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July 21, 2016

Summer Life - Road Trips

This shop has been compensated by Collective Bias, Inc. and its advertiser. All opinions are mine alone. #RoadTripOil #CollectiveBias

Road trips are a serious business. You can’t just get in the car and start driving around aimlessly, one must prepare for a journey on the open road. And if there are kids involved, preparation is life. I always said I wouldn’t take a road trip until my kids were out of car seats but that took too long. We’re in the smack of summer and California beaches are calling for me! I’m ready to road trip NOW! So I somehow convinced (aka promised) my husband that a mini-road trip from Orange County to San Diego would be manageable. Plus, look how worth it is is:

But my husband and I have conflicting ideas of what the most important preparation for a road trip is. His focus? The car. My focus? Snacks. But with Walmart? We both win, and that’s where the fun begins.

I don't know if I'm just a lucky ducky or what, but we pulled right into the Automotive Care Center (you can locate yours here) of Walmart and asked the Care Specialist for a Pennzoil® oil change. But which type? There's the Pennzoil® High Mileage Vehicle® and the Pennzoil Platinum®: Full Synthetic Motor Oil with PurePlus™ Technology. Our car has more than 75k miles on it so we went with High Mileage, but in hindsight, I wish we'd gone Platinum just to say we did. Ultimately, all Pennzoil® products help clean out the sludge lesser oils leave behind and is designed to be a "complete protection" that affords an extra 550 miles per year...AND! High Mileage is on rollback through September 15: $35.88 (normally $39.88)! Clearly that meant I could buy an extra three bag of chips…for the road of course, lol.

As our car was being pampered by Pennzoil® we ventured through Walmart to prepare for summer trip. 

These are my personal list of 5 essentials for any road trip, mini or long that I take to ensure a successful journey: 

- Sunscreen 
- Snacks: Trail mix, chips 
- First Aid Kit 
- A prepared car (Hello oil change)
- A stuffed dachshund 

My FAVORITE aisle.

We did it! We crossed our t’s and dotted our i’s in an hour! The Zepeda family (car included) is ready to hit the I-5 and head out to San Diego’s beaches!

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Pennzoil® is the only way to start your road trip, you can learn more about Pennzoil® here: 

July 18, 2016

True Story: Terrified of My Daughter

I learned very quickly after having my first child that there's no controlling who your kid will be. This means instead of molding my son to be a pink-wearing-doll-playing feminist, Dylan was born ready to roll in mud, decapitate barbies, and practice sexism. Apparently, all claims I made about how I'd raise "my child," were fulfilled by an opposite reality. And the more confident and boisterous I was about it, the more obnoxiously different the reality was.

My favorite (and least favorite) example of this is when I scoffed at a mom changing her toddler's diaper, declaring that "ew," my child would be potty trained before his first birthday, because, why not? Three years later and my kid twitches if you mention the potty and his diapers are so damn big that they're an online-only item. Yes, things are going as planned. FML.

So throughout my second pregnancy I knew better than to open my cursed mouth. If a "my child" thought came into my head, I put it out like a kitchen fire. My mantra? Don't think it, don't speak it, definitely don't risk it.  So when my second child was finally born, I was ready for whatever. But Adrian is so far from "whatever." She's terrifying. 

Becoming acquainted with Adrian was no picnic. Sure, I loved her, but she was born demonic and constantly screaming. Every night was the same as the night before: full-blown colic. If you're not familiar with colic, lucky you. It basically means your baby cries inconsolably for reasons unknown and therefore it cannot be stopped. It's a special kind of shit show that I had a VIP ticket to until one day, it just ended. I don't know how or why, but one day Adrian just stopped crying and became the most amazing baby ever. 

Yes, that's right. My colic riddled baby went from spawn of Satan to sainthood overnight. And now? I'm terrified. I suddenly find myself with the most easy going little girl. I can take her anywhere and do anything because little Adrian is going to observe quietly and patiently. How did that happen? No idea. Why did it happen? No idea. Will it last? Again, I have no idea. But I'd like it to- she is my dream baby! She's the most perfect little child I could have ever imagined! We have such a good thing going that I don't know if I could bounce back should she revert to the scream fest days.  

Trust me, I'm not banking on shit. Having kids has taught me not to count unhatched eggs and to never get too comfortable with today because tomorrow can always LOL all over your face. So should you notice my shoulders tense up while fear washes across my face as you begin singing my insanely well-behaved daughter praises, please know that my reaction is one of a true believer in the law of jinx, and I therefore have no comment. 

June 9, 2016


The last time I blogged I was in the thick of misery as a pregnant mom rearing a 2 year old with all kinds of preterm labor scares and ridiculousness. But hooray! Those days have come and gone and I can finally step back long enough to enjoy and appreciate the crazy little journey I've gone through and take the time to announce: OMG, I HAVE A DAUGHTER!!! And holy shit...I have two kids!

On January 7th at 3 something in the morning I received my very own little girl, Adrian Jules. And boy oh boy is she a gem.

Anyone who has more than one kid can attest that no two pregnancies are alike, nor are the babies themselves. Adrian and Dylan are total opposites- which is both super fun and super annoying. For instance:

  • Dylan was a 20+ hour labor; Adrian was an 8 hour labor.
  • Baby Dylan didn't cry; baby Adrian screamed as if she was being skinned alive every day from 5pm - 10pm until she turned 3 months old.
  • Dylan reserved all of his affections for his dad (I was chopped liver); Adrian can't get enough of me (YAY!).
  • Dylan couldn't roll over for the life of him; Adrian is practically doing somersaults.
  • Dylan slept through the night at 11 weeks old; Adrian...HAHA! We're on week 22- what's sleep?

