Is it strange that Isabel is OBSESSED with watching videos of herself? She's 6 months old...this self-obsession started around 4 1/2 months. I discovered this new found love for herself while feeding her one night. As she ate, I began watching an iPhone video of her laughing. The minute she heard herself, she quickly stopped eating and whipped her head around to see where the baby sounds were coming from. When I held my phone up for her to see, she cracked up. Her grin was ear to ear. I figured it was a fluke, so I tried it again the next day. 2nd round, same result. I've shown her additional videos and pictures of herself. You name it, she loves it! 

Does this mean we're raising a future contestant of "Toddler's and Tiaras?" Will I be forced in to being a stage mom when what I really want is a field hockey playing, tom boy who also likes to shopping, wear Uggs, get manicures & reading US Weekly, much like her mother? Originally, this basketball dribbling mama wasn't sure I could even handle her being a cheerleader (no offense, spirit-finger friends), yet alone a true drama queen. Is her early love of cameras a sign that after all these years of making fun of Miss America, my daughter, who can't get enough of pictures, mirrors, or our Flip, is destined for the world of runways, center stage or beauty pageants???!!! 

Not that there's anything wrong with following in the footsteps of Heidi Klum, and I certainly want Isabel to be whomever it is she wants to be, but I think I'm creating a self-loving monster with all this crazy camera business. Yes, I probably took about 100 pictures a day when I was on maternity leave. Who am I kidding...I probably took 100 pics of day of myself pregnant, so this ultimately started months ago. And yes, a 4 week old old with limited range of motion is about as exciting as a rock, but she was my adorable, new rock, so I wanted to share every rockish moment with our friends, family & adoring Facebook fans. Plus, Miss. Thing had about 1 million teeny new outfits to burn through, so I might as well take a picture of each and every pink ruffle in her closet before our little super-model couldn't fit into the Baby Gap sample size no more!

Flash forward 5 months & this kids is a camera-loving maniac. The minute I pull out my iPhone, she cracks a smile. When the video camera lights up, so does she, as though someone has just screamed "Action!" and Isabel "American Idol" Agosto is ready for her debut. She plays coy, then bats her eyelashes, crinkles her brow, flashes a quick little grin, always making sure we're capturing her best "high chair" angles. She won't take her eyes of the lens, and suddenly goes into full on "I'm the cutest baby in the world" mode. What Tyra Banks would do for a "Smize" like hers?!

I'd hate to break her little heart so early on in her career, but if she takes after me, her dream of cat-walk legs may go up in smoke. Until that day arrives, I guess we should embrace the fact that she loves the camera, and we'll have a large collection of great pics to continue sharing with the world. And besides, if I can't handle the life of a stage momma, I'm sure Joe would look just as cute as a routine dancing stage daddy too. Say cheese!




We have a Sophie obsession in our house. No, that isn't a typo & I do not mean Sofia Vergara, although Joe is quite taken with her & her plump "lady friends." Who isn't these days? Our Sophie is actually a bit more plastic but still just as famous as the real Sofia, if that's possible. Our good friend Sophie is very cute & sweet, thin with long legs, makes a fun noise if you squeeze her, is very low maintenance, she's popular with the 2 & under crowd, all the "cool" babies are friends with her, including Kendra Wilkinson's son (as spotted on the Kendra show that I so embarrassingly admit to DVRing) and tummy time with Sophie often keeps Isabel happy for hours (or 20 minutes, which pretty much is the same thing as hours in baby time). Sophie's a lifesaver in stores and the car seat, as a meltdowns spotted on the horizon, and even though Isabel literally chews her face off on a daily basis, Sophie is always there, right by her side. We spend many nights giving Sophie baths since we seem to find her in the oddest places; Joe's parents dog's mouth, the bathroom floor, under the couch, in random people's hands as we walk through a store, in my niece's mouth. She's such a people person!

