Brick House

Sunday June 27

I'm 9 months pregnant and I'm in a BINGO hall surrounded by co-workers and friends. Right when the stand up comedienne who is dressed up as Bozo the Clown yells out "B12" I start to go into labor. I turn to the local weatherman who's sitting next to me and say, "I don't remember my lower back hurting this bad last time. Oh wait, I had a C-section." It feels like a small tribe of pygmys are spearing my back w/ hot pokers. I turn to find MJ, but only see the clown. Shit, that's one scary looking clown. At that moment, tears begin streaming down my face. Where the hell is MJ? I see the clown coming towards me while the weatherman starts to laugh maniacally. Right when the next contraction comes, my eyes pop open. I look around and see that I'm in my bed at home with MJ next to me sawing logs. Whew! Thank God that it was just a dream. However, my back really does feel like I've done a million pilates moves on a bed of nails.

I roll out of bed and try to do the back stretches my chiropractor showed me. As I lie there on the floor doing my pelvic tilts, I try to imagine that I'm actually doing some stripper moves. The thoughts of me being a stripper quickly move to thoughts of me being a beached whale. At my last appointment, Dr. B told me that I need to stop being such a mom and to start taking care of myself. This would mean getting my ass back to the gym. Part of the reason my back is killing me is because my muscles are still inflamed from Baby Girl being breech. The other part is because I still have so much baby weight in my stomach region. He tells me that once I get the belly fat off, my back should start to feel better. I want to tell him to try having his belly sliced open and having a watermelon removed. Then he can try working full time, getting minimal sleep, and nursing a baby all while trying to keep his house from looking like an episode of "Hoarders". Then, after all of that, he can let me know how easy it is to get to the gym. Good thing he's cute. Otherwise, I may have to slug him.

Post whale stretches, I spend the rest of my morning cuddling on the couch with Baby Girl. I decide to let MJ sleep in since he let me take a nice 2 hour nap yesterday. I'm glued to reading my Blackberry. I found my new form of crack: Twitter. I'm locked in on the celeb tweets as if they were my own group of friends telling me what's going on. I now know that Ramona from Housewives NYC is playing tennis, that Anna Wintour is having some Starbucks, and that Jessica Alba went to a BBQ this weekend. I then see that Holly Madison from "The Girls Next Door" is heading off to church. I laugh at the fact that Hugh Heffner's former girlfriend is going to church after she did her peepshow in Vegas. I realize the real irony in this tweet from Holly. A Playmate is at church while I sit here at home tweeting. I look up at the clock and realize that it's now far too late to even try to make it to Mass. So, it's back to tweeting and baby giggles for me.

MJ comes down the stairs looking like a grizzly bear emerging from a long winter's hibernation. He says groggily: "Thanks for letting me sleep in, Baby. Want to go to Target and try that new Brick House restaurant?" He says the magic word: Target. I instantly feel euphoria at the mere mention of the word. Disney music starts to play while cartoon birds and squirrels enter my living room. Target has it all. They have Starbucks, baby gear, shoes and more. The list just goes on for days. I snap out of my fairytale and take a shower in record speed. Off we go!

We are starving so we decide to eat first and try out the new Brick House Tavern. We are greeted by a line-up of stripper-esque girls who are dressed in denim Daisy Dukes and black plunging belly shirts. I look down at my strapless sundress and suddenly feel like Mrs. Roper in a muumuu. I bet their doctors haven't told them to lose the belly fat. Bitches.

We get seated and a smoking hot twenty-something comes to take our drink order. I get flustered for a moment because I don't know where to look. Her bellybutton ring is right at my eye level and if I look up then I'm starting at her boobs. Looking down isn't any better because then I'm staring at her barely covered crotch. I then laugh b/c I'm sure MJ feels equally awkward. Here he is having lunch in a man's haven with his wife and baby while gorgeous scantily clad ladies are running around. Skimpy clothes aside, the food ends up being awesome. I'm tempted to order the desert called "Double D's" but I remember what Dr. B had said about my belly fat. Besides, I'm an E cup kinda girl now a days anyway. D's are for sissies.

