Mondays Suck

Just in case the fact that it's Monday wasn't enough to sour my morning, I've spent the last three hours on the phone with the police department and our insurance company dealing with the fallout from a real estate open house that occurred yesterday.  I haven't mentioned it here on the ol' blog before, mainly because I prefer to be in denial about all the bad things in life, but our landlord is selling our duplex.  What this will mean in the long run remains to be seen.  We're sincerely hoping that whoever purchases the property does so solely as an investment and allows us to stay on, but it's entirely possible that we will have to move in the not-so-distant future.

As a result of the house being listed for sale, the landlord asked to have an open house, which I agreed to.  I admit to being somewhat hesitant to open my home to a parade of strangers ogling my stuff, but I did my utmost to make our house look neat and tidy in order to facilitate a successful sale.  You know, I could've been a real asshole, as I'm sure many tenants are, and left our bed unmade and the kitchen a mess and toys all over the floor.  However, I am a nice person with decent manners and our current landlord is really a lovely person, so out of respect for her I went the extra mile to make our home look attractive to potential buyers.  Well, I guess our home looked inviting to buyers and thieves, because when we arrived home the Realtor informed us that someone "suspicious" had gone upstairs and then come running back down again a few minutes later before exiting our home.  Why this suspicious person was allowed into our home at all, let alone to go upstairs without being followed is beyond me.  Upon closer examination we discovered that the person in question had gone into our bedroom, opened up a drawer, and stolen a valuable watch and several rings.

So today I've been trying to deal with the fallout from yesterday's events while also juggling a small child who doesn't appreciate it when his Mother is on the phone.  First, I tried to file a police report (after being on hold for 40 minutes) only to be told that I have to do so in person.  Yeah, that should go real well with a nine month old in tow.  After that I was on the line with our insurance company for an hour.  They want photographic documentation of us wearing the items in question, because it's totally normal to take pictures of one's wrists and hands (really?), so after getting off the phone with them I spent another hour looking through 4,563 iPhotos trying to find random snapshots of Chris's wrist and my left hand, to no avail.  All of this was done while simultaneously feeding, changing and playing with the Muffin Man who was alternately crying and laughing.  Fun times.  I f-ing hate Mondays.

Now I'm off to the police station to file the stupid police report.  Let's not forget that I live ghetto adjacent, so the jaunt to my local precinct promises to be like something from Law and Order circa 1990.  Needless to say, I'll be taking a lot of sanitizing hand wipes with me.  Wish me luck, folks.

(Image from http://www.thewritetomakealiving.com)

Have a Wonderful Weekend

Sorry for the late post today, friends.  I've been busy filling out a preschool application for the school we toured yesterday which is basically our dream school.  I honestly feel that the Muffin Man attending this place will ensure his development into a confident, well-rounded human being who will not require a lifetime of expensive psychoanalysis (unlike his parents).  Here's hoping we ace the family interview and Noah gets a spot for the class that matriculates in 2030.

We have a busy weekend around these parts, complete with a birthday party and our annual neighborhood block party on Sunday.  I'm supposed to bring a dessert, so assuming I can muster enough energy to drag my tired Mommy bones into the kitchen tomorrow, I plan to make some gluten free, vegan, sugar-free Thin Mints.  Trust me, they actually taste really, really delicious.

Here are a few gems from around the web to get you in the weekend mood...

Peanut butter chocolate chip ice cream without dairy (or an ice cream maker)!

My San Francisco dream home.

The grief that comes from watching your babies grow up.

A weekend breakfast perfect for fall.

How to make your red lips look perfectly kissable.

My newest obsession is obelisks.

Please feed me kimchi fried rice.

We're three seasons behind on Breaking Bad, but this cocktail has me in the mood for more White & Pinkman.

Dying to read this livre.

I'm having a fashion affair with harem pants.

