just another manic Sunday

SUNDAY – a day of rest, a day of worship, a day for football lovers, and an important day for women who take the beloved birth control pill.

Today was my special Sunday, when my next cycle was set to begin, as the empty spinning wheel dispenser told me. And what a surprise…as of 1:30pm, I hadn’t even called in my re-fill. Procrastination at its finest.

After finally placing the order at 2:00pm, I took a mental note of the pharmacy’s closing time, 6:00pm, and made the conscious decision to wait til after the girls’ naps to pick it up. They never sleep past 5:00pm, so we would have plenty of time to get there before closing.

Due to hyperactivity and a couple blow-outs, the standard 2:00pm naptime became more like 2:45pm and finally, by 3:00pm, ALL three of the Godwin Girls were sound asleep. On this particular Sunday, Steve was gone at a commercial casting session, and I was nursing a slight hangover from last night’s celebration for my friend’s 40th birthday, so I took the opportunity to catch some zzzz’s myself.

Periodically, throughout my nap, I groggily awoke, took a moment to figure out where I was, determined all was well with the world since I wasn’t hearing any unseemly noises on the monitor, briefly questioned the time but didn’t bother to actually check the clock, and fell back into my deep, deep glorious slumber.

Ultimately I awoke to Lexi’s cries and as I went to pick her up, my eyes glanced at the clock: 5:35pm.


I swiftly picked Lexi up, ran downstairs to call the pharmacy, all the while trying to coax my brain out of the dense fog it was wading in, and trying to figure out my most efficient plan of action. Do I try to get all three of us in the car and to the pharmacy within 25 minutes?  Do I try to get a hold of my doctor and have her call it in to a different pharmacy with BETTER hours? What should I do?

Ring Ring…Hi, I have a prescription I need picked up TODAY, but I have two kids and don’t know if I can make it there by 6:00pm. Is there any way you can leave it at the Albertson’s customer service desk?

No, we’re not allowed to do that.

Ok, well then is there anyway you can just stay a few minutes late? It would just be a few minutes.

No, they make us leave right at 6:00pm.

Ok, well then can you call it in to a different Sav-On?

No, all our locations close at 6:00pm. But we open at 9:00am tomorrow morning, why don’t you pick it up then.

Inner Monologue: Ok, Little Miss Unhelpful, Uncooperative, Unfriendly Thang…

You clearly:

#1 – Are not on the pill so you don’t know the RAGING hormonal rollercoaster that ensues after one skipped pill


#2 – Do not understand the imperative nature of preventing an oopsies.

I looked at the clock – 4:43pm.

Ok, we’ll be right there.

I dashed upstairs, woke Lily out of her deep sleep, threw sweatshirts on all three of us, told Lil to grab her flip flops as I grabbed mine, buckled the kids in their car seats and we were off.

It was 5:51pm.

After 8 minutes of praying to the Green Light Gods, driving like a cautious bat out of hell, and cursing the m-f’ers who were taking their leisurely Sunday late afternoon drives, we barreled into the parking lot, parked the car and RAN into the store. There I was, no make-up, hair disheveled, a kid under each arm, with my tank top being pulled down in the front by both girls who were hanging on for dear life. It was a SIGHT to be SEEN, I am quite sure.

As I reached the pharmacy counter it was 5:59:30. The rolldown doors were all shut except for one little area where the cash register sits. I saw the pharmacist standing, arm crossed, scowling, as he mouthed the words here she comes.

Huffing and puffing I reached the counter, Phew, I made it.

What’s your name? Said the same unfriendly gal, in the same unfriendly tone.

Godwin, Burt-Godwin. B-u-r-t. (This is where the whole hyphenating thing gets a little tricky).

As she fetched my prescription from the fancy hanging rack, I said, kinda under my breath, my stanky dragon wine hangover breath, yet still kinda loud enough for them to hear…

I’m gonna need to switch pharmacy’s ’cause this just isn’t working out for me.

No reply, from either the grumpy pharmacist or the unfriendly, unmarried, apparently celibate clerk.

I swiped the card, snatched up my prescription and proceeded to do a happy dance with Lil and Lexi in the aisle.

