Motherhood FAIL of the Week: Empty Handed

I've had another one of those weeks full of Motherhood failures.  I thought I would have a hard time choosing just one to write about, but that was before yesterday, when I'm pretty sure I could've been nominated for "Shittiest Mother of the Year".

On Tuesday afternoons I take the Muffin Man to our VIP Mommy and Me class. We had a busy day yesterday and, as per usual, I was running late, so I grabbed my diaper bag without checking to make sure it was fully stocked.  On the way to class the unmistakable scent of Noah crapping in his diaper wafted into the front seat, so I knew I would have to deal with a poopy diaper once we arrived at class. (Sidebar: Every time Noah is in his carseat he poops. I assume this is either a comment on LA traffic or my sub par driving skills).  After braving a traffic jam on the 101 while trapped in a car that smelled like poo, I quickly raced into the bathroom to change Noah only to discover that I DID NOT HAVE A SINGLE CLEAN DIAPER IN MY BAG. I mean, for Christ's sake it's called a diaper bag and yet the only thing it contained yesterday was my wallet, a makeup bag (talk about unnecessary) and at least twelve toys, none of which could be used as an impromptu diaper.  Ever the creative type, I figured I could clean Noah's butt, flush the poop down the toilet and then put the used diaper back on him.  Feeling very proud of myself for this inventive solution, I reached into my bag to get my wipes only to discover I ALSO HAD NO BABY WIPES.  Without any other options I apologized to Noah, told him I would change his diaper as soon as we got home, and I took him to class in a poopy diaper. Needless to say, my kiddo wasn't exactly in the best mood during class yesterday. When Old McDonald had a Farm performed with puppets fails to elicit even a half-hearted smile, things are bad. I raced home as soon as class was over, put a fresh diaper on Noah, and filled my diaper bag with enough supplies to last me a year.

Honestly, yesterday was one of the lowest moments in my short tenure as Mommy.  I probably should've asked one of the other Moms if she had an extra diaper, but I just couldn't face up to admitting to an entire room of Mommies who are perfectly put together that I didn't remember to bring an extra diaper.  I'm the frazzled, unshowered Momma in a room full of glamorous women who somehow manage to wear makeup and designer clothes despite being responsible for seven month old poop machines, and I didn't want to risk being judged by these women who appear so perfect.  The irony is that the very reason I started this blog was because I thought that airing all of my Motherhood shortcomings might help reduce so much of the judgement we Mothers pass on each other. So I'm fessing up today.  I really, really failed yesterday. Not only because my son is probably going to have to go to some special therapist who deals with kids left in poopy diapers too long, but also because I didn't trust that the other Mommies would understand and appreciate me owning up to not being a perfect Mom. What can I say, I guess even though I'm an adult I'm still intimidated by the pretty, popular girls who seem to have their shit together...as opposed to in their baby's pants.

Take Me Away

Our last pre-child vacation; back in the days when we were well-rested.

Exactly one week from today the Hubby and I will be hitting the open road for our first vacation since the Muffin Man was born. We are ditching the kiddo with the Grandparents and indulging in a romantic getaway.  We're only going to be gone for 32 hours, but the amount of planning and preparation that has to occur in order to make this happen is ridiculous.  Before Noah's arrival, the Hubs and I used to travel all the time. For a period of about two years we never bothered to put away our suitcases because we were on airplanes every week.  In those days getting ready to leave town took all of 15 minutes. Now that I am responsible for a small human being, preparing for even one night away takes two weeks of preparation.  I have to: pump at least 30oz of breast milk for bottles, make and freeze two days worth of baby food, leave instructions for the Grandparents with regards to Noah's homeopathic supplements, and make sure there are enough diapers and wipes to last through two days of my Mother who likes to change Noah at least twice an hour.  Oh and somehow I also have to find the time to get a bikini wax, since I'm pretty sure the people at the resort swimming pool have no interest in seeing what happens when you haven't visited your waxer since before your son was born.  I realize that this probably wouldn't be such a big deal if I wasn't a neurotic control freak, but until I can start taking my anti-anxiety meds again, I'm pretty much guaranteed to drive myself and the Hubs crazy. I'm just glad we're not trying to take Noah with us. Can you imagine what a train wreck I would be if I had to pack up everything I'd need not only for myself, but also for the baby?  I dread the thought. Even though the preparation is a pain in the ass, I'm beyond excited for our mini vacation. The poor Hubs hasn't had a day off since Father's Day, so I'm looking forward to spending some quality time alone with him without having to juggle a six month old.  The only activities I plan to partake in include drinking adult beverages poolside, getting a massage, and sleeping.  Now that's what I call a vacation.

