Friday, April 15, 2011

I love a giraffe named Sophie.

We were having lunch at a chic, new restaurant with some of our more
"granola-ee/hip" friends (you know the type...they proudly drive a Toyota, they shop at Whole Foods and they live on the "hip" side of town) and their one year old baby girl, when I noticed something amazing in the wee one's little baby hand. I am not lying to you when I tell you that sun was shining through the clouds flooding its warmth on this brilliantly wonderful teething toy. I swear I heard angels singing a soft "ahhhhh" in the key of "C" while I couldn't peel my eyes from this masterpiece of a toy. "WHERE did you get that!? Can I touch it!? What iiiiiis it????!" I asked, all the while knowing exactly where it came from --- HEAVEN.

"This," she said, "This is Sophie." It was love at first giraffe sight. For all of you who don't know who Sophie is (Cue shaking of the head...) let me explain, Sophie is a beautiful French giraffe teething toy. She has lovely brown spots and is made of soft, luxurious rubber that oozes quality. She even squeaks when you press on her adorable belly. Am I romanticizing a baby teether? Maybe. But probably not. She is wonderful in every way. She even comes with a box with 6 different languages! She is loved all around the world!

I had to own her and fast. But with a price tag of $22 and super duper logical husband, who only buys things on sale or with a coupon, (usually both) I was out of luck. "Oh, Sophie" I would moan, "how I do wish I had you! For the baby of course!" It was a LIE! I wanted her for myself! To carry in my chic Petunia Picklebottom Diaper bag and whip her out all over town to make all the other mom's in the vacinity envious! But Legend would like her, too.... probably.

A few months later, Sophie arrived at my house in a Babies R Us bag. (Thanks to my dear mom.) I loved her even more than even that first day I saw her, and she was MINE!! I mean...er...Legend's!

Today, Sophie goes everywhere with us. Legend couldn't care less about the rubber, sqeaky, dog-looking toy. But that's ok, one day he'll learn to appreciate her as much as I do. For now, Sophie has a special place in my heart and in my diaper bag.

Friday, April 8, 2011

You probably won't believe this story.

But it did happen, only a few days ago.

And to clarify, I am a REALLY good tipper. Ask my husband. I always tip over 20%. I figure they need it and what's a couple extra dollars to me? I have been a waitress and hated every second of it, so I appreciate anyone who can deal with Snooty-McSnootersons sitting at a dining table.

Let me set up the evening: Me and two friends were in Chicago for a work buying trip. We went to a Japanese Fusion restaurant that was reccommended to us by our hotel doorman. (The restautant will remain nameless due to my hatred for them.)

The bill came totalling $90 for which $30 of that was drink charges. I left a $10 tip which I admit is on the low side of generous, but at the same time, still an average tip amount.

Waiter: "Ummm excuse me ma'am, was there anything wrong with my service tonight?"

Me (confused): "uhh, no....?"

Waiter: "OK, my manager requires that I ask when I recieve a tip that is less than 15% if there was anything wrong."

Me (dumbfounded and completely offended): "Everything was fine until you just asked me that insane question!"

OK, at this point me and the ladies were speechless. We sat there staring at each other, the waiter and looking around like we were on a hidden camera show. I was picturing Ashton jumping out from behind the saki bar and yelling, "PUNKED!" but instead..... nothing.

Did this guy really call me out on a bad tip? The last time I checked it was called a "Gratuity" which in my dictionary means a 1.) gift or favor. 2.) something given without claim or obligation.

But here is where the story really gets juicy.... After we sat completely confused and embarrassed, I marched up to the front and asked for a manager. I wanted to make sure the waiter wasn't lying to me.

Me: "Can I talk to a manager?"

Guy at the front: "I can help you."

Me: "Do you really make your staff offend your customers and ask if everything was ok with the service if a tip is lower then 15%????"

Guy: "Well of course we do, anything less is unacceptable--- why did you tip less than the standard?"

Me: "Are you kidding me? Where I come from 10% is standard for adequate service."

Guy: (more nonsense)

Me: (becoming more angry)

I was so frustrated that I just gave up and started to leave. The "manager" was yelling at me as we left! What exactly, I don't know. It was all a blur. I just couldn't get my mind around the fact that he was causing such a scene in the restaurant.

