Have a Cool Weekend

Hey now, it's the weekend.  Which means just like every other day of the week I will be awake with the sun and trying to find exciting activities to pass the hours until bedtime.  The Hubs is working all weekend, so it'll be just me and the Muffin Man trying to stay cool.  I think I may have to buy the kiddo one of those inflatable pools so I can work on my tan while parenting.  I seriously have to get rid of the Tom's tan line I have going on my feet from all of my walking; it's terribly unsexy.  Sunday I'll be taking Noah as my very hot date to a friend's baby shower.  She's having a girl, so I got a little over excited purchasing pink items.  I did see a few things she was missing on her registry though, so I'll have to tell her that she needs to check out my lit of "must-haves" for baby.

This article really aggravated my anxiety this week.  Just in case you don't think a visit from Aunt Flo is bad enough, some scientist guy thinks we're slowly poisoning ourselves with tampons.

Does saying "no" help our kids be more motivated?  Here's an argument for not always giving in.

I've been missing New York a ton this week.  Where else but there do you see quirky things like this?

Just found Chris' Father's Day gift for next year.

The soaring summer temps mean it's the perfect time to bust out the homemade limoncello.  I'll be mixing up some of these beauties for porch sippin'

Wish I could've gone to this event.  Mr. Personality indeed.  

I just discovered Ikea Hackers and I'm totally obsessed.  How cute is this dresser?  

Stay cool, kiddos!

xoxo

Family Ties

I'm blogging over at Laughing My Vag Off today, so head on over there to keep up with my Motherhood exploits.  This week I'm musing on how nice it is to have family nearby to babysit my child (for free).

Motherhood FAIL of the Week: Baby vs. Shag

I'm kind of obsessed with decorating magazines and home decor blogs.  When I found out I was pregnant with the Muffin Man I got very excited about designing his nursery. I really didn't want his room to look super babyish, because I knew I'd be hanging out in there quite a lot and I wasn't too keen on wiling away my days staring at jungle print curtains. So after spending an embarrassing amount of time on Pinterest checking out high style nurseries, I got to work.  I love Jonathan Adler, so I used his design aesthetic as inspiration: chevron curtains, groovy 1960's-ish lamp, and a fabulous Flokati shag rug.  I was extremely pleased with how the room turned out until the first time I put Noah on the floor to play.  In his efforts to roll over he kept grabbing onto the rug and pulling out clumps of fuzz. This wouldn't really be a problem except that he then put his hands, full of clumps of fuzz, into his mouth and started choking on the rug fibers. Thankfully I managed to get the fuzz out of his mouth before it made it into his windpipe, therefore saving me from having to perform baby CPR.  So while Noah's room may be chic, it turns out it is also a death trap.  Needless to say I have ordered a new rug that won't be dangerous to my son's health.  Oh and if you're looking for a Flokati that's only been spit up on once, I can give you a great price.

Sleeping in Los Angeles

My friends, I no longer feel like I am being tortured at Guantanamo; the Muffin Man is sleeping through the night!  I haven't written about it for fear of jinxing it, but he started sleeping from 10PM to 7:30AM about three weeks ago and has continued without incident.  I feel like a new person.  It's amazing how sleeping a solid 7-8 hours changes one's outlook on life.  I honestly don't know how I survived for almost six months without sleep; I'm pretty sure I was starting to look like an extra from The Walking Dead.  I have so much more energy, and it's nice to no longer be worried about falling asleep at the wheel while driving to Mommy and Me.  I'm still tired at the end of the day, but it's because I'm busy doing fun things with Noah, not because I haven't slept.  I'm sure there are plenty of sleepless nights in my future, what with colds and teething and stomach flus, but please let me enjoy this fabulous feeling of being rested and don't ruin my buzz.