Chew on This

The Muffin Man is in the throes of teething, so it was a long weekend around these parts.  Saturday Noah was really out of sorts and wouldn't let me put him down all day. While on the one hand I appreciate the arm workout I got without having to go the gym, it does make it difficult to do so much as go to the bathroom when your kid starts screaming the minute you set him down. Thankfully, the Hubby actually came home early enough on Saturday evening to feed the kiddo dinner while I took a long, hot bath and enjoyed an adult beverage.

This whole teething thing sucks. I can't believe that we have to go through this nightmare for an entire mouth of teeth. I'm not sure how many teeth kids actually have, but it looks like quite a few, so I'm guessing I have at least 20 sleepless nights ahead of me. We've been hitting the homeopathic teething remedies pretty hard the last couple of days. I have some baby Tylenol in case things get really bad, but I don't like to give the kiddo Meds.  So far we've blown through a few boxes of Camilia, I have a freezer full of teething rings, and I've even resorted to one of those Amber teething necklaces (worn as an anklet).  I honestly don't know if the amber works, but I'm so desperate I'm willing to try anything. Besides, I think Noah's kind of rocking the hippie baby style; now he just needs a tie-dye onesie, a Grateful Dead tattoo and a joint to complete the look.  

Go Out There and Have a Great Weekend

Happy weekend, dear readers.  The Hubby is working yet again so it'll just be the Muffin Man and I taking Los Angeles by storm.  So far our exciting plans include several meals of pureed vegetables, and an afternoon playdate.  I know, the excitement is overwhelming.

I dream of once again having time to make homemade ice cream.  Assuming I somehow get more than 25 minutes to myself and can find my ice cream maker in the disaster that is my pantry, I'll make some of this deliciousness with coconut milk instead of heavy cream.

A nifty trick for shucking corn.  Perfect for the last few weeks of summer BBQ's.

A second a day from birth.  I wish I'd thought to do this with Noah!

Daft Punk condoms want you to stay up all night to get lucky.  Here's hoping they come in size "extra tiny" so some of my exes can partake.

My lifelong obsession with passionfruit now comes in cocktail form.  Bartender, I'll have another.

I admit that I still haven't finished writing thank you notes for stuff I got at my baby shower.  In November.  Of last year.  Hopefully this guide to the perfect thank you note will help.

Have a wonderful weekend!

xoxo

Saturday Night Special

It's Thursday, dear readers, which means I'm over at Laughing My Vag Off sharing more of my Motherhood neuroses.  This week it's all about what constitutes a hot Saturday night when one has offspring.  Enjoy!

