Oh, every single one of you that said, “I would have a party if I lived closer”–your ass is getting an email about hosting a party.  I just stick the party in a box and send it to your house.  Even to Alabama.  Which has surprisingly enough, made MANY queries about throwing parties.  You southern girls.  You know what’s going on.  Have a party now before I end up on Oprah and then you have to get on my list.  Now wouldn’t THAT suck?  Don’t you want to be the person who had the Mommy Needs a Cocktail Party BEFORE the rest of the cool kids catch on.

OK, I don’t actually put the party in a box.  I put the shirts in the box and YOU have to make the party.  You can do it.  I have faith in you.  

And now all those short sleeve shirts and tank tops available at Baby Brewing?  Mommy Needs a Cocktail?  Mommy Needs a Beer?  Mommy Needs a Glass of Wine?  And all those shirts only available at the Mommy Needs a Cocktail Party?  Available in 2XL.  Still that clingy style, but now with more room.  Roomier styles coming soon.

I remember getting into the limo with The Husband after our wedding (okay, lifting The Husband’s legs into the limo) and thinking, “This was the BEST wedding I have EVER BEEN TO.”

Saturday night’s Mommy Needs a Cocktail Party?  It was so awesome, it just wasn’t right.  It was almost as fun as my wedding.

I showed up late because I was trying to find my car keys to give to The Husband.  I drove up the hill to the most gorgeous house with the most gorgeous view.  (I also saw a deer try to jump a fence and not clear the barbed wire, only to bounce back on the road.  That was odd).  We aren’t in Kansas anymore, Dorothy.  We are in Petroville.

I stepped into a Mommy Needs a Cocktail heaven.  MNAC was everywhere.  Kimberly is a mommy who needs a cocktail. And who knows how to create a pink Wonderland.
MNAC was on a cake, for heaven’s sake (which should now be mandatory for all MNAC parties–it was so cool).  I threw my crap on the table (sorry, Pache) and then Melissa, of Capitol Chocolate Fountain/Post Office fame arrived.  Tell me how often you send out a cheeky twitter and a month later 2 chocolate fountains are on the counter at your very first Mommy Needs a Cocktail Party.  Melissa kept telling people that she was sure I thought she was a stalker.  Let me just say that if you have a stalker, having a stalker who owns 38 chocolate fountains and makes homemade pink marshmallows to dip in the chocolate at your MNACP is the only kind of stalker to have.  We embraced as if we had known each other forever and then she proceeded to set up what became the focal point of the party.  The chocolate was so good I almost stuck my head in it.  She sells it online.  Go and buy some. 

Seriously.

Then the house was packed.  There were women everywhere.  DC Metro Moms?  Jazzercisers?  You name it.  People had brought tons of food and wine and there were cocktails everywhere.  Someone cracked open the Arbor Mist and it got a little crazy.  I’m just saying.  Lots of people brought stuff to give away and we had a raffle too.  I talked to so many fun women.  I ate too many items dipped in chocolate.  It was only when I looked at the clock on the microwave and read “11:38″ that my heart about stopped.  Kimberly was trudging past me and I grabbed her arm.

K:  How did you think this would go?
Kimberly:  To be honest?  I thought people would get bored at around 9:30. 
K: ME TOO!!!

Uh, no.  Because this party was a Mommy’s Night Out first and foremost, with kick ass stuff to buy.  It helped that Kimberly is the most amazing hostess ever.  And we had two chocolate fountains, for heaven’s sake. We raised $100 from sales to go to Vicky’s Avon Walk for Breast Cancer.  I sold “Underpaid Kept Woman” shirts, a creation of the original Underpaid Kept Woman herself, Susie Sunshine.  I sold “Mommy Needs a Latte” shirts and “Mommy Needs Chocolate” shirts and “Mommy Needs a Margarita” shirts.  I sold “Mommy Needs a Cocktail” Martini Toast tanks in cocktail shakers, just like the ones the celebrities got back at the Boom Boom Baby Room.   Hostess gift structuring went out the window because this party so exceeded anything I had ever imagined.  Kimberly ended up with practically one of every style (plus the Mommy Needs a Vacation tote for the hostess-only).  It was off the hook.  It was so much fun.

