New Year's Resolutions

2012-- What a crazy year.  Exactly one year ago I was sitting with my husband in a small NYC apartment actually stating out loud that it might be time to leave our beautiful city for an easier lifestyle.  One that included a few hundred more square feet, a 3rd bedroom and a washing machine.  After much discussion, much city hunting, many tears, many mixed emotions and a few hysterical breakdowns, we made it happen.  We packed up our family and moved from NYC to SC (which I keep writing about because it still seems surreal to see it on the screen before my eyes).  I would absolutely say that this fact is the biggest thing that happened to me in the last 12 months.  As simple as it really was to move (and as much as I wanted to ease up on the insanity of big city living), it was definitely a defining moment for the next several years of my life.  That one event has changed the trajectory of my future.... 

So- I have some really specific goals for 2013.  I just turned 34 and I'm beginning to realize that if I want to fulfill some life dreams, I need to start mapping out a detailed plan to make it happen.  If I can find time to read Perez Hilton every day, I can certainly find time to do a few sit-ups and pushups.  

I'm putting my goals on here so I will feel even more accountable.  If I continue to put them in writing, maybe I will actually focus all my spare time into accomplishing a few easy things.  If I can get through these things, I can actually start dreaming about my apartment in Paris.

1. Music teaching business- I want at least 3-4 students by the end of March.  I need to do a lot of advertising and research on my end but the goal is 3-4 weekly students in 3 months time.  I need to work on this every single day.

2. Out of debt- I want 2013 to be the year we get out of debt.  We only have 1 credit card left to tackle and I want it gone from my life by December 31st, 2013.

3. Writing-- I don't want my hobby of writing to distract me from the teaching business so my goal is to write one post a week on this blog.  It might be a dumb story or a quick anecdote but it will be mine.

4. Health- I want to stick to our diet and find time to exercise every single week.  I want to learn 1-2 new dinner recipes because things are getting a little repetitive in the evenings.  

My goals are now out there- I don't want to give up chocolate or lose 10 pounds or anything like that.  I want to build a life I'm proud of and that is balanced.  I want to stop reading gossip about celebrities- it's rotting my soul (and truthfully, now that Kim Kardashian is pregnant, I think it will be extremely easy for me to turn all that shit off).  I don't want to watch reruns of Top Gear or old sitcoms- I want to read novels that are inspiring.  I don't want to starve myself on crazy diets that I can't make last more than 72 hours-- I want to eat cookies or pasta when I want but in moderation.  I don't want to have a full time job away from my kids- but I do want to build a small business that allows me to be creative, earn a bit of money and use that other part of my brain.  And- I still want to discover my writing voice- but I won't allow it to be my new distraction so I don't focus on the business.  

So- I've cleaned out my head.  I've said it all.  If I could accomplish all this stuff- then in 1 year, I could be really proud of my progress.  For now, I'm going to drink my glass of wine, read my book "How to be a Woman" by Caitlin Moran (utterly fabulous!!) and ring in the new year watching my husband yell at football on tv.  

Cruises

I have a Life Bucket List that is 20 pages thick.  Sometimes it's intimidating to think about all the things I want to accomplish and experience in my few short years.  I start looking at the list.....and then promptly eat a Xmas cookie and watch House Hunters International or Downton Abbey reruns and go to bed far too late again.

So- I've decided to think about one thing I never ever want to do-- almost like I'm crossing it off the life list so I can feel like there's one less thing in the world for me to knock out.  I never, ever, ever, under no condition or circumstance, ever want to take a vacation cruise.  I've never been and never want to go.

I like boats.  I like the water.  I like traveling.  I've been on two dinner cruises-- one was surprisingly amazing and the other was utterly horrible.  We booked a touristy dinner cruise in Paris on our honeymoon and was fantastic.  You get to the dock after walking down a quaint street to quaint stairs and wander down the Seine until you find your boat.  We were the cheesy newlyweds who rushed to the front of the boat to grab a table so we could get the best view and feel like we were alone.  We figured the food would be barely edible at best.....and I had one of the best steaks I've ever had.  All of Paris's sites are situated on the water front so we got to see so many amazing sites without moving a muscle.  And- we totally ate up the cheesy, touristy fabulousness of watching the Eiffel Tower light up at dusk.  Perfect dinner cruise.

To relive the feeling, I booked a dinner cruise for my husband's birthday in Washington, DC.  Totally different night.  No offense to the truly dangerous parts of DC, but we parked in a fairly trashy neighborhood and quickly walked from our car to the dock anxiously looking over our shoulders because the shady neighborhoods in DC are always a little too quiet..... The boat was packed and it was a four hour cruise---it took us five minutes to realize that nothing in DC worth marveling at was on the water front.  You basically float south and see a few lights from the highway and a power plant or something.  The food was terrible- I think it was a buffet of soggy noodles and barely recognizable meat.  The wine was the cheap wine that gives you a headache when you are just reading the label.  The tables were an inch apart.  They had horrible music playing and a small dance floor for the wilder patrons.  At one point in the night I turned to my husband and said "I feel like we are at a wedding and we don't know anyone and the party is long over and I can't leave unless I jump overboard."  We were the first people off the boat that night.

So- I don't want to go on an actual cruise for a week.  I don't want to be stuck in a small room (I've lived in NYC- been there, done that), I don't want to meet new people every night at dinner at some big round table (I want to relax and barely talk to my husband if I so choose), I don't want to lay on a deck of some boat or play games.  I don't want to dock at an island I want to explore and have a curfew.  I don't want to get food poisoning (I know this can happen anywhere but I don't want to be sick on a boat).  I enjoy a good drink now and again and I'm a clumsy person...I don't want to fall overboard.  These are just the basic concerns.  But the big one is this: I never again want to plan for a fun event and feel like I'm stuck at a stranger's terrible wedding...and that I have to swim my way out of it to make it end.

I'll stick with the Parisian dinner cruise or an island getaway.

Belts

I have come to realize that I will never own more than two belts- one black and one brown.  If I only have 2 dollars to my name or 200,000, I will only have 2 in my drawer.  I literally never think to buy them.  The sad truth is that I wear a belt almost every day and I will wear them until they are ridiculously falling apart.  I will only ever buy one when the hole for the clasp rips completely and is beyond repair.  Then, I'll consider driving to the nearest store to pick one up...but only if it is extremely convenient.

I have absolutely no idea why I have an issue with belts.  I just never think of them.  They always seem really expensive and I can convince myself that I don't really need one.  I never think of them as an accessory that can add to an outfit....to me, they are completely utilitarian.  I need a belt to hold up my pants..period.

Well- I've lost a bit of weight recently due to this Paleo diet thing we've been doing for the last 6 months.  So now belts are a huge part of my attire.  Still only own 2 though.  I think I may need to reconsider my belt situation and get a 3rd for backup.

Or- I could just start an adult clothing line featuring the adjustable waist pants that are so popular with kids and eliminate the need to ever think about belts again.

Empty/Full

I have to take my son to preschool tomorrow morning and I'm scared.  Really really scared.  When I lived in NYC on 9/11, I was scared and shaken and it changed me.  I cried and watched the news every moment I could for weeks.  It still hits me like a fist to the stomach once in awhile.  But- this is different.  I'm always shaken and scared when an act of random, evil violence invades our society.  But- this is different.  

I have a four year old son who wakes up every day asking me what we are doing, where are we going, who are we going to see, what are we going to eat.....the sheer joy of living is what greets me everyday (albeit a little on the early side sometimes).  My 16 month old daughter already shows off a fiercely delightful sense of humor and cracks herself up all the time.  She wants to do whatever her big brother does and is prone to giving random bear hugs all day long.  So- even though they often wear me out with their 'delight,' I'm surrounded by love and beauty every day.  Every. single. day.

I don't know how to be a good mother.  I don't know how to be a good grown up.  I don't know how to be a strong leader.  I don't know how to stop feeling the sheer pain, terror, panic and sadness that I feel.  I don't know how to teach my son to be strong and brave and opinionated and human when I'm so scared.  I don't know how to deal with the anger I will feel in a few weeks when I've dealt with the initial fear and 'moved on' and then I remember it all again.  

I'm scared that I will walk into my son's preschool tomorrow and demand to see how they are going to better secure the building.  I'm scared I won't be able to leave him there while I go Christmas shopping with my daughter.  I'm scared I won't be able to go into a store.  I'm scared I will sit in the parking lot for 3 hours watching and waiting with Cheerios in hand for my daughter- so my son can have a normal, happy Monday and I can feel like I'm doing something to keep him safe.  