Sophie also has a twin sister in our house. We like to call her "Diaper Bag Sophie." Lame, yes, but as long as we have her as we head out the door, the originality of the name means very little to us. Isabel's favorite game to play with Sophie is "chew Sophie's face off until we can hear the sound of the rubber squeaking in pain." Isabel plays mind games with Sophie & has perfected her maneuvering of her BFF sans hands. As she laying on her belly, Isabel will peck at her supposed good friend with either her nose, mouth or head until Sophie is strategically positioned under her mouth. Then, she goes in for the kill. Let the chewing games begin!! Thankfully, Sophie's always a good sport & takes one for the teething team day after day after day.

We love Sophie & all she puts up with in our house. Everyone with a baby who's using his/her own parents' chins for a teether should seriously consider adding Sophie to their family. In my opinion, minus the whole "dog using her as a chew toy" situation, I think we treat Sophie pretty good. But if she ever decides to leave us, I'll have no problem running out & replacing her with a brand spanking new one. Heed my warning, are replaceable.




What mother doesn't feel guilty? I feel guilty pretty much the second my alarm goes off each morning. "Shoot, I didn't make Isabel's bottle..." and so the day of guilt begins.  Basically the only time I don't feel guilty is when Isabel is attached to my boob and even then I'm thinking "Man, I wish I was producing more milk." I've turned into a human cow yet I still can't cut myself some slack. WTF!!!

I've always know this guilt issue was there. I'm pretty sure I felt guilty about a lot of things even before I had Isabel, but I was so in to myself, my "me time," my manicures, shopping trips, vacations & time with Joe, that I just don't think I recognized it. It was easier to push the guilt aside & worry about it when I didn't have anything else to do. Now the clock has become my enemy, a constant nagging voice that just makes the guilt harder to push aside. "I'm late for a meeting! I didn't pump today! I'm missing my bus! That's 20 minutes less with Isabel! I need to drive the nanny home! I haven't spoken with Joe all day! Guilt, guilt, guilt!!!!!"

Why this sudden realization that I'm guilty 24/7?? My friend Courtenay, a non-mom who had the pleasure of working with about 7,243 crazy mothers, shared an interesting article on guilt written by a fellow (yet MUCH more famous) mommy-blogger. The blogger always feels like she's going on & on & on about the sufferings of being a mom (I mean, I have nooooo idea what she's talking about) and apologizing for her hormonal misbehavior. Her fears are very similiar to mine so let me be the first to welcome you to the crazy land of "Karyn's World of Guilt."

-I still feel guilty that I left Isabel to go back to work at 3 months old. Then I returned to work & felt guilty that I hadn't worked in 3 months.
-I feel guilty on the weekends if I run any errands without Isabel, but then I haul her along with me & feel bad if someone sneezes near her, she remotely looks unhappy or I have to change her in the back seat of our car.
-I feel guilty about only seeing Isabel for 2 hours a day, but then I feel guilty wanting alone time.  
-I feel guilty if an outfit is too tight on her but then I feel bad if she doesn't wear everything in her closet.
-I felt so bad that she wasn't facing me in the stroller when we'd go for walks that I spent a small fortune on a new facing-me stroller. But now I feel guilty that I spent that sort of money for 4 wheels that roll in dirt & dog poop.
-I feel guilty every time I don't pump enough breast milk for her, but then I feel guilty if I'm pumping instead of spending time with her.
-I feel guilty if I have the TV on when she's in the room, but then I feel bad if I'm behind on the View
-I feel guilty if I don't make her baby food, but then I feel guilty if she doesn't like what I've made.
-I feel guilty if I'm with Isabel & paying attention to my phone instead of her,but then I feel horrible for not calling or emailing my friends back.

I can keep many hours do you have? This post isn't meant to be my pity-party of 1. I am head-over-heels in love with Isabel & being a mother. I think most of you reading this are pity-partying too & we've all got one heck of a guilt hangover! What I'm hoping we can all do, myself included, is to start appreciating & accepting what we can offer to our families, children, work and ourselves. We're only one person & there are only 24 hours in a day. We need to embrace the guilt cause in the end, it's actually driving us to be better moms. By feeling bad that I'm running late or not home, it pushes me to make the time I am with her be about quality, not quantity. The guilt has reared it's ugly head and it's not going away anytime soon, so much like my gray hair, I'm going to embrace what God gave me and figure how to live with it (or color the sh*t out of it, much like my hair).




