mommy-skills, constantly trying to make her like me (and she's flat out told us "I'm here for Isabel, not you."), I spend my day kissing her rear-end, really hoping we'll fall back in love (aka...she'll start doing our laundry again). I'm in an abusive nanny relationship, and I think it's time to cut the umbilical cord.

Maybe I'm just not a nanny person. Maybe I just dislike having another woman in my house. Or maybe it isn't me & maybe this woman really is just a little crazy. Maybe I'm sick of defending myself when it comes to how we're raising Isabel or tired of tip-toeing around in my own house. Whatever the case may be, I may soon be on the hunt for a 3rd nanny. Isabel is 9 months old and is going through nannies faster than Elizabeth Taylor went through husbands. Her first words might be "who's that?" as another woman walks through our front door. Joe and I are learning a lot about what does & doesn't work, so we're guessing that by the time Isabel is ready to leave for college, we'll have found our perfect match. Whatever the case may be, I realized that I should have kept my big, fat, bragging mouth shut cause my Nanny Poppins has turned out to be a nanny-dud. As they say in the fairy tales, ya gotta kiss a lot of frogs before you find your prince...pucker up!




At one time, I had a very strange fascination with Tom, Katie & Suri Cruise, particularly during his "I jump on furniture" phase. Recently, I could care less about their weird Scientology ways or Katie's blank, robotic gaze & failing career. But I am and always will be intrigued by their non-traditional / cult upbringing of Suri. From heels to a pacifier, this kid is certainly not your typical almost 5 year old. A few weeks ago she was caught having her after dinner drink in a Playtex baby bottle and 10 minutes later, was spending quality time with her iPad (most likely playing Angry Birds, I assume). I'm all for letting a kid be a kid and strongly believe society is pushing our children to be grown-ups way too fast, BUT how do you go from allowing your toddler to choose her own designer wardrobe and march around Manhattan wearing pumps, yet she still sucks on a paci in the middle of day?? I'm confused. Of course, if my husband controlled my every move while dating men behind my back (allegedly...don't sue me, Tommy C), I'd probably give in to my child's every demand too.

And while I'm on the bash-Suri-Cruise bandwagon, it really, really, really, really, really annoys me that this celeb-u-tot always looks like she's dressed for summer in the middle of winter. Last week, the NY Post had pics of Tom & Suri frolicking around NYC, with Suri, as always, sporting bare legs and an open coat. If you can afford to buy your child expensive clothing, why not invest in pants & a cute winter hat. And instead of simply dressing her in your standard winter attire, they opt for carrying her around wrapped in a blanket (which still probably costs more than all of my winter coats combined). Do they swaddle her at night too? Still confused.

Apologies for the ranting & raving. Belive me, that's way more time & words than I ever intended dedicating to the Cruises, but I couldn't let this latest oddity pass on by without some sort of a comment. Now back to stalking Charlie Sheen & Lindsay Lohan.

This "sucks."

It's cold, where's my blanket.


6 Hours


Last week, I took my first overnight trip away from Isabel. Joe was on his own to bathe, feed, and keep Isabel alive & happy for 3 days. You'd think, as mental & controlling as I am, that being away would result in one constant panic attack after another, yet just the opposite happened. I was thrilled to be away for many reasons, including:

1. I needed me time. I've truly come to understand what this whole "me time" thing is all about. My "me" meter was at zero, and I needed a few days of "All About Karyn" time or I was either going to lose my mind or stab someone, so it was best that I left town when I did & as quickly as possible.