I'm not sure how to move past this.  I'm not sure how to be brave and strong and human.  I'm not sure how to equip my children with all they need to know while allowing them to enjoy being babies and allow me to enjoy the wonder and sheer magic of motherhood.  I know that when I asked my son for a hug every other second last Friday- he didn't hesitate-- he got that something was sad and he could hug me and make it better.  

I'm so sad....and so scared....but I will take my son to school tomorrow.  I won't be able to bear it but I'll do it.  And I'll hug him no less than 30 times and tell him I love him with every ounce of my soul.  

Sirens

An event occurred last night sums up what it is like to leave one life behind and try to embrace a new one.  

As my husband and I were putting the kids to bed, we heard a fire truck siren.  I turned to my husband and said "Ahh, reminds me of home."  I was referring to the fact that just two months ago we were living in Manhattan and heard fire truck sirens, police cars and ambulances on an hourly basis.  They were responding to the stabbing at the corner (seriously) or a suspicious subway gas smell or a pedestrian who got hit by a car.  We got so immune to the siren sounds that we never looked out the window or were curious or concerned....just our way of life.  I only ever noticed them when someone was visiting from out of town and they would get really worried when they heard the noises and we would just shrug.

Last night, the fire truck siren grew louder and louder and was taking a long time to pass our house.  We actually became concerned that something was happening on our block-- maybe the 430 blow up Christmas figures or strings of lights at our next door neighbor's house had caught on fire.  So- we opened the blinds........and what do we see?!!?!!  We see the fire truck slowly coming down the street.....with Santa on top of the truck--- all lit up--- waving to each house as he went by.  A real live Santa saying hello to the kids.  

My son about flipped out.  He lay in bed beaming after that for 10 minutes and was so excited.

My life has really changed.....in the strangest of ways.  

Rash

My daughter has a rash all over her belly and back.  It's not painful, doesn't itch and isn't bothering her in any way-just the end of a virus.  But- I feel so bad for her because I think she might be cursed with my skin.....and my bizarre skin rashes.

Let me explain (and properly disgust all):  I get rashes.  Not every day, not from food, not from weather, not from anything in particular....I just get rashes.  And- I'm extremely pale skinned....I glow in the dark.  So- when I get a rash....it's obvious.  The only thing that I can pinpoint is that I get them when I get outrageously stressed out.

Years ago, I got a full body (and I mean full body) rash when I was moving apartments in NYC.  For some reason, I was a wreck.  I looked like a freak show until the day after the move-- then I woke up with Heidi Klum skin.  So weird.  I'm allergic to something that is used in face products but have never been able to find out what ingredient it is.  Right after giving birth to my daughter, I just wanted to feel pretty.  I bought a little tube of under eye cream at Sephora and lathered it on.  Three hours later, I looked like someone had burned me with a cigarette under both eyes-- my skin became inflamed, puffy and bright red.  So much for feeling beautiful after childbirth.  Nine months later, we took a family trip to Aruba and I was treated to a surprise spa morning.  I got a facial......and promptly had an allergic reaction.  My eyes exploded- they were red and puffy and I looked like a giant mosquito.  I couldn't wear contacts so I was sporting glasses poolside, loaded up with Benadryl and Margaritas-- I'm lucky I didn't get arrested.  I could go on and on with little gems like these.

But-- the one that takes the cake is my honeymoon rash.  Thankfully, by the grace of God, Allah, Buddha, whatever, I didn't get a rash on my wedding day.  I looked fabulous!  The rash descended the day our honeymoon started.  We were in Paris, late May, and they were experiencing a bizarre heat wave.  Our suitcases were packed with sweaters, coats and long pants and it was over 105 every single day we were there.  The first day there, we made a dash for the nearest Gap and bought out the store.  So- I was sightseeing and sweating and rubbing my arms on my sides all day long in the some of the worst heat I've ever dealt with.  By the end of day two, the underside of my arms and sides (most prominently my arm pits) were completely red, swollen and TOTALLY COVERED in painful, hideous bumps....or welts - to be more accurate.  We would get back to our hotel at the end of seeing the Eiffel Tower and Napoleon's tomb and I would lay on the bed while my lovely new husband would cover my arms and sides with ice cold wash cloths.....over and over.  Totally romantic right?!?!  Just writing about this makes me cringe in pain because I still remember the agony of it all.

Somehow- we are still married and it is a bit of a joke now.  At least we know when I'm overwhelmed and need a 'Christina' break.  So- if you see me and I look like I have chicken pox, I suggest you steer clear.....cause I'm about to blow!

Katherine...er....

Many years ago, while aspiring to be an actress/singer in Manhattan, I was really a waitress at Carmines (a semi-famous, past its prime restaurant on the Upper West Side- not even the really famous one in Times Square).  I made really great money even though I was only the second woman they ever hired on the floor (which had its own unique set of problems) and I spent a lot of time wishing that certain waiters would stop doing coke in the bathroom (while secretly wishing that the really lunatic ones would snort a line so they would be appear more normal).  I could write thirty blogs telling stories about the inner workings of a Manhattan restaurant-including the day the basement storage area flooded with backed up sewage from the hotel above, or my soon-to-be good friend who asked me to marry him over and over to get his green card (I toyed with the idea but he only offered $10,000-- I was holding out for more).

But- once in awhile - when I hear the name "Katherine," I get especially nostalgic.  There was an older bartender who was utterly, completely, madly and whole-heartedly convinced that my name was Katherine.  Let me remind you- there were only two women in the whole place....you'd think we'd stand out a bit.  Nope.  I was Katherine.  I spent the better part of a year trying to tell him (without embarrassing him) that my name was Christina.

Christina: printed on every single cocktail order receipt that hit the bar.  Christina- the name everyone else called me in front of him.  I staged interventions: I would stand by the far end of the bar and have another waiter call out for me -- right where he could hear--- they would say my name like ten times......never worked.  Everyone in the restaurant was in on it....and we never told him.  There was even that random time where OUT OF NOWHERE-- he called me Christina!!!  Let the angels sing!!!  The man got it!!  Then........"Katherine" not five minutes later.  Eventually I had to take some personal time to think about what's in a name?  Like frigging Romeo and Juliet.....a name is really just a way to distinguish yourself from the next person...so I knew I was Katherine to him and left it at that.

The best was when my parents came to town and we wanted to take advantage of my staff discount.  We bellied up to the bar and ordered a few drinks from the bartender while we waited on our table.  He chatted with my dad forever and talked me up (so sweet).  We had a great twenty minutes.  When our table was called, my mom got up to grab it and my dad and I stayed behind to pay the bar tab.  As we were hopping up, the bartender called out "Have a great dinner, Katherine!"  My dad completely stopped walking and spun his head towards me-confused.  "Dad, keep walking, just keep walking, I'll explain at the table."  I didn't want my dad to blow my cover.

Months and months later, the bartender (whose name I can't remember) finally got schooled by a busboy from Ecuador when he kept telling him to find Katherine and this frazzled fifteen year old looked like he was going to cry....because he didn't know who the hell this guy was talking about.  Awkward, bizarre and hilarious apology followed minutes later.

I need to go shopping

For the last five plus years, I’ve either been trying to get pregnant, been pregnant or trying to NOT look pregnant.  I feel like I’ve been living in a sandbox- from actually being a sandbox at the park or trying to vacuum up the sand that traveled back to our apartment.  I’ve changed hundreds of diapers on the sticky floor of small NYC bathrooms because the restaurant was too cool to have a pull down changing table.  If I haven’t been wiping someone’s butt, I’ve been cleaning pee from around the toilet at home because my son gets distracted and pees….all over the wall.  My shirts have become an instant tissue for all small noses.  My cooking now consists of grilled cheese, pasta and….pasta with cheese.  I haven’t slept through the night since 2009.  I spend the better part of my day tying shoelaces, putting on helmets, trying to figure out where the poop smell is coming from and somehow trying to stay dry while giving two kids a nightly bath.

So—imagine my delight when my husband and I made the decision that we were done having babies and wanted to focus on the two we have with whatever ounce of sanity we each have left.  True- I’m sad that I’m done experiencing the joy of that new presence in my belly, the beautiful daydreams I had wondering what my children would look like and the ridiculous bliss of holding my newborn babies while they slept in my arms.  But- I’m not going to miss the swollen feet or horrible varicose veins that exploded on my calf (still disgusting to this day), the morning sickness, the pain of child birth and crying/hallucinating on the bathroom floor after the umpteenth night in a row of less than 2 consecutive hours of sleep. 