Isabel loves her thumb. I mean, she reallllllyyyyy loves her thumb. She loves her thumb like I love a strong Grey Goose dirty martini. She sucks that thing as though breast milk is spilling out of it. I have to physically pry that sucker out of her mouth when I'm trying to feed her. I thought we were being all cool trying to keep the pacifier usage to a minimum, but she totally one-upped us and fell in love with that thumb of hers instead. I've never seen anyone happier than Isabel as we lay her down to sleep at night. She immediately finds her happy place on her belly, arm tucked up close to her face, with that chubby little thumb snug in her mouth. We can hear her sighing through the baby monitor as she suck, suck, sucks her cares away, our very own Maggie Simpson.

I honestly think it will be harder to break the thumb sucking habit than it would have been to get rid of the paci, but what's a parent to do? I eat obscene amounts of chips & dip cause I like to do it. No one rips them out of my mouth & tells me to stop the insanity (though they very well should). I'm certainly won't be giving her a speech about the negative impact thumb sucking will have on her non-existent teeth at the ripe old age of 6's what she likes to do. She rarely cries, she sleeps through the night, she laughs at my jokes, and she likes the Real Housewives. If thumb sucking is the worst habit this kids gonna have, so be it. I'll take this over sleepless nights & temper tantrums anyday. Besides, she looks so freaking cute & it makes her sooooo happy doing it, how could I possibly stop her?!

Please remind me of all of this when I'm up to my ears in orthodontist bills and have a 13 year old who's nickname is "metal mouth." Either way, I'll look back at these pictues and remember how happy it made her, made me & and say "Thank you thumb for the sweet memories & restful nights. Thank you!"

Sweet feathered hair mom.

Like mother, like daughter.



A soon-to-be new mom & friend of mine, who will remain nameless to protect her mom-to-be innocence, gave me quite a good laugh earlier today. She firmly declared "We're not going to use a pacifier." After I stopped laughing and composed myself, and I promised to give them 5 days post birth before everyone in her house, including her husband, 2 dogs & baby, will be sucking on a pacifier in hopes of once again finding inner peace. Mark my words, they will cross over the pacifier picket line faster than post-rehab Lindsay Lohan will take her first swig of vodka & sugar free Red Bull (I love Lindsay references).

I guess my questions for moms is this...why this paci hatred? We all know lactation consultants rule the breast feeding world, so is it their stern warnings of "nipple confusion" that make us fear the cute & wonderfully pleasing binky? Don't let me fool you...I too feared that Isabel would be a pacifier addict, sucking on that thing till she was 10, waking us up 20 times a night to re-insert it, costing us millions in eventual dental work. I swore up & down I'd only use it on "special occasions." Apparently her 1st special occasion happened approximately 4 hours after her birth, as I begged the nurse for her first magic sucker (with a side of Percocets for me). Low & behold, who walked into our room minutes after Isabel's first suckle on that precious little paci...our lactation consultant!! It would have been less mortifying if my parents caught me having sex. I panicked, made up all these lame excuses for why Isabel had the paci & in the end, swore I'd never use it again. That is, until she cried 25 minutes later.

The one(s) who will benefit most from the pacifier breakthrough??? Her nipples. You heard it hear first, folks. Nipples love pacifiers like a crackhead loves the crack pipe. Her nipples will cheer, they will shout, they will once again stand up, proud and strong, celebrating this new found freedom, jump for joy at the 20 minutes of sucking reprieve they will receive over those first few new baby months. My nipples and I are just becoming friends again, after surviving 6 straight months of physical torture. I hate the gym. My nipples hate my kid. We've all got our thing.