Feed Me

I don't think the Muffin Man likes vegetables. This isn't surprising to me because, after all, he is my child and if I had my druthers potato chips and cookies would be two of the five food groups, so I can only assume he has inherited this propensity for a dislike of all things healthy from his Mother. Yesterday we tried carrots.  I've been making all of Noah's baby food, mainly because I figure this effort has to make up for some of my other failings as a Mother, but also because it has to taste better than the paste in a jar that passes for commercial baby food. So far we've tried avocado, spinach and peas to no avail, so I thought throwing an orange veggie in there might be just the ticket.  No go. Not only did Noah make hilarious faces of horror every time I fed him a bite of the offending carrot and breast milk mixture, but he spit it out and made repeated gagging noises on the rare event that he did manage to accidentally swallow some.  According to my good friend Dr. Google, it takes 10-12 times of trying the same food before a child truly likes or dislikes something, so you can rest assured that my batch of beautiful organic carrots will not go to waste. I do wish, however, that there was some way to turn potato chips into baby food, because I just know that Noah would gobble that down.

Have Yourself a Great Friggin' Weekend

Today is the first day of summer, my friends.  I'm pretty sure in Los Angeles that just means it's time to turn on the air conditioning and up your SPF factor from 15 to 35, but whatevs.  This weekend marks the last hurrah before I lose the Hubby to the dark place known as "opening a new restaurant", so I'm definitely going to savor the last few days of Chris being home before midnight.

Chris' younger brother and his kids have been in town this week, so tonight we're going to fire up the BBQ and have dinner on the back porch.  I'd love to pick up a couple of these to light up our dining table this summer.

The longest day of the year definitely calls for a refreshing cocktail to enjoy while the sun sets.  The only two words that can motivate me to drag out the blender are "raspberry" and "margarita".  Yum.

I'm thinking of ordering every single one of these products in the hope that I may have a good hair day at least once this summer.  

Gender neutral baby rooms?  See if you can guess if it's a boy or a girl (and enjoy the fabulous decor, while you're at it).

Ah, the summers of my youth.  When I was reckless, unwrinkled, and had terrible taste in perfume.  What did your Gap scent say about you?  (for the record, mine was Heaven - yuck)

Have a great weekend!

xoox

Bikini Season

I'm blogging over at Laughing My Vag Off today, so click on over there and join me for another edition of the Neurotic New Mother show known as Anna Lane.  This week's hot topic: the nightmare of shopping for swimsuits after having a baby.  It's more frightening than running into my Husband's ex-wife in a dark alley.

Motherhood FAIL of the Week: Cereal Killer

Last week we started feeding the Muffin Man some whole grain cereal.  I was planing to skip the cereal stage and just introduce veggies at six months, but the kiddo was hungry all the time, so I figured some cereal would buy me at least an hour of him not being attached to my boob. It started out successfully enough; Noah seemed to like the taste and he didn't have trouble eating off of the spoon or swallowing.  In typical Anna fashion of trying to do too much at once, I decided that he should have cereal twice a day since the initial feeding was such a success. So I gave Noah a bowl of cereal at dinner time, which he ate with relish.  Feeling extra proud of myself for entering this new stage of Noah's development without incident, I looked forward to a full night of sleep thanks to a well-fed baby. What I didn't take into account is that baby cereal works like super glue in the intestines. The poor kiddo got so constipated that not only did he not sleep through the night, but he was up every hour wailing and grunting, trying to poop.  When he finally did manage to expel the cereal from his system some 14 hours later it was the poop explosion of the century; it blew through his diaper, two layers of clothes, and left him covered in poop from neck to toes.  I contemplated taking Noah outside and hosing him down with the garden hose (it was a warm afternoon), but I opted for taking him in the bathtub with me instead. Hey, the poor kid worked so hard to get that cereal out of his system, he deserved a bubble bath.  Needless to say, I'm no longer dishing up  large bowls of baby cereal for dinner.  Here's hoping tonight's avocado main course goes down (and comes out) more easily.