We make our way through my magical land called Target and then head off to Sam's Club. I'm not normally a Sam's or Wal-Mart shopper. This is based on the mere fact that I can't handle the people that shop there. I've always had little to no patience to begin with, but when you add ignorant people to the mix, I'm essentially a bitch with a shopping cart. However, we do need to get something that we can only get at Sam's. We walk in and get what we need to get and decide to walk around for a bit. All the way from across the store, I can see the people swarming like trashy bumble bees around the free sample area. I instantly get irritated at the fact that people act like the free samples are the last pieces of food on earth. I get even more irritated at the fact that the people who are fighting over the last bite of taquitos don't really look like they've skipped a meal. Jillian Michael's would have a field day with these people.

We make our way to the check out when I decide I'm thirsty. I buy one of those 87 cent cups and head over to the fountain drink area. I go to pour my Coke Zero when I feel some guy all up in my business. He's a little weasel of a man who is clearly annoyed that I'm using the Coke Zero dispenser. I think I met my match for someone who is more impatient that me. So, of course I take this opportunity to pour my Coke Zero as slowly as possible. I pour a little of the ice out of my cup and fill. I wait for the fizz to go down. I then fill a little more. I literally feel his breath on my arm, and I realize that I've anoyed him enough. I made my point and smile as I walk over to get my lid. Unfortunately, I'm the one who is now waiting. Billy Bob here in front of me is taking his good ole time as he puts the toppings on his footlong. He ever so nicely leaves behind a big smelly glob of chopped onions and ketchup that I'm forced to reach over while grabbing my lid. I freaking hate Sam's Club. I'm sure that it's God's way of paying me back for both torturing little weasel man and for skipping church this morning.

We're finally home and spend the rest of the evening playing on the floor with Baby Girl. The devil on my shoulder tells me to go and bake some brownies while the angel (who oddly resembles Dr. B) on my other shoulder reminds me of my belly fat. I think of the little hotties at the Brick House and decide to side with with the angel. I grab a banana and promise Baby Girl that I'm going to be a healthy and hot mommy for her. She responds by giggling and grabbing my face. I instantly melt into a puddle and decide to start my floor exercises. I wince through the pain but I am excited to start working out again. Here goes nothing...

Cabo, Mexico Part 2

Wednesday
MJ gets up early again for golf. He kisses me good bye. I still feel bad for being the equivalent to Medusa the day before. Even my crisp bacon at breakfast that I love so much doesn't seem to snap me out of my funk. Then, the most wonderful thought drifts through my head. The spa...

The spa beckons me from the 2nd floor of The Hilton. The intoxifying scents pull me towards the two glass doors. I walk in and open the spa menu. I think about the hot stone massage, but then realize that's not such a great idea. I scorched my gleaming white skin on Sunday when I had my little margarita nap by the pool. Instead, I request the "solar exposure" wrap.

I undress and step foot into the most decadent whirlpool I've ever experienced. The Hilton spared no expense here. The room was beautifully tiled with aromatherapy candles lit all around the hot tub. I enter the tub and wince at the pain. I now know how a lobster feels as it enters the boiling water. My body soon adjusts to the temperature and I zone out. My mind instantly drifts to thoughts of Baby Girl and how much I miss her. I quickly change my thought pattern and think of MJ, which in turn makes me think of the night before. Damn it, why can't I just enjoy myself today? Right as I'm about to start crying, Rosa comes and gets me for my wrap.

Rosa is a Mexican angel. She rubs the aloe mixture up and down my sun damaged skin. The smell alone instantly relaxes me. She then wraps me up in a foil-like blanket. As I lay there marinating like chicken, I start to feel insecure for the first time this trip. I'm wishing I hadn't eaten so much bacon. I'm wishing I would have worked out the past the few months. I'm wishing my tankini didn't make my boobs look like a circus side show. My spa treatment ends. Paranoid that she was repulsed by my Jaba the Hut physique, I feel compelled to tell Rosa that "I'm not normally this fat...I just had a baby, you see." She nods and smiles humoring me when I realize she doesn't speak English. Oh, well.

MJ comes back tired and worn from golfing and I tell him I have a surprise. I booked us a couple's massage at the spa for tomorrow. He seems genuinely excited and I hope this puts an end to our spat. He lets me know that the group wants to go downtown Cabo tonight and I should start getting ready.