2. Joe and Isabel needed quality father/daughter time. Joe is an amazing dad; very hands on, 100% capable of doing everything I do (minus breastfeeding, though he'd do it for the extra calorie burn if he could), and totally in love with Isabel. That being said, I typically am the one home at bedtime, and Joe also leaves very early in the morning, so I think it was good for both him & Isabel to see that they can survive without mom. She went to sleep without me, he did the AM prep without me, and we all lived to talk about. High five.
3. Most importantly, I needed 6 straight hours where NO ONE could talk to me, ask me a question, spit up on me or need a diaper changed (besides myself), and I got just that with my San Fran flight. Now, for those of you who really know me, you all are aware of how much I HATTTTEEEEEE to fly. I dislike planes so much that I'd eat something weird, give up Facebook, maybe I'd even become a Republican if it meant I could get to somewhere tropical or international in a limited # of hours without having to fly. So are you know fulling understanding how badly I needed quiet time?  Me, an US Weekly, peanut M&M's, Adele's latest album, my iPad with (2) lame chick flicks that Joe would totally have ruined if we watched them together, and a handful of Klonopin. Crazy-drugs & my two-winged metal death trap, take me away!!! 

I was so happy & relaxed by the time I got home to Jersey, you would have thought I'd just spent a week at the spa. Instead, I was flying & working but you could have fooled me. Oh, and I got to apply makeup AND blow dry my hair without worrying about waking a baby or changing a diaper with one hand, lining my eyelids with the other. I also discovered that Joe is an even more awesome dad than I thought and makes going away very easy. I realized that our house does survive without me, a truly great feeling. Most importantly, I can manage on my own for a few days without Isabel by my side. I can so see a girls weekend in my near future. Who's in?



Oprah continues to bring happiness to my DVR with her final season of tear jerking episodes. Last week, she got my eyes watering by introducing the world to the McGhee sextuplets. Oprah discovered them when their family picture went viral, and she invited them onto her Celine Dion / Twins celebration to surprise them with a $250,000 gift card to Walmart. Think of the formula & baby food that family can buy!? The touching part was the rags to riches story the couple has faced. High school sweethearts, both of their mothers were crackheads, fathers were deadbeats yet they fell in love, finished college & then struggled to start a happy family of their own. After going into pre-term labor with twins & losing both of the babies, their next attempt produced 6 healthy & happy (or happy when they're fed & dry) babies. Are you crying yet?

I'm sure Walmart will figure out a way to make $$$ off this somehow, but I was still impressed with their donation, none the same. In typical mom fashion, I immediately wondered if Walmart would still accept Huggies and Similiac coupons if you're shopping with that gift card. Just think how far you can stretch that money by simply adding in a few coupons?!


Mini Me


As is typical when a baby is born, everyone wants to know "Who does he/she look like?" If you ask my mom, Isabel looks like me. If you ask Joe's mom, she looks like Joe. If you ask me, I think she's the perfect mix. Her crazy, thin hair...all Joe. Her white, pasty skin...all me. In the first few weeks after her birth, I saw a lot of myself in her and then she started to fill out and suddenly I would see Joe in her expressions and dramatic personality. Her eyes have always reminded me of Joe's, and you can almost guess what she's thinking by the expressions she makes with them. Just like her father, she'll never be able to lie to me...her eyes are the window to her soul. Ha!

Some of the most touching moments spent with Isabel are at night while I'm nursing her to sleep. We "talk", I make crazy sounds, she laughs, touches my face, grabs my hair, and we spend the last few minutes of the day bonding, mom/daughter style. Many times, as she's sucking away, I'll just stare at her face, trying to memorize every line, movement and expression on her face. Everyday she looks a bit different so I know that now's the time to cherish these moments cause they won't last for long. Sometimes she'll make an expression and I can so see myself. It isn't weird to think "Wow! She looks so much like Joe!" but it's so strange to suddenly see yourself in another person's face. It's still hard to believe she's mine, we created her, so it really hit homes when I recognize myself in her behavior and mannerisms.

In the last few weeks, I'd have to say she's looking more & more like me (particularly her chunky legs. Sorry, Isabel). Her full cheeks & lips are mine, and from the eyes up (including the cowlicks on the front on her head), she's all Joe. I'm still holding out hope that she'll have her father's beautifully dark skin, but I'm sadly predicting LOTS of SPF 50 in her future. And if she has me sparking personality, even better. Isabel should be thrilled...who doesn't want to be just like their mother?!