You're In

Good news, dear reader: I am no longer a Mommy and Me reject.  I got the call yesterday that we made it off of the waiting list and are expected to show up for our first class next week.  Honestly, I'm sort of torn about joining the class now.  Three months ago I would've killed to get into one of these groups but now I sort of don't care. I have a routine, my baby is doing just fine, and we've managed to make some nice friends despite being rejected by "Hollywood's hottest Mommy and Me" class.  Of course this is not going to keep me from joining the group. Are you kidding?  Pass up a chance for all the comedic gold sure to come out of this experience?  I would never let you down like that, my friends.  I'm looking forward to afternoons spent singing The Wheels on the Bus while I gaze in wonder at the copious amounts of plastic surgery and Botox sure to be present on a number of the other Mommies.  I promise to file a full report for your reading pleasure, but first I have to go make an appointment with my dermatologist to find out about getting a chemical peel. Hey, if you can't beat 'em, join'em, right?

The Week(end) in Review

"Helping" Daddy open presents

It's Monday my friends, which means it's just the Muffin Man and I looking for ways to wile away the hours until Daddy gets home. We had a lovely weekend around these parts. Chris enjoyed his first Father's Day even though we didn't really do anything exciting other than take a nap.

While Sunday was spent close to home, we had a pretty adventurous foodie weekend otherwise. Friday night was our big Trois Mec date, which I promised to report back on, so here's the rundown.  The space is great. They took a dumpy little pizza place and turned it into a clean and sophisticated white space with an open kitchen (be warned: the sign outside is still for the pizza place, as one woman who came in looking to order a pizza discovered). It's a prix fixe menu, for which you pay in advance ($80 per person, not including wine). We also opted to pay for the extra cheese course, which was an additional nine dollars per person, and consisted of a tiny truffle grilled cheese sandwich with sweet cream ice cream.  The highlight of the night was a bone marrow flan in consommé with spring peas and melted leeks. That was a truly outstanding dish. Other than that...we both felt it was kind of meh.  I'm glad we got a chance to try it, and Ludo is absolutely lovely, but Chris was still hungry when we got home.  I just wish they did take out so I could get the flan dish to enjoy while watching Mad Men.

Saturday our culinary adventures took us to Sqirl. If you have not been to this hole in the wall on a crappy stretch of Virgil, get yourself there immediately.  Serious deliciousness is coming out of this space. The press that Sqirl has been getting is totally deserved, because the food is inventive and fantastic. I'm now obsessed with the crispy rice salad with a fried egg on top.  It's crunchy and vinegary and just a party in your mouth.  The only bad thing is that it's ruined me for any other brunch spot in the city, so here's hoping all my friends are willing to trek to Virgil to hang out with me. 

And now back to our regularly scheduled programming of me attempting to cook edible meals while holding a small human.  Sigh. 

Have a Father of a Weekend

Happy Father's Day weekend, my friends!  It's Chris' first official Father's Day, so I'm looking forward to spending Sunday celebrating the amazing father that he has proven himself to be.  For once I actually shopped in advance (thank you, Amazon) and I even got gifts for my step-dad and my Father-in-Law, so I feel like I'm really batting a thousand this year.

Tonight is our weekly date night, so we're meeting some friends for dinner at Trois Mec.  Here's what you need to know about it: Ludo + the Animal guys + 26 seats = super excited to go to there.  Needless to say we had to pull some strings to get a rezzy, so I promise to report back.

Father's Day definitely calls for an indulgent breakfast, so I'm planning to whip up some hash browns for the Hubby.  Bacon, eggs, pancakes, hash browns... why not celebrate dad by clogging his arteries?

The Hubby is not a beer drinker, so I'll be mixing up a batch of this cocktail for him to enjoy this weekend.

Last weekend's donuts were a big hit, which means I'm planning to tackle scones this weekend.  These look sooooo good.

Here's a list of Father's Day gifts that are way cooler than just another tie.