Have a wonderful weekend, my lovelies!

xoxo

Preschool Panic: Touring Edition

We're headed out for our very first preschool tour this morning.  I spent most of yesterday freaking out about not having anything cute/hip/chic enough to wear and wishing that I'd had time to get my hair done and my car washed before making an appearance at this dog and pony show.  As it is I'm going to roll up in my filthy Toyota with full-on skunk roots and a marginally clean outfit, so let's hope they're not making admissions decisions based on personal hygiene and fashion sense.  The Hubs can't stay for the whole tour what with the whole full-time job thing (really, there are people in LA who have to work for a living and are not living off of some bottomless trust fund.  It's shocking, I know) so I'm going to be representing Noah all by my lonesome for most of the morning.

I have this recurring nightmare that my "quirkiness" (read: weirdness) causes my son to either be rejected by every good school in the LA basin or, worse, that he gets in but ends up having no friends because his parents are weridos.  So here's hoping I can keep my freak flag lowered to half mast until the conclusion of the tour in order to give the Muffin Man a decent shot at a top-of-the-line pre-kindergarten education.  If I hadn't already depleted my Xanax stash I would pop one before leaving the house, but sadly I'm out of refills and my Psychotherapist wants me to come in for a session before hooking me up (seriously, Dr. Goldberg, I'm just as anxious as I was two months ago.  Now can you please refill my damn scrip?!).  The anxiety is killing me, people, and we have seven more schools to tour!  Just imagine what a wreck I'm going to be before our family interview.  Remind me to make sure Dr. Goldberg hooks me up before that happens, or Noah may not get accepted anywhere based on the fact that his Mother is literally pulling out her own hair.

Well, here goes nothing.  I promise to report back.

Motherhood FAIL of the Week: Good Mommy

I've recently begun taking the Muffin Man to a Mommy and Me yoga class on Tuesday mornings.  I did a lot of Prenatal Yoga when I was pregnant, which I definitely think contributed to the success of my natural birth, but it wasn't exactly a hard workout.  Now that I'm finally ready to get my body back in shape, I've been on the hunt for a good class that gives me a workout but that also welcomes my crawling, wiggling, chattering child. I found one that not only fulfills all my requirements but also happens to be taught by my doula.  I absolutely love this class.  It's a nurturing environment full of Mommas and Babies, but I also get a great workout that leaves me with sore muscles the following day.

Yesterday, in addition to receiving a killer ab workout, I also came face-to-face with my feelings about my mothering.  The teacher had us do an exercise in which we had to say to ourselves, "I am a really good Mother.  I am a great Mother.  I acknowledge that I am a very good Mother."  Well, you know what?  I couldn't for the life of me say those words out loud.  I spend so much time here on the blog and in my day-to-day life being very up front about all of my instances of bad Mothering, that it's very hard for me to allow myself the space to accept the good Mothering as well.  To be fair I realize this is an issue that permeates all aspects of my life, which is why I still see a therapist, but let's just focus on the Mothering sphere today.  Why is it that as Mothers we see our faults so clearly, but not our assets?  

No Mommy is perfect.  Heck, I'm just doing my best trying to make it through the day without causing bodily harm to myself or my son.  But I am a good Mother.  Yes, I forget to fasten my kid into his carseat, and I've been known to feed him a choking hazard or two, but none of these things were done with malicious intent.  In fact, everything I do is done out of love and a desire to be the best, most perfect Mom on the planet.  Of course, this is an impossible quest.  All I can be is a perfectly imperfect Mommy; and that should be enough.

So today's Motherhood FAIL is a little different.  By not being able to acknowledge that I am a really good Mother, I'm not only failing myself, but also my son.  If I have no confidence in my Mothering skills, how can I expect Noah to trust me with his well being?  I love that kid more than words can say, and I am often a not-so-good Mommy, but I am also a very, very good Mother.  So I'm going to make an effort to remind myself of this on a daily basis.  I promise that my newfound confidence in my Mothering skills will not keep me from sharing my various failures, because in my book having the ability to laugh at yourself and all of your fumbles is definitely the cornerstone to being a very good Mother.  