I've discovered that some moms even HIDE their kids paci obsession. "No, No. My kid neverrrrrrrr uses a pacifier" a friend of mine recently told me. Yet you've never, ever seen a grown woman panic like this one did when the supposed un-used & un-loved paci went missing. I'm pretty sure losing her baby would have been less upsetting. And honestly, in the end, who cares. Isabel doesn't like her pacifier but she sure LOVES sucking her thumb. So when she's 10 and still costing me millions in dental work, just like a paci baby, she and her paci friends can all go to the orthodontist together. 

So ladies, stick to burning your bras over burning your pacifiers. Your nipples, husband, dog, friends, baby & sanity will thank you for it. Happy sucking!

Isabel, 5 days old


Nanny Poppins


Back in my hay day, when I was still young, sexy, didn't have gray hair, hadn't pushed a baby out of my vagina & still looked good in short shorts (I've never looked good in short shorts, but I like to tell myself I did), I had a laundry list of stressful problems in my life. Homework, boys, finding booze, breaking curfew, boys, taping 90210, sports & boys. How did I ever survive?! Then I made the mistake of becoming an adult. And with the new found ability to buy & afford my own booze also came the added stress of a mortgage, job, commuting and the typical grown-up stuff. And yet, I have come to realize, that nothing is as stressful as finding good childcare for your new baby.

Want to give a type-a control freak with a minor obsessive compulsive disorder a panic attack every day? Make her go back to work, pass her brand spank'n new baby over to some random chick from down the street, & watch the nut-job squirm! 3 months, 2 nannies and about 10 nervous breakdowns later, I'm slowllllllyyyy letting go of the reigns (we're talking 97-year-old-running-a-marathon slow) & allowing others to have some control. Yes, I still pick out Isabel's clothes, still decide what food she'll eat the next day & mix up her bottles every night, but it makes me feel somewhat involved. Cut me some slack...the Garden State Mall wasn't built in a day people!!!

Thankfully, for the sake of my mental stability & our marriage, we found the wonderful Nanny Poppins (Nanny Poppins real identity will not be revealed for fear that either another family will steal her from us and/or she'll be sent back to her wonderful island in the sea. Just kidding, she's 100% a tax paying citizen). Nanny Poppins, or "new nanny" as I often like to call her, is a true diamond in the rough. It was a blessing in disguise when "old nanny" quit on the same day she started with us. I mean, who doesn't quit a job before they even begin? Once I got over my total "F-U Old Nanny" meltdown, it became my mission to find the perfect nanny. But does such a person exist? Has Walt Disney created a false impression of what a real nanny should be? Hells no...enter Nanny Poppins! Recommended to us through a friend's nanny, it was nanny-love at first site. She was kind, polite, gentle, easy going & with a Caribbean accent as thick as hers, there was no possible way she couldn't make a mean Pina Colada. She had me at both hello and "Isabel comes first, but when she sleeps, I'll clean, cook & do your laundry." I thought I'd died & gone to awesome nanny heaven!

The moral of this story, new mommies, is to keep the faith cause your Nanny Poppins is out there too. She may not fly with an umbrella or sing about spoonfuls of sugar, but she'll love your baby almost as much as you AND do the dishes. It's a win/win (that is, until Isabel has a thick Caribbean accent & drinks rum from her sippy cup). And as my wise friend Lindsay recently said, in the midst of her nanny search, "Ya gotta kiss a lot of frogs before you find your nanny prince charming." Pucker up!




Isabel totally took one for the team last night & called it an early night, providing me with just the right amount of Golden Globe prep; the chilling of my Dairy Queen Blizzard, a wardrobe change (i.e. removal of my nursing bra, application of my bathrobe & pink slippers) & red carpet Facebook updating. To keep with my mommy theme, let's focus in on how this years A-List moms ditched their kids, taped up those boobies, and threw a few back in celebration of Hollywood's big night. Some celebrated with big wins, others with big hair & many others with very big (or in Eva Longoria's case, little) "Golden Globes." Either way, I love, love, love me some celeb talk, so let award season begin!