Have a great weekend!

xoxo

MILF

My current goal in life is to be a MILF.  I suppose this sounds terribly shallow, but now that I’m no longer young enough to be considered a “hot young thing”, this whole MILF thing is the level to which I’ve lowered my standards.  I may be a Mother, but that doesn’t mean I want to look like one. 

Prior to giving birth to the Muffin Man I didn’t put a whole lot of time or energy into personal grooming rituals, other than a standing monthly waxing appointment to deal with my unibrow.  I suppose this laissez faire attitude towards hairstyling and deodorant can be blamed on my Berkeley upbringing, but now that I have a legitimate excuse to look like a wreck, I don’t want to.  I’m terrified that one day I will find myself driving a minivan, wearing jeans with pleats, and listening to light rock.  I seriously have nightmares about this.  So, for the first time in my life I’m putting some effort into my appearance.  Most women subscribe to Parents magazine once they have a child, but not me.  I got myself a subscription to Vogue, because there is no reason I can’t look fashionable even while covered in regurgitated breast milk.

I think my new obsession with looking hot and fashionable is some sort of Post Traumatic Stress reaction to pregnancy.  I hated being pregnant.  Despite the fact that I looked pretty good while gestating a human, I felt as large as a house and as attractive as a girl with headgear at the senior prom.  Pregnancy made me feel as though I’d been invaded by an alien, and I couldn’t wait to give birth so that I could return to some version of my former self.  Ironically enough, it took pushing a human out of my vagina to get me to wear a miniskirt.  Being pregnant made me finally, finally appreciate my body, and I couldn’t wait to have it back. 

I’m actually thankful to my son for giving me the kick in the ass I’ve always needed to put some thought into how I look.  Sure, some days it’s difficult to find the time to shower and put on clothes that don’t make me look like a homeless person, but I always feel so much better about myself when I make the effort.  Plus, it’s damn satisfying when construction workers whistle me at.  Go ahead, call me a MILF.  I’ll thank you for it.  

Motherhood FAIL of the Week: Baby Manicure

He was not amused.  

Monday morning the Muffin Man woke up with a deep scratch on his left cheek.  Concerned that further scratches could lead to permanent scarring and jeopardize his future should he be interested in acting, I decided to take decisive action and cut his finger nails.  While this sounds like a simple enough task, there are two things to keep in mind: I haven't used a nail clipper in at least 20 years thanks to all of my friends named Kim at my local nail salon, and getting a small wiggly child to sit still long enough to actually trim his nails is no small feat.  Prior to this inaugural nail cutting, Noah's fingernails have been soft enough to tear off without much effort.  I guess now that he's older his nails are no longer waterlogged from his stay at Motel Womb, and so I've been forced to break out the baby nail clippers.  Monday afternoon I managed to somehow figure out a way to hold Noah down so I could cut his nails. I worked quickly and was feeling very proud of myself...until I clipped too much of one of his little nails and drew blood.  Noah proceeded to howl and writhe in pain while I apologized profusely for maiming him.  After at least 30 minutes of non stop crying he finally calmed down, but he did give me the evil eye for the rest of the afternoon.  Thankfully, Noah seems to have recovered from his injury and is back to his usual self.  I, however, am not interested in reliving this minor form of baby torture anytime soon.  Sure he has a new scratch on his face this morning, but I'm not going to stress; acne scars haven't slowed down Brad Pitt's career.  Just remind me to ask "Kim" how much she charges for a baby manicure when I'm at the nail salon on Friday.

