Someone please explain why you can’t buy a cosmo at a Starbucks drive up window.

So I’m going to put this out there: the hardest thing I have done since giving birth is hands down traveling with a baby.

Babies don’t travel well. If you ever meet a parent who says “Oh my baby just loves to travel, he does so well,” know that this person is a dirty filthy liar!

This is the face Bug makes when he is asked to spend long hours in his car seat.

This post comes in the wake of my whirlwind tour of the LA bridal scene…which was ultimately a great trip (um, hello bridal shower cupcakes…pretty much the only reason I go to bridal showers…that and the fact that a friend of mine is GETTING MARRIED—you know who you are, and yes, you are a way hotter bride than Kim Kardashian. Plus, your future hubby isn’t a total douche like Kris Humphries), but even a simple 6 hour road trip can take on a similar feeling to being in hell. Especially when you are on I-5 and the only thing that even slightly resembles civilization are cows. Needless to say, making a breastfeeding stop in 90 degree heat at a truck stop to the odor of cows is not what I call “travelling well with a baby.”

However, there are a couple things you can do to ease your baby travel woes:

1) Poop. Honestly, you and your baby will become constipated when you travel. So do everything in your power to poo. You can deal the baby’s constipation better when you are moving freely. Do whatever you have to do. Seriously.

2) Sleep. This is a given. But I become a really awful person when I am tired. I also become a bad person when I travel. So, the only thing that can be fixed there is the sleeping thing…which will be aided by #3.

3) Drink. No, you booze hag, I don’t mean get lushy. I mean have a glass of wine or two…but that’s it. Hangovers and alcohol bloating is way bad for any form of travel, especially when you have to be the second hottest person…I mean Maid of Honor…at a bridal shower.

4) Breastfeed breastfeed beastfeed! I cannot express enough how important it is for a baby to breastfeed while traveling. Ok, so I’m not really the poster-mommy of breastfeeding…I have had my issues. But when traveling, the boob juice is essential! It keeps things moving in the little guy (see #1), helps him ward off sickness (I always come home from travel with a cold), and keeps you VERY HAPPY. Try being second hottest…I MEAN Maid of Honor …at a bridal shower when you have milk stains on your dress. No.

This blog is Buh-nanas. It’s major.

So it might be obvious already, but I have an affinity for bad television. It if wasn’t for bad television, I probably wouldn’t watch TV. I get wayyy to engrossed in good television and feel like a total failure if I don’t follow things through to the end. I would go completely out of my mind if I didn’t see every minute of every episode of every season of good TV (Like Mad Men—I’m pretty convinced that the producers are specifically out to get ME with this whole not back until 2012 bullshit). Whereas with bad television, every episode is pretty much the same and you don’t miss much if you only watch it sporadically.

Plus, I think the Hubby has the same love for bad TV as I do. In fact, I KNOW he has a huge crush on Tamra from the OC and somewhere in a deep dark XXX corner of his mind he thinks a threesome would be just grand. Which just proves my theory that every guy, no matter what type of woman he ends up with in the end, goes through a trashy blonde stage…but that's another blog.

(Trashy blonde, having a moment.)

Because todays blog is about….wait for it….MY favorite trashy blonde….RACHEL ZOE. Ok, not just about her, but what she represents. She represents SKINNY. That bitch is 8 months preggo at the beginning of this season of “The Rachel Zoe Project” and still looks like a twig.

(There is a baby in there somewhere)

And I am seriously jealous. Ok ok ok OK, I GET IT:
1)That’s probably not healthy for her.
2)Definitely not healthy for her baby.
3)Realistically, I probably wouldn’t be happy with my body if I was that skinny anyway. Grass. Greener. Other side. You know the drill.

But the point is, I’m not skinny at this moment, and she represents the epitome of skinny. I mean once, just once I would like to look hot in white jeans. I know ultimately most people don’t think someone that skinny is hot. BUT BOY DO WHITE JEANS LOOK GOOD ON HER, I assume. I don’t know if I have seen her in white jeans. Bitch.

So look, I’m 3 months postpartum. I’m breastfeeding (hello 500 extra calories a day). And I can’t eat cheese (Goodbye the extra 500 calories a day I would regularly consume). I'm pseudo following a diet plan, which is WAY better than simply wishing to be Rachel. And I bought a pair of white jeans at H&M for like 10 bucks. I will have my Rachel Zoe moment, I WILL!

(Just maybe not quite so skeletal).

Pray for me.