J-Lo- Wait? What? You're a judge? Of American Idol?? Man, I had no idea. Thank God you mentioned it 1,435,624 times a hour. And yes, I am and always will call you J-Lo.

Angelina Jolie- Please give Brad Pitt his balls back if you haven't already eaten them.

Sandra Bullock- Possibly the only mother who 1. Spoke of her child while on the red carpet 2. Admitted to missing him. She & Louis now will most likely be black listed for all hot kiddie parties for breaking Hollywood Mommy Code #24: "Thou will not really love their child."

Natalie Portman- I think you're very cute & I loved the dress choice, but you're about a minute pregnant. Can we settle down with the waddling & "I'm so big & fat" talk? Gain 45 (or more...I stopped looking), commute 2 hours a day in the summer and swell like a Macy's float. Then we can talk.

Halle Berry- I want to make out with her, if it made me even remotely resemble her, would chop my hair that short too, & I hope her daughter gives Isabel her hand-me-downs.

Nicole Kidman- Surprise! She has another baby, carried via another uterus, since there is no way a  standard sized uterus could possibly fit between her tiny non-birthing hip. I'm still pretty positive she bought or kidnapped her last baby. Sista lost all the baby weight in about 4 days & her 9 month pregnant belly was about the size of my 9 pizza slices & beer gut. 

Christina Aguilera- In the words of my friend Laura H. "What is wrong with her face?!" My response "What is wrong with her face, boobs, hair, thighs" and so on. She certainly isn't a cute mousekeeter no more.

Milla Jovovich- If being a model means you have to make weird faces like Milla did all night, then I guess I'll just have to say "no" when they come a calling.

Michelle Williams- Forgot to change out of her Daisy Scout troop leader dress before rushing out of the house.

Heidi Klum- Project Run-A-Way from that dress. It looked like her kids sewed it for her.

Once again, the Golden Globes prove that I'm perfect, therefore, have the right to totally criticize & critique people wayyyyyyy more famous and wayyyyyy more rich than I'll ever be. Besides, I bet they'd give anything for just a spoon full of my Dairy Queen, bathrobe & comfy couch over hobnobbing with the rich & famous  (or at least that's what I tell myself). See ya at the Oscars, ladies!

 Hot Momma

Hot Mess





Joe and I will do anything to hear Isabel laugh. We think her laughter is magic to our ears, the most beautiful sound we've ever heard. To me, each giggle sounds like it's the 1st I've ever heard. It's like wine...I can drink it & drink it & drink it and the more I drink, the happier I get, yet I'm guaranteed a hang over once the wine's all gone.

When I say we'll do anything for a laugh, I truly mean anything. Someone should seriously consider putting a video camera in our house, it's just that ridiculous. And annoying. It's what our voices become. Joe's "giggle" voice is surprisingly high-pitched and sometimes makes me want to stab him. And me? Well, I become Barry White. Totally creepy to the point that Isabel definitely won't have any play-dates should a parent ever hear my sketchy laugh voice. It's all deep & husky, that is, until I'm really trying to get a chuckle and she just won't give it up. At that point, I'll throw out all sorts of sounds, high/low, loud/quiet, a duck, a dog, a whistle, a grunt. Last week, I hit an all-time low...tap dancing / moon walking / singing / banging a pot. Besides a mild heart attack resolving into a blank stare, no laughter, except for my own, occurred. I am sure the neighbors across the street were amused. I imagined them all gathering in the dark on our snowy front lawn as I performed my own rendition of "A Chorus Line" live from the kitchen.

Joe also likes to squeeze Isabel's cheeks in hopes of pushing out a laugh. I'm pretty sure I'd kick him in the balls if he tried that one on me 323 consecutive times. My trick? Repeatedly saying peek-a-boo or some other random word over & over & over until she finally gives me one of those "I'm only doing this to shut you up" half-hearted kinda laughs. She's already playing mind games with us. The thing is, once we get one laugh, it's like a drug & we just need more. We'll jump around, stand on our heads, suck on her toes, hide behind walls. We need celebrity rehab!