Go the F to Sleep

We had a major win in the parenting department around these parts last night: the Muffin Man put himself to sleep. We've been working on this particular milestone for the last week or so and it really had not been going well.  Up until yesterday our attempts had been utter failures that involved 45 minutes of howling followed by me caving in and nursing the kiddo to sleep.  I was absolutely convinced that he would never be able to fall asleep on his own, that we had ruined him by feeding him to get him to go to sleep, and that I would end up having to breast feed him until he was five in order to get some shut eye.  As per usual, my neuroses had me so convinced of my parenting failures that I was seriously considering giving up breast feeding just so I could resume taking Klonopin.  Thankfully, I don't think I'll have to go to such extremes.  It's very possible that we just got lucky last night and that Noah took pity on me, but I'm going to think positive and expect that tonight will go just as well.  Because if there's one thing I've learned about this whole parenting thing it's that the only way you make it through each day is by expecting that you will, tonight, get a decent night's sleep.  Some days that thought is the only thing that keeps me going.  Well, that and several large cups of coffee.

Have Yourself a Great Friggin' Weekend

Somehow I've managed to survive another week of Motherhood without harming myself or my son, so I call that a "win".  I'm excited for the weekend, mainly because our nanny is back in town, which means the Hubby and I are having a hot date tomorrow night.  I'm always happy to have an excuse to wear something other than yoga pants.

It's National Donut Day today, and while I'm seriously dying to try the famous Cronut, I'm afraid I'll have to settle for something closer to home (and much, much healthier).  I'm planning to whip up a batch of these babies for a weekend treat.

I'm obsessed with rhubarb, and I've been looking for a great cocktail recipe utilizing my favorite ingredient, so here's hoping these turn out to be fantasmic.

In my next life I hope to have the ability to leave a Target store without spending half of my rent money.  They just don't make it easy for me what with cool new collaborations like this one.

I'm loving these prints and think I may just have to find a space for one or two in my (still unfinished) living room redo.

What's revving your engine this weekend?

xoxo

Cool Dude

I’m very pleased to tell you that my son is a ladies man.  He may only be five months old, but he’s already got some serious moves, and he’s definitely the most popular dude in our Mommy and Me classes.  Call me shallow if you will, but I’m incredibly relieved that the Muffin Man seems to be headed for a more promising adolescent social standing than either of his parents.  After the trauma of my own teenage years as a borderline social reject, I feared that I would end up raising a child destined for the outer limits of the high school social strata.  There’s nothing wrong with being a nerd or a dweeb or a loser, in fact, many of us go on to do very great things with our lives (myself, not so much.  Bill Gates, however, is a real nerd-makes-good), but as a Mother I sincerely hope to spare my child the pain and self-loathing that goes hand in hand with not being one of the cool kids. 

One of my very real fears, from the moment I found out I was pregnant, was that my own inherent nerdiness would be a hindrance to Noah’s being a cool kid.  Despite the fact that I am now comfortable with who I am and not concerned with being “cool”, I worried that my quirkiness (which, let’s be honest, is just a nicer way of saying weird) would mean that other Moms wouldn’t want to hang out with me and, by extension, Noah.  I know we all like to pretend that adulthood makes everyone equal, but let’s not bullshit each other here, there are still popular and unpopular people, it’s just that now they have more expensive clothes and better haircuts. 

Well, dear reader, the joke is on me.  It turns out that people no longer see me as a loser.  Despite the fact that I sometimes look in the mirror and see the gangly girl with a unibrow, a mullet, and an intact hymen, that’s no longer who I am.  Thanks to an excellent eyebrow waxer, hairdresser and multiple sexual partners, I’ve somehow morphed into the Mommy that other women want to hang out with.  I’m sure it helps that Noah is seriously the cutest little boy ever, but I think I do have to give myself some credit for managing to not let my freak flag fly at inappropriate times.  Maybe in my old age (and let’s face it, I’m an old Mommy) I’ve become more comfortable in my skin and I spend less time worrying about what other people think.  I have a sneaking suspicion that a lot of it has to do with feeling truly loved and valued by my husband, so I’m no longer measuring myself against the girls who have boyfriends.  Or perhaps it’s that ever since I gave birth to Noah, I just really don’t give a shit anymore.  When you’re exhausted and overwhelmed and doing your best just to get through the day, everything else ceases to matter.  And in the end I think that’s what separated the popular girls from us unpopular ones; they all seemed to float through life and school unaffected by what others thought of them.  So I guess at the ripe old age of 30-something I’ve finally become the girl I always wanted to be.