Get Up and Go

The Muffin Man is on the move.  That's right, my friends, he has started to crawl.  I'm not sure "crawl" is really the correct word, as it's more like a series of seizures propelling him across the room.  He hasn't quite figured out the mechanics of the whole crawling thing.  Right now he alternates between sliding around on his stomach while using his feet to push off of various pieces of furniture, or leaving his left arm crunched beneath him and pulling himself along with his right arm.  It's really quite entertaining, especially since he simultaneously grunts with frustration that he's unable to move as rapidly as he wants to.  Thankfully, his inability to move very fast has allowed me to postpone the whole baby proofing thing, although I'm afraid that I'm going to have to bite the bullet and get that taken care of before my son ends up propelling himself right down the stairs.

I sincerely hope that Noah's not-so-graceful crawling style doesn't portend his being uncoordinated.  I have this crippling fear that he's going to end up being an athletic dunce just like me, which will relegate him to a future of chess club and lingering virginity.  Hopefully he inherited his Father's natural athletic talents which, combined with his sparkling personality and large penis, will ensure his future as Mr. Popularity.  I will, of course, support him no matter what he excels at, but I'd much rather spend my weekends ogling cute high school boys in tight baseball pants than going to chess meets.

Weekend Review

Welcome to the last week of September, my friends.  I admit to being kind of excited for the arrival of October and the upcoming holidays.  I'm finally going to have a little person to dress up in silly costumes on Halloween!  I'm sure my cats are thrilled that I will no longer be forcing them into ridiculous headpieces that they manage to escape from in minutes.

It was a beautiful autumn weekend here in La la Land.  Saturday I had a lovely morning visit from my dear friend Amelia, and we amused ourselves by taking photographs of the Muffin Man in ridiculous poses.

The Emmy awards took place last night, and, shockingly, we weren't invited to any fabulous parties.  We did, however, spend Sunday with the extended family celebrating birthdays.  I know it seems as though we are always at some family birthday party, but the Hubs has four brothers and sisters, so if you count them, plus all the spouses and kids...there's pretty much a birthday every single weekend.  Thank goodness I like my in-laws!

(Not) kickin' ass and taking names at Candy Land.

It has been brought to my attention that I used to cheat at Candy Land when I was younger.  Well, karma is a bitch, folks, because my nephews have some racket going where each player gets his or her own stack of cards, and I noticed that mine always seemed to be loaded with the Gingerbread Man and the Gumdrop Forest.  Needless to say, I came in last.  

I'm pretty sure a good time was had by all, though I think Noah was rather unhappy that he had to eat Happy Puffs instead of cake.

Fall Into the Weekend

We're finally getting some fall weather here in the land of perma-sun and plastic surgery.  My obsession with booties and warm sweaters continues apace, which you may have noticed if you're following me on Pinterest.  The Hubs is cooking up a batch of his famous shortribs for a family birthday shindig on Sunday evening, and I'm in the mood for pumpkin pie, so I think that means summer is officially over.  I confess that I'm a bit sad to be retiring the Muffin Man's summer wardrobe as he really does have the most delicious little legs.

Here are some goodies from around the web to spice up your weekend:

Our fireplace doesn't actually work, but I would love to have a cool place to store some (prop) wood.

How your bedroom wall color is killing your sex life.

Photo proof that I need to lay off the vino.

What if you were living like it's 1983 instead of 2013?  One family is.

A black living room that's light and bright.  For reals.

Homemade pickles are delicious even when one is not with child.

I'm now officially grossed out by Sweden.

Bottoms up, coconut lovers.

I am not Super Mom, and that's okay.