Joe, 6 months. I'm glad to see he's learned to love the camera (and can confirm he still makes that face on a regular basis)

Me, 6 months. I have no explanation as to why I'm on our kitchen counter, but from the look on my brother's face, I'm thinking he had something to do with it.
Isabel, 7 months
Me, 8 months. The American Academy of Pediatrics would definitely give a big thumbs DOWN to the safety standards of that walker.


Fetus Friday


Fetuses, fetuses everywhere (or is the plural Fet-i??)!! Lets see who's knocked up this week:

Kate Hudson- It was only a matter of time before we'd see Goldie's girl flaunting that illegitimate baby bump, loud & proud. Her prego belly looks like my non-prego belly after Friday pizza & margarita night at the Agosto house, but who's bitter?

Martha Stewart- Well, not really Martha & her menopausal uterus, thank GOD, but her daughter, Alexis, who welcomed a baby girl, Jude, this week. I'm sure Martha will only allow the baby to call her "Mrs. Stewart" and by now, that kid probably has 400 monogrammed items spewn across her nursery. Little does baby Jude know, but she's heir to a fortune and that her grandma of hers is an ex-con. Isabel and Jude need an immediate playdate!

Zac Hanson- Ummmm, bop! Zac has welcomed his 2nd child into this world. He still looks like he's 15 and has the same shaggy hair as back in the day, so it kinda makes me feel dirty to think this little boy is reproducing. His wife looks like she could be his sister or aunt, but the kids are very cute. Whatever....he's been rich since since he was learning to tie his shoes, so who the heck am I make fun.

My friend Erica- Erica & Sal welcomed the adorable Keira in early January. Shout out to the V Family!! Early in Erica's pregnancy, she informed me that she disliked that I called Isabel a "fetus" while I was pregnant. I explained that technically "fetus" is the correct term to use when discussing an unborn baby, as confirmed by our good friend & medical expert Wikipedia:

A fetus (pronounced /ˈfiːtəs/; also spelled foetus, fœtus, faetus, or fætus, see below) is a developing mammal or other viviparous vertebrate after the embryonic stage and before birth.

Erica should have know better than to share her feelings with me cause this just gave me more reason to use the world fetus in front of my dear friend as often as possible, along with sometimes refering to Baby Girl V as "Fetus V." Amazingly, Erica still likes me which is a good thing, because now Isabel has a beautifl new friend name Keira! As you can see, Keira already has a thing for Tiffany. Good luck Sal.




Diva does Facebook! Diva is alive & kicking on Facebook, now all I need is a wholllllleeeee lot of followers. Take a look at the fun little box to the right of this post that says "Diva Loves Facebook" and please click the logo to "like" the page on Facebook. My goal is to have 1,543,785 followers by the end of next week. Come on folks, we can do this!!!


Girl Scouts

Up yours, Girl Scouts. Why do you & your yummy little cookies have to show up just in time for my beach vacation? I haven't done a sit-up in about 2 years, I need to shove myself into a bikini in about 3 weeks, but none of that seems top-of-mind as I rip into yet another box of Samoas. Why can't you start selling your tasty treats in November, when I'm fattening up for the winter & can easily hide the extra pounds under a big sweater and puffy coat? I mean, March!? I'm just coming out of my winter funk, ready to hit the ground running (literally) in preparation for summer, having finally convinced myself that I need a diet to get rid of these last few pregnancy pounds, but no! You have to come knocking at our door, in your cute little Girl Scout sash & hat, and now I'm stuck eating these freaking cookies, box after wonderful box. I know, I know, I could have said no, but that would 1. Be mean and 2. I have little to no will power. So instead, I'll blame the girls & their poor planning. I may need to polish off the last box tonight, just so we'll be rid of them and their seductive powers. Good bye self-control, waste-line & bikini, hello one-piece, poor self-image.




Big apologies for my recent blogging vacation. For those of you that don't already know, I recently accepted a new & exciting job that allows me to work 100% from home, yet still travel into NYC a few times a week. And as anyone who's ever interviewed for a job understands, your life quickly becomes overwhelmingly consumed with resumes, head hunters, meetings & prep work as you try to juggle your current job while also looking for a new one. Oh yeah, and I had to feed a baby, vacuum a house, drive a nanny around, catch a bus, make dinner, make bottles and watch the View on DVR. Needless to say, the last few weeks have been crazytown, & I'm so glad the madness is behind me. I have a wonderful new adventure ahead, and I can again let my creative blogging juices flow before all hell breaks lose with the new gig.

