HOORAY!

I have a post up Bueno Baby today! Meredith runs the show over there and I ADORE HER. I know you will, too!!

Now, what in the hell are you waiting for?

Get out of here! GO!

Oh, and I would totally hold Meredith’s hair back after 50 bucks worth of tequila shots.

Now really, what are you still doing here?

Go HERE now.

We spent last weekend at my aunt and uncle’s farm.  They recently bought some land and built their dream home.

And?

It sure as shit ain’t Old McDonald’s Farm.

As you approach the house, you pass the final resting place of the Jacomini’s.

A chapel, with four trees around it. A tree for each of them. Biggest is Tommy’s tree. Smallest, Vivi’s. Growing each day, more and more, from their ashes buried beneath.

Inside the chapel are four headstones.  If you are sitting in front of Vivi’s stone, you can look out and see her tree. And so on…

The ceiling was made out of stained glass by my uncle, Susie’s father.

It’s a wonderful, peaceful place. Somewhere we can go to be close to them. To talk to them. It’s strangely calming.

The weekend was great!!

So relaxing to be out there, in the middle of nowhere.

Lots of swimming.

And of course, the kids dropped trou.

My aunt and uncle have owned a player piano since before I was born. You know the kind? The piano that tickles it’s own keys. My sister, my cousins, and I spent so much time on that thing throughout our childhood.

And now?

Our kids are doing the same.

So bizarre.

My eyes filled with tears as I was taking this shot with my iPhone.

We have come full circle.

Except our circle will never be complete.

There will always be four people missing.

*Apologies for the bad iPhone pictures

I haz fame you guys!!!

The amazing Aunt Becky over at Mommy Wants Vodka was somehow crazy enough to ask ME to be a guest blogger!!

She was one of the first blogs I fell in love with.

I fell hard. And fast.

Initially, she had me at “Mommy wants Vodka. Because Mommy Wants Vicodin sounded too suburban.”

Digging deeper, I discovered she was one of the coolest, kindest, most interesting chicks I’d never actually met.

Take a looksie. Go! Now! Please?

Bonus?

You can follow her greatness on Twitter – @mommywantsvodka

Now go read my post bitches. And let’s agree to never speak of it again.

Happy Friday!

*A DAY IN THE LIFE OF LUCA*

(through the eyes of my shitty iPhone camera)

Headed to the pool in the outfit he picked out to pick up some bitches and ho's...

Time to ride the choo-choo. "Care to join me, ladies. All aboard the Luca Express!"

Pimp Master Luca showing his softer side, giving Smokey the Bear some milk...

After a long and exhausting day, he falls asleep while reading the gripping novel "Diggers". It's hard out there for a pimp.

I wrote this a couple of weeks before we went on vacation, but I never posted it.

***

I hate flying.

Always have.

It’s certainly gotten much worse with age, though.

I’ve walked off a plane minutes before take off. Convinced that the gnawing in my stomach was a sign from some higher power and not just my crazy anxiety.

When someone tells me to have a safe flight I feel like they are jinxing me.

When I am on the plane I feel like I cannot not be scared. Like, somehow, if I let my guard down the plane will go down with it.

I have flown twice since having Luca. And once he was with me, which is totally not the same thing as flying alone.

“What if something happens and I do not come home to him? No one could love him like I do.”

And all that good stuff. Over and over and over again in my head.

Anticipatory anxiety? I haz it!

And losing them in the plane crash has only made it worse.

My brain is pretty sure knows that I am being totally irrational, but any ounce of ration I have is gone the second I step foot on a plane.

Panic. Attack. City.

*Deep Breath*

I leave to Europe in two weeks. For eight days.

EIGHT DAYS YOU GUYS!

Do you know how long a flight that is?

Because I do. It’s like nine or ten…HOURS.

Don’t get me wrong. I am really excited about the actual being in Europe part. Just not excited about the mode of transportation to get there part.

I am even nervous about posting this blog.

I am even nervous that I just admitted being nervous about posting it.

Double jinx?

Ugh. How do I cancel that out?!

I am not a first class girl.

But, I begged like a big fat brat for us to fly first to Europe.

My husband kindly reminded me that if the plane was going down, first class was going down with it.

Me: Yes, I know this! But at least in first I get free drinks and awesome movies and all that combined with massive amounts of valium and not being wedged under some stanky guy’s armpit for 9 hours and did I mention we get free drinks? It’ll be so much better for you, babe. If not, I am going to have one of my freak out panic attacks and OMG its gonna suck. I could absolutely end up on the no fly list.  And we get free drinks even before the plane pushes back from the gate.

My awesome husband, knowing that he would pull a lot more ass once in Europe it would make my flying experience so much less HORRIFYING, bit the extremely unreasonable bullet and we are flying first class.

So what if Luca isn’t going to have dinner for a few weeks.

THIS IS ABOUT ME!

My husband could not be more laid back when it comes to flying.

And me? I am like having a second child.

So now, there are rules when we fly together.

“You cannot take your happy pill until we are through security and waiting at the gate.”

Because? There have been many times when I nibbled off a wee bit, when he wasn’t looking, as we got in the car to head for the airport.

By the time we arrive to the parking garage, I am all sixteen candled out.

I take my sweet time gathering all my belongings. Giggling a bit. Whistling.

Me: BABY!! Why are you walking sooooo fast??!

Hubs: Because our flight leaves in 45 minutes, Allison. COME ON! Did you take your flying pill already? Ugh.

Me: Are we really that late? Ughhhhhhh, my bags are so heavy. I swear I didn’t pack that much. Why are these so heavy. It must be the luggage itself that’s really heavy. Hold on, I have to adjust everything.

*sets every single item I have on the floor in the parking garage*

Annnnnnnnnnnd. End scene.

So now you can see why he has set these little rules in place, yes?

Me? Total handful.

Me on my flying pills? Two handfuls.

***

I attempted to finish writing this several times so I could post it before I left.

But, I just couldn’t get passed the jinx factor.

Like posting it would somehow affect the outcome of my trip.

I know, I know. I never said I was normal.

I was also super scared of leaving my kid in general for eight nights. With no way to explain it to him yet, how would he understand I was coming back? *Sad face*

GUESS WHAT?

Despite all the worry and all the what if’s, I somehow managed to pull up my white cotton Target sexy ass panties and I WENT TO FUCKING EUROPE!

Not without my flying pills.

And not without my wine.

But, I went!!

AND IT WAS AMAZING!

I even enjoyed the ten hour flight. Both ways!

Since returning, I have had a wonderfully strange, liberating feeling bubbling inside of me.

I caught a glimpse of the old Allison while I was away.

The one before I was someone’s mom.

Oh my god, I am a mom? What the what?

And I realized that I not only need, but I want to go on more adventures sans the munchkin. I have a life independent of my son. A life that needs to be nurtured, fed, and occasionally shit ass drunk.

Before this trip, just the thought of leaving my son, my house, and my fur-kids made me totally queasy and scared.

And now that thought? Totally exhilarating!

For example, I am actually sorta kinda not nervous about Blogher.

Well, at least not like I was before.

Flash forward to that day and you’ll probably see me being tased by airport security.

But, whatever. Baby steps, right?