Standing there in a pool of rejected clothes, I finally pick a sundress. We meet our friends and go to a fabulous place called The Office. It's a restaurant on the beach right in the heart of the city. We have a great time being serenaded by mariachi bands, receiving balloons from Mexican clowns (odd, but intriguing), and by a man trying to pour tequila down our throats (I intelligently declined that one). The food is to die for, which is apparent by the fact that I quickly consume about 2 cups of guacamole on my own. We follow up dinner by a quick trek to Sammy Hagar's bar called Cabo Wabo. It's a fun but overrated place. MJ and I have a great evening which makes up for the night before. I'm willing to bet that it's because no tequila is being consumed.

Thursday

We wake up and have approx. 3 tons worth of bacon at breakfast and head off to our couple's massage. I drift off into a semi conscious state as my new masseuse jabs her elbows into my flesh. I start to count down the days until I see Baby Girl. I picture playing with her, tickling her feet, and snuggling in bed. I'm jolted awake at the sound of MJ snoring at the adjacent table. I chuckle, then begin to fear that the girls are leaking all over the table. Thinking of Baby Girl often gets them flowing like the Nile. How do I explain that to some one who only speaks Spanish? Umm...mi los boobios are spilling la leche? F me. Luckily, it is just sweat that I'm feeling. Still gross, but I'm relieved. I think I'm done with the spa.

We take a dip in the pool and life seems to be much better between us. MJ is back to his chipper self which puts me back to my normal crazy self. We enjoy our few (non-tequila) drinks by the pool and snuggle in a private cabana. All is well in the world again, until I see someone playing with their 1 year old baby in the pool. I tell MJ I need to go Skype before I start hitting the tequila bottle. That gets his ass out of the pool in a heartbeat.

I see Baby Girl's delicious face on my screen. I don't cry this time. Instead, I tell her that we'll be home in 2 days. She just laughs and babbles and I can tell she thinks Grandma is the best thing since milk. I feel much better saying good-bye to her this time, since I'm not so upset myself. We blow her kisses and then get ready for the "White Party" (sans P. Diddy).

I squeeze myself into the ugly white dress I begrudgingly bought. When one is carrying around 40 lbs of post baby weight, wearing white is about as flattering as Roseanne wearing a spandex unitard. We end up sitting at a table of strangers and I feel them all staring at my girls, which are about to pop out at any moment. I tuck the girls in, grab some dessert, and head back to the room. Nothing like watching some old episodes of 90210 in Spanish to put you to sleep.

Friday

I'm excited because this is our snorkel adventure day. We take a bus into downtown Cabo and reach the marina. I look in front of me and I hear the hallelujah choir as the Heaven's gates open. I see Cartier, Coach, Chanel, and many more shops. I start to veer towards the stores when MJ pulls me towards the dock. Damn it! Why did I have to find the 5th Ave of Cabo on my last friggin' day? Sigh.

We board the boat and set sail. It's an amazing morning. We are cruising along, listening to music, and drinking some Dos Equis. I'm actually feeling brave enough to lay out in my bathing suit. I'm starting to feel a tad less insecure. I turn to say something to MJ when my new found self confidence comes to a screeching halt. There she is. Miss Perfect. There is a girl behind Mark who is in an electric blue bikini with a Victoria's Secret model body. She has bronzed skin, a rocking stomach, and an overall body to die for. Ugh. I instantly crawl back in my shell and feel compelled to cover up with my towel.

We reach our cove and start to snorkel. We see some fish, but they are not nearly as vivid as the fish were in St. Lucia on our honeymoon. We come back to the boat and eat some lunch that the crew prepared. I'm a little weary about eating tuna that's been baking in the sun all day, so I go for the chips and salsa. I end up talking with the rockin' body girl after a few drinks. She tells me she's had two kids of her own and she knows that I can get back into my pre-baby shape soon enough. I leave the boat feeling a little more inspired than I did before.