Have a wonderful weekend, my lovelies!

xoxo

Boob's the Word

It's all about boobs today on Laughing My Vag Off, folks.  Head on over there for my musings on the sad state of my post-baby breasts.  It's sure to be both informative and titillating (pun intended)!
xoxo

Motherhood FAIL of the Week: Phone Home

As part of my ongoing effort to save money, we do not have a home telephone.  This happens to drive my Mother-in-Law insane, but seeing as it's the 21st century and that it costs almost $50 a month for a landline, I'm fine with this decision.  The only drawback is that I have to keep my cell phone within arms reach at all times, in case the Hubs or someone even more important tries to reach me.  While this may sound simple enough in theory, trying to carry a small, wiggling child and a fragile piece of technology at the same time often requires contortion skills equal to those of a Cirque de Soleil performer.  Usually I wear pants with a handy rear pocket perfect for holding my phone, but on the days when I find myself wearing my pajamas until three or four in the afternoon, I don't have a good spot to stash my trusty iPhone.  This usually results in me trying to carry the Muffin Man, a bottle, some sort of toy and my phone all at the same time.  I've gotten pretty good at this juggling act over the last eight months; it's amazing how many different items a determined Mother can carry at once.  Heck, some days I think I may have missed my calling as a sherpa.

I've discovered that one of the hardest things to do each day (aside from finding time to shower) is trying to get my diaper bag packed up and get the Muffin Man and I out the door.  I'm sure a more organized, better prepared Mother would get everything ready while her son was napping, but I have to use that time for more important activities like checking People.com and adding pictures of baked goods to my Pinterest boards.  As a result of my refusal to plan ahead, I inevitably find myself running up and down the stairs with Noah in one arm and diapers and wipes and toys and bottles and changes of clothes in the other.  And, of course, my trusty friend Mr. iPhone balanced precariously on top of the pile of baby gear.  This past Monday I had the brilliant idea to hold my cell phone in my mouth while I was getting us ready to go.  While this may sound like an excellent solution in theory, it turns out that iPhones are rather slippery and not really designed to be carried by the scruff of the neck like a four-day-old kitten.  Never one to be deterred by reality (case in point: my acting career) I chomped down on my phone, grabbed my kid and all the accoutrements necessary for one hour away from our home, and went on my way.  As I was buckling Noah into the carseat, the slick outer shell of my phone got the better of me, slipped out of my toothy hold, and fell right smack onto my son's forehead before hitting the ground.  

Just in case you have been living with the Bedoins for the last several years and aren't versed in the weight of an iPhone, I assure you these hand-held computers are not light.  Take into account that I was standing several feet above my child, so calculating for velocity, the thing probably clocked my kid's head at a speed of... well, I don't know.  I suck at math, but let's just assume it was a fast speed and that it hurt really badly.  Needless to say Noah started screaming, his forehead began to swell up to three times its normal size, and my phone had a shattered screen.

Thankfully, Noah's physical injuries were easily treated with a booboo bear and his blankie.  His psychological injuries haven't made an appearance yet, but I keep expecting him to start screaming hysterically every time he sees the instrument of his torture.  My iPhone, on the other hand, requires more than a penguin-shaped ice pack to return to its former glory.  Good thing I saved all that money by not having a landline; it's going to be super useful to pay for the cost of replacing my phone screen.

Not My People

These are my people

So...I'm dropping out of VIP Mommy and Me.  I'm not usually a quitter.  In fact, I frequently stick to things way longer than I ever should - men, drugs, the whole acting career thing - so the situation must really be bad to keep me from going back.  There's nothing wrong with the class, per se.  I've actually gotten some wonderful information, and I really do like the teacher, but the problem is that I haven't made friends with any of the other Moms.  I don't know if this is because I was late to the party and all of the cliques had already been established (the parallels to high school here are somewhat troubling, I know) or if it's just that I'm a little too quirky for this group and they don't really know what to think of me, but either way, as my dear friend Fia put it, these just aren't my people.  I would really like them to be.  I would like to wear designer clothes and to drive a new, shiny Range Rover and to own a big house in the hills, but I don't.  I shop at Forever 21, I drive an old Toyota, and I rent a small, crappy duplex in a questionable part of Hollywood; I know when I don't fit in.