So what will I be doing, you ask? I'm sure you're not surprised to hear this, but I had to turn down numerous modeling gigs as well as being cast as Bethenny's new BFF on her latest Bravo show, so instead, I will be the new Regional Manager for a start-up website called Plum District. Our company offers daily deals to moms in 20 cities across the US, & I'll be responsible for growing subscribers in NYC. I'm thrilled for the opportunity for many reasons; great new company, gaining managerial & marketing experience, an exciting sell, flexibility, a mom-focused company and the chance to spend significantly more time with Isabel. It's like the cherry on top!

Many of you are well aware of the struggles I've experienced over the last months, re-entering the working world as a new mom. It wasn't that I didn't want to work, I just didn't want to leave Isabel. It didn't seem fair that I birthed this beautiful baby and then had to leave her every day while paying someone else to be with her. I'd be at work and all I wanted to do was see her, play with her, talk with her or about her. I'm sure my co-workers wanted to sufficate me with a baby blanket everytime I shared another boring Isabel story or picture. Instead of things getting easier, as everyone said it would, each day seemed to bring more resentment, more questioning of myself, more stress and emotions that I had hoped would eventually go away. It was as though I was going through post-pardum 4 months after giving birth.

What's interesting to me is how different the work experience is from one new mom to the next. I actually found myself hoping I'd meet another mother struggling as much as me. She made me feel normal, could relate and didn't make me feel badly for wanting to be with Isabel so much. I recently asked a fellow 1st time mom just returning to work after having twins "So....has it been hard?" I couldn't wait to have her cry on my shoulder, hear her horror stories, but instead she answered, "It's actually not so bad." Um, whatttttttttttt?! I almost called a therapist right then & there. What was wrong with me? Why wasn't it not so bad for me too?

Conclusion...I love my daughter. I love being a mom. I love seeing every moment. I love being a part of her life. I also love working, but I need a job that loves that I love being a mom too. I also need to find "me" again. Even if it's finding the new mommy-me, by being close to home I can at least give myself a few quality minutes each day, instead of every second being about everyone else. So does that mean other moms who yearn to work aren't in love with their child too? Of course not!!! It means they are better moms & better women by having a schedule, having time away and having a well-balanced life. And just like every baby is different, every mother is too and what works from one, doesn't always work for another. We all have to do what's best from us & our families, and I've decided this opportunity is exactly what the Agosto's need.

Like any new job or experience, I certainly have fears and hesitations. It's hard to walk away from my wonderful teammates, a comfort level with what I do, and from being in Manhattan everyday. But being able to feed Isabel breakfast before heading into our home office certainly does have its perks! I've fallen in love with Isabel & I hope to fall in love with Plum District and this next chapter of our lives. Onward & upward!!


Fetus Friday


Since celebrities are birthing babies every 2.5 seconds these days, I figured I'd add a little fun to everyone's Fridays by highlighting weekly arrivals of the newest A-list celeb-u-tots and press-worthy superstar sperminations. And since 99.9% of my friends seem to be with-child these days, I'll give a little shout out to them too, in hopes they'll truly start read my blog and not just make me feel better by saying they do.

Rod "Old Man" Stewart- Rod and his wife welcomed their 2nd child, a boy, this week. He's close to Duggar status with the amount of kids this man is pumping out. I pretty sure he now has about 87 kids which is awesome cause it's the same # as his age. And is he really this short or is his wife 9 ft tall?