xoxo

Motherhood FAIL of the Week

One of the things you don't realize until you become a parent is how much fun it is to buy stuff for your kid.  I hate to shop for clothes for myself, but set me loose in The Children's Place and I go crazy picking out items to add to the Muffin Man's wardrobe.  Now that Noah is more active, I've fallen into the deep, dark abyss that is toy shopping. There happens to be a great toy store on the route of our daily walk, and I'm embarrassed to admit that I'm on a first name basis with everyone who works there.  Last week, before I was sidelined by mastitis, I picked up an adorable peg puzzle that I thought Noah would really enjoy. True to my dirty hippie roots, I only purchase wooden toys, so I was happy to find that the puzzle was made by one of my favorite brands, Melissa & Doug (Haba is incredible as well.  Insanely expensive, but great.).  Yesterday morning I finally had a chance to unwrap the puzzle from the plastic and give it to Noah to play with (side note: why are kids so obsessed with playing with any kind of plastic suffocation hazard?  I swear my child is suicidal).  Of course the first thing Noah did upon figuring out how to pull up the puzzle pieces was to put them in his mouth. He's at that age where he experiences the world orally, so everything goes into his gaping maw (interestingly enough, many of the men I dated seem to have never left this stage of development).  All seemed to be going fine until the Muffin Man began to gag and choke and turn bright red. I couldn't figure out what had happened.  Did he somehow gag himself with the fish-shaped puzzle piece?  Had one of the screws come loose and been inhaled into his windpipe?  Just when I was about to panic and rush him to the hospital, Noah stuck out his tongue, which was an inch thick with sawdust. Apparently, my stupid, hippie wooden puzzle leaks sawdust.  I was so smug about my all natural toy choices, but the minute Noah began chewing and sucking on Mr. Fishy, he swallowed a whole handful of wood particles.  My entire effort to be a natural, non-toxic, hippie Momma got completely wiped out by a morning snack of pressboard. Noah has been a little constipated this week, so I suppose I can just count it as "roughage", but I'm definitely going to exchange the puzzle for something...plastic.

The Crown Jewel

No foreskin attached. 

I'm sure you've heard about the birth of the Royal Baby.  Sure, there are wars and famine and genocide happening all over the world, but the one thing people really care about is the birth of a Prince!  I'm guessing there won't be a Royal Bris.  In fact, there's a very good chance the Prince's Royal Peen will remain unaltered. Unlike in America, where it's standard practice to do a little cosmetic penile surgery shortly after birth, it's something that's just not done across the pond (unless of course, you're one of the Chosen People).  My Sister-in-Law lived in London for a few years, which is where she gave birth to her son, and she had a very difficult time finding a doctor who was willing to circumcise my nephew.  Apparently the Brits think it's a barbaric practice.  Then again they also seem to think the same of dental care, so I'm not sure how seriously I take their opinion on the matter.  I just hope the future King of England's foreskin doesn't frighten too many girls when he's partying it up Prince Harry style.

And Now Back to Our Regularly Scheduled Programming

Motherhood...helping you find yet another creative use for a boo boo bear.

It's Monday, dear readers, and I have to tell you that I am thrilled to be back with you in the wild world of the interwebs.  Late last week I got a nasty case of Mastitis, which is why you had to make your weekend plans without my helpful suggestions (a real hardship, I'm sure).  For those of you not in the know, Mastitis is an infection in the breast tissue that can happen when you're breast feeding.  It came on really suddenly - I arrived home from a day at the park with Noah and all of the sudden I had a migraine and then chills and then a fever of 102 degrees - and I was down for the count. I basically spent most of the weekend in bed with frozen cabbage leaves on my boob. Thankfully, the antibiotic my Doctor prescribed finally kicked in on Saturday evening, so I am once again feeling like my old self and in search of child-friendly activities to fill the hours. I'm so grateful to our families and our wonderful nanny who picked up the childcare slack while I was sleeping.  I honestly don't know how I would've managed, considering I was too dizzy to lift the Muffin Man.  I never thought I'd say this, but I'm actually looking forward to resuming my busy and demanding schedule of peekaboo and play dates; after the last few days, even singing Baby Beluga 15 times in a row sounds appealing.

Just Be, Baby

I'm blogging over at Laughing My Vag Off today, folks, so head on over there and check out my latest musings on the being I pushed out of my vagina.  Today I discuss my dislike of (other people's) children and what Motherhood has taught me so far.

