I don’t like to generalize or exaggerate but every. single. driver in Seattle is a fucking moron.

On an unrelated note, I’m being entertained beyond belief by a, let’s say, unstable man in a downtown Starbucks who is enraged that the staff won’t allow him to roll his “cigarettes” on the table. Now he’s mumbling something like, “…but it’s okay if I drink coffee here!…”

Stay classy, Seattle.

PS: Seattle, I still love you so. This suburbanite just hasn’t be around such…spirited(?) people in a while.

Song title: Downtown by Petula Clark

And by “heaven’s pool” I mean that swimming in our pool will surely cause your untimely demise.

NOW I remember why “empty, clean and store pools” was on our weekend to-do list…

Song title: Heaven’s Pool by Feng Shui

It seems that this is the week for confessions.

So here it is: I. Am. Lazy.

Like pathologically lazy.

Here I am, at 3 o’clock in the afternoon on a brilliantly sunny day, with Bee asleep for at least another hour or so, and I can’t even get myself to concentrate fully on writing a comprehensible blog post.

Should I be cleaning? Doing laundry? Cleaning off my rat’s nest of a nightstand (really, Mr. Bee is starting to worry that rats are actually living on the top of my nightstand)?

Fuck, I’m too lazy to even create a list of the things that I’m too lazy to do!

I’ve attempted to do that set-the-timer-for-15-minutes-each-day-to-clean method. I’ve thought about making a list of a few things every day to accomplish (yes, the key phrase there is “thought about”).

And yet, there are still piles of laundry on the bedroom floor. Still a bathroom vanity that looks like a makeup-filled Vesuvius exploded and took half the bathroom with it. Still a closet filled with clothes that won’t fit me for another decade year.

This is where I need your help. I’m positive that, you, my faithful reader, keep a spotlessly clean Martha Stewart-esque home, complete with fresh flowers daily.

So how the fuck do you do it?

Maybe I should start with not napping for two hours every day during Bee’s naps. Girlfriend’s gotta start somewhere, right?

Song title: It’s My Lazy Day by Smiley Burnette

Lately I’ve been slightly (read: obsessively) concerned with the decor of our new(ish) home. See, we moved from a slightly renovated 1973 house into this lovely 2004 home, which happens to be 150% larger than our old place. So our five Target picture frames are no longer gonna work.

In other words, “we’re gonna need a bigger boat.”

So I’ve slowly started acquiring more decor (hallelujah Aaron Brother’s Penny Sale!) and filling up the enormous blank walls in our house.

But there is one space that continued to stump me.

This is the “art nook” that you see when you open the double doors to our master bedroom. And I promise that the purple color is much prettier in person.

I think.

My first plan was to put up one of those trendy and hip vinyl wall decor thingies. I carefully choose a beautiful (and elaborate) chandelier like this one:

I carefully applied the chandelier to the wall over the course of roughly eight hundred hours (that’s just a guestimate). It was a little tricky to hang but I closely followed the instructions and after gently adjusting each length of pearly bits, eventually the vinyl do-hickey was in place.

Done. Right?

Not so much. In the morning, I woke to find this in the art nook.

Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!

My afternoon of hard work (and about $25 of vinyl) now lay in a stickky jumble on the shelf of the art nook.

After the appropriate length of mourning (and violent cursing), I began to work on Plan B. I figured that the only way to get something to stay up there was to paint it and since my New Year’s Resolution last year was to paint more, what better opportunity to dig out my supplies and get to work?

I got out the laptop and a projector and started brainstorming on designs to paint in the nook…

Eh, not exactly setting a romantic Master Bedroom atmosphere...

That's me getting in to a romantic mood, but somehow Mr. Bee nixed this idea.

Narcissistic much?

Ooooh, wait. No baby. No drunk Mama Bee. This one might work!

So after a few weeks of work, I have close-to-finished the art nook project. It has our names and wedding date (so Mr. Bee never has an excuse to get the date wrong) and I threw some wedding photos on the shelf to hopefully complete the look!

Eventually I’ll get around to finishing the last couple coats of paint on it sometime soon so I can officially call it completed. What do you think?