Five or ten years ago, I would've stuck it out and continued to attend this class despite the fact that each week I come home feeling shitty about myself.  I don't know if it's because I'm 35 and no longer give a crap, or if it's a side effect of Motherhood, but I seem to have finally gained the wisdom to walk away from situations that aren't good for me.  Granted, the decision was made easier by the fact that we really can't afford the cost of another ten week session of this class, but I made it none the less.  I probably could've scraped the money together by scrimping and saving, but to give up date nights and manicures and HBO in order to attend a class where Noah and I don't feel welcome seems, well, ridiculous.

Given the choice, would I trade who I am for a Mercedes SUV and a Cartier Love bracelet?  No, I don't think I would.  Because for all of my faults, I happen to be a fairly cool lady.  I'm a good friend, a loving wife, and, despite all of my shortcomings, I make a decent showing as a Mommy.  I even have a pretty great collection of Mommy friends who don't think less of me because of my low bank balance and my non-designer diaper bag.  Those are my people, and I'm looking forward to having a lot more time to spend with them once I blow off this class.

Week End

We're gearing up for a busy week around here, with the Hubby opening another restaurant location today, so we had a very quiet weekend.  Incidentally, if you like pizza and you live in the Los Angeles area, you can score yourself a free pie Tuesday (9/17) evening if you're a fan of Blaze Pizza on Facebook.  While you're over there, why not give a little love to the Misadventures in Motherhood fan page as well?

I confess to actually being just a teensy bit excited that today is Monday because I'm headed to a fancy ladies-who-lunch get together to celebrate a couple of birthdays.  I'm taking the Muffin Man with me because he's highly entertaining, he looks cute in a button down shirt, and my lady friends enjoy hanging out with him.  Fingers crossed he naps long enough for me to shower and put on some makeup this afternoon.

This was the last official weekend of summer before the Autumnal Equinox next Sunday, so we took advantage of the warm weather and spent quite a lot of time outside enjoying Noah's swimming pool.  Sadly, we had to cancel our Friday night outing sans child because the Hubs injured his hand.  The restaurant business is a dangerous one my friends, especially when someone mops the floor with olive oil (seriously) and one's beloved takes a tumble and lands on his hand.  Thankfully, he didn't break anything, but it was bruised badly enough that Chris spent Friday evening with his hand submerged in our fancy monogrammed ice bucket.  We had every intention of taking Noah to the kids service on Saturday morning, but his nap schedule interfered with our atonement plans, so I guess we'll have to repent twice as much next year.  Shockingly, the only schedule babies seem to like to keep to is their own.  Who knew?

In LA even the produce is famous

Sunday we hit up the Farmer's Market and then did a few gardening and home improvement projects around the ol' duplex.

Fall always makes me nostalgic for the East Coast and those beautiful autumn colors, but I suspect that the Hubs is happy he doesn't have to rake piles and piles of leaves and gear up for impending snow season.

Happy Weekend

Well it's finally the weekend.  I'm thrilled to tell you that the Hubby has tomorrow off so that we can atone for our sins (it being Yom Kippur and all), so I won't be living the single parent life this weekend.  Tonight we're ditching the kiddo to attend a restaurant opening, so let's hope I can find time to shower today.

Here are some linkety links to get you in the weekend groove:

Someone please come over and bake these delicious cakes for me.

Cut the neck off this bat sweatshirt and rock a chic Halloween-inspired look.

Further proof that Birkenstocks are back and the it shoe for fall.

Is social media making you feel shitty about your life?  Welcome to the club.

It's time to start telling your kids they suck at stuff.

Californians and New Yorkers are dirty whores.  Finally, a study that justifies my former behavior.