Enjoy!

xoxo

Motherhood FAIL of the Week

This week marks our first foray into the world of sleep training. I'm now having to pay the price for initially taking the easy way out and nursing the Muffin Man to sleep for the last six months. I didn't intend to create a habit that is so hard to break, but I was sleep deprived and willing to do anything to get my kiddo to nap/sleep, and nursing always did the trick. Unfortunately, I also created a child who is now unable to fall asleep without sucking on a boob (as my Husband says, "do you blame him?  That's every man's fantasy.").  So now I am in the thick of listening to Noah wail as he attempts to put himself to sleep. Yes, it's as terrible as it sounds, if not worse. Here's the thing that makes it so hard: while I know I'm ultimately doing the right thing and teaching him how to fall asleep on his own, the Hubs is a big ol' softee who runs in to rescue Noah as soon as he makes a peep. For those readers who don't know my husband, let me paint a picture for you: he's six feet tall, 195 pounds, has a black belt in karate and once used super glue to put his finger back together when he sliced the tip off on Thanksgiving; the only thing the man is a wimp about is listening to our son cry. So while I'm toeing the line and letting Noah howl when I'm home alone with him, whenever Chris is home the little guy gets picked up, cuddled and fed an extra bottle, during which he looks at me with this glint in his eye like, "Ha ha, I win!  I've got Daddy under my control!"  I figure eventually I will manage to provide Chris with enough articles full of medical evidence proving that I am not damaging our son by forcing him to put himself to sleep, but until then I'm afraid I'm fighting a losing battle.  On the bright side, I suppose in 15 years or so there'll be plenty of girls who will be thrilled to have a guy suck on their boobs before bed.

Sleep Little Baby...Please!

I knew I jinxed myself last week when I wrote about Noah sleeping through the night. He's been waking up once per night for the last week. Last night it was at 2AM and the night before it was just before 5AM. Ugh.  Now that I've had a taste of the beautiful thing that is a full night's sleep, the interruption is somehow more torturous. After five months of not sleeping for longer than four hours at a time I had actually kind of gotten used to being exhausted all the time. Honestly, I can totally understand how women go crazy and end up drowning their kids in bathtubs; there is nothing more infuriating than being awakened every single night by a baby who won't go back to sleep. And yet, on the flip side, the middle of the night feedings are kind of special as well. It's so peaceful in the wee hours of the morning, before the birds start chirping and the garbage trucks begin their rounds.  Often I look down at my sweet little son cuddling up against me and I think about the fact that soon enough he will be a teenager who wants nothing to do with me, especially in the middle of the night.  I'm sure when that time comes I'll be nostalgic for the late night feedings and the boy who needs me every second of every day, but right now I would really just like a solid night of sleep.

Hit Me with Your Best Shot

The Muffin Man had his first vaccination today.  I thought I would be a complete and utter wreck, but I was surprisingly calm despite the fact that I was unable to pop a Xanax before the appointment.  We have a wonderful Pediatrician who combines homeopathy and western medicine in his practice, so we've been giving Noah a whole regimen of remedies to prepare for the shot.  I'm a total wimp when it comes to needles, so I thought for sure the kiddo would scream bloody murder. Thankfully, Noah seems to have the stoicism of his Father, because he barely made a peep.  Now he's in his bed sleeping peacefully and none the worse for wear.

I'm sure that a number of my dear readers may be surprised to hear that a dirty hippie like myself decided to vaccinate her child.  Here's the thing, I did a lot of research about all the vaccines before Noah made his entrance downstage vagina. I knew that I wanted to vaccinate against certain things, like measles and whooping cough, and not against others like Hepatitis B (amazingly, despite my checkered sexual past I have managed to remain disease free - shocker, I know).  I also wasn't comfortable with the vaccine schedule the CDC recommends, wherein tiny babies are given multiple vaccines at once, which I feel is very difficult for their bodies to handle. So I sought out a Pediatrician who only gives one vaccine at a time, and doesn't start the shots until babies are older.  He's also a trained Homepath who prefers to use natural remedies rather than prescription drugs, which was one thing I feel really strongly about.  I think the fact that our Doctor is supportive of my choices is a big part of the reason I wasn't an anxiety ridden mess this morning. I feel like Noah is in really good hands and is being given the best care that we can afford.  Rest assured that I have not completely lost my neurotic tendencies despite the fact that I weathered this morning's needle episode without incident;  I am currently enjoying a very strong cocktail to help ease my lingering stress.  