We quickly shower and change and meet up with friends to go back to The Office for one more hoorah in Cabo. This time we are sitting at a table that is right near the line on the sand where the panhandlers come begging. We do a good job ignoring them for the bulk of our dinner. Suddenly I feel a tug on my skirt and hear a tiny little voice say "Amiga, Amiga!" I turn and see the most precious little 4 year old boy trying to sell me some hand painted fish. My heart melts. All I can think of is little Baby Girl having to do that to earn money to eat. I buy $5 worth of cheesy little fish and then have a friend for the rest of dinner. Who knows where that money is going, but I feel like I did the right thing.

We head back to The Hilton and pack our bags for our checkout tomorrow.

Saturday

The alarm goes off and I'm flooded with mixed emotions. What a roller coaster ride of a trip this has been. I'm so glad to be going home to Baby Girl yet I'm so sad to be leaving the beautiful sights surrounding me. We get dressed and I say good-bye to my new found bacon addiction at breakfast. Thank God for my ass's sake that I'll be leaving that behind. We take in a final view of the ocean, smile, and board the shuttle to the airport. After a nightmare line in customs in both Cabo and Houston, we are finally on the flight to Cleveland.

We land and make our way home. We walk in the door and Baby Girl melts down crying. She remembers us! My parents look as though the just got off the battlefield at Gettysburg. We hug and thank them and send them on their way. After nursing her, we take Baby Girl into our room and let her snuggle with us in our bed.

I look at my beautiful family and feel so thankful. I've learned how hard it is to be away from something you love so very much. I've learned that even after a blow out argument, MJ is always there for me no matter what. And I've learned that no matter how good it tastes, I will never drink tequila again.

Cabo, Mexico Part 1

Saturday
It's midnight on and I'm wide awake. The alarm will be going off in two hours. We have to leave the house at 3 AM to get to the airport at 4 AM. I should be sawing logs but my mind is busier than the shoe department during Nordstrom's annual sale. I'm running around showing my mother-in-law all of the ins and outs of Baby Girl's day-to-day life. She'll be watching her for half of the week and my mom will be doing the latter half.

MJ and I finally lay down at 1 AM. He immediately drifts off while my thoughts go right to deserting my baby for a whole week. Then, my mind moves to my girlfriend, Ade. She's in labor and I'm not going to get to see the baby before I leave. This saddens me because she sat with me every day in the hospital when I had Baby Girl. My brain is a strobe light switching back and forth to both things on my mind. I look at the clock and see that it's 1:30. What's the point of sleeping now? I say, "screw it" and get up and take my shower.

We pack up the car and kiss up Baby Girl as she lays there peacefully. I try not cry but feel a tear slip down my cheek. We sneak out before I breakdown Mariah Carey style. Once we're on the road we start to talk about margaritas and sunshine and I think I may recover. I get a text from Ade, who lets me know that Baby Boy has entered the world safely. Bring on the margaritas!

Due to my sleep deprivation, I'm not really sure what happened from the car ride until our layover. All I know is that we have landed in Houston and I have woken up next to a guy who oddly resembles Will.I.am from the Black Eyed Peas. I turn to him and ask "Did I try to cuddle with you?" He laughs and says "No." We leave the plane to find out that our flight is delayed and our layover is now close to 4 hours. We look on the upper level of the terminal and see the Fox Sports Bar. Score! 3 Bloody Mary's later, I'm ready to board for Cabo.

I'm now comatose due to the Bloody Mary's. I wake up on our decent to Cabo. How wonderful...the customs line is almost an hour long. I feel sweat dripping down my legs so badly I'm afraid people will thinking I'm peeing my pants. That's what I get for wearing sweats to Mexico. I look to my left and see a group of people who could double as the "Jersey Shore" cast. This should keep me entertained. As I watch the Snooki wannabe flirt w/her winner of a man, my right boob feels like it's going to burst. Not again. Why is it that my right boob is always the one? I then and there dub it "the evil twin."

We make it through customs and off to our shuttle. We are promptly dropped off at The Hilton. A gorgeous Mexican man hands me a freshly made margarita as soon as I step off the bus. This is my kind of place. We check in and head off to our room...excuse me...suite. My jaw drops. We are on the first floor w/ sliding glass doors that open up to the ocean. We have a king bed, a living area, and one hell of a bathroom. There is a giant walk-in shower along with a jacuzzi tub. This is amazing! However, my amazement quickly ends here. I lay on the marshmallow cloud of a bed and don't open my eyes until Sunday morning at 7 AM.