Every night, as I'm putting Isabel to bed, she always has this really happy moment about 15-20 minutes before she goes to sleep. We change her clothes, talk about the day, she giggles & wiggles as I get her ready for bed. And even if I've only spend an hour with her that whole day, it's something about those particular laughs that reassures me that I am a good mom & I'm just fine by her. With each laugh comes an outpouring of love, and at the end of a long day without her, that's all the wine I really need.

Introducing...Barry White




Who in their right mind posts pictures like these online? I mean, we all know what a balloon looks like when it goes from inflated to deflated, so we certainly can create our own mental image of what a post-prego body looks like. Do we REALLY need to see yours, Susan from Ohio, all stretched, saggy and weirdly tattooed? Your post-baby bellies give me the post-baby blues.

I'd love to see these women in person, especially the ones that look really bad, and ask them what the H-E-double-hockey-sticks they were thinking. I mean, my stomach's been there. Who am I fooling, it's still there, but I'm 100% not running home after work to snap pics of my naked new mom-bod for all the BabyCenter world to see. I'm critical of my fully dressed pics, for Pete's sake (I haven't used the term "for Pete's sake" in my 33 years of existence, but it felt good, not gonna lie)!

Joe took some not-so-pretty-yet-fully-dressed w/child pics of me, and I wouldn't go flaunting those around. He was also oh-so-kind to capture some really impressive due-in-3-weeks-swollen-like-a-pregnant-cow bathing suit pics too. If you ever feel the need to blackmail me, those will do the trick. Even my "I just pushed a baby out of my vagina" hospital pics will never, ever, be shared and hopefully never surface again. (until I'm considering having another child & need a reason not to...please remind me to look at those photos). These super women who manage to look good after pushing, panting and almost blowing their faces off their bodies deserve some major props. I just don't get it. Sometimes I look bad 30 minutes after applying make-up, let alone after birthing a watermelon.

After Isabel was born, I looked like a really fat teen mom; pimply, broken out skin & from the size of my face, I apparently was given 14 bags of saline pre-Isabel's birth. Of course, I also made the bright decision to NOT shower on the day I went into labor, so my hair was far from Pantene fresh. Anyway, you get the picture which is exactly WHY I don't feel the need to share these or any other 3-month-after-labor pictures. So thanks again, Susan from Ohio, for those frightening yet encouraging pictures. I've been doing sit-ups since I woke up this morning. Thanks. A. Lot.

 The scene of the bathing suit picture taking kiddie pool.



Another celeb mom has managed to piss me off. Thank you Miranda "no one would know or care about you if you weren't married to Orlando Bloom" Kerr for being new mom of the year. You birthed a 10lb baby boy. Big flip'n deal. They're already calling you a "SuperMommy" & you haven't even got chapped nipples yet. Isn't that the title they should give the "SuperNanny" you're about to hire?? And why does the media feel the need to pretend that these women are God's gift to being mothers? They don't cook, they don't clean, they probably even hire Selma Hayek to do their breast feeding for them. 

The perfect "SuperMommy" example is the one & only true super model, Gisele. Ok, yes, I'm still bitter that she married Tom Brady and has made him grow out his hair to obscene lengths. Yes, I am jealous of her fabulous legs & perky butt. Whatever. But if I have to hear how she lost allllllll the 7 lbs of baby weight she gained in record time cause she didn't overeat like us disgusting, fat American women do one more time, I'm going to shove a pizza AND an autographed Tom Brady football down her skinny little throat!!! Wow, I have anger issues, but that felt good.