Have Yourself a Great Friggin' Weekend

And just like that another weekend is upon us.  I'm a restaurant widow again this weekend, as per usual, so I have a feeling most of my weekend will be spent playing peek-a-boo and wishing I could afford full time childcare.  Sunday we're headed to a birthday party.  The Muffin Man is only six months old and already we spend quite a few weekends attending birthday parties.  I guess this is just a foreshadowing of what I can expect once the kiddo starts school.  It's a good thing I like balloon animals and cake.

Birkenstocks are cool again.  Finally, I can purchase footwear to match my hippie tendencies without sacrificing my desire to be fashionable.

My kale obsession continues.

I LOVE this quote.

I admit to drinking alone, but that doesn't mean I have to compromise my standards.  This tiddly looks like the perfect drink to accompany an evening on the patio with my kindle while the Muffin Man snoozes.

Our duplex, while charming, is old and crusty, so, sadly, I have a need to try out this home remedy to wipe out mold.

More on the Cronut front: sex and bacon. 

Peaches and Pecan Sandies together in a crisp?  Um, yes please (minus the gluten, dairy and sugar, of course).

Have a wonderful weekend!

xoxo

Mommy the Grouch

I'm having one of those "what was I thinking?" moments with regards to Motherhood today.  I've been up with the Muffin Man since 4:30 this morning, so I already feel as though I've lived a full day and it's only 10AM. Honestly, I'm a bit wistful for the days of sleeping in, unscheduled nights out, and uninterrupted television viewing.  The good news is that I'm outsourcing my son's child care this afternoon so I can have a much-needed break.  In the meantime I'm definitely going to gulp down a few placenta pills with my third cup of coffee just to take the edge off.

Motherhood FAIL of the Week

It's been brought to my attention that a number of my newer readers are laboring (no pun intended) under the mistaken impression that I am not a neurotic, overwhelmed mess. Let me assure you that I am completely and totally frazzled, exhausted, and out of my element every single second of every day.  While I only post one failure each week I can guarantee that I have at least one failure each day, and I spend several hours of the day berating myself for being a terrible Mother whose son is sure to be forced to spend millions on therapy due to my shortcomings. So please, ladies. Go easy on yourselves. Motherhood is freakin' hard.  By sharing my own experiences and neuroses it's my hope that other Mommies won't judge themselves so harshly. We all struggle.  None of us are perfect, but we're just doing the best we can on an hour by hour basis. If you had a chance to take a shower today or eat lunch or wear an outfit that matches, give yourself a pat on the back. Because not only did you manage to take care of a small and helpless human being but you also found a few minutes to care for yourself, and that shit ain't easy.  So I dedicate this week's failure to Lauren: lady, I screw it all up daily.  The artisanal cocktails are just my reward for managing to keep myself and my son alive for another day. Keep on keepin' on, sister.