I haven’t put a lick of time into thinking about my clothing selections in these last five years.  Before I was pregnant, I was thinking about getting pregnant….so I didn’t shop.  Once I was pregnant, I lived in 4 outfits from Target Maternity.  After my first pregnancy, I wore whichever bottoms I could button with whichever shirt masked the mommy belly straining over the top of the pants.  I knew we would try for another baby so I didn’t shop.  Pregnancy number two—start all over.

Now, here I am….done with baby making and I’m starting to pick my head up out of the sand and am checking out the sad situation which is….my closet.  And, lucky me- due to a recent diet change at our household- I’ve lost an extra 6-7 pounds from my pre-baby weight.  I look pretty good (all things considered).  But- nothing fits.  I mean absolutely nothing.  I have jeans that fit just recently and now look like clown pants. My new party trick is that I button my pants, clasp a belt around my waist and still pull my jeans off without undoing anything.  The pants get all bunched so I look like I’m wearing a deflated balloon tucked under the belt.  After years of washing, every shirt I own is stretched and stained in some weird spot because of baby hands on me all day.  We recently went to visit friends’ overnight and I realized in the car on the way there that my shirt had a giant hole in it but since it was black and my bra was black, I could get away with it for the night.  Worse than that, my skirt (which oddly seemed to fit fine that morning) was so loose- I had to hold it up the rest of the evening when I walked....or it would literally fall down.  I’m a disaster.

I’ve felt at war with my body for the last few years because I feel like I donated it to procreation for a bit…but I want it back.  I’m glad I lost weight and feel good but I want to look good again.  I don’t want to look like a woman who got her clothes out of a dumpster….circa 1998.  (I’m still wearing a pair of sweat pants from high school—I mean- I even disgust myself)  I want some pants that fit – that I can wear in a sandbox….and wear later on a date with my man. 

This entire post could have been much shorter—I should have just said:

“I need to go shopping….”

Radio

I need someone to explain to me what is wrong with radio stations.....there has to be a logical explanation that I don't understand.  Why does each station have 30 or so songs they are allowed to play....and that's it?  About 15 current 'hits' and about 15 'hits' from the 90s.  I'm guessing it has something to do with paying for the rights to play certain songs and it's expensive so they only play a few but it's awful.  Just awful.

I've been driving and listening to the radio again these past two months and am just amazed.  I never thought I'd hear Stone Temple Pilots or Rage Against the Machine ever again or played with such vigor.  And sadly- it's only one song from each band that they play.  I actually got excited the other day when I heard the Spin Doctors (which are easily my least favorite band) because it was the first song in an hour that didn't feature Rihanna.  (I don't even mind Rihanna but I don't want to listen to anyone day in and out every five minutes).

And, Everclear (I mean really) sandwiched between Nirvana's "Smells Like Teen Spirit" and Bruno Mars "Locked Out of Heaven" (which I liked the first 457 times....not anymore) on an easy listening station.... I was looking for a Stevie tune, Carly Simon or even John Lennon but instead got my daughter clapping in the backseat to Kurt Cobain.  Not what I was expecting.

I feel like there is so much great music being made nowadays that deserves a bit of attention.  And there is so much older music from the past few decades that would be lovely hear on my way to the grocery store.  I wish one radio station would go back into the business of surprising their listeners..and offering something unique like an enjoyable musical journey.

Time

I keep running out of time.  I keep wanting to think of a new post and then I'm asleep on the couch.  I worked for a bit last night on a post --but I copied and pasted a number of things for the internet and then it wouldn't copy properly to the blog.....really irritating.  So I chunked the whole thing (I didn't like it that much anyway).

Earlier today, when my son was at preschool, my daughter clung to me like a koala bear the entire morning.  She is a bit under the weather and had some vaccinations & flu shot yesterday.....so there was my morning.

Every day- my son has at least one hysterical breakdown.  Today's was epic.  We got home from preschool and he wanted cereal for lunch.  Not the best lunch ever but at least it was something.  I put his mini wheats in a bowl with milk and he just lost it.  Absolutely lost it.  He wanted chocolate milk on his cereal.  Since that would be disgusting, I poured him a glass of chocolate milk....which proved unsatisfactory so he threw it onto the ground.  He tried to leave in a huff to watch tv so I beat him to the other room and turned the tv off.  He stormed into the kitchen, took his full bowl of cereal and threw it across the kitchen---- milk and soggy mini wheats everywhere.  I mean everywhere.  So that happened.

I will say that he is very quietly playing by himself now.....after an hour in time out.  And- he ate his peanut butter sandwich without a word when he came back downstairs.  Just exhausting.

Aside from the blog (which is really for fun), I'm also trying to start a music teaching business (for voice and piano students).  I'm terrified because I want to be really, really good at it.  I want to be really prepared and organized and energized....but have no time due to the temper tantrums, koala bear hugging and down right tiredness.  I guess I need to start rallying around 9 PM each night to work and get some things organized while every young thing in our house is asleep.

By the way-- does anyone else have a kid's toy that involves this moon dough stuff?  It's like a powdery, molding dough that never dries out and can be manipulated into a million shapes.......it's fantastic for kids and terrible for clean up.  I've been picking pieces of it up in my house for the last hour and it's still everywhere.

Well-- 2nd kid is up from their nap....time for the next chapter of fun to begin!

Why?

Why does my daughter like to hit the on/off button on the tv over and over again each day?
Why does any tv manufacturer put the on/off button on the lower portion of the tv?
Why does another Xmas roll around and I still have zero ideas for my dad?
Why did I never travel abroad in college?
Why do I still worry about trivial things.....like mom belly or flossing?
Why do I still read Perez Hilton's website?  I really don't care who Taylor Swift is dating.
Why is my favorite time of day laying in bed at night with my son?
Why do my children's feet grow so fast?  I'm always buying new shoes.
Why am I constantly thinking of ways to add just one more thing into my day?
Why am I always doing laundry?  I didn't know we were a terribly dirty family.
Why am I always just on the wrong side of well rested?
Why do I hurry through books and movies just to get to the next one?
Why do I sleep better on my stomach?
Why do I still love Jeff Buckley as if I just discovered him?
Why do I love the movie PS I Love You....oh wait, Harry Connick Jr, Gerard Butler and Jeffrey Dean Morgan....yeah --that's why.


Why does my son ask the same question every day over and over and over and over.......'why?'

Sometimes I think I'm going crazy because of that one word.....why....

Skipping school

So- I have to share this funny story--well I think it's funny anyway... and I hope I'm able to enact the statute of limitations for bad high school behavior because my mom reads this blog.....

I thought I was a big rebel high schooler because I figured out a way to skip school once in awhile without getting caught.  One would think I would skip school to do really scandalous activities.....like smoke in the woods behind the football field, make out with a boy or try elicit drugs.  Unfortunately, none of these things ever happened (would have made for a better story).  I skipped school mostly to avoid going to mandatory pep rallies, be an extra in an independent movie being filmed in town when I was too young to legally do it or go to a coffee shop near NC State.  Yup-- that was my entire agenda.....drink an iced latte near a 22 year old Art History major and buy used books at noon on a Tuesday.

Side note- I've never smoked a cigarette, never smoked pot (so never tried anything more shocking) and never drank an entire beer until the end of freshman year of college.  Of course, after that first beer, I had to stumble around this house party like I'd had four shots of Jagermeister and half a keg of beer when, in reality, I just felt really full and bloated.  I have to say that I'm even embarrassed now by my blatant un-coolness.... 

So- best day of skipping school ever......my friend Jessica was home sick.  While home, she heard about this independent film that was shooting around town that needed extras for a street scene.  Knowing this would be right up my alley, Jessica popped into school during my lunch break and found me sitting in the courtyard.  Schemers that we were, we devised a plan that she would pull up to this roundabout drive that was near the back exit to the auditorium and pick me up.  I just had to wait for her car, nonchalantly walk out the door, saunter to her car like it was totally normal and we would drive away....totally normal.

When you involve me, especially 15 year old me, in a stealthy plan, it always becomes ridiculous.  I'm hanging out by the back door and see Jessica pull up....just like we planned.  I open the heavy door and start to walk normally to her car.  But- just as I take my first few steps, I start to panic.  It's like I think the gates of hell are going to open up and suck me to the base of Purgatory in the parking lot- because the universe really gives a crap that I don't want to go to 5th period Geometry.  So- what do I do?  I break out into a full marathon sprint....I run....and run....and run as fast I can with 40 pounds of text books in my backpack banging into my back.  Jessica, clearly startled by my frantic running and assuming I'm being chased by a pack of starving cheetahs, throws open the passenger door and I leap in.  