Next project: Navigating the piles of laundry on the floor in order to find the rest of the room. You’d think Bee was helping do laundry in here or something.

Song title: Paint Job by Roy D. Mercer

I love shopping.

I’ve discovered in the last two years that there is something I love even more than shopping for myself.

It’s shopping for Baby Bee.

You don’t have to try anything on, there are no body issues (yet) and what is better than having an adorably-dressed little girl on your arm?

NOTHING. That’s what.

I mean, why else are all those hip celebrities in Hollywood getting knocked up?

So next week, just for fun, I’m giving away some adorable clothes from the cutest little boutique consignment shop this side of the Mississippi. That’s right, my very first giveaway!!

My favorite place to shop for Bee is called SugarBabies.

The shop is located in Sumner, Washington, but has a great online store as well! Ashley at SugarBabies has been awesome enough to giveaway your choice of one item from her new Tea collection!!

To enter the contest, visit SugarBabies online and let me know what your favorite product is in the Comments section of this post.

I’m a little scared to read your answers, because I need no more temptation…

But wait! Do you want another chance to win?

For an extra five entries, join the Mom to Bee Facebook Page!

For FIVE MORE ENTRIES, join the SugarBabies Facebook Page!

If you are already a Facebook fan of SugarBabies or Mom to Bee, then first, my undying love to you. Secondly, just let us know in the comments and we’ll give you those extra entries!

Lastly, for TEN EXTRA ENTRIES, blog about this contest on your blog and post this badge! (simply copy the html code below and paste it in to the html code of your blog post!)

Just cut and paste this code in to your post!

<a href=”http://www.momtobee.com/free-as-a-bumble-bee”><img class=”aligncenter size-full wp-image-1429″ title=”FREE STUFF YAY!” src=”http://www.momtobee.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/06/giveaway-badge.png” alt=”FREE STUFF YAY!” width=”175″ height=”175″ /></a>

UPDATED: The code was a bit wonky, I guess, but I think this should fix it? (FYI: I guess Blogger adds some random ass code to the html when you cut and paste, so just double-check the code before you post!)

THE RULES
No entries after 7:00 pm Pacific Time Monday, August 3rd.

Winner will be chosen and announced first thing Tuesday, August 4th.

Make sure you post in the Comments of this post so I know when you have blogged about the contest, visited the SugarBabies website, become fans of SugarBabies or Mom to Bee on Facebook, and/or blogged about the giveaway! Honor system, people.

Song title: Free As A Bumble Bee by ABBA

I imagine what most people do when it is nearly 100 degrees outside…

Go to the pool/beach/lake?
Turn on the air conditioning?
Hunker down inside the mall/movie theater where it’s nice and cool?

While all those options sounded enticing when the temperature INSIDE my house reached the mid-80′s…

Yeah, that was the temperature INSIDE the house around noon yesterday. By 8:00 p.m., it was 88 degrees inside. DOWNSTAIRS.

Ker-azy.

So what did I do to cool down?

What else? I rearranged the furniture in the hottest room of the house and organized the pantry.

For some reason, I finally got a bee (har har) in my bonnet and decided that today was the day to, well, you know, be able to find any particular item in our pantry.

Before it was organized, it looked something like this:

Seriously, I think I saw a 1964 Buick in there once.

But now, everything has a place and nearly everything is in it’s place.

You know that guy, the real estate agent who had some reality show on Bravo, and everyone thought he was crazy and OCD because he insisted on having all the labels of the bottle water in the fridge facing forward?

Yeah, I totally want to be like him someday. I shit you not.

The only problem is that my innate sloth-ness overpowers (so far) my insane OCD. If I was less lazy, I swear my house would be spotless.

It would probably also help the OCD if I would stop buying things in bulk.

I’ve obviously discovered that my family should be banned from Costco for life. Or join some sort of Addicts Anonymous program for people who can’t say no to purchasing large boxes of snacks that we never finish.

I pretty much threw away enough stale crackers to feed Guam. Or New Guinea.

I always forget which is which.

