Tag Archives: brain dump

Monday Can Kiss It

2 Nov

Pretty sure nothing feels worse than leaving the house so early in the morning that you weren’t able to see/nurse your baby, just to sit in so much traffic, you’re actually late to work, BESIDES hearing your older son say “mama, I still need breakfast!” as you’re hustling him out the door.

If ever I’ve been optimistic, all optimism left my body by 7:30AM today. Seriously.

I packed everything up last night, had it all set and we were ready for this morning, as we went to sleep at 9. Pump packed, just add ice pack. Clothes set aside, just find pants in the morning. Snacks/traffic-style breakfast items packed, travel coffee cup clean and ready for brewing. Kid’s backpack packed and ready to go, just fill water bottle in the morning. Slow cooker dinner items set aside and ready, except for meats, which would be added in the morning too. R-E-A-D-Y… or not.

Couldn’t find my pants in the morning, kid watched too much TV while I got ready, and sure, he had a banana and string cheese, but I DIDN’T MAKE HIM BREAKFAST, so he ate dry cereal on the way to school in the car. And of course, the baby; asleep, unfed and uninterested in bottles still. #momguilt See ya later little guy. Hope you don’t starve all day. I’ll be home by bedtime.

Then to top it all off, traffic was terrible. Go figure. It was so bad, that as early as I left, I still got to the office later than I should have. This is going to be much more of an adjustment than I expected it to be. MUCH MORE.

If you see me before noon, don’t ask how I’m doing… just expect that I’m still shaking off the chaos of the morning and am feeling like a terrible mother. Asking me how I’m doing will likely open a can of worms that you don’t want the answer to. So, just be nice and say “it’s nice to see you” or “good morning” and accept my scowl as a kind “good morning, it’s nice to see you too” for now.

I’m sure I’ll return to my happy self soon. This can’t/won’t last forever. But, the mom guilt is strong and until I figure out how to have a giant commute on top of everything else, just hang tight cuz I’m trying to hang tight too.

QUEUE TOTAL MELTDOWN: While pumping in the super fancy closet/storage room for one of our clients, my brand new, fancy Madela Freestyle Pump, jiggled itself off of the table, and facedown onto the floor, breaking the screen. Now, none of the fancy features work, though as it is, I was manually pumping one side, while electric pumping the other, since for some weird reason, the suction wasn’t working BEFORE the fall even. As I bent down to pick the motor up, I spilled milk ALL OVER my legs. Like, ALL over, and the floor. and the everything, every where. #isitnotmondayanymoreyet?

First Day of (pre)School, Take 2! 

10 Sep

It’s no secret that the last few months have been unparalleled with change, stress and events, including but not limited to a major move. That move ripped off the comfort bandaid of needing to explore preschools, since we loved Remy’s daycare so much and didn’t plan to leave until they kicked us out. 

Well, moving away (only 20 miles, but in LA traffic, that’s like 20 hours) forced us to recognize that our little man is growing up, and needs more structure and education than a daycare could provide. That could also be because there’s just no other daycare like the one we had and everything else just seemed to be miles behind where my 2-going-on-8 year old boy is at developmentally. 

Before we moved, I found a school that seemed really good, but with a newborn who hates traveling, I wasn’t able to tour it until after we moved. At that point, the one open space they had (for full time) was taken and we were left with that school only as a part time option. Not awesome.  

I found another school that was close by, but was much less intimate and far more “public schoolish” even though it still cost more than our first choice. It was great, but not awesome. People were sweet, but it ultimately didn’t give me the same good feels as the other school. 
We reserved a spot for option #2 for M/W/F, option #1 for T/Th and I kept calling #1 every day to see if the wait list had opened up yet. Nope. Nothing. So bummed. 

As summer closed, maternity time off is dwindling down and my babe needs to get comfy in his new place, the start of schools were eminent. He was going to have to adapt to multiple environments and I was going to have to harness my emotional outbursts at the thought. 