So- here I am- crouched in her front seat sideways, facing Jessica, book bag jammed halfway outside, trying to reach behind me to pull the door shut, yelling at Jessica to go....."GO! GO!!  JUST GO!!!!!"  She clearly doesn't understand the urgency is 'Christina' induced and utterly imaginary...so she does what any normal 16 year old would do....she guns it.  We fly out of that parking lot like Thelma & Louise- her gripping the wheel (she totally should have had driving gloves) and me still trying to get the door shut.  We get about two blocks from school when Jessica has to pull over because she puts together that I'm a complete moron and I'm fairly sure she peed in her pants from laughing until she couldn't breathe at my scaredy cat ass.  

The best part was, after we stopped laughing hysterically ten minutes later, I realized that the entire packed cafeteria (not to mention the principal's office) had a clear view of my escape route and either laughed as hard as we did or were worriedly wondering who was chasing that poor girl through the parking lot.  Not sure it's funny to anyone but me....but almost (ALMOST) 20 years later and I still laugh out loud at that car ride.  

Christmas tree

Tis the season!

We bought our Xmas tree today.  What a fiasco.  I don't think anyone with small children should be required to bring along their wee ones for the tree purchasing.  We were there for all of five minutes but they were the most stressful five minutes of my weekend.

Small children dodging in between rows of trees- dodging in and out of sight-- too stressful.  We picked the closest tree to our car for utter ease but forgot that the rugged tree men have to cut the stump and wrap it up for you.  So, we trekked across the parking lot (moved on from curb side NYC shopping to parking lot shopping-- much more suburban) and watched as they cut our tree.  My son, thinking this was the coolest thing ever, kept finding the shavings from the bottom of the last few trees that conveniently make hard frisbees and proceeded to throw them (with surprisingly accurate aim) at the chainsaw.  Not one to be undone, our daughter was drawn to the whirring of the chainsaw and kept walking towards it in a trance (much like the little girl in Poltergeist keeps getting sucked into the tv-- damn that movie still scares the crap out of me).  So- we got to be the family wrapped in holiday cheer.....arguing about who is/isn't watching the kiddos.

And- decorating the tree....I mean... what a joke.  I put the ornaments low and my daughter pulled each one off as I turned away.  If I put them high, she reached up and tried to yank the tree on top of herself.  We hung the stockings by the chimney with care.....and both kids climbed onto the base of the mantle and tried to pull them down.  So- now only the top half of our tree is decorated and the stockings are in a heap on top of the mantle.  So much for decorating.

My guess is I will be sooo tired of keeping the kids away from the tree for the next few weeks that it will end up in our backyard around noon on December 25th.  Or- more probable- before the end of the week our dog will try to drink the tree water, eat one of the musical Santa ornaments while it's singing "Jingle Bells" for the umpteenth time or mark his territory/dominance by peeing on the lower branches.

Boy.... I can't wait.

End of pregnancy

I was looking for photos today for our holiday card and got completely distracted by old pictures on the computer.  Some old photos were charming and a nice surprise....ones of my daughter as a tiny baby just 15 months ago, ones of my son dancing, etc.  But- there were a few I came across that I really wish I hadn't seen.  Particularly the ones during the end of my 2nd pregnancy.

It was August....in NYC....hot....sticky....humid...and I was past my due date....barely able to walk to the corner and back with the dog.  I was utterly miserable.  Yet, during all the misery, I still thought I looked somewhat cute.  Hmmmmm...someone should have told me.

I thought I looked like this everyday:

Or maybe even as tough as this:

Sadly....no.  This is really what I looked like every single day:

I wore the hell out of that green stretchy shirt....like several times a week....because I thought it looked good on me.  In actuality, with the green shirt and the swollen ankles, I looked like the lead in Shrek the Musical that they let walk around Manhattan in costume to drive up ticket sales.  (Note....10 hours after this picture was taken I gave birth so this is about as horrendous as it got....but still- you'd think my lovely husband would have told me to hit up Target Maternity one more time).

Now on to finding cute pictures of the kids......

Annie/Ani

Just a small note- I was looking through my music today and came upon my Ani Difranco tunes.  I haven't listened to her in a long time but she was my favorite musician for years.  I was reminded how I started listening to her in high school and my friend Emily and I went to see her a small club in Raleigh.   (hands down the best live music experience I've ever had).  I didn't know anyone else who listened to her and I thought I was soooo cool seeing her.  But- this was before the internet and information about bands/musicians I liked was only really found in magazines and on late night MTV.

SO- I thought that her name was pronounced ANNIE Difranco-- not Ahhhh ni.  While we were standing in line, freezing, waiting to be let in the club, all the other women in line (this was before Ani's Spin magazine cover so her audiences were still all women at that time) were talking about Ani.  But- I thought they were saying Yanni....as in the Greek New Age musician.  I couldn't for the life of me figure out why a bunch of women who were waiting in the cold to see this totally original, punk/folk fabulous female force perform were also die-hard fans of Yanni.  Made no sense to me....thankfully I was schooled quickly before I made an utter fool of myself.

Sometimes I'm so cool, I can't even keep up with my own coolness.......

Breaking Bad

I've been ridiculously distracted lately by something.  It's taking me away from my kids (who are playing cars at my feet right now), taking me away from husband at night after the kids are asleep (usually our time together) and is keeping me up at night.  I think about it all the time and I'm not sure when this obsession will end.  "Breaking Bad," the AMC tv show, is deliciously destroying my life- one episode at a time.

I know many of you reading this are going to think I'm lame, laugh at me and wonder where I've been for five years.  I know it's so much cooler to fall in love with something at the beginning and champion it the entire time.  It's as if I'm starting to talk about this great drama "Mash" or who knew how great Ted Danson was in "Cheers!"  Friends whose creative opinions I greatly respect (talking to you Justis) have been begging me to watch this show for ages.  In my defense, I have two small children and barely keep up with potty training, diapers and making my 30th grilled cheese sandwich of the week.  In the past 4 years, I've had one-exactly one- night kid free.  So- popping in a five season show is really daunting.......

I feel like I devour books, movies, tv shows, music-- always searching for something.  I've written about it before- a 3 second clip in a movie that just nails it, a quote by Maya Angelou that I think about for weeks, hearing Patty Griffin sing "Up to the Mountain" the first time---- just perfection.  Those little things keep me searching for more.  I've fallen in love with a few TV shows over the years for differing reasons.  The original, never to be replicated, British tv show "The Office" was one of those shows.  One episode in I thought it was filth.  Second episode in I thought it had a few moments that were good.  By the third episode, I became obsessed.  I think that's absolutely the best comedy that's ever been on tv.  (I casually passed by a lot of celebrities during my years in NYC but I nearly lost it when Ricky Gervais smiled at me in Central Park one day-- he has no idea how close he came to being attacked).

Other hits (for me, only for me) were the four seasons of the British "Coupling"-- not the best show ever but I could watch it over and over and over and laugh every single time.  It just hits my humor button!  Also loved the British "Shameless" show (never seen the new US version)- totally surprising and horrifyingly funny.  And I can't talk about British TV (SIDE NOTE: not sure if I'm supposed to capitalize British/british or TV/tv) without mentioning "Downton Abbey."  I mean-- where did that show come from and why is it sooooooo perfect?!?!  I love shows that delight me.

As for US shows, I lived in NYC as a single twenty something in the early 2000s......I have to mention "Sex and the City."  That took what I thought TV could do to a new level.  It was annoying to see 4 women who never seemed to work eating at fabulous restaurants, having fabulous apartments and having boyfriends like John Corbett but it was still delicious.  (side note-- I never dated a man who looked like John Corbett while living in NYC....or ever actually).  And I've loved "Mad Men" for a long time too.  (incidentally- Jon Hamm lived in a building near us in NYC-- I always seemed to walk the dog past there....yet only saw him once at a children's playground....go figure).  

Now-- "Breaking Bad."  I don't really have anything profoundly unique to say...but I feel like I watched all that other tv just to find this gem.  It is absolutely the best show that's ever been on tv....and I'm fairly certain it will remain the best show ever.  A few episodes in-- I could have left it.  It didn't hook me until the very end of Season 1.  Then, all of sudden, I was done.  It combines everything: guns, drugs, action scenes, suspense, complicated love, honor, family, a baby and the absolute best acting ever done on TV.  They don't hit you over the head with anything....but it's all there.  And the best thing.....I've only just finished Season 2.  I still have 3 more delectable seasons to watch.  I'm so thankful that I have friends who insist on telling me what's good so I don't have to filter through the bad shows to find something like this.

So- I may not be able to blog much before I'm through, feed my kids, the dog will gain 10 pounds due to lack of exercise, my husband will think I left him, I certainly can't Xmas shop or return phone calls......but I'm hooked.  Totally' searching for the vein drug addict' hooked on this show.  AHHH!