Song title: When You Hot You Hot by DJ Honda

This week, the Bachelors finally get to shrug off the heavy weight of that maple leaf flag and head on back to the States.

Pennsylvania Powwows
Jillian, donned in her Bachelorette Trademarked skinny jeans and boots, first visits Reid’s hometown of Philadelphia, PA. Is it just me or did Jillian seem drunk before she even started the date with Reid? At this point, Reid must know her well enough to make sure her latte is part coffee, part vodka.

After spending a few minutes in the city, we not-so-slickly sweep in to the ‘burbs to meet Mom, Dad, and two Brothers. Immediately everyone sits down for the we’re-going-to-pretend-this-is-normal-but-its-actually-really-uncomfortable couch chat. I love the low pressure “You can work for us and have babies immediately” strategy of Reid’s mom. Hmmm…coming on a little strong, Rhonda.

After a heart-to-heart talk with Reid’s father, I’ve completely convinced that 50-something year old Larry should be next season’s The Bachelor. No offense, Rhonda, but I am completely smitten with his “Follow your heart and jump head over heels” speech.

Apparently Reid’s stone-cold façade has been broken by Jillian’s obsession with PDA. I’m not sure if Reid’s family was impressed or just wanting him to put in back in his pants in front of Ma Maw.

Astoria Animation
Our resident Jack Russell Terrier Puppy, Michael, brings Jillian home to Astoria, NY, to meet his Mom, Dad & Twin Brother. Immediately, you can tell that hyperactivity and/or an addiction to Pixie Sticks is a family trait with every single member of the family bouncing off the walls.

Michael and his brother decide to pull a Parent Trap on Jillian and pose as his brother in order to get some questions answer without her knowing. It took Jillian literally 0.5 seconds to tell that Michael is dressed as his brother, thwarting their diabolical plan. Damn, that could’ve been good!

Michael’s Dad takes the opposite stance of Our Newest Bachelor, Larry, by warning Michael that it’s going to be rough if he doesn’t get a rose. Way to be upbeat, Dad.

While Jillian answers some typical interview questions (“What are your biggest weaknesses?” “Well I love way too much and am sometimes too wonderful…”), in comes Michael’s Sister from Australia. Michael, and the whole family, responds by jumping up and down eight million times. Seriously, is their floor built out of trampolines or something?

San Diego Self-doubt
Jillian, while meeting Kiptyn’s Mom, Dad, Stepdad, Sister, Brother and Brother’s Girlfriend, immediately begins to worry that she might not fit in to this ridiculously perfect and opulent family. Especially since they roped off the only place where Jillian feels totally comfortable: the hot tub.

Mom & Dad begin the evening by quizzing Jillian’s ability to distinguish lasagnas and wine. While talking French, of course.

Oy vey.

Kiptyn’s Mom, I’ve gotta be honest here, could possibly be bat-shit crazy. Or drunk. So hopefully the latter since then she’d get along perfectly with our Drunk-aholic Jillian. Eve told Jillian that she has to be special to be where she is…obviously she didn’t see last season Douche. Sadly, I think Jillian is more quickly devolving in to douche-baggery than Jason even did.

Carmel Courtship
I will go out on a limb and say that visiting Jessie’s Family’s Winery will be Jillian’s favorite trip of the season. While traveling across the winery by tractor, you can almost here Jillian wondering “where the fuck is the wine, Jessie?!”

Before the wine, Jillian gets to meet Mom, Dad, and Jessie’s Brother, who apparently is Billy Ray Cyrus. Well, if you doubled, maybe tripled, the asshat-ness. Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with Jessie’s Brother?! How could nice, sweet Jessie be related to such a jackass like him?

And as if the foreign language speaking wasn’t enough, then the family begins a jam session in the basement. Really, though? I guess the family who plays together, stays (douchebags) together.

Austin’s Asshat
Wes, the King of the Douchebags, doesn’t waste a single minute getting airtime for his band.

What. A. Fucking. Asshole.

And the whole time, Jillian is just eating it up thinking that she is so lucky to be dating a wonderful man like Wes.

Meanwhile, our beloved beauty, Jake, has decided to visit Austin in order to protect Jillian from Wes’ manipulations. It’s about fucking time someone stood up for Jillian’s best interests.