But the best part about it?  Everyone had carpooled.  Everyone was responsible.  I think everyone had a good time.  We talked about dreams and goals and travel and jobs.  We didn’t talk about kids and husbands.  It was refreshing.  Reinvigorating. 

It was just a really good time.  Wanna see how good? 

You should totally have a Mommy Needs a Cocktail Party.  Think about it.

The Virginia Wine Expo in Richmond was so incredibly off the hook, I can’t tell you. Sure I didn’t bring enough kids clothes (who knew) and Pache wanted to poke my eyes out every single time I sold something from the display (”If you keep selling the funny stuff from the DISPLAY, you won’t have any funny shirts LEFT!”) Which was utterly and completely true. But how can you deny a 7 month pregnant woman stuck with 5 drunks a little humor in the form of a designated driver shirt? Come on now. Girlfriend needs a little humor other than being stuck with the chick who yelled, “YOU KNOW WHAT WOULD BE AN AWESOME SHIRT? I’M HAVING TIGER WOODS BABY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Unless, of course, you are his wife. Oh, come on. It’s not even funny. But she said it right before she fell into the divider and almost took down a row of booths. That? Yeah, THAT was funny.

And the guy who came over and said, “Mommy needs a glass of wine? I don’t get it.”
You know, “Mommy Needs a Glass of Wine.”
“Nope. Don’t get it.”

Apparently he lives under a rock. And has no sisters with kids. Or female friends with kids. Or female coworkers with kids. Or neighbors with kids. Or has ever been to a Costco during suggestive-selling/taste-testing Saturday morning. Or has ever been to a mall. Or a post office. Or a grocery store. Dude has GOT to live in Clarendon.

Then there was the guy who said a) I had too many baby shirts and b) I needed a picture of a wine bottle opener and the words “I pull out.”  I tried to explain to him that since I sold maternity shirts, clearly the “pulling out” wasn’t effective.

My favorite has to be the girls who gushed on and on about the baby shirts to their boyfriends. It didn’t go over well. Actual conversation:

“Why are you talking about funny baby clothes? You don’t have a baby. We don’t have a baby. We aren’t married. We have only been dating for a month. Keep moving.”

About 10 times with only minor changes in wording.

I could NOT have done this without Pache on Saturday. We couldn’t sell the shirts fast enough. And then Rebecca was so cool that she offered to help me out on Sunday. It wasn’t as busy and it is a bit of a bummer being unable to drink at a wine fest because you are working, but it was still cool. Rebecca and I talked for hours and laughed so hard our sides hurt.  We ate a cheddar cheese ball.  It’s alway nice to hook up with fellow smart asses.

Next stop?  Think Pink.  Local and wanna come to Girls Night Out?  Email me and I’ll forward on the evite.

In two weeks, the Washington D.C. International Wine and Food Festival.  Come on by.  Or if you are local and want to help out at the booth, let me know.  I can always use an extra set of hands….

I’m such a moron.  I had to go to the post office today and I was running late.  That meant that if I wanted anything to go out today (Hi, SKY!!), I had to drive over to the uber-post office.  It’s 40 minutes away.

By the time I got out of there, I succombed to the power of suggestive shopping at Whole Foods.  I’m having difficulty finding organic baby yogurt anywhere else, so I’m stuck giving them one of my limbs in exchange for a little Yo Baby.  I rolled in and parked in the last parking spot in the lot.  What the hell?

Oh, the Super Bowl.  Or, as we are calling it, the Non-Super Bowl.  The place was crazy.  There was a band, for heaven’s sake.  A band.  In the supermarket.  Just in case you wanna hang out and listen?  Whatever.  But the greatest thing that could ever possibly happen at Whole Foods was happening.

Beer tasting.  All over the store.  It was like happy hour.  Happy hour for moms who left their children and spouse at home.  Moms that just HAPPEN to be wearing “Mommy Needs a Beer” t-shirts. 