NYC pics

I've been trying to think of something to write about all day....and I've come up with nothing.  I start typing and then I bore myself silly.  So- I've decided to post a few pictures instead.

As it's well known now, we just moved.  I'm actually really happy we moved.  I don't miss a lot about NYC-- I don't miss carrying my heavy bags of groceries in the rain while pushing a stroller with 2 tired, cranky kids.  I don't miss the daily surprises that the homeless shelter next door introduced or having to hear the nest of rats mating at night in our ceiling.  I don't miss a really small apartment with a really big rent check attached.  I don't miss being far away from our families.  I don't miss the subway or having to remember which subway stops had working elevators.  But I do miss my favorite stairs in Riverside Park.  I love these stairs that curve just slightly as they lead to the river - especially at sunset...

I don't miss having to figure out the quickest yet cheapest way to get from our Upper West Side apartment to the East Village for dinner (or having to pay a babysitter crazy bucks for the night) but I totally miss our favorite Italian restaurant.  The food wasn't spectacular but I loved going to a spot where the waiters remembered us from 2001 and we had sat at every table in every room.  I love that they had complimentary mussels at the bar and that they had a quiet outdoor area in the back with just a few tables.  

I love that a typical girls night out involved Broadway shows like "Once" and Thai food in Hells Kitchen.

I love that this bar looks like nothing but it is so fabulous.  Granted- each cocktail is over $20/each but they take about 15 minutes to make each one and they are made completely from scratch.  I've had a few of the best drinks there (although wouldn't go there that often because who really needs vodka for $25 bucks a sip).

I don't miss the wind off the river or crazy fast bikers speeding past you all the time but I absolutely miss my runs by the Hudson River.....nothing like it.

I don't miss NYC but I do miss the spots that I felt belonged to me.  I hope that in a few months I can post a few pictures of my new town that I like just as much.

What the f*&^ did he just say?

There was a time, not so long ago, that I cursed like it was my job.  My husband did too.  Truth- we still fight this terrible habit every day and usually win unless someone pees on the floor, we have to hang something on the wall or there's a lego lodged in our dog's throat.  My wonderful, lovely son has learned sooo much from us....including a few choice words.

This time last year, when my son was nearing his third birthday, I thought I caught him say the F word.  He was playing by himself and he said it in this very exhausted, annoyed, I've given up kind of way.....much the way I use used to use it.  As in, "My Lightning McQueen car has run out of gas......ahhhhh fu**...." (My husband's version has a lot more explosive passion when used.)  I wasn't entirely sure I had heard him right so I pretended it didn't happen.

As the day went on, I absolutely heard it multiple times...used in the mommy way and then used in the daddy way.  I. Was. Horrified.  I had no idea what to do so I completely ignored it until my husband got home.  We talked it over and came to this conclusion....we would never, ever, ever use that word again (yeah-- that rule stuck) and we would ignore it instead of drawing attention to it for a week to see if he stopped using it on his own.

Ignoring it was ridiculous-- our son used it every day all day.  The highlight of the week was buying our Christmas tree.  Being the New Yorkers that we were last year, we bought our Christmas tree at the corner bodega on our street.  We checked out each tree on a small strip of sidewalk as busy locals squeezed by on the their way to and fro.  Our son started dancing and jumping up and down singing a new song he had just made up on the spot.  The song had one word......fu**.  He was singing it at the top of his lungs, bouncing around each tree and every person, festively gracing the neighborhood with his vocal ability-entertaining and alarming one and all.

When we got home, my husband and my innocent son had a long talk.  He was told to never use it again.  Every time he used it the rest of the weekend, he was sent to his room.  He was confused and upset and couldn't really put it all together.  It was easily complicated by my outburst when he asked me for a 'fork' and I misunderstood him.  Poor kid just wanted to eat his pasta.

The last time he dared to use that word was a classic.  My son got scared in the middle of the night and he ended up nestled between my husband and me.  Thankfully, thankfully my husband falls asleep really fast.  But- I was laying there in the dark just starting to drift away.  Out of nowhere....I hear my son whisper....'fuck".....just once, quiet as quiet can be in the dark.  I think it was a little boy way of answering the philosophical question "if a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?"  He was thinking 'if I whisper it in the dark, will anyone hear it, will they think I said it, will it get me in trouble, is the dark a blanket for bad deeds, etc.'  Brilliant if you ask me.  I elbowed him, told him to go to sleep, rolled over on my side and laughed quietly into my pillow for a solid five minutes.

Horse back riding!

One weird fact about me is that I've never been on a horse in my life.  Life ever.  Yet, my nearly 4 year old son has been a pony about 6 times.  I've always told my husband that I wanted to ride one at least once in my life.

We found out that my parents have a good friend and neighbor who has four horses and was excited to let me get my first ride.  So-- yesterday....I rode a horse for the first time.  It was awesome.  The day was gorgeous and I had a nice audience to watch me ride around in a circle.  My husband rode, I took my daughter around and my son rode....twice...all by himself.  He was sooo unfazed.  He's been a horse so many times now- it's no big deal.

Next time I want to actually get up to a trot and maybe ride a trail for a bit-- and by trail I mean 50 yards down the yard and back.... not like a Grand Canyon tour or something.

If you had told me two months ago in NYC that I would be living in suburbia, driving a mini van and excitedly riding a horse on a 65 degree day the weekend of Thanksgiving...I would have laughed, yelled at a car turning in front of me at the crosswalk, complained about the cold wind and trudged home with 2 screaming kids and one too many heavy grocery bags strapped to the handle of our stroller.

*Other bucket list items-- wine infused marathon trip to Italy, design & build our own home, long weekend away with the hubby, create my own bottle of wine, run & survive a marathon, buy one pair of fabulous shoes in France, sleep past 7 AM on a Saturday.....I told my husband that Italy should totally be next!

Holiday week

It's Thanksgiving week and I have no desire to write an entry.  I just finished cleaning our house and doing 4 loads of laundry and I'm tired.  Plus I ate 5 oreo cookies in the last 2 hours and I feel kind of disgusting.  We are traveling early tomorrow for the food festivities.  I'm thankful that my dog had a vet appointment on Monday-- he ate all the fallen cheerios and goldfish off the car floor so I don't have to clean out the car before our road trip.  I'm thankful I'm not cooking a turkey tomorrow...only consuming one.

I'm thankful that my son will have his cousins to play with the next few days because I am sooo tired of playing Candy Land and the money game every day.  He has this money tray that has tons of fake pennies, nickels, dimes, quarters and half dollars nestled next to rows of $1, $5, $10, $20, $50 and $100 dollar bills.  As soon as my daughter goes down for her nap, my son proceeds to take the tray and dump it on the floor....all so we can organize it again.  Every single day.  Over and over.  Looking forward to a two day break from sorting fake money.

I'm thankful we found a dog kennel in town that had an opening for a huge dog 2 weeks before Thanksgiving.  I'm a little tired of wrestling toys from his mouth and always having to remember not to leave any food on the counter-- he can clean a plate of food in 3 seconds flat.

I'm thankful that we will have a few days with my family and that my mom loves to give my kids a bath, loves to feed them, loves to play with them.  I might actually read a magazine and enjoy a glass of wine!  (course-let's be honest-- I always enjoy my glasses of wine).

Happy Thanksgiving!

Something I hope I never have to do

Topic 6:  Something I hope I never have to do.

There are lots of things I hope I never have to do.  I hope I never have to shave my head.  I hope I never have to sleep outside---otherwise known as camping.  (have no idea why people think that is sooo cool-- I'll absolutely stay in a cabin and sit on the porch looking at nature in the morning with a cup of coffee- but sleeping on the ground in a sleeping bag.....no).  I hope to never have to see a doctor about a huge wart on my nose.  I hope to never have to explain myself to a drug lord (I've been watching a lot of Breaking Bad recently and I think this should totally be included).  I hope I never have to find out that my husband has a mistress.  I hope I never have to saw off my arm with a pocket knife like James Franco had to do in that movie about the adventure hiker guy.  I hope I never have to treat a painful body rash days before a fabulous Caribbean vacation.  I hope I never get stuck on a plane with all the cast members of The Real Housewives of every city.

But, let's be honest:  I would wake up in a tent with my shaved head, huge nose wart and pulsating body rash, saw off my arm with fingernails clippers as I hop on a plane with all the housewives while sitting next to my husband's other woman for a  ride to my appointment with the drug lord every single day of my life if it meant that I would never, ever, ever have to lose a child.  There is no other answer.  Period.