Remy’s first day of school at option #2:     Was yesterday. 
I got him already, packed a nice bento lunch:   

 And we were off, paperwork, check for a zillion dollars, and outrageous emotions in hand.

We got to school (alluring him by calling it a “playground”) and I tucked him into his new classroom. Remy’s a HUGE TALKER, so I asked the teacher if any other the other kids were too. She said yes and brought him to two kids who looked at us blankly and said nothing. Meanwhile, Remy spouted off about the kind of dinosaurs he’d found in the bucket and was telling everyone about them (#shamelessmombrag). 

I got myself together, said goodbye and left him there. With kids who don’t talk. Kicking myself that I made a bad decision and guilting myself to go back and get him. 
I finished the paperwork (BTW- can we talk about that sometime???? How much paperwork can you possibly need for preschool?!) and finally, handed them my aforementioned bazillion dollar check. 

Not even 20 seconds after getting to my car, my phone rang. It was school #1 saying that they had an opening and it was ours for the taking! It wouldn’t be available until 10/1, but it was ours! “I’ll take it” was quickly followed by “Now I have to break up with the other school who’s currently in possession of my firstborn son. Shit.”

I can’t tell you how awkward that conversation was. I mean, I can, but I don’t know that anyone could possibly understand! The switch was flipped and the lights of “welcome to our school” were immediately off and replaced by “come get your kid and get out”. Well, that’s not really true. They let me keep him there for 2 hours, and were cold as ice about it, but I had a sleeping infant and couldn’t leave any sooner. Oops. Sorry, it’s not you, it’s me!! Ok, it’s you, but oh well. 

So, TODAY, Remy started his first day of school, again!!!    

Followed by:
 
And 
 

And a big smile when I picked him up this afternoon! 
Drama is over, life can begin settling in now. I’m happy he’s where he is and even more happy that he’s only there a few days a week while I am still on maternity leave, before starting full time. Oh, timing. You’re a silly monster. Thanks for keeping me on my toes… Again. 

What Would You Do with $100?

13 Mar

Have you guys seen those awesome ads by Dollar Shave Club before?

I mean, if you’re like me, you go to Target for absolutely almost everything your home needs, and when your husband’s been a little too scratchy to kiss (you know what I’m talking about, don’t lie), you think of buying him a new razor as a hint gift.

Anyway, as I peruse the aisles, I am immediately overwhelmed by options. I know what razors he likes, but damn they’re expensive, so isn’t there another one that’s less expensive that he might like just as much? And then I think “I guess I’ll just have to sacrifice my face if I want to kiss my husband this week.” Because really, spending $24.0o on razors seems dumb and the cheap-o brands at normal stores are going to cut his precious face so, oh well. I just won’t kiss him for a few days, or substitute my normal skin exfoliant with kisses.

Then Dollar Shave Club sends you an email and says “did you know that you can save $100 a YEAR on razors that have the same integrity and quality as the ones at Target?” and you say “Whuuuuuuuhhhh???” (Plus, living in Los Angeles, that’s one less thing you need to spend $.10 on a bag to carry out to your car, when your arms are already loaded with laundry detergent, toilet paper, and a toddler, because Dollar Shave Club razors are delivered directly to your door once a month. And yes, in LA, we have to pay for every single bag that we use at a any kind of store, because you are expected to bring your own from home, and lets be honest, toddler = memory loss = I pay for bags WAY too often.)

Well, we signed up a while back and have been happily smooching since… unless he’s just too tired to shave, and then the face is sacrificed anyway. Oh well.

So then you think about it… WHAT WOULD I DO WITH $100 TO SPEND ON ME?!?

MY LIST OF THINGS TO BUY:

1. New size 8 toddler shoes for Remy.

2. Really good steaks for dinner and a nice bottle of wine for husband.

3. New hoodies for Remy (spring weather appropriate)

4. New rug for Remy’s room at Costco. You know, one he and the dogs haven’t peed on yet. 

5. New socks and underwear for husband.

6. New Storage buckets for the baby’s room.

7. New blender for smoothies.

WHHHHYYY???