We made it! Woo Hoo. High-fives, fist bumps and hugs all around.

From there we walked around Albertson’s to pick up a few essentials, and my mind raced with all the things I could have said to clerk. I should have asked her if she has ever been on the pill, or if she has ever heard of BENDING the rules a little for a mom who needs to catch a much needed break.

Right then I saw her at the end of the aisle.  We caught eyes and I thought, oh, here is my chance.  We were walking towards each other.

Inner Monologue: I’m gonna say something…here I go…she’s gonna get a piece of my mind…

I stopped right in front of her and before I could say a word, she held up her right hand and dangled a set of keys.

Are these yours?

Oh…yeah, thanks.

I told you, I always misplace my damn keys!


gettin’ giggy with it

Does anyone else get a little giggy a few weeks before their birthday? Well I do, always. Every year. A few weeks before my birthday I start to act a little bitchier than usual, a lot more introspective and whole helluva lot more judgmental of myself and pretty much everything around me.. like the way my hubbie chews his food. Well my special day is right around the corner and today it dawned on me…no wonder I’m a complete hot mess.

So on top of being a little stressed that my hubbie’s work got cut to part-time and beyond exhausted since Lexi is both teething and double ear infecting and therefore up all night, I’ve got the friggin birthday blues.  I’m not really blue, I just feel blue, does that make sense?  I really have nothing in my life right now to be blue about… this just happens to me every year and I’ve learned to accept it.  It will pass and I will greet the new number to be added to my existing 3_ with a Coke and a smile. Bring it on!

But in the meantime, I am completely short on brain power and am worthless when it comes to this blog. I have started at least 4 different blog posts and saved each one as a draft, because I just can’t muster the brain capacity to complete a decent post. Any minute brain power I have is going to my kids my book project and to composing emails to the IT genius who is helping my re-vamp my site (new snazzy Mama Mary site should be up next week – woo hoo – Thanks Hunter!). So for all of you faithful readers, stay with me…It just may be awhile  before I can “make it work,” Tim Gunn style and write anything worth a darn.

I’m off  to bed now, and for the love of everything good and holy, I pray for a decent night’s sleep tonight. Sleep changes everything…except my age.

never say never – part 2

It occurred to me the other day that my out-of-shape a$$ will be running a half marathon in a few months, up the HILLS OF SAN FRANCISCO…really???  So, this week I dusted off my running shoes, put air in the jogging stroller tires and hit the trails, running.  No, it was jogging.  No, who am I kidding, it was walking swiftly with a few slow sprints mixed in.  I need to start training for my training, that became painfully clear.

While on my first day out, about 5 minutes into the run, only traces of the bribery lollipop were left in the form of a bright blue stain on Lil’s lips which were uttering, Mom I want to go home.


By the time I repeated Just a little bit longer, Lil for the umpteenth time, my desire to work it on out had completely dissipated, so I headed home, after only 15 minutes.

At some point that evening, between the “Oh, I hate this show!” and the “Turn it up!” I exclaimed to my hubbie every 10 minutes of the Bachelor: After the Rose (It really was the most dramatic one ever), I had a flashback to running with Lily in the jogging stroller one night when she was just a baby, before baby #2 was even a consideration. We ran past a dad whose toddler was watching a DVD player in the stroller.

I remember thinking, Oh you’re kidding me! You can’t mix nature and exercise with TV. How dare he? That is the lowest of the low. I will NEVER do that.


Yesterday my run/walk was 45 minutes. Booya!

We do what we gotta do, right parents? Can I get a what what?

Pennies from Fallon

A few years ago I flew to New York to visit BFF Mariana with the third of our Three Amigos, Amy.  I was 3.5 months pregnant and just beginning to experience the ever-so-delightful perma-nauseum that accompanies the miracle of pregnancy.  As we slowly rolled out of bed on our first morning, jet-lagged and starving (yes, I still felt hungry through the nausea, it’s a wonderful combination), Amy and I debated our options for our morning meal.  Mern had already headed to the hospital for her shift, so Amy and I were left to our own devices.  It didn’t take much time for us to decide we were in need of a New York City bagel…STAT.  Good thing Gramercy Bagel was right across the street.