Sunday
I wake up to sounds of the waves crashing on beach. I forgot how wonderful that sounds. We make our way to the breakfast buffet. I wasn't quite sure what to expect for breakfast in Mexico. I find tray of crisp bacon and know I'll be okay. Everything is better with bacon in my opinion--Well except the size of my ass. After breakfast, we find our group of friends by the pool. They let us know that we have our own server for the day named Miguel. I look at him and think "Does The Hilton only employ hotties?" After a few Petron margaritas I feel compelled to ask Miguel this same question. He blushes and continues to serve me my drinks. Oddly enough, I think they become stronger.

The drinks are so strong that I wake up an hour later sprawled out on a lounge chair in a position Kendra from "The Girls Next Door" would be jealous of. Luckily, my girlfriends positioned my skirted bottoms so I looked less like a stripper and more like your average rockstar passed out. I turn and look at MJ who is eating sushi. He offers me a piece and I nearly hurl. Sushi in the 90 degree Mexican sun after 900 margaritas just wasn't turning me on. We head off to the room, sleep a few hours, and make our way to dinner. Shortly after dinner, we realize we are old and head to bed. Apparently, tying one on in the afternoon makes one too tired to party in the evening.

Monday
Monday essentially consists of MJ golfing, room service breakfast, lounging by the pool, and having fillet mignon beach side. I know...life is tough.

Tuesday AM
We decide today we will check out San Jose. Alejandro at the pool told us yesterday that there is a very chic art district in San Jose. We take a cab and ask the cabbie to drop us off in the shopping distrcit. Because it's so early in the morning, there are no other tourists here. Every person in every shop lets us know that they have the best prices in all of Mexico on jewelery. "Almost free", to be exact. This isn't the shopping district I was hoping for. A hummer drives by with military men holding machine guns. I get a lump in my throat and tell MJ I'm ready to hit the road.

Right as we go to leave a man approaches me and says, "Amiga! You look just like that American actress...what's her name?" I laugh and say "Nice try." The next thing you know he's trying to sell us time share in Riviera Maya. He points out my wedding set and says "I can tell by the size of that rock that he married you because he loves you and not because you got knocked up". WTF. OK, check please! Get me the F out of this city. We leave him calling after us and hop a cab back to The Hilton.

Tuesday PM
This is the day I realize that I maybe drinking margaritas in the sun isn't such a great idea. We meet our friends by the pool and Miguel is bringing out the Petron margaritas left and right. I'm sucking them down like lemonade. I'm in denial that I'm drunk. You would think the fact that I keep yelling: "There's a dance party in my head, come join me!" would clue me in.

MJ and I decide to go for a walk on the beach. I take a graceful tumble down the stairs and onto the rocky beach. I laugh as though it was the funniest thing since Kathy Griffin. I brush myself off and ignore the stream of blood gushing from my knee. We walk along the shore and I realize I have lost my Coach wristlet. This is bad because it has my money, ID, and room key. MJ and I get into an argument fueled by the alcohol on the beach. Nothing big like Bobby and Whitney, but an argument none the less. I find my wristlet and storm off to the room w/ my bloody knee trail behind me.

The argument continues when we realize it's time to Skype Baby Girl. I see her adorable little face and gummy smile. I melt down. I have to walk away from the computer screen before MJ calls the mental ward. MJ ends the Skype call and we continue to have a war of the words. I say some horribly mean things to MJ. I don't know who I am right now. The words escape me as if I have no control over my voice. I end up hurting his feelings beyond belief. He leaves the room for dinner and I stay behind.

At first, I feel angry. Then, I feel horrible. I get dressed and try to find him. He's not at the dinner and I start to worry. I ask a few people if they have seen him and they said they did, but now he's gone. Before my friends turn into Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boys trying to find him, I realize where he is. I thank them for their help and go back to the beach. I find MJ sitting there somber watching the waves crash. We have a heart to heart. I apologize. He accepts even though he's still badly bruised and battered by my earlier words. We walk back up to the room and call it a night. I swear off drinking that much again the rest of the trip.