As a mom, you know that the hardest person to spend money on is yourself. So, nothing on my list works, because none of those things are actually for me, they’re for my family, and of course I enjoy the things that help make their lived better or most organized, just as much as things for myself, but still… the question was “What would I do with $100 to spend on me?”

Here’s the impossible task, fellow mamas: Think of your own wants. (just for 5 minutes!)

I would:

1.Go to the Korean Spa for a full day of rest and body treatments leaving me feeling more like a piece of kobe beef, than a human (minus the whole being turned into a hamburger afterwards part)

2. Buy several new books (real books with covers and pages that aren’t on an iPad) that I’ll never have time to read, but will help me feel like maybe I will at some point (there are several books I FEEL like I’ve read already, because of how long they’ve been sitting around, but still.)

3. Buy a good, new, hypo allernegic, goose down pillow for myself. A really squishy, yet somehow totally supportive one.

4. Get a babysitter and go on a date with my handsome husband (to somewhere cheap, cuz babysitters are like, the highest paid people in LA kind of expensive).

So, thanks Dollar Shave Club, for inspiring me to think about myself for a moment, for saving my family $100 over the course of the next year… and for making my husband smoochable all year long.

Now, if only I could figure out how to have time for myself…

Attack of the Killer Crows

28 May
Photo Cred: Vincent Bazen

Photo Cred: Vincent Bazen

Crows are scaaaaaary and when you’re on the receiving end of their wrath, they are a living nightmare.

Last Monday morning, I was on my way out to work. Grant was on his way to the library to study. Remy was in the house safe in the arms of his babysitter, getting ready for his first nap.

As I stood at my car, Grant called for me to come “look at the weird crow sitting by our kitchen door on the trash bag”. I sauntered over, as all self-proclaimed (but totally untrue) “animal whispers” would, thinking that this poor little crow was hurt or something. I mean, why else would he be sitting on the stoop by my kitchen door?

I approached him for two reasons; 1. because I’d left something in the kitchen and the baby was going down for a nap on the other side of the house, where the front door is and I didn’t want to distract the babysitter from accomplishing her napping goal; and 2. to see if he would move as I approached. I did not touch him, or even come close to touching him.

Apparently, what it did was piss off his mama.

Suddenly, my head was surrounded by flapping wings and a shrieking crow was trying to ward me off of her young. They must have been in the middle of flying lessons, and he found comfort on my trash (which of course, should have been sitting there in the first place).

I rushed into the house in a panic and slammed the door behind me. Our side door is a window paned door, so I watched as the crow “yelled” at me, beak gaping open and wings ferociously flapping.

Photo Cred: Mark Sebastian

Photo Cred: Mark Sebastian

Not wanting to be late to work, I got what I needed, and headed to our backdoor, thinking I would escape her wrath through the back… NOT SO.

I went outside and my scent must have carried, because suddenly, I was being chased by a big, nasty, PISSED OFF, mama crow. She swooped down to my head several times (see photo above, even though that’s not me) as I ran through my yard, down my side yard (opposite the side with the kitchen door) and when I got to the back gate, I remember that the gate was broken, and I had to run all the way back, around the entire house with an angry crow swooping down to my head, ruffling my hair, and screaming at me. My only options were to run like a lunatic, screaming, swearing and begging for my husband to save me.

I ran all the way to the street screaming and finally, with my protector husband close by, dropped down to my knees (in the middle of the street) and just started sobbing laughing. My husband was there screaming “Fuck You, Bird!!! Stay away from my family!”

If you know my husband, you know how funny this is. At that time, however, I was in tears and dear darling protector of mine flapped his wings so he appeared much bigger that the angry bird.

After the “attack” the crow sat our magnolia tree angrily pounding his (or her) open beak on the branches of the tree, with continued screaming, while ripping leaves off of the tree and throwing them to the ground. Our neighbor Molly said she was “trapped” in her house, and that the bird wouldn’t let her pass, so Grant had to escort her to her car… after all, the birds feared him. It wasn’t the only time he heard someone scream in fear, birds cawing, either. Our upstairs neighbor took to carrying an open umbrella to and from her car as protection!