It took me 40 minutes to get out of Whole Foods.  And I only had two bags.  And 4 6-packs.  Oops.  What can I say?  Mommy Needs a Beer. 

I know.  I’m out of control.  First it was a book.  Now it’s parties.  Hello, Internet.  Kristen is throwing spaghetti on a wall and keeping her eyes peeled to see what sticks.

Here it is.  How about hosting a Mommy Needs a Cocktail party at your house?  It’s like the Tupperware party of 2008.  Except it’s not plastic.  And not boring.  And there is alcohol involved.  So what happens?  You send out the Mommy Needs a Cocktail Party invite to all your friends.  I send you stuff.  Your friends come.  You all sit around, sipping cocktails.  Talking about anything BUT the children.  Your friends buy Mommy Needs a Cocktail shirts (and lots more MNAC related stuff).  You get free stuff.  Your friends buy a LOT of stuff.  You get A LOT of free stuff.  I send free stuff for you to give away.  You bake a chocolate cake so your friends will love you forever.  You pour yourself a signature Mommy Needs a Cocktail cocktail.  Everyone has a blast. 

You aren’t a cocktail girl?  Funny, we have Mommy Needs a Beer shirts and Mommy Needs a Glass of Wine shirts.  Chili and beer party?  Wine and Chocolate party?  And don’t tell anyone, but I’m getting ready to roll out Mommy Needs Chocolate, Mommy Needs a Margarita and Mommy Needs a Nanny.  Not like you can have a Nanny party, but you know what I’m saying.  So think it over.  It’s just a suggestion.  A friggin’ AWESOME suggestion.  I think I’m gonna have one myself.  Although frankly, right now, I NEED to have a Mommy Needs a Nanny party.

What do you say?  Email me at babybrewing at gmail dot com if it sounds like fun and you might want to do it. 

HA! The last time I wore a slip was in the 7th grade. Princess Di had nothin’ on me. But I feel like I am forgetting something major. Like maybe I forgot to pay the mortgage? The preschool bill? Lord, I hope it wasn’t the preschool bill because if I have to watch both these kids all day you may as well just save time and send protective services over here right now.

I’m gonna whine. Here it comes. I feel so bad about it too. You know how you read those blogs and it’s the same crappy story every single day. Every. single. day. Well that’s my friggin’ life. When someone I love apologizes about not reading my blog in a long time, I laugh. Same story, different part of the house nearly being burnt to the ground. You ain’t missin’ NOTHING if you miss a month here. Life at Chateau Cookie is just like a soap. The only thing changing over here is who is sleeping in whose bed.

For instance, The Husband fell asleep with The Boy last night. I put The Baby to bed. The Husband woke up to bring The Baby for me to feed because he was screaming maniacally. In my defense, I was so exhausted that I never heard him. So here we are in bed. The three of us. Until The Boy wakes up and realizes that he is alone. He screams maniacally and then The Husband puts brings him to bed with us. So now we are all in bed together. The Husband, who has clearly established HIS SIDE/HALF of the bed, The Boy, sleeping diagonally, The Baby, who can’t stand to be touched and me, on 3 inches of bed.

So I get up and put The Baby back in his bed but he isn’t having any part of that. So I take him back out and we get in The Boy’s bed. But now The Baby is up for the day (at 4 am) and so I turn on the light, hand him a book and let him read to himself and basically crawl all over me for an hour. Then I give up and come downstairs to Twitter about my bitterness. I like to think Twitter is absorbing about 90% of my whining. That’s good, right?

I have to go.  I left The Boy unattended for 3 seconds with a pair of scissors and now there is a gaping hole in the size of my tree that is approximately 2 feet by 2 feet.  Determined to view the glass as half full, there are enough branches from the tree massacre to make three wreaths for the doors and now there is a place to put a wagon (or an economy sized car) under the tree.

Maybe there is a Pious in my future???  And don’t forget to add your last minute ideas to the contest.  It’s over at noon today.  EST.