Stress and the Suburbs

I have to admit every once in a while I start to feel like Carrie Bradshaw while I'm blogging. Except my life is a little different from Sex and the City. I don't live in the City, but I used to live in Jersey City. I'm not writing about sex and finding happily ever after, I'm blogging about what happens after sex . . . and reality. I don't have 3 "fabulous" girlfriends with man troubles, I have many mom friends with kid problems and husband issues. I don't drink martinis, but I have been to a martini bar, once, years ago. I haven't played Twister with Jon Bon Jovi, but I have dreamed about it. I do own a pair of Manolo Blahniks, but they're 2 sizes too small since I bought them before I ever got pregnant. I've never been to Fashion Week, but I love Project Runway (where is that show???). I don't smoke cigarettes, but there are days when I think smoke is coming out of my ears. I don't meet my "fabulous" friends once a week over breakfast to update them on my latest sexcapades, but I do try to organize a mom's day out brunch once every other month to complain about my miserable pregnancy. And finally, I don't stress about Mr. Big, I have the little guy. Now that's stress . . . and the suburbs.