I don't usually like lavender in food, but add citrus and alcohol and you've got me.

Have a great one, my friends.  If you're one of my Chosen People readers I wish you an easy fast.  Just remember, whatever you do after dark on Saturday night you'll have to atone for next year!

xoxo

Mind Your Own Beeswax

Hey now, it's Thursday, so that means I'm spouting off over at Laughing My Vag Off.  Today I'm on my soapbox about people being all up in my business, so click on through to the other side and check it out.

xoxo

Motherhood FAIL of the Week: Side Salad

Recently, I've been making an effort to get out more and socialize with other Mommies.  This is due in part to the fact that spending hours alone with a baby seven days a week has me in danger of turning into Nell, but I also think it's good for the Muffin Man to socialize with other babies.  Last Tuesday, I met up with two Moms and their kiddos at Griffith Park.  Everyone brought their lunches and we set up a big picnic blanket so the kids could crawl around/ pull each other's hair/ try to eat leaves and grass.  Thanks to my annoying quinoa, kale and bark diet I was unable to bring a sandwich, like a normal person, and instead brought a tupperware full of leftovers and an arugula salad (ridiculously unpractical for a picnic, but what can you do).

The afternoon unfolded nicely, with the kids interacting a little bit while the Moms discussed such scinitilating topics as dairy allergies, breast feeding, and the consistency of baby poop.  After getting settled on the blanket and providing Noah with an assortment of toys and a baggie of Happy Puffs, I opened up my own lunch and proceeded to enjoy having other adults to talk with over a meal.  Eating while also juggling a small and very active human being is a bit of an art form.  Even under the best of circumstances, which means having someone else there to make sure your child doesn't somehow harm himself or others, it's basically impossible to have a relaxing and leisurely meal.  Prior to having a child I know that I had good table manners, but I'm afraid that now whenever I sit down to a plate of food I resemble a hog at a trough.  Unaccustomed to having time to savor anything, I've learned to inhale as much as I can in a short time in order to reap the benefits of caloric intake while Noah remains occupied.

At one point during lunch I had to put my tupperware down in order to retrieve a toy that the Muffin Man had thrown off of the blanket.  In the few seconds that I had my back turned, Noah somehow fell over, landed on top of my lunch tupperware, and ended up on his back with salad and quinoa all over his face and body.  In the process of becoming a human buffet table, he also incurred a nasty scratch on his cheek from the sharp edge of my plastic lunch container, which probably hurt like a mother when it got doused in salad dressing.  Of course, Noah started wailing hysterically, so there I was, comforting my poor kiddo while simultaneously getting myself covered in quinoa, arugula and grilled chicken.  After drying Noah's tears and ensuring that no permanent damage had been inflicted by the tupperware of death, I did my best to clean the two of us off with baby wipes.  I salvaged what I could of my lunch and my dignity and resumed conversing about the cost of preschool and the consistency of homemade baby food.

I'm awfully grateful that my Mommy dates were normal, cool ladies who didn't seem to pass judgement on my parenting skills and who still want to hang out with me despite my propensity for turning my son into an appetizer.  However, I think the next time we get together I'll eat at home, because I just don't think I can handle another week of picking quinoa grains out of my son's hair.

Preschool Panic

Yesterday I began the daunting task of applying to preschools.  Just in case you're new to the blog or you've somehow lost count, the Muffin Man is only eight months old.  He's not even a year old and I am already in the throes of putting him on preschool waiting lists for the 2015-2016 school year.  Welcome to life in Los Angeles.

Before I got pregnant, I somehow stumbled across the documentary Nursery University, about the competition to get kids into nursery school in Manhattan.  While I found it to be a fascinating look at the lengths to which parents will go to get their kids into the "right" school, I brushed it off as just another crazy New York thing while subsequently patting myself on the back for moving to LA and therefore ensuring an easier time of it for any future offspring.  Foolish me!  There may not be a documentary about it, but I assure you that it is no less competitive, no less insanity-inducing here in the City of Angels.