For several days after, every time I walked outside, a crow would “caw” and I would crouch down… and a few times, I got warning swoops and one time, an extra low swoop to my head.

Thanks, Hitchcock. You’ve ruined me.

Right This Minute

12 May

20140512-214546.jpg

Right this minute, I’m waiting for the phone to ring.

This has been the longest, most all-encompassing, and genuinely challenging year of my life (or at least of my married life), as my husband has fully switched over from musician to law student. While my son has made it the most rewarding, and my husband’s grades have made it promising, it’s still been a hard year. Not gonna lie.

I’m waiting for the phone to ring, with an exhausted and overwhelmed husband on the other end of the line, letting me know that it’s over (until the fall anyway, and minus the one tiny little class he’s taking over the summer – which is only one night a week).

Tonight, I get my husband back and my son gets his daddy.

Over the last year, we’ve struggled endlessly to make it through in-tact, and to get to the point when we could take a break. Back in December, we expected that break to come, but not even 12 hours after his last fall semester final, we were in a house inspection, with an insurance agent telling us we had to move out of our home right away, albeit temporary. That “temporary move” left us in a hotel for 8 whole weeks. Did I mention we have a baby that goes to bed at 7 and we were all in one room, or that it happened 6 days before our son’s first Christmas? That was anything but the break we wanted (and desperately needed) and we went into the 2nd semester with all of the exhaustion we left the first with, and more. It was a challenge to keep a happy face, and once that second semester started, it was back to the races. But this time, he never came home to study, because he couldn’t. When a single hotel room with a sleeping baby is “home” and your husband is in law school, you just say “Goodbye, baby! See ya in summer!” and now???? SUMMER IS HERE!!!!!!!!!

It’s nothing drastic that we/I want though. I’m most looking forward to just being able to sit on our couch, or front porch, with a glass of wine or a beer and just sit with him, you know… talk. Relax. I’m looking forward to our baby not having to say goodnight to him in the picture of our family on the wall, or via FaceTime, but to his daddy in person. I’m excited about coming home from work to find daddy and son playing and rough-housing around. I’m excited to make dinner after work for my family, and actually get to sit down together and eat it. There’s nothing crazy about what I want. I’m not looking for luxury here. I’m just looking for a moment in time, where it’s just us, and time, and more us.

You see, in our 8+ years, we’ve never had this. For the first 6 years, we had band practice 4-5 nights a week, and tours, and recording sessions, and something that always kept our evenings occupied. When we got married, I lived in a different state for one and a half years… so that wasn’t conducive to spending time together, except for the weekend visits once a month or so. Then we had a baby, and as I was healing up, we were learning how to parent exist as a new family, while completely sleep deprived, and he was still in band practice several nights a week. Then, I went back to work, while he started his pre-law school studies, tutor sessions and readings, while still working on music at night. Then, school started and “see ya later, daddio!” Now, it’s our first opportunity in 8.5 years to eat dinner together on a regular basis. To spend our weekends together. To live our lives as a family who sees each other. And, I. can. not. wait. 

I’ve been afraid in a sense, that something would once again rob us of “daddy time” but it’s looking like we’re gonna make it! In part, because I haven’t noticed anything wrong with our house, and if I learned anything last time, even if your walls are caving in, WAIT UNTIL AFTER BREAK TO CALL SOMEONE ABOUT IT!

I’m 100% the most proud wife on earth, because he’s accomplished so much and been a rock through the storm, but that’s not what this post is about. This is about a wife’s need for her husband and baby-daddy to be home for a bit. And, of course, the absolute excitement that comes with it.

Take-out has arrived (his favorite meal), whiskey is poured, a special gift is on the table, I’m off of work for a couple of days, and now I wait for the phone to ring. And wait. And wait…

 

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