I heart stuff. (Who doesn't?)

So I’m crafting. Take that Martha Stewart. It’s a great way for me to get “me” time while I’m at home recovering from surgery and debating on whether or not to become an active member of society again.

I asked the ten year old if he would like to craft with me. He looked at me like I had just told him I accidently flushed his gold fish down the drain (I didn’t, for the record. He doesn’t actually have a gold fish).

Whatever. His loss.

BECAUSE today, we are making vases out of WINE BOTTLES! Um, greatest project ever? I think so! You get to drink a shit ton of wine all in the name of art.

But that’s not the point of this post. It’s actually to drop a nugget of step-parenting wisdom.

If you want your step-kids to like you, it’s actually far simpler then you think.

These are NOT ways to get your step-kids to like you:
1) Asking them to craft with you. Seriously. At this point, they don’t want to hang out with anyone older than about 15, much less craft with their hot mess step-mom and a baby that thinks his hand is the greatest thing ever.
2)Taking them to museums. They only go for the food court. Not because they like you and want to get educated.

No, how you get your step-kids to like you is by buying them shit. Take a moment to let that brilliance settle in. You’re welcome.

See stuff=love to pre-adults. And that’s all it is, honestly… just stuff. Don’t buy them useful things, like back to school supplies or a tooth bush. Buy them something they don’t need.

I understand that this may seem shallow, but think about it. As a step-parent, you can’t use words like “love” or “feelings.” However, doing something fun and impulsive, like buying them a useless nerf gun or those shoes that “I really don’t need but aaaalllll the other kids have” shows them that you get it. You were a kid once and are really on their side.

Plus, it’s much easier to slip that new Victoria’s Secret bra past the hubby if it catches a ride in the Toys R Us bag. Just sayin.

Hand. Om nom nom.

Staying is for dogs.

I would like to one day meet the person who came up with the phrase “stay at home mom.” Then I would like to promptly hit him (I assume it’s a him, only a him would be such a dumb dumb) upside the head with my diaper bag.

This is my question: at what point in the life of a “stay at home mom” has she simply just “stayed” anywhere?

There is no staying, there is moving. Tons of moving. No staying seated, no staying standing, no staying in front of the TV watching whatever those wonderful folks at Bravo surprise me with next. In fact, I don’t do much staying at home either. Not with doctor’s appointment, kids to pick up, grocery shopping to do…I mean, I would give up Top Chef AND Real Housewives for a whole year simply to “stay” at home for one day (lie).

"I'm sorry Becky, but its time to move on and sew."

Three things:
1) Um, current season of “Project Runway,” where have you been all my life? A) Heidi is at her HOTTEST. B) Tim is at his most fabulous. C) Gay (assuming) Asian named Olivier, nuff said. D) Nina Garcia totally brought her bitch to the party. Duh.
2) I just saw a commercial for TOP CHEF TEXAS (!!!!). Dying.
3) The Steps are finally back. They have been gone for a couple weeks. Welcome back!

Here’s the thing about the back and forth travel that children of divorce must participate in every week: It SUCKS for everyone involved. The first cut is always the deepest. And by cut, I mean day. And by deepest, I mean most difficult. When the Steps get here on Wednesday for their half of the week with us, it’s like having to get to know each other all over again. The kids have to deal with a different set of rules and a different family dynamic. And I have to deal with—well, being a step-parent.

Let me take this moment to state that these are two very good kids. They are smart, have goals and ambition, are very good and involved with their baby brother and have manners (but only outside the confines of the house).

However, let me give you a little nibble of how a typical first day goes:

IF DAD PICKS THEM UP: “Hi Dad, let me tell you about my week. Let me tell you about my day at school. I missed you dad. What are we going to do tonight?” And so on.

IF STEP-MOM PICK THEM UP: “HI” (Text text cell phone cell phone) “When’s dad getting home” (Text) “What are you cooking for dinner.” (Silence, text…oh yeah, and often a phone call to biomom—which is usually a long conversation—Like I’m INVISIBLE).

But look, I’m not complaining (ok, maybe a little). I understand how difficult it is to be in the step-shoes. I was a product of divorce and was usually a total diva drama child when I went back and forth from house to house. And honestly, I have very little advice for those in similar situations—other than BE CONSISTANT! The best thing to do is keep things at your house the same—so that even when the transitions are tough, at least they know what is expected of them under your hot tranny mess of a roof.

Oh and if you are not breastfeeding a small human, Xanax. For you, not the Steps—unless….

M