We're talking about preschool here, people.  A place where my two year old will go for three hours a day to paint with his fingers and catch colds from his dirty little classmates.  Yes, I think it's important for Noah to attend preschool in order to learn to socialize and share, but I'm seriously traumatized by the competition we're facing.  Two of the schools on my list are not even offering tours or applications because all of their spots for the 2015 session are reserved for siblings of older children.  My current hope is that Noah will have a leg up because neither of his parents work in the Industry.  I figure at the very least the school will see the advantage of having a parent in the restaurant business when it comes to catering school events.

I'm sure you're all just dying to know how much it's going to cost us for Noah to spend 15 hours a week making clay sculptures and braiding challah.  First, you have to pay to apply, which is anywhere from $100 to $200, depending on the school.  We're applying to at least six schools, so that means we're going to be out close to $1000 in application fees alone.  Ok, fine.  We'll find that money somewhere, somehow.  Assuming Noah gets accepted to one of these Ivy Leagues for the under five set, the average cost for one year is $9000.  Some are less, and some are upwards of $20,000.  The Temple schools we are looking into charge for preschool on top of your yearly membership dues as part of the congregation.  A few of the schools have Mommy & Me classes, and participation in those gives you a better chance of getting into preschool, with the average cost of those being $300-$400 for a ten week session.  The outlay of cash to get your child into a decent preschool is staggering. Honestly, I'm not even really sure how we're going to afford preschool if we do get into one.  I think we fall into that in-between category of making too much money to qualify for financial aide, but not enough money that paying for preschool won't be a hardship.  I absolutely dread having to go through this whole process again for grade school or high school.  Remind me to ask my psychiatrist to up my Xanax dosage before Noah's fourth birthday.

Pin Up

Well, hello there, Monday.  We had an extremely unexciting weekend around these parts (unless you consider making baby food and going to Costco exciting).  I had hoped we'd be able to steal away to Santa Barbara for the day on Sunday, but alas, the Hubs had to work, so we stayed close to home.  

You know what did happen this weekend?  I became addicted to Pinterest.  The fact that I have the Pinterest app on my iPhone is very, very bad.  It's basically like putting a bag of cocaine in an addict's pocket and expecting her not to snort it.  I mean, seriously.  I already have a problem that causes me to tear pages from magazines at the nail salon and the doctor's office but now I can do it digitally and all the time!!!  I have actually taken to locking my phone in the trunk of my car so that I can't pin at stop lights and inadvertently cause a fatal accident with my interior design obsession.  Yes, it's that bad.  

There is one problem with Pinterest, however, and it's that it makes me freaking hungry.  Half the pins that people put on there are pictures of insanely delicious-looking baked goods.  S'more squares with smoked marshmallow fluff?  Nutella pot de creme with sea salt? Cinnamon roll cupcakes with cream cheese frosting?  YES, PLEASE!  It's literally crazy making.  Inevitably, after just a few minutes of scrolling Pinterest I find myself in the kitchen staring into my refrigerator for something that can appease my craving for rocky road cookie bars.  Of course, since I'm still eating bark and quinoa, there is absolutely nothing in my home that remotely resembles any of these tasty treats, and I'm left feeling extremely unsatisfied (not unlike sex with many of my exes).  I guess I'll just have to get my sugar fix virtually.  Now if you'll excuse me, I really have to take advantage of my kiddo's nap to spend some time on Pinterest.

Have a Good One

I've been experimenting with some new design templates here at Misadventures headquarters, so I hope you like the new look.  Feel free to let me know if you absolutely hate it by leaving a comment or sending me an email.

We're gearing up for another weekend of hot temperatures here in the City of Angels.  Sunday I'm going to attempt to steal the Hubby away from work for a jaunt to Santa Barbara.  I'm dying for a few hours at the beach and some of the world's best tacos.