Something I hope to do in my life

Day 5/Topic 5: Something I hope to do in my life---- wow.  I could spend an entire month just outlining the top 30 things I want to do.  I feel like this topic lends itself to a list.  So- here goes:

1. I desperately, passionately, secretly, openly and truthfully want to own a home in France.  Negotiable as to whether it is a farm house in Provence or a pied-à-terre in Paris.   I was born in Versailles (just outside of Paris) and have always been drawn to that part of the world.  I just feel like having a home overseas would be such an adventure and would allow me to dream in so many new ways.  And live in so many new ways.  And be excited in so many new ways.  And laugh in so m.....well, you get the point.  (I also understand it would be a huge money-suck but what better way to be financially stressed than to say the following statement - "Christmas gifts were a little smaller this year because I had to repair the 200 year old plumbing at my Parisian apartment near Sacre Coeur")!

2. I want to publish one piece of writing-- even for like $100 bucks.  Just once.  Just to say I was once a paid writer.  And- I could add that $100 bucks to the Parisian apartment fund.

3. I want to raise super fantastic, loving, talented in their own, unique way, considerate, smart, excited, genuine kids who are not afraid of life but want to grab life and shake it just a little harder than I have.  (and maybe they will be rich and famous and help me buy a farm house in Provence)

4.  I want to teach music.  I've been through a lot as an artist and I think I have soooo much to offer to students- especially younger students.  You shouldn't be scared to learn how to play an instrument.  It should be the extra 'lovely' in your life that you look forward to and embrace.  (and maybe I will find a French student who needs help in Europe...with something....that will provide me with an excuse to buy property in France...just to help them of course).

5. I want to wear a really cool scarf - not just because it's freezing outside- but because I've learned how to wear a scarf as an accessory and it doesn't look like I'm trying too hard......and preferably in Paris when I'm apartment hunting.

6. I want to be married for a really really really long time.  Because I love my husband and I love our life and love our squabbles and our children and our future and our passion for figuring it all out.....need to double check that he wants to retire drinking espresso and exploring in France.

7. I want to travel the world... all over...and end up in France.

8. I'd like to read every book on my Amazon wish list (It would help if I quit adding 5 books a week to it), see every movie on my Netflix list (same problem), ride a horse (I know this is an easy fix but I haven't found a chance to ever actually put my butt on a horse- and my son has been on a pony 3 times already), turn off the TV (but I have to catch up on Mad Men & Breaking Bad), get Lasik eye surgery (I think about this every single morning), have a date night with my hubby (gotta make time for that) and take a photography course so I can take really beautiful pictures of my kiddos --- course I hear the lighting in Paris is the best to be found!

9. I'd like to wear a bikini....in public....without horrifying people and small children.  This is a legitimate hope for many mommies.  I'll give it a shot next time I'm in Cannes.

10. I should probably become fluent in French.....for obvious reasons.

Just a few small hopes from a woman in South Carolina who dreams a little bigger than whatever space she happens to be in........

Something I have to forgive someone for

Topic #4:  Something I have to forgive someone for:

I think I've been subconsciously avoiding this question for a few days.  It was far easier to write about forgiving myself- which I thought would be harder- than to think about this topic.  I'm at a certain point in my life where I get that I'm a work in progress and that some days are ugly and some days are perfect and I've grown to accept those triumphs for what they are.  But- it's still hard to think about seeing someone not at their best, negatively affecting you and years later still holding on to that resentment.  It really means that I have to get past it and maybe I'm not ready.  But I can't keep drinking this poison from my past.

So- to the meat of this topic--- I'll be a bit vague so I don't get sued when I'm a widely successful writer.  I had a teacher that worked with me for a long time that I'm now able to recognize as having been emotionally abusive.  It was torture.  The worst part was we worked one and one together and no one else witnessed what I went through.  She told me on a weekly basis that I was terrible.  I was a terrible person, a terrible dresser, an idiot, I needed to lose weight, I was an embarrassment, I had no talent, no one else would work with me because I was so atrocious, etc.......she even pulled my hair one time (the best part was I had this on tape and showed it to my roommate who was horrified).  The most amazing thing was that this teacher had so broken me down that I actually spent a few years of my life trying to win back the affection I so desperately wanted...instead of focusing on the people around me who felt differently from this teacher.  So many other people told me such amazing, positive things about myself but it was always tainted by the abusive comments that were thrown at me weekly.  

The best day was one of the last days I worked with this teacher-- this was literally said this to me, "Christina, I owe you an apology.  I have never treated another student as badly as I treated you.  I have no idea how you lasted."  (ahhhh-- victory at last......but wait....wait for it).  "You were easily the worst student I've ever had.  But now, you are fabulous.  You've come so far.  Look at the miracle I've created- I didn't think it was possible but I've created a masterpiece from nothing....."  So- the apology wasn't an apology-- it was a thinly veiled back handed compliment.  I would be nothing without this teacher.  I owe all my success to them.  It was almost worse than the hair pulling and the yelling at me and the name calling.  I'm lucky I survived.

It's amazing how a bully or an abuser can really dominate a victim.  I knew that I cried on a weekly basis after each encounter with this teacher.  I knew I got stomach aches the night before I saw this teacher.  Yet- I had no idea I was a victim of this type of abuse until I got away and had a bit of time to put it all together.  At first I was stunned, then I was angry- really really angry- for a long time.  I'm starting to get to the place where I realize that this teacher just wasn't up to the challenge of me.  And that's okay.  I can be difficult but that doesn't mean that I had to endure that kind of abuse.  It just meant that my teacher needed to be secure enough to tell me that I needed to work with someone else.  Because this teacher wasn't strong enough to do that, I suffered.  But- I also learned a lot.  I learned that what you say and how you treat people is far more powerful than what you 'teach' them.  Respect and encouragement go a lot farther than threats and beating someone down.  And, most importantly, I learned that everyone is a work in progress and that the most respectful, honest approach to life is admitting that and finding where your talents best fit.

To my former teacher, albeit a tough one-- I do forgive you.  I forgive you for being scared.  I forgive you for worrying about your job and what it would look like to your colleagues.  I forgive you for losing your mind and your focus and your ability to have self control around me.  I forgive you for being terrified of a student that made you question your ability as a teacher.  I forgive you for all the 'ugly' you showed me.  I forgive you for all the things that you did to me that you have never thought twice about and that I've mulled over for years....and years....and years.  And I thank you because you made me learn that my words and actions will affect people for years.  In the words of my favorite writer EVER-- Maya Angelou said it best "I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel."

Extras

Why do my son and daughter want my attention every second of the day....until I put a camera in my hand?  Then my son disappears and my daughter spends the next 10 minutes trying to see the back of the camera because she knows her picture shows up there.  This results in zero pictures of my son and 30 super close snapshots of the side of my daughter's face as she comes right at me to see the camera.

And was thinking about this today-- my daughter has two sides:  One- the 'I want to be left alone to do my own thing' side.  If I try to pick her up during this phase, she goes completely limp, throws her arms above her heads, magically weighs 75 pounds and screams until I promptly drop her place her safely on the ground.  Side two- the 'I totally want you to hold me' side.  How do I quickly identify this side you may ask?  If I lift her off the ground an inch, she immediately splays her legs out as far as they go in the 'i'm going to grip you' position.  Once she's about 6 inches from my body, she grabs hold with her knees and I could easily let go at this point because she's not going anywhere.  This position is most prominently noted at drop off at her one day of preschool class.

How do I know my son belongs to me?  Those of you reading who don't know me well will be pleased to learn that I will do almost anything for a well poured glass of wine or a double stuff Oreo cookie.  (And don't try to fool me with a knock off/generic Oreo cookie---- they don't cut it-- I know, I've done my research).  Come to find out, one can pass down the 'Oreo cookie is heaven' gene.  My son was having an enormous hysterical crying fit earlier today (surely having something to do with General Petraeus's recent newsworthy activity.....or a Lightning McQueen toy car that got stuck under the fridge-- couldn't quite make out the offense with all the sobbing and hysteria).  I got fed up trying to solve the imminent problem so I reached in the cabinet and got out a bag of Oreo cookies- as one does when times get tough.  Just the crinkle of the package made my son immediately silent and he quietly asked if he could have a cookie, "just one mommy, just a little one."  After a moment of lovely, reverberating silence, I said "Absolutely."  I totally understood and loved him all the more for it.

Crafty mom

Taking a break from the 30 day thing just because the questions are personal and exhausting to think about.  So- a small break to think of something else.