But I'm not complaining. Sure, there's colic, sleep deprivation, and extra work now that my children-count has multiplied, but I am SO HAPPY! Adrian Jules is the little girl I never knew I couldn't live without. So please consider this a formal proclamation of my unwavering, unconditional, and boundless love I have for my most precious little Adrian.

And also...I'm back!

November 2, 2015

Recap: Dylan's First Halloween

After two years of failed Halloweens, after protesting his costume for weeks, being unable to walk past Halloween decorations without freezing in fear, and then waking up sick on October 30th, we did it. Dylan finally had his very first Halloween experience. YAY! Though it was looking iffy for a while. I mean, how was I supposed to get a screaming, crying child into a costume without having a screaming, crying child? 

But as it turned out, enticing Dylan into wearing his Batman costume was actually pretty easy once I figured out why he chose to dress up as Batman: the kid wanted to fight. “You want to fight me?” I asked, kind of hoping he’d say no. 
“YEAH!” he bolstered without hesitation. 
“Okay but you can only fight me if you’re Batman.” I offered, since I am in no way above bribery.* Voila! Dylan was ready to fight me party. 

Still, there was the whole Halloween d├ęcor issue. How would Dylan summon the courage to walk door to door if every passing cobweb petrified him into paralysis? Another easy solution: candy. After Dylan’s first house, he was a trick or treat feign. This Halloween I learned that my son will walk past Satan himself if there’s candy to be had. He nailed the whole script too: knock on the door, say “trick or treat,” and then “thank you!!!” ...Okay, so maybe the whole “thank you” bit wasn’t very consistent. Most of the time he’d turn to my husband and say, “Daddy, I want more.” But please forgive him, he’s merely 2…and in character. Batman is apparently quite the brute. 

Dylan was so proud of himself. He ran through the streets from one house to the next. He could’ve gone all night if we let him but you gotta stop somewhere. I couldn’t figure out the wherewithal of all this extra energy until the following day while collecting on candy tax examining his treats for razor blades, I noticed there were several pieces of candy with bite marks in them. Apparently Dylan ate waxy candy wrappers under the radar without choking or getting sick, atta-boy! He's practically a professional! 

It took two very boring and failed Halloweens to get here, but my little Batman is a Halloween fool. WORTH IT.

The day after, with no intention of sharing

*I’m actually right below it situated alongside of begging.

September 30, 2015

The Opposite of Pregnant Chick Envy

A reoccurring phenomenon takes place with each of my pregnancies: I become possessed. Somehow the positive, happy, relaxed and sharp lady that I normally am is replaced with a wretched woman that lacks patience, focus, energy, and enthusiasm. I’m just not myself. Though I’m trying…I really, truly am…but pregnancy isn’t for me. Sure, I’d like to enjoy these nine months of baby growing and bask in the miracle that is the creation of life; however, I can’t get past the swollen kankles and back pain to even acknowledge a so-called glow. And these ever-growing boobs? No thanks. 

Before I became pregnant with my second child, I suffered from pregnant-chick-envy. I saw the little protruding tummies and longed for a wee wittle baby of my own. My first born was growing up, his baby fat was melting into big-boyhood, and my ovaries yearned for the scent of newborn flesh. What a fool. You see, somehow, in between post-pregnancy with my first and pre-pregnancy with my second, I lost all memory of the shit show that takes place during these nine months. And okay, not all women have such disdain for the days of alcohol free, sushi free, weight gaining, gel-brained living, but I look at myself in the mirror and I don’t even know who I am anymore. It’s like… 

When I drove to a restaurant to pick-up my to-go order that I never placed. No, I swear I ordered it. Look, I’ll check my email for the confirmation that I don’t have. 

Going to Las Vegas (which a pregnant person has no business doing), and buying new shoes every two hours because each pair is SO uncomfortable, only to realize six pairs later that the shoes ain’t the problem- these swollen feet though…*

Cutting out my daily meditations because I can’t focus, sit still, or even stay awake long enough to mediate. Three words: Attention Deficit Disorder. 

Coming home from Hawaii at 1 in the morning to a house with no power because I forgot to pay the electricity bill…probably since I… 

Ignored the mail man’s note on my front door advising me to “COLLECT YOUR MAIL, MAILBOX FULL!!!” because uhm…I just don’t feel like it. How long has it been again? Oops. 

Inadvertently teaching my two year old the term “fucking idiot” because that’s what everyone on the road is now. My patience? Dead.

Passing my iPhone to Dylan so that he can watch 34,000 monster truck YouTube videos while I try to nap. Questionable (and lazy) parenting alert.

Arguing with my doctor about my weight gain and reminding her that I gained 57lbs last time and NO, I still don’t drink soda or juice. 

Looking at my blog and realizing I’ve only posted twice in September and it’s already the 29th. Pathetic. And reading blogs? Sorry Tamara, Echo, Jessica, Jennifer, Tawyna, Liv, Camille, Karen, Danielle, and so many more I can’t think of at the top of my head. I’m hopeless!** LIKE VANESSA!***

So while all the other pregnant women of the world indulge in the wonderment of baby growing, baby glowing, and all things special within these 9 months of expansion, I’ll be counting the days until I can serve an eviction notice upon my unborn child because quite frankly, I miss myself. But hey, at least I'm getting a little baby, right?

With the man that did this to me
*Once the swelling goes down, I'm left with 6 brand new pairs of shoes that are two sizes too big. But of course.
**This makes 3 posts, so I'm celebrating with pie. 
***Couldn't be more embarrassed I forgot Vanessa. Aw fuck.