Wes and Jillian have a heart to heart where Wes confesses that he is there for the right reason and is a very bad liar. Well, he got one of those correct. Jillian must be pretty hard up for Wes because that was some of the worst lying I’ve ever seen. And I went to law school, for Christ’s sake.

While Jillian waits for Wes to pick her up, knock knock knock! Who’s there? Jake!!!

After five minutes of teeth-pulling, Jake breaks the news to Jillian that Wes does indeed have a girlfriend.

Obviously, Jillian is crushed and says good bye to Jake in time for Wes to come knocking on her door, wanting to take her to meet his family.

As one would guess, Wes immediately denies the accusations (I even typed this sentence before watching that scene because I just *knew* he would pull that shit). Even better, Wes pretty much weaves the exact story that Jake told Jillian he would.

For ratings the truth, Jillian calls Jake down to confront Wes in person. My fists clenched just hearing some complete asshole like Wes call someone like Jake “a man of character” with sarcasm. What. An. AAAAAAAAAAAsshole.

I will give Wes one thing: he is stubborn as hell. Oh, and I’m pretty sure he might be a sociopath.

And I can’t even believe how stupid and insecure Jillian must be to not kick him to the curb IMMEDIATELY. Any respect that I still had for the alcoholic koala bear is gone. Gooooone.

The Bachelorette has officially gone from The Dating Game to The Hills.

Jillian, instead of telling Wes to fuck off, travels to meet Wes’ Mom, Stepmom, and three Sisters.

Beverly Hills Bewilderment
As if Austin didn’t hold enough surprises for us, as Jillian sits around her LA Hotel, pondering the last week’s events, knock knock knock!

It’s Ed!

*sigh* Ed. *sigh*

Man, he’s a doll! All I can say is that Jillian looked as smitten with Ed as I felt watching that scene. Will she just cut all the other guys and marry Ed already?! Jesus.

Instead of doing him on the spot (what is *wrong* with this chick?!), Jill requests that Ed attend tonight’s rose ceremony so she can ponder her upcoming decision.

Rose Ceremony Ruling
You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

After all that drama and crying and “fool me once, shame on you” bullshit, Jillian is keeping Wes around for another week?!

I’m thinking instead of diamond ring, the Bachelor at the end should award her with a lifetime of psychologist appointments ’cause this girl has gotten some Issues. Yes, with a capital “I”.

So our pesky little puppy Michael and that other guy, Jesse, are Auf’d this week.

I have to admit, with about a gallon of shame, that I did tear up when Michael discussed how he had been falling in love with her and hadn’t even realized it until after she gave him the boot (literally. She probably had those goddamn boots on under her evening gown).

But overall, thank GAWD that Ed is back. He might be the one redeeming aspect of this season. Lord knows, I certainly have a tv crush on him.

Yesterday morning, I was a prisoner in my own home.

“Jesus Christ, Mama Bee! What the fuck has got your panties in a bunch today?!” you say.

Watch your mouth, little lady!

We don’t say “panties” in the Hive.

Fuck, why don’t you just say “moist” and “naughty” while you’re at it. Jesus, you kiss your mama with that mouth? Shit.

Anywho, before I was rudely [clears throat] interrupted, I was going to tell you about my harrowing experience being tortuously imprisoned in my very own home…

As you’ve seen from the lovely photos I’ve posted of our house, we have a detached garage in our front yard.

This isn’t really necessary for my story, I just wanted to post another photo of my pretty house. Muuuaahahahaha. Suckers.

So, to get into said garage, you need your normal house key. I needed to fetch a level out of the garage to hang Baby Bee’s name up on her wall (sidenote: I was totally excited to post photos of her name up on her wall until I realized that I didn’t actually put “Baby Bee” on the wall, and henceforth and whatnot, shouldn’t post it! Sigh.), so I began my search for my keys to unlock the garage.

Hmmm…where are those keys?

Backtrack: I remember Mr. Bee asking me about them yesterday when he “borrowed” them to go get the mail with Bee. Maybe he still has them…

Oh. Shit.