I’m looking forward to watching Noah grow and change into the man he’s going to become.  I have a feeling we’re going to be spending a small fortune buying the kid condoms in 14 years or so, which is just fine with me.  But I do think Noah’s father needs to have a talk with him about only touching girls when they invite him to, because he’s been getting a little fresh with the hot Japanese ladies in his Mommy and Me class lately.   

Motherhood FAIL of the Week: I Scream from Ice Cream

Sunday afternoon I had a delicious soft-serve ice cream cone from The Big Gay Ice Cream Truck. I'd heard amazing things about this infamous truck that normally prowls the streets of New York, so when I found out they would be in town I begged the Hubs to take me out for a treat.  I rarely eat dairy; I drink only almond milk, I never have ice cream, and if I do indulge in cheese it's of the goat variety.  I certainly haven't had any dairy since the Muffin Man was born, but fond memories of the Mr. Softee stands of my childhood compelled me to throw caution to the wind and chow down on a very large portion of soft, creamy deliciousness.  The "Salty Pimp" was yummy, if a tad sweet, but I certainly didn't let that dissuade me from finishing it. I enjoyed my ice cream so much that I spent most of the afternoon asking myself, "why don't you eat more ice cream?  It's delicious!"  Right after I vowed to brighten my life with more pints of Ben and Jerry's, the Muffin Man began projectile spitting up, and he didn't stop for the rest of the afternoon and evening. There was spit up on the couch, on Noah, on the floor...and I even found some in my hair. When he wasn't spitting up he was moaning, crying, or making these pathetic little grunting noises while attempting to expel the dairy-tainted breast milk from his system.  Needless to say, Sunday night was a long one.  At one point when I was up with him for the fifth time in as many hours, I cursed my nostalgia for the soft serve cones of my childhood.  I've since sworn off any frozen treat that's not made from coconut milk, because trust me, nothing tastes as good as sleeping feels.

Five Month Motherhood Chip

The Muffin Man turned five months old yesterday. I honestly can't believe it, mostly because last night he had me up every hour and a half, as if he wanted to remind me just how hellish it was when he was a newborn. I feel like I've really accomplished something in that I've managed to keep the little man alive and unharmed, notwithstanding my Mothering mistakes.  The months have flown by, despite the fact that each day feels like a never ending cycle of poop and exhaustion.  Seeing Noah grow and change is pretty cool. He has a real personality now and he's so incredibly alert and responsive, that it's actually kind of fun hanging out with him (especially when I'm well-rested).  One of the things that's so hard about Motherhood is that as soon as you think you have it figured out the baby goes through some sort of developmental milestone and you have to start over again.  Just when the Muffin Man was starting to sleep through the night and I felt like a human again, he also began to roll over on to his stomach, which causes him to wake up screaming.  I know in a few weeks he'll figure out how to roll from his tummy to his back and stop waking me up, but chances are this will coincide with the start of feeding him actual food, so I can only assume I have quite a few sleepless nights in my future. I'm sure someday I'll look back on this time on my life and wish that Noah was still little and sweet instead of large and smelly, but it's hard to imagine feeling nostalgic for being exhausted.

Sold Out

I'm happy to report that our garage sale was a big success.  My trash turned out to be quite a few people's treasures, and we sold almost everything.  The only things left were a cookie jar that looks like a gingerbread house and an outdoor speaker that I can never seem to get to work, so overall a very good day.  My lovely parents came up to help, so I put them in charge of the Muffin Man so Chris and I could handle the big business of selling. Noah had a great time watching all the people.  In fact, it was so exciting for him that he wore himself out and ended up taking a two hour nap!  Considering he usually only naps for 40 minutes, I'm seriously contemplating having a garage sale every weekend.