As I've mentioned before, we're entering the world of solid foods now that the Muffin Man is six months old.  Because I'm a dirty hippie I plan to make all of Noah's baby food with fresh, organic produce from either the farmers market or my garden. I happen to have a bumper crop of apples this year, so I figured a great use for them would be in applesauce for Noah.  Applesauce is insanely easy to make - just wash the apples, cut them in half, throw them in a pot with some water and cook them until they are soft and mushy. After they cool, put them through a food mill or a ricer to get rid of all the seeds and the skins and then enjoy a Martha Stewart moment while you admire your handy work. I made a big batch of applesauce and started feeding it to Noah for breakfast and dinner. He loved it, which I was thrilled by, because he has hated everything else we've tried. His revulsion for carrots was so intense that he actually batted the spoon away so hard that I got a carrot face mask. I couldn't believe how much applesauce the kid was scarfing down. A full bowl of the stuff in the morning and at night?  Amazing!  When I told my Mother about Noah's applesauce diet she pointed out that applesauce happens to be what you give to babies when they have the runs. Yet again, I've been stuffing my kid full of a food stuff that causes constipation.  So, of course, Noah hasn't pooped for three days and now he just sits around grunting all the time and sounding like my 85 year old father-in-law.  I know there's a giant poop explosion in my future (hopefully today) which is the perfect continuation of my shitty week. I tried to give him some prunes this morning, but true to form he hated those too, and refused to open his mouth when I attempted to feed him. So I guess I'll just have to let nature run its course, though I do hope his colon clears out soon, because it's a little disconcerting feeling like I'm sleeping next door to my father-in-law. 

A Major Case of the Tuesdays

Is it a full moon or is Mercury in retrograde or something?  Because so far this week has been a shit show and it's only Tuesday.  The Hubs is having major work stress and he hasn't had a day off in almost a month, I have a large desk blocking the doorway to my office, and last night our car got broken into. I dread to find out what's in store for me today.

Just in case you were wondering if the life of a writer and comedian is so lucrative as to secure one a home in a safe, crime-free neighborhood, I can assure you that it's not.  Nothing like having your car broken into in your own driveway to remind you that you do, in fact, live hood-adjacent. So today I'm hanging out at home waiting for the glass repair guy to come sometime between 8am and midnight and cruising the home listings in Westport, CT where the only crime is white collar crime.  Aside from complete and utter boredom and the over abundance of Stepford wives, can we come up with a reason why I should not seriously consider a move to Westport?

The desk is my fault. While I was busy patting myself on the back for finding a great deal on Craigslist, I failed to measure the width of the doorway into our office, and low and behold, the desk is too wide. So now not only is it an obstacle course to get to the computer, I'm going to have to pay my handyman to come and take the legs off the stupid thing to get it through the door.  My discount desk is going to end up costing more than a new one by the time it's all said and done. EPIC CRAIGSLIST FAIL.

To add insult to injury it looks like the glass man won't get here in time for the Muffin Man and I to get to our VIP Mommy and Me class, so I'm sure I'll be ejected for missing a session due to the fact that I do not have staff to handle these sorts of everyday nuisances on my behalf. 

At least I'll have plenty of time to call my astrologer and find out what other fun adventures are in store for me this week. 

Weekend with Mommy

I'm going to be honest with you here, people. Once you have a child it feels like you're in the movie Groundhog Day and you're just living the same day over and over and over. So, basically, it's like Monday every single day of the week. Yeah, pretty frightening, huh?

Despite the Hubby's busy work schedule, we did manage to enjoy the holiday weekend.  Chris got home from work in time to see the fireworks, which was a nice surprise. We have an excellent view from our bedroom window, so we parked ourselves in bed with a couple of cocktails and enjoyed the show. If only the loud explosions hadn't woken Noah up, it would've been great.  I'm sure he will appreciate fireworks in a few years, but currently the celebration of our Nation's founding only causes screaming and tears. 

Friday I recruited the grandparents for a combination of home improvement and child care.  Noah seems to be going through some sort of stage where he either doesn't want to nap or only naps for 30 minutes once a day, so I was really happy to have someone to hand the kiddo off to so I could take a shower.

Saturday was the big Grand Opening fete for the restaurant, so I pulled myself together and took Noah down to see his Daddy and be part of the excitement.  I'm sure when Noah is older he will be able to appreciate the fact that he saw the Batmobile, but I think at this stage he mainly felt overwhelmed by all the people and the loud music. He did look cute though, and that's what matters, right?

Sunday we had a few hours with Chris before he had to run off to work, so we tried the new coffee spot on Larchmont (great coffee, really dumb the way it's set up, service wise) before hitting the fafmer's market.