I like amazon women, Viagra & reproducing.
Jessica Alba- Boring. Who cares. The only reason I'm a little excited about this is cause I get a lot of pleasure out of seeing really pretty & really skinny celebs gain weight. So please plump up Jess, or I'm gonna have no reason to care about you over the next 9 months. PS: I called this weeks ago cause Jess went from wearing fitted to flowing. I'm pretty much the Baby Whisper so if you're knocked up but keeping it under wraps, than you and your uterous best stay far away from me. I'm that good.
I can't act but I can reproduce.
The Cake Boss- Buddy "The Italian Stallion" Valastro welcomed their 3rd son, Carlo, on Valentine's Day. I wonder if Buddy made him a cake? I wonder if it was in the shape of a heart? I wonder why I'm so obsessed with Buddy and his cakes? I'm also obsessed with the fact that Buddy is the same age as me, yet looks like he's 52 and has already "baked" 4 kids.
America's newest reality show star / baker.
Melissa Rycroft- I'm sure her baby is cute as pie & sleeping through the night, her and her husband are most likely sooooo in love & never fight from no-sleep exhaustion, she probably has perfect breastfeeding boobs, and I'm pretty confident that she already weighs 82 lbs. You can also guarantee that super-perky Melissa will be doing the morning news show circuit to flaunt her darling baby by next week. Yes, she annoys me and yes, I'm a bitter party of one over the fact that she has no talent except for being dumped on the Bachelor yet everyone loves her & gives her fab jobs. Congrats, I guess.
Ready to pop yet still can wear sequins..another reason to dislike her.
Jenn "Holla" Kaczenski- My hot-to-trot mommy friend, Jenny-H, will welcome Baby Girl Kaz in early July, just in time to celebrate a little BBQ, fireworks & our countries independence. Another liberal is born!! In typical Jenn style, she's already decorated the babies nursery, registered & possibly has bought the babies Halloween 2019 costume...take that Melissa Rycroft! We're so happy she's having a girl for multiple reasons including 1. Girls are awesome 2. There's no chance we'll have to pay for an Agosto / Kaz wedding one day. We can't wait to kiss you all over your cute little face, Baby Girl Kaczenski!!
Pretty Momma!!




Congrats to Celine Dion for birthing very cute twin boys and, most importantly, for continuing to have perky boobs and a 22" waistline post twins. All that at the ripe ol' age of 42. How does she do it?! Oh, that's right...lipo & not eating. 

Celine & her grandfather, I mean, husband, were welcomed back to Vegas with open arms & show girls in tow earlier this week. She's looking fab & as much as I'd like to dislike her, the Canadian crooner is one celeb I find little wrong with. She should feel very special. She loves being a mother, put her career on hold for her children, remained nanny-free after the birth of the twins and was very open and honest about her pregnancy struggles over the years. Plus, she continues to have sex with Rene, and she makes Oprah cry when she sings on her show. You know she's pretty awesome if Oprah is losing bodily fluids over her. Minus the horrible frenchy accent, she's almost perfect.  

Maybe Isabel will marry one of her twins & then Celine and I will become fast friends and she can give me all of her used handbags. A girl can dream. Welcome back to sin city, Celine!




Missing: Rubber giraffe, goes by the name "Diaper Bag Sophie." She's about 6" tall, BPA free with long, skinny spotted legs, black crazy-town looking eyes, perma-grin & horns. Last seen in Isabel's mouth, possibly while we were at church or maybe in the grocery store. Vaguely remember seeing giraffe legs sticking out of the bag around the time of her disappearance, but I also left my car keys in the ignition at the mall last week, so I wouldn't go by anything I "think" I remember these days. We will pay a significant reward consisting of last weeks US Weekly, left over Valentine's chocolates, a free subscription to this blog & a kiss from Isabel should you safely return Sophie to our house. If found in the mouth of an unknown child under the age of five, please congratulate him/her on inherting a new germy rubber friend. Come home Sophie...the diaper bag & Isabel's gums both miss you.


13 Lbs


My vagina & uterus hurt just hearing this story. She didn't have a baby, she had a linebacker & if I were the Patriots and Robert Kraft, I'd think about drafting this kid now. As Joe likes to say "Sign that kid up as the next bouncer at Gymboree!"