What I've come to realize in my short few months of being a mother is that all these women who go on & on & on about how/why they mother a certain way and why it's the ONLY right way do it are big, fat liars. Gisele gained minimal weight & was back in shape weeks late cause she's lucky. She's tall. She's already skinny. She gets paid a LOT of money to look good. I'd be skinny too if cameras followed me around. Instead, I ran into Dairy Queen for fear of my ob/gyno catching me eating again. Isabel, for example, is an amazing sleeper. Always has been. This has very little to do with anything we've ever done. She just likes to sleep. She's lazy like me. I give her Benadryl before bed (that's a total joke, please don't take my baby away from me).

But seriously, the Bethenny Frankel's of the world, who I do secretly love, are not the same as us average Joe moms. She buys her child's happiness & one day will also pay for her child's therapy. Gisele and all of her skinny "SuperMommies" can take a flying leap. I'd rather hang out with my plump American mom friends, eat mass amounts of taco dip, wish that our husbands were Tom Brady and talk about celebs like we actually know them. Who needs to be skinny or super...I'd rather just be me (but me with a nicer butt).


Breast Pump


My breast pump talks to me. No joke, it does. Some days it's really funny & says things like "You rock! You rock" and other days it's a total bi'atch, like earlier this week, & chants "Crack Whore! Crack Whore!" I was hoping for a little pump dirty-talk to keep things interesting, but I apparently I've purchased the Medela "Catholic" pump, so no luck there. 

I discovered that my breast pump was talking to me about a week after Isabel came home. Since my boobs weren't sore, cracked or painful enough, I figured I'd really torture myself but adding a pumping session into my routine. Smart with a capital "S." I get all situated in my room, ready to hit the pumping ground running. I've got my US Weekly, TV remote, iPhone,'d think I was strapping myself to that torture device for 4 straight days. I begin mission "What the hell do I do with this machine?", strap my boobs in & start that puppy up. 5 minutes into session #1, I've produced 4 drops of milk AND I've discovered that my breast pump freaking talks.With every annoying "whooshhhhh" of the machine, I'd hear "Pump some more! Pump some more!" If that bad-boy didn't cost $200+, I probably would have thrown it out the window. Day 2 was "Isabel's crying. Isabel's crying" and so forth.
Flash forward 6 months, and my pump and I are mending fences. We certainly aren't BFF's, but we've learned to get along (excluding last weeks "Crack Whore" episode). Maybe it's the fact that I'm now sleeping more than 4 hours a night or maybe, like I do to most people that annoy me, I have just learned to ignore it. Either way, the "pump talk" has improved. Believe it or not, I'm not alone in this magical discovery. Another fellow "mom-niac" also thinks her pump talks to her, as she recently confessed to I was shocked & thrilled that I wasn't alone &, much like watching Lindsay Lohan self-destruct, felt that much better about myself simply knowing someone else was crazier than me. 

I can't say I'll miss my pump or our little "talks" as I pump/eat lunch/type an email/save the world each day. Moms who pump deserve a big 'ol medal. I mean, why not? They've already got the chest to pin it on. 



Is it just me, or is every freaking celebrity pregnant these days? I was just catching up on the news (ie. reading, and 3 of the headlines are pregnancy announcements & the lead picture is of newly knocked-up Natalie Portman (looking about a hot-second pregnant even though she's probably 7 months). Not that I have anything against celebs being pregnant, but it seems that celebrity babies have become the latest hot accessory. What ever happened to simply buying a sexy pair of Louboutins & calling it a day?? Nope. Instead, they buy the shoes AND get pregnant via their husband, boyfriend, lover, sperm donor, agent or random guy, gain either 4.8 lbs OR 90 lbs (due to the fact that they're eating for the first time in 10 years), have said baby & then voila...the weight and the husband, boyfriend, lover, sperm donor, agent or random guy are both gone in a flash. 

What I find most interesting about all this is 1. you NEVER see a nanny 2. you rarely see an actual diaper bag 3. the mothers never look stressed/tired/hungry (unless you're Jennifer Garner. She always looks like a mess), yet these people are jet-setting all over the world, running to this fashion show or that movie premier. Isabel won't take a nap outside of her crib yet these women, with babies in tow, go from LA to Africa to London and back in 4 days flat and everyone seems happy, happy, happy. I honestly can't make it out of Babies R Us without AT LEAST 1 diaper change, a possible breast feeding session, & most likely a meltdown (mine & Isabel's). Heidi Klums 14 kids? Always red carpet ready. WTF?! 

