Archive for 2005


My daughter turned 8 months old today! Happy birthday precious! Naturally we threw her a huge party like we do every month. But because money was a little tight this past few weeks, we only spent $4000 and not the usual 8 grand. I have a feeling she didn’t even notice. I mean, the little tulip is only 8 months old! She doesn’t know the difference between Osetra and Beluga caviar…yet.

I guess the only drawback was the entertainment. She really really wanted the Dave Matthew’s Band, or DMB as she babbles, to play but that would’ve been over our budget. So we made the mistake of hiring a DMB cover band for $800 dollars and figured she wouldn’t know the difference. Wrong. She cried through all three of their sets. Especially when they played Ants Go Marching. Hell, you would’ve thought my little turtle dumpling was teething or something.

On the brightside, the moonbouncer was a big hit again with only 17 injuries to infants as opposed to 40 from last month. I guess the little buggers get a little sturdier every day! Only 6 of the babies required hospitalization so YAY!!

Anyway, I think the 230 babies and kids that came to the party had a really good time (except the injured ones). They all left with giftbags containing Coco Chanel parfume and powder, Mac Lip Glosser in assorted colors (7 of them), Gucci baby clutches and DMB coverband CD’s.

So thanks to all the mommies who came down and celebrated with us. See you next month!!



Posted by Stefanie Wilder Taylor on July 12, 2005 11:02 pmUncategorized7 comments  


I wonder when the appropriate time to stop swearing around your child is. Here’s the thing; my husband and I used the filthiest language possible to express affection.

Such as:

Jon: What’s up, dumb cunt?
Me: Not much asswipe. Hey, did you stop at Cost Co today?
Jon: Yeah.
Me: Thanks for remembering to go fuckhead. I guess you didn’t brick this time.
Jon: What the fuck did you think was going to happen? What’s on TiVo?

and so on. I think it goes without saying that we love each other a ridiculous amount. Obviously, anyone reading that can see how close we are. But…I sure would hate to get called to pre-school because my daughter called a boy she liked a dumbfuck. Maybe, Jon and I should come up with some words that are CODE for fuckhead like Honeymuffin or Sweetie. Would that be crazy? We could call each other all kinds of nicknames and no one would be the wiser. Of course, people will think we’re insane but WE WON’T CARE! We’re not like other people. We do our own thing! Fuck em.

Posted by Stefanie Wilder Taylor on July 9, 2005 11:27 pmUncategorized4 comments  

OPB – Other People’s Babies

I was really worried before I got pregnant and while I was pregnant that I’m just not a baby person. I was really concerned that that feeling wouldn’t change even when I had my own baby. In fact, I spent an inordinate amount of time worrying about it. I’d check out women with babies in stores- and I’d love to say parks but before I had a child there was really no need for me to step foot into a park which was another worry not being a “park person” – hoping to feel something about their babies. I’d hope to think “wow, what an adorable little person you’ve got there” or even just “so cute” but I hardly thought anything more than “oh a baby.” That’s not a good feeling when you’re going to have one.

So, now I have a baby and I’d love to say that the world of babies has opened up. That I think babies are so adorable now. Unfortunately I don’t. Of course my baby is unbelievably cute. I can’t get enough of looking at her and taking her picture but I just can’t get it up for other people’s kids. Luckily, I don’t believe this affects my mothering in any way. I really thought you had to just LOVE kids to parent one but I guess that’s not so. Thank god or we’d have some serious problems around here what with the mommy police being so strict.

I do wish I had slightly more interest in joining Mom groups or doing interesting stuff with my shortie but I really have to force myself. Thank god she loves her exersaucer so much. And trips to Western Bagel. My baby loves a bagel. She’s a carb addict like her mom. Isn’t that cute?