Yesterday also happened to be my nephew's tenth birthday, so dinner, as per family tradition, was at Benihana. It was Noah's first visit to the temple of hacky showmanship and the aroma of grease that permeates your hair and clothes, and I'm pretty sure he liked it. He didn't get to try any of the food, but considering I have 10 nieces and nephews, I'm sure he'll have plenty of opportunities to enjoy the fine cuisine in his lifetime.  Seriously, has the menu at Benihana changed at all since the place opened in 1964?  

And now I'm off to wash the smell of Benihana out of my hair while the Muffin Man naps. Here's hoping he sleeps for longer than the duration of a Dora the Explorer episode.  

Have Yourself a Great Long Weekend

I hope you all had a fabulous Fourth of July!  The Hubs had to work, so I took the kiddo to my parents house and let them hang out with him while I napped.  We have a great view of the fireworks from our bedroom window, which would've been really romantic if the Muffin Man hadn't woken up due to all the loud noise and started screaming.  I figure we've got another four years or so before he's no longer terrified of fireworks.  Sigh.

It looks to be a busy weekend around these parts.  The big grand opening shindig for The Restaurant is tomorrow, so the Muffin Man and I will be braving the crowds to support the Hubby's new venture.  Here's hoping it's not too hot and/or humid so I don't look like a complete frizzy-haired wreck in any photos I may be forced to take.

Chris' work schedule combined with the scorching weather has me in search of quick, no-cook dinner ideas.  This salad sounds delicious! (Plus I love Dinner, a Love Story)

I'm planning to spend some time in the garden today, and I'm so glad to see that my hatred for Impatiens is shared.  Herewith, a few alternatives.

I was so excited to see that Daily Candy has the cocktail recipe for the Lillet Spritz from Trois Mec.  It's  absolutely delicious!  They give it to you as a complimentary aperitif, and I liked it so much I asked if I could order one with my meal.  Perhaps releasing the recipe signifies that I'm not the only (annoying) customer in LA?

I'm having a leafy green obsession these days.  I hope this isn't a sign that I've been drinking too much Kale-ginger juice, but I'm digging leaf prints on everything from swimsuits to powder rooms.

Enjoy your weekend, chickadees!

xoxo

Motherhood FAIL of the Week: Poopy & Me

Last week the Muffin Man and I attended our first session of the VIP Mommy and Me class. I put a lot of time and effort into getting the two of us ready; I managed to take a shower and throw on some makeup and I picked out an adorable, hip little outfit for Noah. I was feeling rather proud of myself when I loaded the two of us into the car and set out for the Valley. Five minutes into our car ride I heard the unmistakable sound of Noah having a poop explosion.  I probably should've pulled over and changed his diaper right then, but we were running a few minutes late and I figured since the damage was already done I might as well continue on my way and deal with the fallout after we arrived at class.  Sure enough, when I picked Noah up out of his carseat I discovered that he had pooped through his diaper and his shorts.  After introducing myself to the teacher, I quickly rushed into the bathroom to change Noah's diaper and hopefully make him presentable for class.  The bathroom has one of those pull-down plastic changing tables, which does make things easier.  Unfortunately, I discovered that I had left my nice, soft changing pad at home in the laundry bin.  Usually I at least have a disposable plastic changing pad in my bag, but not, of course, last week.  I did, miraculously, have a fresh diaper and a clean pair of shorts to change Noah into, but I was forced to put him down on the hard plastic changing table with just a scratchy paper towel underneath him.  In the process of putting him down on the table, I banged his head and he started screaming hysterically.  There I am, trapped in a tiny bathroom with a wailing baby covered in poop while all the other Mommies right outside the door can hear my son going insane.  I changed Noah's diaper as fast as is humanly possible when you're dealing with a writhing, screaming chid, swapped his shorts (which, of course did not match his t-shirt at all) and took my wailing son into the classroom to meet his new baby buddies.  At this point I was a sweaty, anxiety-ridden mess, my red-faced and howling son was sporting a clashing outfit, and I discovered I had, somehow, gotten poop on my own shirt.  Noah did manage to calm down enough to enjoy class, and only two of the Mommies snubbed me because of my poop-stained shirt, so I suppose it wasn't a total bust.  Just remind me the next time Noah poops before class to surreptitiously drop his dirty diaper into one of those bitches' diaper bags.