The latest to be "with child" is Kate Hudson which means her oldest son, Ryder, will never be seen again. That is, until it's time for her soon-to-be fashion or celeb magazine cover, unveiling her new best accessory (besides her fab perky little boobies).

So celeb mommies, what is your secret? Where are you hiding those nannies? Why don't you ever have diapers spilling out of your Louis Vuitton? Why is it suddenly sooooo fashionable to be a celeb mom? How come we never see pictures of you in Babies R Us, sporting green sweatpants that your husband hates & probably were worn to bed the night before, losing your mind as you search for the latest 20% off coupon, and giving every other parent in the place looks of disgust?? Oh right, that's just me. But honestly, how do Isabel & I get on the guest list of one of those FABU Hollywood baby bday celebrations?? 

Welcome to mommyhood A, B, & C list celebs. May your Diaper Genie runneth over, just like mine!

Kate Hudson Baby News on




Holy sh$t, I'm a mom!!! It still hard to believe that I'm someone's mother, besides Joe's (just kidding hunny). I still can't keep my plants alive, yet we had our baby & 6 months later, she's happy, cute, loves us & even laughs when Joe burps and farts (sorry again hunny). I know ladies, I'm more than just a mom, blah, blah, blah, but when you milk yourself like a cow on multiple occasions throughout the day & sing an endless number of self-created "poopy diaper" songs, sometimes it's hard to believe and remember you're anything BUT a mother. So in order to fully maximize my anxiety attacks by adding one more item to my weekly "to do" list, I've decided to obviously start this blog. Become a mother, become a mommy blogger.

I guess I can't technically start a blog about the highs/lows, joys/tears, poop/pee, likes/dislikes of being a mother without first thanking the person who helped in giving me this new & oh-so-powerful title. Yes, Joe's super sperm, large amounts of vodka tonics & a very cute candy corn Halloween costume certainly deserve a round of applause, but my true blogging muse is my new favorite person, Isabel Anne Agosto. I could absolutely talk about, think about, & be with her 24 hours a day. I'm obsessed, & I've turned into that crazy-chick I promised myself I wouldn't become just 1 year ago. I'm sure Isabel's psychiatrist will one day blame all of her problems on my current behavior, but whatever, that's what therapy is for. I mean, so what that I won't share her toys with other babies for fear of germs or that we pay our nanny a 2nd mortgage to take care of Isabel yet I MUST pick out her clothes and make her bottles each night cause I "want to feel like I dressed & fed her." Who cares that I spent $20 on Christmas tights she wore once or that I want to trim all 5 strands of her hair cause it's uneven. She came out of my vagina, I've earned the right to be nuts.

Since most of my friends are also 30+, popping out kids like it's their jobs, have wonderful yet total pain-in-the-a$& husbands & are also dealing with the amazing & not-so-amazing feelings of being a mom, I thought it might be fun to share my experiences with all of you. Plus, I have lots to say without enough hours in the day to say it all or enough ears that actually want to hear it all, so a blogging I will go! I'm sure you will relate to many of the situations I'm facing so please join the convo. Just be warned...Yes, this is an open forum, but this is still my blog. Play nice in the sandbox, or I'll dump sand on your head. Also, be careful what you tell me moving forward or, much like Joe, you too will be the subject of my next fab blog post. You've been warned (I'm already sounding like a mother).

Thank you Isabel for my sleepless nights, for being amazing birth control, for my suddenly saggy boobs, for my new found desire to pick bed over a beer, for making me cry while watching Teen Mom, for turning my love of handbags into a love of diaper bags, for making me into a total lunatic, for already loving us unconditionally, & most importantly, for making me a mom!

And thank YOU for joining my blog! 


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