I was snack mom this week at my son's school.  I bought applesauce cups and 2 bags of goldfish crackers, threw them in his backpack and sent him on his way.  I've noticed that the other mom's bake goodies or separately bag the crackers in individual baggies with a fun sticker on each bag for the kids. That's so not me.  I kind of wish I was crafty and handy in the kitchen but I lack the brain power to think about creative food things.  I can barely even type that sentence.

I've never been good about homemade things.  I've never made banana bread, I've rarely baked muffins, never think of giving cookies at the holidays and will never attempt a recipe that has ingredients I can't pronounce or chocolate I have to melt.  If you invite me to your house, I'll bring a good bottle of wine or some awesome store bought cookies.  I will not bring a home made pie or ever, under any circumstance, be involved in a recipe swap group.  I don't think anyone needs me to type out how to make a box of Kraft Mac & Cheese....although I do add a mean bowl of broccoli to each of my mac & cheese creations.

I've been to parties where the mom has set out a table of arts and crafts projects and has a homemade birthday cake ready for their child's birthday wishes and a goodie bag filled with chocolate surprises straight from her oven.  When you come to our house, we will have Pizza Hut pizza, a cake from Whole Foods, paper party hats, and a goodie bag wonderfully gathered straight from the internet.

I want to be one of those moms that bakes during nap times or spends the weekends thinking about picking wild flowers.....but I've excepted the fact that I'm really good at stopping at the grocery store on the way to a house party to buy Oreo cookies and have only bought fresh flowers when we've been trying to sell a house.  Some things won't change....no matter how old I get or where I live.

Something I have to forgive myself for

Day 3:  Okay-- next challenge I do is going to be 30 days of naming my favorite things- like top 30 movies, top 30 books, top 30 vacation destinations, top 30 cute things my children say...etc.  These rip your heart out and lay it on the table 'deep thinking' topics are exhausting.

"Something I have to forgive myself for"--- jeez.  Well- I don't want to get too specific (even though I don't think anyone other than my mom is actually reading these posts) but I do feel really bad about getting involved in some of my friend's romantic relationships.  I had a friend years and years ago who was dating a guy and it had been going nowhere for a really long time (there's actually a juicy story here but since it's personal and not mine to tell....I'll just leave it at that).  After far too many drinks one night at a midtown bar, I decided to tell this guy exactly what I thought of their 'situation.'  Long, long story short, the relationship ended soon after that .....and so did my friendship.  I've regretted that night for a long time.  My friend confided secret details of their time together and it wasn't my heart to save.  I realize now that the relationship would have ended anyway and I had no business getting involved....and I miss that friendship so much.

I have a few stories like that where I've said something terrible and it came back to haunt me.  I knew a girl who had a sleazy boyfriend.  When she told me they split up, I said "good- I never liked him anyway.  He was a weirdo."  A year later, they were back together and expecting a baby.......totally awkward!

So- I need to forgive myself for the friendships I've destroyed because I said the wrong thing or didn't call enough or took someone for granted.  I hate that they aren't in my life anymore but I still love the memories I have and they never fade.

Something you love about yourself

Day 2: I'm really trying to stick to this 30 day thing.  "Something I love about myself:"  Well-- obviously from the title of my blog, I think I'm phenomenal...heh heh heh.  Hmmm...this is a really hard question to answer about yourself.

I love that I meet people easily, converse with people easily, I'm genuinely interested in what makes other people tick, I willing to try different things and take the path less traveled.

I love that when all our friends were having their first baby, they packed up and moved closer to family and got away from bigger city living whereas we packed up and moved back to NYC with a 1 year old (although I did crack 3 years later and moved closer to family leaving big city life behind).  But really glad that I was willing to make a go of it.

I love that I can be really funny sometimes-- I can spin a good story with the right audience.

I love that I'm a good wife and a good mother.....and am accepting of the fact that some days are better than others.

I love that I watch drama heavy foreign films or Hot Tub Time Machine with equal pleasure.

I love that I've read all the Harry Potters, Hunger Games and shelves full of chick lit books while also working my way through every Hemingway & Maya Angelou book.

I love that I've finally learned to keep a secret....

Something I hate about myself:

I’ve decided to try the 30 days of truth challenge that has been floating around the internet for a few years…..no matter how painful or how much I want to skip a question or two- I’m going to complete it.  Fairly confident I won’t do it in 30 consecutive days but I’ll do it.  Plus- I started this blog less than 3 weeks ago and can’t think of anything else to write.

Day 1:  Something I hate about myself….wow—that’s a tough first topic, isn’t it!?!  I mean- couldn’t I start with how awesome I am to build my confidence?  Well—I feel like I could create a list of things that I hate about myself but I’ll pick the one that has bothered me the most recently.  I have an uncanny need to not be responsible for what happens to me.  I make excuses for everything.  Every goal I’ve ever voiced in my life that never came to be had NOTHING to do with me.  At all.  Ever.  I didn’t become a famous Broadway actress and singer because I had a bad voice teacher who destroyed my confidence thus making it impossible to be an accomplished performer.  I didn’t get the promotion at a job because the boss had favorites and I wasn’t one of them.  I haven’t started teaching voice and piano students yet because I a)don’t have time b)need a babysitter c)am tired and overwhelmed d)need more practice e)….well, you get the picture. 

Years ago, I remember being in a voice lesson and my teacher asking me to do certain things…act out this part, try to hit this note differently- and I had an excuse for everything.  Well, I can’t act that part because I got too busy and didn’t do my character research or I can’t hit that high note because I’m tired and my voice is raspy.  She stopped me in my tracks and said “Wow- you really don’t want to do this.  You have an excuse for every suggestion so you don’t have to do it.  I’m not sure I can work with that kind of attitude.”  I was speechless-No one had ever told me that before.  (She was totally right).  I always thought I was motivated and secure but I think I had been on autopilot for a long time.  I never did the little extras that make the difference in every aspect of life. 

So- I hate the fact that I’ve excused my first 34 years because I’ve been scared I’d screw up or too scared to let myself be a work in progress or scared that the negative people in my life who thought I was talentless would be right or just scared of living a full life.  By embarrassingly writing this down, I’m hoping to change this pattern for good.  I started this blog because I’ve always said I wanted to be a writer and I write like one thing a year—with the blog, I’m forcing myself to put something down on paper regularly.  I’m not going to judge it- just let it sit there for the purpose of sitting there.  Same with everything else in my life!

Movies

True fact about me:  I do not, under any circumstance, watch horror movies.  From the campy slasher flicks to the more suspenseful, psychological ones, I do not watch them.  Want to know why?  I have a ridiculous uncanny ability to suspend disbelief when it comes to movie viewing.  (This also applies to books-- after reading "Helter Skelter" and "In Cold Blood," I make sure my doors are locked every night). And the funny thing is... I'm an adult.  I get the whole smoke and mirrors thing involving movie making.  But, if there is a chainsaw wielding man chasing people in a cabin,  he will be chasing me in my neighborhood......for weeks.  I will run from my car to my house at dusk daily until I watch "Love Actually" or "The Notebook" enough times to convince myself that I'm actually dating Ryan Gosling or Hugh Grant.  That's how I break the spell.

On the flip side of that, I am also a fabulous audience for other kinds of movies for exactly the same reason.  As previously mentioned (but absolutely worth repeating), I have convinced myself that Ryan Gosling is my long lost love and that he is building my dream home as I type.  Or that the Prime Minister of England is going to fall madly in love with me because I curse like a sailor and look amazing in red coats (even though I've never even been to London).  I was trying to entice my husband to watch Vicky Cristina Barcelona tonight (for the umpteenth viewing) instead of football by reminding him of the steamy kiss between Scarlett Johansson and Penelope Cruz just so I could pretend to be 25 and an amateur photographer who just happens to sleep with Javier Bardem while taking amazing photographs around Barcelona (I totally lost).

I'm not sure why I'm able to buy into it all....not sure if I just want to....or if I truly get the art of movie making.  I also wonder if those fleeting, hard to find, truly magical moments of acting that are so overpowered nowadays by special effects and makeup and terribly trite writing....those moments that transcend the tangible life- are what I search for.  There are movies I can't forget that are not necessarily the best movies ever but have just 3-5 seconds of pure magic that stick with me forever.  It's what I search for.  Because I'm putting myself on the spot, I'll name just a few.  The scene with Hal Holbrook in "Into the Wild" where he is talking to Emile Hirsch's character in the truck about how he never had a son but sees Emile as the son he wishes he had.....utterly devastating and beautiful.  "In the Valley of Elah" where Tommy Lee Jones is talking to a young man and during the conversation realizes that this man is the reason his son is dead....no words....just the face.....I mean- Tommy Lee Jones is absolutely amazing.  Terribly romantic, sappy movie but "PS I Love You" -- the entire movie -- I saw this right around my 30th birthday and it just spoke to me.  Like I said-- not top 100 movies of all time kind of list movies-- but my top 100 list....