I have a feeling this mother will only be sitting on a rubber donut for the next 3 weeks after pushing her man-sized son out of her private area. If I were her, I'd also seriously consider a lawsuit against every doctor, nurse & xray tech for not warning me that my soon-to-be-birthed baby would be the size of a 2 year old by my due date. Yikes!!! Isn't that the whole point of the modern miracles of medicine; to provide new moms with good drugs and the option to give birth early, especially when the child is going to come out ready for kindergarten? Plus, this new mom would have been better prepared for her moment in the TV spotlight (ie...freshly colored hair and some lip gloss).

The good news is this momma certainly won't have to worry about weekly weight checks for her newborn, and she'll get lots of good use out of her 6 months clothes. Welcome big boy...may you enjoy your 1st pizza by the time you're 8 months old!

13 Pound Newborn


Easter Basket


Isabel's new Easter basket came in the mail today, compliments of Pottery Barn Kids, the most overpriced baby store known to man. I've become a Pottery Barn Kids crackhead, addicted to every little morsel they sell, and once again, they had me at hello with their super cute spring catalog and quaint front cover. Just when I thought there was nothing else that I could possibly want from their store, site or catalog....BAMMM, guess what arrives in the mail?? Pottery Barn Spring 2011, every winter-hating mother's worst nightmare. My credit card company must have a partnership with PBK (we're so close, I'm allowed to abbreviate them now) cause they seem to be the only two people who appreciate how much money I spend at that freaking place. Page after wonderful page of soft, pastel pink, super-springy bedding, toys & decorations. I felt warmer just flipping the pages, like it was suddenly May and I had on my cutest spring dress & flip-flops. 

To make a long story short, I went into instant mom-panic. "But what if they sell out?! I must buy one now!" I tried to rationalize as my heart said "Buy!" and my husband said "F-U Pottery Barn." I of course ignored Joe and immediately jumped online to place my order. Please keep in mind that Isabel is 6 months old & barely holds her bottle, but apparently I think she'll be frolicking around our backyard searching for decorated eggs come April. Needless to say, I'm thrilled with my spontaneous purchase. The basket is very sweet & girly, with her name stitched on the front, of course. It has now inspired me to find her an even more amazing Easter dress to go along with the basket and possibly the frilliest baby bonnet a girl could have, circa Gone With the Wind. In typical 1st time mom fashion, I'll buy her something overpriced that she'll only wear once & for a total of 30 minutes before either puking / peeing on it or hating the dress all together. It's a vicious, never ending cycle of spending madness. Dr. Drew, please save a room for me. I'm coming over.

Check it off the list, Isabel has her much-needed Easter basket in February. Maybe I'll start looking for her Halloween costume next. One can never be too prepared.




There's no way Victoria Beckham is with child. From my many years of medical experience & being jealous of really skinny people, I'm 99% sure a body that small can't possibly house a uterus, let alone a fetus. Can we say "Barbie Doll?" By 9 months, that super-model baby is gonna pull a "Twilight" and start breaking her bones. I'd love to know what her hip measurement is. There's a good chance Isabel could borrow her pants. The pic below is a recent shot of Posh looking hungry, angry & supposedly prego. I gained Posh's current weight over my 9 month pregnancy, she'll probably gain 5 lbs. The fact that she's still wearing leather pants blows my mind. Doesn't she just want to put on sweatpants & eat pizza?? Why can't she be like most celebs and totally blimp up? Come on Posh, take one for the team and get a fat a$s & stretch marks. I'm sure Becks will still love you even while he's fooling around with a paid escort (allegedly...please don't sue me, David). And besides, we all know you'll be back to your size .05 pants faster than I can say Jimmy Choo. A quick little post-pardem tummy-tuck & all will be right in the royal world of Beckham one more. So go on, eat a hot dog. Your fetus & I will thank you.


Super Bowl


As many of you know, I'm not only an obsessive / borderline stalker celeb gossip fan, but I'm also a sports fan. Prior to Isabel, I spent many a morning in bed, hung-over & watching SportsCenter, but she's not really down with TV or hangovers. My focus has moved from sweaty sports dudes on TV to poopy diapers on my baby. I still have a little sports-fan game, but who wants to hear my color commentary when there's so much more to trash on. So here are the goods...making fun of Christina Aguilera, rating the commercials, and commenting on how hot football players are in tight pants. Mix a drink, grab some wings & enjoy my 1st annual "Diva does Football!"