Here is where the conflict of my story comes in…Through the pukey hunger pains I needed to contemplate…Do I take time to put on make-up, brush my teeth, comb my hair and make myself presentable for the inevitable New York City Star Sighting or do I just throw on my nappy, stanky, airplane-stenched jeans and take care of my grumbling tummy and growing fetus?  This may seem like a no-brainer but to me it was a difficult decision of epic proportions:  On one hand… I RARELY go anywhere without make-up — at least my brows, mascara and lipgloss – and particularly if there is a chance of seeing a friend, foe, ex or celebrity. Vain?  Maybe. Precautious?  Yes.  Silly? Completely. But that’s the way it is, or at least was before I had kids.  On the other hand…Hunger and I are not friends, particularly when I am pregnant.  So the insatiable baby in my belly won and against my better judgment, and everything I stand for, I threw on the stale jeans, whipped up a pony and we headed for food. As I trepidatiously stepped into the elevator, Amy noticed my reluctance and said, “Don’t worry Mare, who would we possibly see?  We’ll only be gone a minute.”

Do you know where this is going?

We moseyed across the street to Gramercy Bagel with the cool New York air in our unkempt hair and before either of us landed both feet in the door, we saw him.  Hot hotterson funny man, even with a beanie, flannel and the “I partied pretty hard last night” eyes, Jimmy Fallon.  We looked at him, and immediately whipped our heads back at each other. Without a word we knew it was him and I knew I was going to KILL her when we got back to the apartment.  A mental image of my browless, glossless, nappy haired countenance made me shiver…Are you kidding me right now?  I patted my pockets in hopes of finding at least a tube of Bonnie Bell chapstick (cherry maybe?) but to no avail.

Disgruntled yet star-struck and sweaty-palmed, and still starving, we got behind him in line.  He was thowin’ out fist bumps and “what ups” to all the homies behind the counter. They knew his order. He was a local, a regular.  We were in his territory and I was beyond, beyond…Not sure what I even ordered.  As we neared the register, he dropped a penny.  Pretty sure it was a magic penny. Or in the very least a funny one. So there was the penny on the ground.  I wanted sooooo badly to say something witty, clever, memorable.  Then he would look at my cute baby belly (not the browless face) and make a comment like, “Oh, you’re pregnant, you should name your baby Penny?” Or something witty like that.  And that would be our moment. But no.  That’s not how it happened.  The penny fell between Jimmy and Amy.  She picked it up and gave it back to him and he said “No, you should keep it for good luck,” or some shit like that.  Being the attention hog that I am I poked my head around her and tried to speak, but all that came out was, “Good penny, luck you, hee hee.”  Oh for shit’s sake!  This is my moment with Jimmy Fallon?

But then I realized, oh ya…I’m married, happily, and to a hottie by the way.  And…on top of that pretty important detail, he’s a SUPER DUPER famous guy.  And he ordered two cups of coffee, probably to take back home to his lovely fiancé.  But yet… it was a brief fling in a bagel shop. And it was a fun story.  We smiled all day.  And continued to look for him, once we had our make-up on.  Just in case…

I’m telling this story tonight, on the eve of a VERY IMPORTANT DAY TOMORROW…
1)    My sister Laurie’s Birthday – Happy B-day LaLa~
2)    My friend Flo is having her second baby girl – Go get ‘em Flo!


3)    Late Night with JIMMY FALLON begins – With special guests: Robert DeNiro and are you ready for this one…JUSTIN TIMBELAKE…What??? Can you tell I am bursting out of my skin with excitement right now?

Good luck Jimmy, knock ‘em dead!


my two girls and the five senses

It’s been awhile since I’ve participated in San Diego Momma’s PROMTuesday, so since I am once again, in bed, in the dark, lying next to my sick baby girl, I will take a few minutes (not more than 10…that is the rule) to write about today’s topic:

Write a character sketch of someone you love (child, partner, pet, mentor, etc.). Detail this person, let us see him or her through your description. Maybe you want to “show” your loved one through action and movement, or perhaps you are viewing him or her in repose. Either way, get down to brass tacks and give us the one you love through your writing.

