In Defense of Date Night

Last Saturday night the Hubs took me out to dinner, and it was amazing.

Was it the best meal we've ever had?  Not really.  But after five days of taking care of a sick and (super) clingy toddler I was just happy to have an excuse to shower and put on actual clothing; even I get tired of wearing pajamas after almost a week straight.

Honestly, we're not usually big fans of going out on Saturday nights.  I suppose it's from too many years of living in Manhattan where locals prowl the city on Thursday nights, and only "bridge and tunnel" people would be caught dead attempting to secure a restaurant reservation at 8PM on a Saturday.  We generally thumb our noses at leaving the comfortable confines of our couch on a weekend evening, but after too many days of being cooped up inside, we decided to hire a sitter and hit the town.

I am SO GLAD that we did.

• It felt good to have a reason to wear something other than pajamas or yoga pants.
• It felt fantastic to be out at a restaurant where there were no children.
• It felt incredible to have a conversation with my Husband that didn't get interrupted by a toddler screaming for "mo boo-berries".

We drank cocktails, and talked about world events and enjoyed the repeal of the fois gras ban, and over the course of two hours I regained a little bit of my old self.

I miss her sometimes, that person I used to be, before diapers and poop and baby everything began to consume my life.  I miss the woman who could stay up past 9pm and who knew what was happening in the world and who was actually fun.  There are so many days when I feel like she doesn't exist anymore - as though she's disappeared along with my boobs - so it was nice to discover that I'm still that lady, just with some pretty awesome diaper changing skillz throw in.

So I'm making a pledge to myself to get off my tired butt and go out more often.  Yes, it takes just a teensy bit more effort to shower and blow dry my hair and actually leave the house, but it's so worth it.

Besides, if I don't ever go anywhere except the playground, where am I going to wear all those cute clothes I get from Stitch Fix?!

P.S. We went to Terrine, and they have a beautiful garden, yummy cocktails, and absolutely delicious fois gras.

Where, Oh Where, Have My Boobs Gone?

I went bra shopping this morning, which was one of the more depressing experiences of my recent life.

You guys, I have no boobs.

I don't know where they went to, exactly, but I guess my children somehow ingested my great rack along with all of that breastmilk, because all of the sudden I look more like a twelve year-old girl than a grown woman.  How could I have gone from 34C to 36DD to 32-barely-a-B?!

If this is the state of my boobies while I'm still nursing, I'm getting really scared about what I'm going to look like when I wean the Little Lady.  Will my chest become concave?  Will I start to look like a postoperative transexual if I forget to wax my mustache?  It's a chilling thought, friends.

Technically, I'm still nursing Rose.  The only problem is that she has no interest in me whatsoever and if I even offer her a boob she looks at me like I've called her a racist slur and starts screaming bloody murder.  I can sometimes force feed her if she's completely asleep, but even my usually abundant supply is being hit hard by the fact that there's no baby interested in partaking of it.  I'm pumping twice a day and downing fenugreek pills the way I did tequila shoots in college, but I don't know how much longer I'm going to be able to keep the taps flowing.

The problem is that I'm reluctant to wean.

Rose is my last baby and while I definitely don't want another kid, it's terribly bittersweet that my littlest munchkin doesn't want to be babied anymore.  She's too busy to nurse now - she's crawling and pulling up and trying to keep up with her brother - and it's just too hard for her to focus long enough to feed.  So I'm struggling with trying to honor this aspect of her personality while also wanting to provide her with the benefits of breastmilk (the jury is still out on whether there really are that many) and my desire to enjoy bonding with my baby girl for just a little while longer.

I'm hoping I can keep this going for a few more months, but I suspect that the decision, ultimately, won't really be mine to make.  In the meantime I may just do a little research on breast lifts.

For a friend, of course.

Put Some Makeup On

2015 is the year of better personal grooming.  And selfies, apparently.

I think it's been pretty well-established here that personal grooming is not my strong suit.  Aside from the fact that it's practically impossible for me to find time to shower, let alone blow dry my hair, I just honestly can't really be bothered to make the effort some (okay, most) days.  When one's job primarily entails changing poopy diapers, making play-do sculptures, and dodging flying food, it's difficult to find the motivation to put on makeup or change out of pajamas.  Honestly, most days the only time I end up mixing with the general population is when I take the kiddos to the park, and there's nothing like a dirty playground in the middle of the concrete jungle to kill your desire to wear items that require drycleaning.

