Mr. and Mrs. Kerrie Wedding Anniversary (10 Years) Let's Go to The Elms!

So here’s what we did for our 10-year anniversary back on the 10th.

Aron and I went to dinner in my mom’s little 1995 Cavalier with the baby. It was easier than worrying about her crying at home, and Mom and Dave had enough on their plate with our other 3 kids. We got to sit outside. Cheapskate that I am, I even had a coupon for a free meal!

Then we went to Starbuck’s (yes, one that is slated to close) so I could grab a venti mocha and a pound of coffee beans for my mom as “payment” for “babysitting”, which she totally hates (the fact that I feel like I need to do something nice for her for watching the kids).

Attachment Parenting … of Dogs and Cats

It cracks me up to see dogs and cats in purses and slings and strollers. What? You’ve never seen a dog or a cat in a stroller? I have.

A couple of people at my husband’s work (where there is an entire refrigerator for beer and one for food) a few employees bring their dogs to work. One of the dogs is huge. The people who bring their dogs to work are the same people who put their CHILDREN in daycare 50 hours per week back when their kids were young.

And if you work full-time and can’t take your dog to work, there’s always the option of Doggie Daycare.

And some people who berate me for having my HUMAN CHILDREN in my bed are the same ones who gladly let their animals sleep in their bed.

America is so messed up.

My Kingdom for a Decent Nursing Bra!

*Warning: Female Content (it’s like Adult Content, only I’m politely telling my dad he won’t want to read this one)

So after only 9 months my $60 nursing bra is getting to the point where it looks like I have 4 boobs. Even on the highest setting, I have to keep adjusting. It’s like when a guy adjusts his, um, AREA, only it’s worse when I have to reach INTO my shirt and pull each of those puppies away from the center of my chest. They tend to migrate toward each other like old people to Florida.

My question to you is this: Can anyone make a decent bra for us poor, well-endowed women?

Here’s a helpful bit of info for nursing bra makers: Already-large breasts full of milk are HEAVY. It’s like putting 2 gallons of milk into a chiffon handkerchief. Nursing bras should be made of Teflon or something similar.

I know those of you with small breasts generally wish for larger ones (as evidenced by the major increase in breast augmentation surgery), but I am telling you there are many times I wish I could be YOU! My husband’s cousin wore one of those cute Glamour Mama nursing tank tops when she had her baby, and I was so jealous! Those tanks would NEVER hold my goodies in place.

So right now I have a Bravado bra … and we had a good relationship until it turned on me recently. Once I had a Liz Lange bra that I marched into Target and bought. It was underwire and worked great until the damn wires poked through the fabric and eventually had to be taken out = no support. Aron even sewed my bra to keep the wires from defecting, but no dice (you gotta picture my sweet husband sewing my bra!).

I’ve been saying for 7 years that Victoria’s Secret needs nursing bras, and I’ve heard they recently started carrying some! If they have support + coverage, I will be their best customer. Throw in something sexy in several colors, and I may even consider becoming a franchisee!

My line of nursing bras would be called “Nursie Bag Kerriers.” Look, my parents always said they named my Kerrie for a reason. They should’ve spelled it “Carry.”

originally posted 10/18/2008 and is still relevant 3.5 years later!

Crybaby’s Testosterone Vacation

There are so many ways in which I make up for not having the “girlie” gene. To get you caught up, I don’t like to go shopping for shopping’s sake (although a good bargain does thrill me). I don’t window shop. Figuring out which colors go together is like a foreign language to me. I can barely dress myself and try to stick with either neutrals or else whatever people cast off at me.

But I have the crying thing down. I can be tough when it counts. I don’t cry when I’m in labor, for instance, or even when my baby is presented to me. Later, however, I am a basket case. I cry when it's time to say good-bye to my niece who lives 4 hours away. I cry when Aron has to leave town for a week. Not SOBBING, just crying.

So Tuesday when my baby boys drove away with Aron to go on their FOUR-DAY fishing and camping trip with their uncle and cousin, I lost it. I didn’t let THEM see me lose it. Thing is, I kind of take them for granted daily. Then when they leave for any period of time that’s not 2 hours I feel like I’m missing a limb.

I have a mantra for these 4 days: “They are having fun. They are fishing. They are camping. They are with their dad. They are having fun. They are warm. They are safe. No bears will come near them. They are having fun.”

Does anyone else worry so damn much about their kids? Does it get any better the older they get? I think my husband is about to commit me to therapy for worrying.

Tresa says, "Just the girls!! I can only imagine the estrogen bouncing around in manic, psychadelic patterns..." True that, Tresa. True that.

So it's Friday morning and I haven't heard from them since Tuesday. They're staying at a campground called Purgatorie. I bet they've left Purgatorie by this time (10 a.m.) and are heading back to Heaven. Sorry, a little Catholic humor for you.

If I Am Ever Stranded on an Island Alone …

… I would need crates of Chapstick, L’Oreal Voluminous mascara in deep black and nail polish in all colors for my toes. That’s about it.

Oh, and a solar-powered laptop with wireless Internet so I could e-mail and read books online and lots of paper and lots of PaperMate Profile pens. That’s all.

And maybe a credit card so I could PAY for my e-books and music downloads.

What would you need?