Lily & Lexi — my dears, my dolls, my doves, my delights , my dy-no-mites —

The color of sunshine

Music to my ears

Soft to the touch, exquisite, finer than china

The smell of rain: pure, clean, fresh, beautiful, joyful



a recess in memory

Today on our morning walk, the girls and I passed by the neighborhood grade school. Typically the playground is empty when we walk passed, however today we hit it just in time for recess.  Oh recess…what a jubilant word.  I said “Look at all the kids, Lily.  They are getting out for recess.  They get to play on the playground.”  I paused and waited for the inevitable “why?” but it never came.  I looked down at her; she was staring out over the vast black pavement scattered with tether ball poles and basketball nets, completely mesmerized.  The kids filed out of the school doors, some single file, some in twosies, twosies and then others in big groups of laughter, energy and wonder.  Boys were pushing, girls gigglings, loners walking with their heads down and leaders rallying their troops for a big game of kickball or foursquare.  I began to move on up the hill but Lily yelled, “Wait mommy, I want to look at the kids.”  So I stopped, turned the stroller so she could have a good view and for a few minutes we watched the school yard spectacle.   I too became mesmerized.  I stood frozen somewhere between flash backs and fast forwards.

Flash backs of my grade school days, as one of the few tall girls along with Diane, Leslie and Stephanie, who dominated the tetherball field but couldn’t do a pull up to save my life.  Recess for me was a toss up between anxiety and pure joyful fun, depending on what games were being played, which bullies were around (I’m stil afraid of Heather Grund) , and where I stood that day with the other friends in my circle.  Finicky, fickle, pre-pubescent girls can be BE-YOTCHES to each other. I’ll be the first to admit, I was a bossy, bratty, beyotch at times (Was?  Who am I kidding, that pretty much still sums me up).  But I also had my fair share of being the tortured tormentee who played marbles by herself or just sat on the fence, and went home that night thinking life could not possible get any worse. Irregardless, I have only the fondest memories of those lower school days…

  • Dancing the complete Thriller choreography after school with all my girls, while the cute boys played kickball and pretended not to watch.
  • Pickle – not the briney cucumber but the brutal game played with a tennis ball – with the boys.
  • Sneaking into the cafeteria to steal the kindergartner’s graham crack snacks, always accompanied by at least one cute boy, one of whom was named Graham, which was always a good laugh.
  • Sneaking to some back hillside to eat sour lemon grass and talk about french kissing (talk being the operative word – at least for me – maybe there were others that got busy back there?) We maybe even played truth or dare, but as far as I can remember there was more talking about getting frisky than actual friskiness.
  • Falling off the slide in first grade, peeing my pants and breaking my arm. Then getting all the cute boys to sign my cast, take my spelling tests and carry my books for me.
  • Rainy day recesses, inside the auditorium, eating popcorn and watching “Escape From Witch Mountain.” Hoping a cute boy would sit next to me.

Hhmmm, is there a recurring theme to my memories?

Fast Forward in time to a few years from now when my own girls will be either enjoying or eschewing recess.  What kind of girls will they be?  Active, quiet, bossy, shy?  Boy-crazy, nerdy?  I am a little fearful of my own comeuppance…I am also fearful of the rate in which kids grow up these days and how savvy they are becoming, both socially and technologically. My hope is that they are well-adjusted, kind kids that know how to treat other people and don’t fall apart if others don’t know how to treat them.  I’m pretty sure my foot in the face disciplinary action is helping achieve that end.

All of these memories are being compounded by the fact that I have been able to re-connect with a ton of my grade school pals through Facebook.  If any of you are reading this, please keep your comments to yourself about my “bossiness”, but please share with me your memories about recess and the playground.  Especially any of you cute boys…Sean(s)?

sugar, sugar, oh honey, honey

At 9:30pm this evening, my toddler, Lily, was still awake in her crib, tapping her feet on the rails, singing “Why do you build me up, Buttercup baby, just to let me down…”


Yes, that is Corvette Diner with oldies tunes blaring in the background.

Yes, that is a strawberry milkshake with whip cream and sprinkles.

And yes, that is “talk to the hand, mom. I’m going to finish this thing with one gigantic sip.”