While it may, theoretically, be perfectly acceptable to put no effort whatsoever into one's appearance, it can make you feel kind of crappy about yourself when you live in Los Angeles.  This is the land of The Kardashians and The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills; a city where it's perfectly normal for 22 year old girls to get Botox for their "wrinkles" and where it's practically a crime against nature for a woman over the age of 30 to leave the house without wearing makeup.  The truth is that I enjoy looking attractive, I just don't want to put in too much effort to make it happen.

But now that I have a daughter I feel as though I'm setting a bad example by not taking care of myself.  I don't want the Little Lady to only have memories of me looking like a cross between an Olsen twin and a homeless person, so I've declared 2015 to be the year that I start putting a teensy bit more work into my appearance every day.  Even if my only human contact happens to be with children under the age of three, at least I'll look cute when they get a hold of my phone and accidentally take Instagram photos of me.  

Enter my new favorite beauty obsession: Armani Luminessence CC Cream.  I got a tube of this stuff in my Christmas stocking this year, and I had no idea what it was.  Initially I was like, "uh, thanks.  Probably never going to use this, but it's the thought that counts!"  Talk about looking a gift horse in the mouth.  I'm eating my words now, because if you're a Mommy or just a busy lady without a lot of time to devote to personal grooming, this is the product for you.  It's slightly tinted.  It's got sunscreen already in it.  It doesn't feel heavy.  In short it's amazing.  Here's the bad news: unlike yours truly in college, this sh*t ain't cheap.  The good news is that you don't have to use very much of it, so I suspect that the tube will last a decently long time.

I feel so much better about myself now that I'm making an effort with my appearance that I'm kind of hoping I run into one of my ex-boyfriends at the park.

Just in case you were wondering, this is in no way, shape, or form a sponsored post.  I simply like to share with you the goodies that I find help to alleviate some of the day-to-day grind of parenthood.  

Misadventures in Cooking: Dr. Mom Prescribes Chocolate Chip Cookies

Cookies make everything better.

I've got a sick kiddo on my hands today.  I had hoped that after weathering a Holiday season full of colds, coughs and stomach flus that we were finally entering a prolonged period of sickness-free days, but alas that seems not to be the case.  The Muffin Man woke up feverish and has been less than his usual happy-go-lucky self.  On the one hand I do enjoy the extra cuddles, but on the other it can be just a teensy bit tiresome to be unable to leave his side without him sobbing ceaselessly.  Ah well, I suppose there will be plenty of time for me to write scripts and get manicures and go grocery shopping in the fall of 2032 when both my kids leave for college.

Today was all about being Mommy.  No writing work was done and no "me" time was had, and in the end it was kind of nice.  I cuddled my sick little boy, I watched Daniel Tiger, I painted pictures,  I played tuneless songs on the ukulele, and I baked chocolate chip cookies.  Because there's nothing better than a freshly baked chocolate chip cookie to make you feel better.

Okay, maybe Matzoh Ball soup, but I don't make that, and until Grub Hub adds a decent Jewish deli option to their lineup, we're stuck with my limited repertoire.

Sick Day Gluten-Free Chocolate Chip Cookies

Adapted from 125 Best Gluten-Free Recipes

1 cup sorghum flour

3/4 cup teff flour

1/2 cup tapioca starch

1 tsp. baking soda

1/2 tsp. salt

1 cup butter (two sticks), softened

1 1/3 cups coconut sugar

2 eggs

1 tsp. vanilla extract

2 cups mini chocolate chips

1 cup chopped pecans

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

In a bowl or plastic bag, combine sorghum flour, teff flour, tapioca starch, baking soda, and salt.  Mix well and set aside.

In a separate bowl, using an electric mixer, cream the butter and coconut sugar.  Add eggs and vanilla extract and beat until light and fluffy.  Slowly beat in the dry ingredients until combined.  Stir in the chocolate chips and pecans.  Drop dough by level teaspoons about 1 1/2 inches apart on baking sheets lined with parchment paper or a Silpat mat.  Let stand for 30 minutes.

Bake in preheated oven for 8-10 minutes or until cookies are slightly brown around the edges.  Remove from baking sheets to a cooling rack immediately and try not to eat every. single. one.  

Happy Birthday, Noah Kai!

On Saturday, January 3, the Muffin Man turned two.  This means that I'm two years older as well, but let's focus on the positives, shall we?

Music: "Hero" by Family of the Year

Having a birthday right after all of the holiday excitement kind of sucks.  It's just so much all at once - too many presents, way too many sweets - so by the time Noah's birthday rolls around I'm worn out.  Initially, I wasn't going to throw a birthday party for the little man this year because well, he's two, and he won't really remember anything, and also because after Hanukkah and Christmas and the stomach flu and the flu flu I just couldn't deal.  I realize this makes me sound like a horrible Mother, but in an effort to save my sanity in 2015 I've made a resolution to stop trying to do quite so much and spread myself thin.