I'm glad I have this innate ability... I love my husband but it's nice to think about Ryan Gosling building me a house with his bare hands or (and I wish he would bend and do a romantic film) Christian Bale whisking me off my feet.  But- for now-- I'm going to go to bed and pop in Vicky Cristina Barcelona and spend the evening convincing myself that I've always been destined to be a photographer and have fabulous, impulsive adventures in places where they don't speak English (therefore I would be exotic)!  

 PS- It should be noted that I found a way to mention Ryan Gosling 3 times in 1 post....ahhh-- make that 4!

NICU

I usually write funny posts....at least I try.  But today- I was reading an article about Hurricane Sandy and the evacuation of the premature babies in the NICU of the NYU hospital and immediately started crying.  So- no funny post today.  (BTW- the babies were all transported successfully).

My son was born 5 weeks premature.  To this day, we have no idea why he came early....but he did.  He was a great size and was responsive to everything but he lacked the strength or innate muscle control to eat.  The sucking muscles are some of the last to mature and it's a common problem in preemies- learning how to eat.  If you think about it, it takes a lot to learn to suck, swallow in rhythm and stay awake doing it.  Thus, he spent 10 days in a NICU while he grew and gained strength and learned how to eat on his own.

I feel the need to mention that he was probably the healthiest preemie they had in there.  He was a great birth weight and didn't have any breathing issues or other concerns.  But- it's still absolutely terrifying to be a 2 day old parent and have your child in a NICU.  It's something that I will never forget.  I remember how the soap smelled you used before you entered the room, the crazy beeping machines that registered every vital sign, the night I was there when another preemie had a scary emergency, the crying in the arms of a nurse I grew attached to because I was so overwhelmed and the dire frustration I felt every time we had to tube feed my baby because he wouldn't wake up. I remember meeting parents of twins in the waiting room whose little ones were born at 28 weeks and spent months in the NICU and hearing their story.  And- worst of all- I remember the day I was discharged from the hospital and had to leave my 2 day old son in a NICU bed all by himself while I went home across town.  I wept so hard......it was excruciating.

Well- 3 1/2 years later, and our son is just as precocious and wild and rebellious as anyone else his age.  He's healthy and lively and an absolute joy to be around.  But- I will always be haunted by those first days of his life.  I couldn't handle it then and I can't even think about it now.  We've had friends that have gone through a NICU experience after us and I remember getting the text that their baby was there.... I burst into tears.  When my friend in NYC told me on the street in front of Whole Foods that her baby was born a few days before at 34 weeks and was in the NICU but doing great.....spontaneous tears.  Just shaken to my core for the rest of the day.  And casually reading this article about the hurricane and coming across the paragraph detailing the safe transportation of the NICU babies to another hospital......immediate tears.

I don't think about it much anymore but it's amazing to me how those feelings, that fear, that emotional rawness is literally just under the surface of my skin......and that just the word NICU in an article can bring it rushing back in one second.  It will always be a huge part of my son's journey but such a defining one as a human being for me.

10 Things They Don't Tell You About Being a Parent

1.  You've never felt sleep deprivation like you're about to feel.  I've fallen asleep on the bathroom floor, ended up in a comatose heap in the hallway outside my son's room waiting for him to calm down, fallen asleep while my hair dresser was washing my hair, considered confessing war secrets if someone would just give me a pillow and pretended to be fast asleep just to have my husband get up once with the baby.

2. You will never, ever, ever go to the bathroom alone ever again.  I don't know that I have to elaborate this point but its weird how you get used to it and don't even notice someone hanging on to your leg asking for a snack or needing help tying a shoe during the time you'd most like to be alone.

3. Your children will physically hurt you and you will barely notice.  One time while changing my son's diaper, he was laying there all quiet and docile.  I was just thinking how wonderful and blissful my life was and how much I loved the little guy, when.....wham!!!  Without warning, he reared back and kicked me full out in the neck....with sneakers on.  Or, when my daughter was sleeping in our bed-- in the middle of the night, I was fast asleep and ....wham!!!  She slapped me clear across the face with all her might.  Only up side- you are so tired, you just roll over and go back to sleep (see #1).  

4. Your husband will never, ever, ever smell a dirty diaper.  Like ever.  I can smell a dirty diaper 3 minutes before it happens.  If I go shopping or running, I can smell the dirty diaper before I've unlocked the door to the house.  When I ever so politely ask my husband why he hasn't changed the diaper, he'll tell me it's not dirty.  Stinky diapers are not exactly subtle.....

5. You will always feel bad for your babysitter.  One night we left my 3 year old son, my 8 month old daughter and our big dog with a sitter, Sarah, so we could have a date night.  When we got home, Sarah relayed a story about her evening.  My daughter fell asleep in the baby swing so she decided to give my son a quick bath.  While he was playing in the tub, our daughter woke up screaming.  Sarah drained the tub and went to get our daughter.  As soon as Sarah got her into her arms, she heard a giggle behind her.  It was my son....naked.....dripping wet....peeing all over the living room floor.  At the exact same moment, our big dog made a weird noise, stood up and puked all over the rug.  And this is the reason that we tip our babysitters.

6. You will never be able to kick a cold in a day or two.  Last winter, my husband got a cold.  He called in sick to work and stayed in bed watching sports center and sipping hot tea.  Two days later, he hopped up and went back to work chipper and cheerful.  I ended up getting the same cold only I couldn't call in sick to work.....so it became a whole month long ordeal.  I shook the cold after a week or so only to follow it with a bout of laryngitis.  As that started to clear, my right eye started to get itchy and puffy.  After 24 hours, it started oozing and was in both eyes.  I looked like a drunk bug with these huge, puffy eyes blinking at people all day.  Once the pink eye subsided, I bookended the month by getting yet another cold.  It was a miracle I didn't break my arm or lose a limb.  

7. You will be proud of the most bizarre and inappropriate things your children do just because they make you laugh.  For instance, my son was potty trained while we lived in NYC.  I'm not sure if this is common in other cities, but sometimes in NYC, a public bathroom ( one that's not inhabited by a homeless person taking a bath in the sink) is hard to come by.  With the boys, you teach them to just pee on a tree in the park.  Be advised, if you are over the age of 5 or so, this is illegal but it's a perfect solution for a three year old.  Once my son learned this new skill, he was so proud of himself.  He began to drop his pants at the sight of a tree and marked every one in the neighborhood--exactly like our dog did.  Or the time he got my husband a beer out of the fridge and brought it to him while he watched football.  That was a big bonding day for daddy and son.  

8. You will have long conversations about potty training with complete strangers....and it's totally not weird.  I've told people at the park or in line at the grocery store the most intimate details of my sons bowel movements before I even know their name.  I think it's an universal feeling to want to connect with adults again after you've spent the last few years so concerned with someone else's rear end.  I can't believe the amount of casual conversations I've had with my husband where we rate the success of the day based on the dog's outdoor activity and the kid's bathroom triumphs.

9. You will consider the most inhumane parenting techniques to quickly solve a desperately disgusting situation.  My one point involves pooping (see #8) of course.  On a terribly long road trip to Canada to visit family, my daughter must have filled her diaper twelve times.  Something about the open road for her is the same as a good magazine in the bathroom for others.  Stop #12-- a park/playground that is right against beautiful Lake Ontario.  The goal was to hit the public restroom and change her.  As I reach to undo the car seat straps, it becomes immediately clear that she's pooped....everywhere.  And everywhere as in.....up to her hair, down into her socks....I have absolutely no idea how this was possible considering we had just stopped 30 minutes before.  It's 38 degrees outside and misty with rain.  Within moments, I'm covered in poop, she's wailing and I have a car full of people just staring at me.  I do the only thing possible....and strip her naked.  If I was a near a hose, I would have sprayed her for 2 minutes.....and I absolutely considered how close Lake Ontario was right behind the car....a quick dunk under water and she would be washed clean.  That was my inhumane parenting technique that almost was.  But- we figured out a way to get her cleaned up, cleaned up the car, cleaned up me and went about our trip.

10. You will love them more than anything on earth.  Everyone tells you this but you don't really get it until you 'get it.'  They will make life before baby seem like a blur of unimportant nonsense.  You will wonder why you ever felt busy before kids and why you ever complained about being tired.  You will love every funny thing they say and hug them about 200 times a day.  You will love tucking them in at night and love seeing them in the morning all warm from sleep (even if you get woken up to one of them quietly staring at you from the side of your bed in the dark).  You will dream for them and with them and about them for the rest of your life.