Posted by Stefanie Wilder Taylor on July 8, 2005 8:45 pmUncategorized4 comments  


I am totally addicted to online poker. I’ve been playing poker for years with real live people but it’s so much more fun to play from the privacy of your own computer. There’s an area you can chat with people that makes it fun to trash talk. I’ve definitely found that men do not appreciate trash talk from a woman playing poker. I’m sure you’re wondering how people even know I’m a woman. Well, I’ll tell you. On the PartyPoker site, when you sign up for an account you put down your sex (not in an anti feminist way) and then when you sit down at a table you automatically have a cartoonish woman sitting in a chair playing your hands. My favorite part of that is that all the female icons have humongous boobs. I would venture a guess that most women who are interested in playing poker probably don’t resemble Pam Anderson. They probably look a little more like Rosie O’Donnell.
The point is, I need to stop playing poker and start writing in a more disciplined manner. Trying to care for and entertain a 7 month old baby doesn’t allow for as much creativity as I’d like but I have to do it. Yes, I have a babysitter but the thing I find tough is to get started writing the second she comes over. First I have to play a little poker, then I feel the need to go to the gym (which I feel guilty for doing as soon as I get there and shouldn’t it be the opposite?)and then I obsessively check my email for an hour. By the time I’ve written anything my babysitter has to go home and I have to beg Jon to help out because “I HAVE TO WRITE.” Oh to have more discipline!

Posted by Stefanie Wilder Taylor on June 30, 2005 7:21 pmUncategorized1 comment  

The Cult of Mommy

You know those people whose outgoing voicemail message says something like “Tammy, Nate and little baby oooh so huggable cutie cute Kaitlan aren’t here right now. Leave a message(small child sound)? If you’re one of those people then QUIT READING NOW. Otherwise… they must be stopped. I don’t understand the logic. I want to leave a message back to them that says “no one is leaving a message for your baby! Your baby doesn’t have friends! And if you’re leaving your baby’s name on the voicemail to let me know you have a baby please don’t! If I don’t know it by now then I’m not someone who needs this information!” I want to say this but thanks to the help of some Vicodin left over from my C-section I don’t. Look, I have a baby too, an extremely adorable baby, I might add, but you wouldn’t know that unless you are a friend of mine because I don’t have a brag book full of photos to foist on someone I just met at the dry cleaners.

It seems to me that becoming a parent is like joining a cult. Oh, the members may not dress up in orange jumpsuits or shave their heads bald except for a ponytail or walk around Westwood asking if you’d like to attend a Buddist meeting, but they’ve lost their own will just the same. Go to any Target at two in the afternoon and you’ll see women with “the stare.” The one that tells you they have been reprogrammed and you’ll feel a lot better when you start going along to get along. I plan to fight this cult with everything I have in me.

The “Cult of Mommyhood” isn’t even a good cult. There are no perks. At least with Scientology you might get a guest spot on “Fat Actress” or some inside scoop on Tom Cruise’s sexuality. All you’re privvy to in the Cult of Mommy is getting on a neighborhood email list that tells you when there’s a sale on Similac at Babies R Us. Apparently, in the “cult of mommy” certain things that were never a good idea before, suddenly seem appealing. Like bangs. Or green eyeshadow or paying $112 dollars for a baby bonnet at a store with a cute name like Jack and Jill’s. Some women are tougher to program. But I’ve seem them. The ex band tour manager who used to be slightly goth and now has a sensible bob, the slutty neighbor who can’t get the gardener to look at her twice since she had twins and gained 60 pounds.

It’s tough to blame them. I’m sure a lot of them fight it at first but when you’re sleep deprived and lonely and crazed with baby hormones your weakened mind is an easy target for cult members. Suddenly you find yourself saying things like “You want me to join a bookclub filled with Encino mothers? That sounds fabulous. In fact. Why don’t I host?” If you’ve never had a baby, it’s kind of like if you shop in the mall everyday, after awhile four dollars for a cookie at Mrs. Fields doesn’t sound so bad.

There are women who don’t fight the cult at all. Some of them are born to breed. They actually pop out a kid just to belong. Finally, a reason to be in Baby Gap 3 hours a day! These women who couldn’t figure out what the hell to do with their lives now have a purpose and they are more than happy to talk about the magic of breast feeding until you want to hurl all over their cloth diaper protected shoulder. They had a gaping hole in their soul and are grateful that a group any group took them under their wing and made it okay to have a Dodge Voyager.

It is my mission to stay out of the Cult of Mommy. Although I’m not working, I will never refer to myself as a SAHM. I’m embarrassed I even know what those letters stand for. I’m not a Stay At Home Mom. I’m not “Hi Doctor Laura, I’m My Kid’s Mom” I’m still Stefanie. And I happen to have a baby. And she’s not on my outgoing voicemail. For now.

Posted by Stefanie Wilder Taylor on April 3, 2005 11:22 pmUncategorized13 comments  


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