As you know if you're a long time reader of the ol' blog, I have amazing in-laws who always go the extra mile to help out.  I think my sister-in-law was worried that my not throwing Noah a party just might prove to cause permanent psychological damage in the long run, because she stepped in and planned an adorable little shindig for the Muffin Man on New Year's Day.

There were homemade cupcakes and a pinata and party favors full of play-do, so it was basically a two year old's dream.

Just in case you were worried that I let his actual birthday go by without proper fanfare, rest assured that we did it up.  I baked a birthday cake full of horrible things like sugar and gluten and wheat and it was freaking delicious.  I used the Lady Baltimore Cake and the Chocolate Frosting recipes from The Joy of Cooking, and everything turned out perfectly.


The Birthday Boy himself gave me a five star review, though it should be noted that he didn't actually finish his slice of cake, for which I am grateful.  My cake baking skillz may be on point, but my cake decorating skills are non-existent, so remind me next year to try to step that up and maybe make some fondant animals or something.

Needless to say, I think that Noah was feted in style.

Honestly, I can't believe that my baby boy isn't a baby anymore.  My sweet little boy whose arrival changed my life completely,  and so much for the better.  I'm grateful every day that I have him to drive me crazy and boss me around, and I can't wait to watch him grow up.

Preschool Panic: Motherhood FAIL Edition

We're only two weeks into 2015 and the preschool madness has already reached epic levels.  Every Mother I know is a complete wreck.  Sure, we all know that it doesn't really matter where our kids go to preschool, but when you've spent the last year and a half of your life going to ridiculous lengths to ensure your child's entrance into the very best institute of lower learning, it's hard not to let your anxiety get the best of you when the acceptance emails starting hitting people's inboxes.

The good news is that we made it to the interview round for one of the schools on our list.  We're scheduled for a totally anxiety-inducing "coffee talk" with the Director this coming week, so naturally I've lost approximately 20 hours of sleep worrying about stupid things like what I'm going to wear and how much Xanax I should pop to keep me just chilled out enough that I don't say something idiotic but not so much that I'm a walking zombie. 

Here's the bad news: I am a complete and utter idiot and I somehow missed the application deadline for our first choice school.  We've known this school was our first choice for going on two years now, so the fact that I somehow managed to not apply in time is just ridiculous.  I thought that I'd checked all the deadlines and I didn't see anything about having to get my act together before December 31st, but I'm sure it was probably listed in bold print somewhere and I read it but didn't process it.  That's what happens when you're juggling a newborn, a toddler, a freelance writing career and the educational future of your offspring.

I've been giving myself a hard time ever since I found out about my royal f*ck up.  I guess ultimately it won't really matter whether the Muffin Man spends his days eating paste at School A or School B.  However, if he does end up addicted to drugs or pursuing a dead-end career as a stand-up comedian, I'll be completely convinced that it's all my fault for not ensuring that he had a decent chance at admission to the right preschool.

Oh well, at least Noah will have plenty to discuss with his future therapist about my numerous Motherhood shortcomings.

Back to the Future

Happy 2015, my lovelies!  I hope you had a wonderful Holiday break and that you were able to relax and enjoy some quiet ti--- oh, never mind.  Most of you have children so you're probably even more tired than you were before the holidays what with no school, no daycare and all the freakin' sugar your offspring have been stuffing into their gaping maws since Thanksgiving.  Well, here's hoping you get a chance to rest sometime before 2025.

I had all these grand plans to put my Blog break to good use.  Here's what I hoped to get done over the ten days during which you were forced to cruise the interwebs for content not half as inspired/hilarious/zany as mine:

1. File the three-foot-tall pile of papers currently residing on my desk blocking access to both my keyboard and my printer.

2. Finish the Little Lady's nursery.

3. Plant my vegetable garden

4. Write a bunch of blog posts to start out 2015 ahead of schedule!

5. Reorganize my closet and send the last of my maternity clothes to ThredUp.

6. Frame some photos of my kids to add to our gallery wall of family photos.  Currently, it looks like Rose doesn't exist and I still have perky boobs and no under eye circles.

Guess what?  I completed nothing on my list.  Not. One. Single. Thing.  So I'm starting out 2015 the way I closed out 2014: with a messy desk, dirty hair, and a lot of grand plans for things I most likely won't accomplish.

Happy New Year!  May 2015 bring all of us everything we desire!

Specifically, a Personal Assistant.

xoxo