This was an experience that I will never forget. I'm glad that I had people to share it with! And after the whole thing was over, I was glad I didn't tip any more!!

True Story.

Wednesday, April 6, 2011

Daddy's boy. *sad face*

I thought my son hated me.

Since my return from a 3 day work trip to Chicago, my son has been SUPER clingy to his dad. Which is really nice because it shows just how much my husband loves the little guy. And watching Legend respond to the the love that he feels from his daddio warms my heart. But also, makes me a tad....OK, a TON jealous. He lights up when his dad enters the room, he whines until he picks him up and once he does, he wants NOTHING to do with me, his mom. His MOM, the person whom, for his entire life has taken care of his every need. The person who has wiped his tiny, stinky bum more than anyone, worried about every little bump, rash and choking hazard, and fed him every 2 hours from my very own bosom!

I should be grateful that he is feeling this bond with his father, but the truth is.... I feel completely rejected. (Just one more of those things nobody tells you about before becoming a mother.) I spent the day trying to reconnect with my tiny human. I felt like I was trying to prove to my son that I was a good mother, that I was worth loving. Sounds silly, I know. But I did come to a realization... although my son's affections may change and his loyalties may waiver, he needs me. I'm his mom, his mother, I gave him life. I love him more than all things imaginable. And there is nothing my son can do that will change my love, my protection or my adoration for him. So too, is the Lord's love for me. Although it is a simple concept, it's also really good to know.

Does my son love me? Of course he does. Does the Lord's love for me ever change? Never. So here's to showing my affection for my Heavenly Father and reconnecting with my little man! *grin*

Friday, April 1, 2011

Priceline = not so helpful.

Priceline Travel Services: "Hello, how can I help you?"

Me: "One of my travelers will not be going on this trip, can I get some sort of reimbursement?"

Priceline Travel Services: "I don't understand what you are asking"

Me: "ummm.... can I get my money back for a ticket that won't be used?"

Priceline Travel Services: "Can I put you on hold?"

Me: "Yes, of course."

Priceline Travel Services: "Can you explain to me again what you need?

Me: *explaining aaaagain.*

Priceline Travel Services: "I am going to transfer you to someone who can answer your questions."

HOLD MUSIC

*
repeat lines 1-8*

Another representative: "Your ticket is non-refundable and non-changable"

Me: "Ok... thank y---"

Rep: "but would you like me to see if I could give you a refund on this ticket?"

Me: "well, that is why I called in the first place...."

Rep: "Can I put you on hold?"

Me: "ohmygosh, yes."

HOLD MUSIC

Rep: "Ok, Ms. Brown, I can refund you the amount of the ticket which is $113. But there is a refund fee of $150 plus a $30 service charge."

Me: "So you are saying that I have to pay YOU to refund me????"

Rep: "yes, ma'am."

Me: "Why are you even talking to me right now? Goodbye."

......by far the most frustrating conversation this year to date.

Numero Uno.

Well, here I am blog world. After much thought on what my first post would be, I settled on my thoughts on blogs and bloggers and why I now exist on the big, bad blog world. I used to (definitely still do) think that blogging is the epitomy of self-absorbtion and narrcissisticness... word? You've got to think your pretty, darn special to think people will go out of their way to read what you have to say about (most of the time) a whole lot of nothingness. And then I became a mom. All of a sudden after 8 short months (Ledge was a preemie) and two hours of hell, (yes, that is how I would accurately describe my natural labor. No-meds-moms back me up here...) out popped a tiny human and with him....... a mom. WEIRD. MOOOOOOOMMMMM. That is such a weird word with a weird connotation. It means old, it means responsible, it means sacrifice (oh man does it ever!) it means not sexy, it means BLOG. I appreciate honesty. I won't lie to you. I won't paint my life in a certain way to make you think I have it all together. I don't. And I think that anyone who says they do is either lying, or not a mom. Gross. I hate that this is turning into a MOM blog, but that is my identity now, foreeeeeevvvverrrrr......(Sandlot anyone?) and I wouldn't have it any other way. *big smile* So for now, like it or leave it. I'm here to stay. Blogging my journey (cue the blog cliche') through motherhood, wifehood and lifehood. And that my friends, is my first blog post.