Holy (insert your favorite swear word here—this blog is for you!)!!!!

I just realized I’ve been blogging for almost a year! Though I am prone to overexclamate (!!!!!), it’s my bloggity blog bloggerversary (!!!!!!!) and I’ll overexclamate if I wanna! And I wanna!!!!!

Reflecting back on my year o’ blogging, I’ve come to a few conclusions:

1. So far this gig isn’t making me rich. (Crikey. I was totally eyeing that waterfront property down the Cape, too. I was maybe gonna get ca-razy and buy a kegerator and some matching chaises. You were SO gonna be invited. And when the police came looking to break up a bunch of 20 year old guys, I was gonna be all, “Surprise! Don’t you be profiling me now! Middle aged mamas in da house! Woot!”) This joke is not going to make me popular at Thanksgiving.

2. It ain’t making me famous. (Ed Burns and Ellen still won’t return my calls. What the frack is that about?)

The good news though?

 During this past year of rocking the muffin top, I’ve come to know so many wonderful new friends, both in person and online…other bloggers, other moms, and just random people (yes, even a few dudes!) from right in my town to halfway around the world. Had I not started this whole thing, I would not have had the pleasure of meeting so many of these peeps. It’s been such a fun ride and I so appreciate everyone who has taken the time to read, comment, subscribe and/or  ”like” the muffintopmommy page on Facebook. I’ve received so many well wishes, work out tips, crock pot recipes (Um…yummy?), and come to realize, I am not the only person who spends half the household budget at Tarjay and wants to punch the Kohl’s cashier/traffic cutter/ice cream man in the face! (Good to know! Hell would be lonely without friends.)I learned there are far too many of us out there who can’t tinkle alone and a good deal of you who will fight to the death for your soda. City of Boston, be damned! And Jillian Michaels? Her callous words about body image struck a nerve with so many of my readers of all shapes and sizes.

Would I like to be richfamoushaveabookdealandanAliceBradytocomeatwitchinghourandmakemyfamilyporkchops? Yes, yes I would. LOVE! (But the plastic grass backyard, not so much. How much of a lazy ass were Mike and the boys that they couldn’t take care of and mow some freaking real grass. Did Carol and Alice have to do everything?!)

Would I love to have earned more than roughly 47 cents the past year from blogging? Yes. There’s more money in my seat cushion. Great news though! I don’t owe ANY income tax on it. MINE, MINE, ALL MINE Feds!!! Three more cents, and I’m halfway to Twix-ville. Oh yeah.

Anyway, in celebration of my dentist vacation appointment  tomorrow, and since it was my very first blog post, enjoy!

Being a mom to three boys four and under doesn’t leave much time for r and r. Don’t get me wrong. I love being a mom, but I’m no martyr—everyone needs a break now and then. Since this gig is 24/7, I have to take what I can get, when I can get it.

I used to dream of all inclusive vacations to the Caribbean….now I linger by the pineapples in produce and hum, “One love, walla walla wall-aaaaa.”  (I believe in the business world, this is called a “paradigm shift”.) Either way, I relish my solo trips to places like the grocery store and the dentist for the glorious taste of freedom that they are.

Everyone seems to grumble about going to the dentist. The dentist gets a bad rap, but I’m here to tell you, that’s totally undeserved. For one thing, unlike the doctor, the dentist does not make you strip down and wear a decidedly unfashionable, cold paper johnny….(hi, you’d think in New England they could at least make them out of fleece and not flipping coffee filter material…how about not adding insult to injury, doc?) At the dentist, you get to keep the clothes on your back and the shoes on your feet. YOU decide how fashionable or unfashionable you want to be!

Another bonus, the dentist so does not care what you weigh!! You don’t need to cower in your paper gown, waiting for the nurse to come in, bark out your weight, and record it for all eternity in a chart you can’t even see! At the doctor, they take your blood, your urine—they take, take, take—and then tell you nothing (except maybe lay off the Oreos, Chubs!) At the dentist, everything they do is an open book….they take your x-rays, slap ’em up on the screen, and tell you what’s up right then and there.  Bam! You get to know all your teeth biz….no lines, no waiting, no calling back to chase results. And, you leave with a gift, every.single.time. I love prizes! Who doesn’t want a shiny new toothbrush?

But the best part?  The dentist’s waiting room is a virtual smut magazine bonanza—People, US, OK!…oh yeah, they’ve got it going on. And since they’re bound to run late, you can catch up with all the latest Brangelina biz in peace! Hmm…we might be on to something here….flossing, good bye. I’m taking my chances for an extra dental visit!!!

I mean, everyone knows the dentist is the one who has the all the good trashy mags….you go to the ob and fuhgettaboutit….it’s all Healthy Pregnancy this and Being a Good Mom that……ahh….no thannnnk youuuuuuuu! Too late and……well, the jury’s still out. Either way, not how I want to spend my few moments of glorious freedom. (While I love love love my OB and all her partners, their choice in reading material, as well as gowns, is dubious.)

So who wants to meet me in the deli line or the dentist’s waiting room, say Friday, 7-ish?