-What the H-E-double hockey sticks was that segment at the start of the game, where the players, coaches, and commissioner read the Declaration of Independence, all about? Sorry NFL...you're taking yourselves a LITTLEEEEE too seriously. The NFL is to govermnent what Kim Kardashian is to being a talented actress. 

-I love you Lea Michele. Even though she makes overly dramatic facial expressions & has the body of a 13-year-old, she has the voice of a dove and exceptional teeth. I have a major girl crush. There, I said it. 

-George Bush at the Super Bowl. The only right decision he's made in the last 10 years.

-Troy Aikman is newly single, ladies. He has an amazingly manly voice, sexy lips and a really tight bum-bum, plus he's a Super Bowl champion himself. And he's always tan. Of course, he basically was forced to retire due to having 742 concussions during his career, so it's possible he won't be able to speak by the time he's 56, but I'm thinking he'll always have his good looks (and lots of $$, if you're in to that kinda thing).

-Christina Aguilera has a messed up face. Yes, awesome voice but sista looks like she  just came from the set of a scary movie. Beat-up is putting it nicely. I can't wait to see what her face looks like by the time she's 50. She also must have been smoking crack, cause I think she skipped something important in the middle of the National Anthem. I wasn't really paying attention to the words. I was too busy looking at her horrible facial expressions.

-I like fake talking animal commercials. Always have, always will. High-five to every creative agency who convinced their clients that animals are the way to go in '11. I'd give you a raise.

-Kenny G. in a commercial? Really? The poor man's Betty White.

-Long haired football players both gross me out & annoy me. I really, really dislike sweaty hair. It makes me squirm, even my own. And why, as a man being chased by even bigger men, would you ever want to risk having it yanked from the root? Isabel grabbed mine the other day & I almost dropped her, it hurt that bad. She weighs 19 lbs...I can't imagine having a 300 lb lineman hanging off my head.  

-Ewwww. Arod & Cameron. Feeding him food. Gross. Please put the camera back on George Bush. 

-Ashton sans Demi. That spells trouble for Mr. Punked "I married my mom & now we pretend we have a happy marriage even though there's a good chance I mess around behind her back" Kutcher.

-Any women who dates Ben Roethlisberger is dumb & I don't feel bad for you. You've had plenty of warning. Actually, I do feel bad for you cause that nasty, thick, fury beard is going to give you major face-chaf. 

-I might start using 'roids. These guys have sick arms. 

-Isabel didn't take one for the team & put herself to bed tonight. She obviously doesn't care that I'm a famous blogger with 7 followers, so I had to leave halfway through the 2nd quarter for bedtime duty. I'm going to assume that nothing too important happened & that C-Skank continued to feed A-Rod. 

-John Travolta was hiding his fake hair & unknown sexuality under a baseball hat. Weird.

-My friend thinks the NFL logo on the player's jerseys looks like a penis. Where's your mind, Laura??

-Props for performing live, but the Black-Eyed Peas talk-sing. I've never noticed that before. And you couldn't hear Fergie until she started screaming, I mean, singing. It seems like it hurts her to sing, like she's making a fake sound that isn't easy for her to do. But she's hot & has perky boobies. I'll give her that. And she has nice hair. Nice hair always puts someone a notch higher in my book (unless you're a football player & it's sweaty. Please see above).

-Usher, overly baggy pants aren't sexy. You need to start doing butt exercises or shop in the the little boys department where you below.

-Lots of website commercials. Go advertising. Go internet. Go my job.
-I love that Ozzie Osbourne made fun of Justin "She-ber" Bieber.

-Hurt football players are very good, dramatic actors. Megan Fox could learn a thing or two from them.

-I'm happy the Packers won. I'm in love with cheese, so I guess that means I should like Wisconsin, which in turn means, I like Green Bay.

I. Heart. Football!


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