“Isn’t Mr. Bee just five minutes away at work?” you ask.

Uh, normally, yes. But this morning, at the exact time I was scrambling around the house to find my keys (including the key to my car), his plane to Idaho was taking off.

And he’s not going to be back until Friday.

(Sidenote #2: Is it bad that I just posted a photo of my house and then told the Interwebs that I will be without my “bodyguard” until Friday? Oh, it is? Haha, what I MEANT to say is that Mr. Bee is sitting right here. Next to me. With a samurai sword. Or something just as threatening…)

Needless to say, I started shitting bricks that I not only was stuck in my house, but that I could be stuck in my house for THREE DAYS. Mind you, I have no plans for the next three days, but what if I need pizza. Oh, yeah, they deliver…

Well, what if I need shoes or something important? Or, you know, if there was a Bee-related emergency? Like she needs shoes or something?!

Suddenly the boring next three days in my spacious home became a suffocating prison. I began keeping track of the hours as they passed by scratching lines in to the wall.

I also began calling Mr. Bee’s cell phone approximately 8 thousand billion times for about an hour until his plane landed. When I talked to him, he nonchalantly replied that he would just FedEx me the keys when he got to his final destination in an hour or so.

Does he not understand the possible shoe situation that could strike at a moment’s notice?!

Long story, well, long, Mr. Bee had an epiphany an hour later and we ended up finding the keys in the coat closet at home. Thank Gawd.

So I promptly settled back in to my butt-shaped crater in the couch, shelving all the errands I had to run when I was without the ability to do so.

But maybe I will go shoe shopping…

Song title: Prison Without Prison Bars by The Alarm

On Friday evening, as I attempted to drive the one-hour distance to Seattle in 30 minutes (yeah, um, that didn’t work so well) I realized something that is disturbing to me…

I think I might be falling out of love with Seattle.

For shame, I know!

Ever since living in Seattle for my college and law school education (yeah, I’m have a really expensive collection of pretty pieces of paper – Sidenote: if you are looking for info on advanced degrees, a friend of mine works at a cool place called The Online College Guru!), I have loved Seattle. In fact, I have felt more at home in Seattle than I do the city that I lived/grew up in for 20+ years. Something about the city just draws me in.

I even enjoy the drive up to the city. Especially on the Viaduct, where you have the Puget Sound and ferries on your left and the City flanking your right. Simple Beautiful.

But this last Friday, something was different.

Instead of reveling in the Happy Hour in the City-ness, I was instead perturbed at the lack of parking and wondering how I would manage to walk the few blocks through drug-induced arguments on the street to my posh restaurant location. The same neighborhood which I used to think was so hip, now seemed so dirty and, well, dangerous.

And, I shit you not, as we were leaving the restaurant, joking about the possible drug altercations we would see on the way to the car, we noticed a police van loading people in. A POLICE VAN, people! Did I mention that this was literally next door to the restaurant we’d been eating at?! Stay classy, Seattle.

And suddenly the suburbs have been looking better and better.

Maybe it’s just something that comes with getting older. Seriously, I will be THIRTY in a few months; I’m practically prehistoric, dude.

And I imagine it may have to do with being a mom. Instead of thinking that drug deals were pure entertainment and/or YouTube fodder, now it seems like I actually feel the need to protect my baby’s Mama (aka: me, if you were wondering. I have the vag scars to prove it).

But here in the ‘burbs, it is pretty hard to find a restaurant that serves fries with fried egg and ham on top.

And crispy California rolls.

And truffle fries.

And lobster paella.

Well, let’s just say that maybe me and Seattle will stay friends.

With benefits.

Song title: Falling in and Out of Love by Pure Prairie League

A little delayed on the blogging (sorry!) but we finally got all our Christmas decorations up!

This weekend we visited the local Nordstrom to get that special photo of the baby with Santa. We were hoping to get something like this:

But instead, got something closer to this:

The photo won’t be available for pick up until the 20th, but don’t worry – I’ll definitely post the hilarity that is our belated Xmas card this year!

Song title: Little Martha By The Allman Brothers Band