Here are some fun links to kick off your weekend in style:

I'm throwing a baby shower for one of my besties this winter.  I'm pretty sure she'll kill me if I serve one of these cakes.

I'm loving these ideas for wearing white jeans into fall.

Hair mousse is back.  Cue the theme song to St. Elmo's Fire.

I rarely eat cheese, but for brie and bacon dip I think I can make an exception.  Yum.

Ten fall boots under $100.

Parental confessions that make me feel better about my (daily) Motherhood FAILs.

Man Repeller tells you how to look fashionable and still be comfy.

A ginger cocktail that feels fall-inspired but cool enough for the scorching weather.

Netflix for books.

I think my home office needs a giant plant.

Diana Nyad has inspired me to get more exercise than just walking to the kitchen.

Have a great weekend, my friends!

xoxo

Party Like it's 5774

I love a man in a yarmulke.

We partied it up last night, my friends.  In fact, the Muffin Man was so exhausted from all of the Rosh Hashanah activities that he didn't wake up until 8AM!  I wish I could say the same for myself, but apparently I am no longer capable of sleeping past dawn now that I am a parent.  Believe me, it is truly disheartening to wake up before both the sun and your son.

I'm laying low with the family today, but I thought you might enjoy seeing a couple photos of the Muffin Man in action.  We had a wonderful dinner with a large gathering of family and friends, and Noah was definitely the hit of the party.  I'm not surprised, I mean the kid really does know how to rock a yarmulke.  

Out with the Old

Reading up on Rosh Hashanah

Happy New Year!  Don't worry, my friends, I haven't completely lost my marbles; I know that it's not January 1st.  For those of us of the Jewish persuasion, tonight marks the beginning of Rosh Hashanah, or the Jewish New Year.  We're ringing out that musty old year of 5773 and welcoming the bright young thing of 5774.

Personally, Rosh Hashanah is my favorite holiday.  Sure, I love Chanukah because I get to unwrap presents and eat lots of fried food, but there's something about Rosh Hashanah that gets me excited for the upcoming Autumn and the year ahead.  Unlike secular New Year celebrations, in which one is expected to have fun no matter what, I like that the Jewish New Year is a time for celebration and reflection on the year that's coming to a close.  Tonight marks the Muffin Man's first Rosh Hashanah dinner.  We're getting together with the extended family, eating apples and honey (for a sweet new year) and lifting a glass of kosher wine for health, wealth and happiness in 5774.  I've made Noah a special batch of puréed apples just for tonight, I paid someone to iron his shirt, and I actually baked a honey cake.  I know it sounds like I've gone all "domestic goddess" on you or something, but rest assured my house is a mess, the kitchen floor is covered in flour, and I haven't washed my hair in at least a week.  

L' Shana Tovah, my friends!

It's All Over

I guess that summer is technically over, even though here in Los Angeles the temperatures are soaring almost as high as my air conditioning bill.  We didn't do much this weekend, mainly because the Hubby had to work, but also because when you have central air and can have wine delivered, what reason is there to leave the house?  Noah and I did take a dip in his very fancy inflatable swimming pool on Saturday afternoon, but after seeing photographs of myself in a bikini I think I will spare all of you the horror and not post any of them.

I'm really in mourning for my pre-baby abs today, my friends.  I'm a slender lady, so the rest of me has pretty much bounced back to the way I looked before, but the pouch I'm carrying around my midsection is distressing.  I may just start referring to myself as "Kanga", and Noah as "Roo".  Is it even possible to return my midsection to its pre baby glory without employing Tracy Anderson?  I wore one of those corset things after giving birth, and I've been doing yoga to tone my core, but I don't think it's working.  Supposedly it takes about a year for your body to return to its former state, so hopefully next summer I'll be able to wear a bikini in public.  Until then I'm just going to have to stick to the privacy of my own backyard and institute a "no photography" policy.