Table for One

I've gotten a number of questions recently about what it's like to be a "restaurant wife", so I figured it was finally time to give you all the low down.  I know that owning a restaurant seems like a fantastic job.  In fact, owning a restaurant is second only to being a movie star when people are asked about their dream job.  On the surface being a restaurateur seems like it would be tons of fun - like having your friends over for a dinner party ever night - but unless your friends are demanding, often boorish, and complain about how much everything costs, I can assure you that serving the general public is nothing like hanging out with your peeps.  There are times when running a restaurant is fun, but mostly it's just really hard work, with unbelievably long hours and tiny profit margins.  Not all that long ago a guy at a party told me that he would really like to own a restaurant so he could "be home early every night and not have to work as much as I do at my advertising job."  Apparently this dude was under the impression that if you own a restaurant you don't have to actually do anything except count your money while you hang out on your yacht (this is true for some people, but not for most). I had to patiently explain that unless he felt like working days, nights and weekends, he should stick to advertising.  Obviously, being the spouse of a restaurateur is not for everyone. If you don't enjoy attending weddings, bar mitzvahs, or any other even that happens to fall on a weekend, alone, I suggest you avoid getting involved with anyone who owns a restaurant.  Are you looking for a spouse with a steady, reliable job with no fluctuations in salary?  Not a fan of spending holidays on your own?  Then I strongly urge you to put "no restaurateurs, please" on your JDate profile.  I, on the other hand, don't mind all of these things.  Maybe it's because I'm an only child, or the fact that I've been a restaurant spouse for many years and am used to it, but I'm extremely independent and value having time to myself. Before the Muffin Man arrived, when I was slinging jokes for a living, having a husband who also worked late and didn't mind my being out all the time was perfect.  Would it be nice to have a husband with a normal job?  I'm sure I would enjoy the steady income and having a date for New Year's Eve, but I like being married to someone who understands what it's like to be creative and take the Road Less Traveled.  I've made my peace with the drawbacks in return for a lifetime of delicious meals and knowing everything there is to know about the restaurant business.  Anyway, I think it's great that Noah will grow up knowing his way around a kitchen; the girls will definitely put out for a guy who cooks.

Weekend Warrior(ess)

I just want to give myself a public pat on the back for surviving a weekend of solo Mothering. The Hubs is in the thick of the restaurant opening, so he's been up and out early and hasn't gotten home until well after 10PM.  Needless to say, I've missed having someone to pass the baby off to after a long day of playing peek-a-boo, and I'm pretty sure Noah missed the far more exciting/potentially dangerous activities he enjoys when Daddy is home.

Friday we went and visited Chris at work. One of the nice things about having a spouse in the restaurant biz is that you get to be a guinea pig when they are training the staff.  Noah loved seeing all the activity and hanging out with the folks Chris works with, and I enjoyed eating pizza (gluten-free!) and letting other people hold my child. 

Saturday the Grandparents came for a visit, specifically so I could take advantage of Grandpa Jim's mad handyman skillz to hang Noah's new swing.  He LOVES it so much and I'm pretty sure he's spent at least five hours in the thing since Saturday. 

Yesterday we went to a baby shower for my friend who's expecting a girl in September.  I had a little too much fun picking out pink items from her registry (pink sparkles bathtub?  Um, hells to the yes) and cooing over all the adorable, yet highly impractical, gifts she received.

I also enjoyed the fact that her sweetheart held Noah for the entire party and they just chilled together, like cool dudes.  I can't wait to meet their little girl and hook Noah up with her because she's sure to be a hottie.