TMcB

Stop to Stand Still

2008-07-22T18:22:00.004-04:00

Lately I find myself doing something that I vowed never to do again.

I am, on occasion, wishing that Owen's next two years will go by quickly.

Don't get me wrong-- I love the fact that the little boy in him is intermingled with the baby still remaining. But he is stubborn. He is whiny. He is needy. He is constantly on the verge of doing damage to himself or to our belongings. He won't sit still for more than three seconds. I know... he's a toddler.

My older son has a very similar personality. For the most part, at age nearly eight, he is a delight to be around. He's smart, funny, respectful, generally polite, and kind to his siblings. But man, the time frame between one and five years were so, so hard. I constantly found myself wondering why my child had to be the difficult one. The one who couldn't transition easily from one activity to the next. The one who wouldn't talk to new people. The one who struggled in large groups of children. But slowly but surely he seemed to break out of the hard place he was in, especially by the middle of his kindergarten year. And I learned that every parent struggles at times with their children, and that this has more to do with the parent's issues than the child's issues.

Because of my experience with Liam, I know that there is a light at the end of the tunnel. But I find myself getting easily frustrated with Owen these days and that makes me disappointed in myself. I should know better now. I should know how to avoid situations in which Owen is at risk of becoming Fire Baby (Incredibles, anyone?).

This past weekend was the wedding of my cousin at the beach. Liam and Emmy were both in the bridal party, and there was a full weekend of activities planned. We made the decision a few months ago to leave Owen with Chip's parents for the weekend, and I know that it was the right one. It would have been a totally different experience having him with us, one in which Chip and I wouldn't have been able to have a conversation with anyone without having to dash off to save Owen from imminent danger, not to mention how it would have been to have all five of us in one hotel room for two nights. But still, I felt guilty. There were relatives at the wedding who haven't met Owen yet who were disappointed and surprised that we left him at home.

And what about having a toddler when you also have school-aged children? Helping in the classroom, driving to afternoon birthday parties, going to the town pool without needing a Quaalude are all tough propositions. I feel like Liam and Emmy often get the shaft. I know I should make an effort to do special things with them while Owen naps but honestly I cherish that time to chill out and regain some sanity. And maybe eat something.

It's a struggle. But I guess allowing myself to be honest about it will help me gain a bit of perspective. Because he'll only be little for a blink of an eye.

Spring Wrap-Up

2008-06-16T14:21:00.011-04:00

What? It's been almost two months since my last lame entry? OK, so posting consistently is NOT going to be my thing.

Will you forgive me if I demonstrate via photos what I HAVE been doing instead of crafting well-written posts?

Let's see... we spent almost a week at the beach house in NC in mid-April, where the weather was meh but the company was lovely.

When we returned home, we were thrust head-long into Little League season. Liam played his first year of coach-pitched ball, which he thoroughly enjoyed. Just take a look at these stellar ball players. And please take note of the awesome team banner crafted by yours truly (OK, so I just found out who made the banner for this team last year and glued the new names over the old ones. Sue me!)

Mid-May was a blur of Mother's Day Teas, Coffees, Luaus and the like. Here is Emmy doing her version of the hula with her girlfriends at school...

We headed back to Duck for a long weekend over Memorial Day because there's nothing we love more than to torture ourselves with two 8 hour car rides within 5 days. Good times! The weather was much more cooperative this trip, and the kids had fun playing with their cousins Colin (age 3) and Ryan (16 months- three weeks older than Owen).

Chip's parents decided that five children under the age of 8 and two large Golden Retrievers was not enough chaos for one beach house, so they picked up a new Golden puppy on the way down to add to the menagerie. Meet Maisie....

Early June marked Emmy's graduation from preschool, which stirred up all sorts of weepiness for me. I've had a child at that school every year for the last five years. It's an awesome school. It's very small and very old-fashioned in the sense that the focus is on social development rather than academic advancement. Every child is welcomed each morning with a big hug from their teacher, who encourages them to get messy and have fun. While I'm so proud of Emmy and know that she is ready for kindergarten, I'm also grateful that I still have one more child to mother through the preschool years. I can hardly believe it but it's true... I really am looking forward to going through it with Owen.

This past weekend was Emmy's dance recital. Please do not think that the color is screwed on your computer display.... her costume really is that color. Pink Highlighter, to be exact.

Too much cuteness for one post? I hear you. Let's move on to our final photo, taken at Young Author's Day in Liam's class. All the kids wrote and illustrated books, which is no small feat for a first grader.

So that's what we've been up to, more or less, for the last two months. Things will continue to be busy around here for the next few weeks, as I'm hosting a bridal shower here for my cousin Robin at the end of the month. But let me tell you that there's nothing bridey about this bride. I don't think we can even call it a shower or she'll get pissed. It's just an informal gathering for her and fiance in which we give her presents that she will refuse to open in front of everyone.

Happy Summer, everyone!

Book It

2008-04-21T15:32:00.003-04:00

One of the best parts of my day happens near the end of it... those ten minutes I spend reading in bed before I fall asleep.

I really do love to read, although I wish I could find more time during the day to curl up on the couch with a good book. At this point in my life, however, I spend most of my waking hours either doing laundry, chasing around a toddler, making meals or driving carpools. I glance at the front page of the NYT most mornings, and always make time on Thursday afternoons for the Styles section of said newspaper as well as US Weekly, which arrives that day around 2 pm.

A few years ago, when I was going through a particularly rough patch on a personal level, a neighborhood friend invited me to join a small book club that she was starting. Without trying to sound melodramatic, this book club really saved my sanity. We started meeting once a month at someone's house, and we would discuss the book selection after drinking lots of white wine and eating unhealthy portions of cheese and chocolate. Four years later, we're still going strong. We've read some great books along the way.

Some of my favorites...

1) The Red Tent by Anita Diamant

2) Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides

3) Truth in Beauty by Ann Patchett

4) The Namesake by Jhumpa Lahiri

5) The Glass Castle by Jeannette Walls

The books that I couldn't get through...

1) Wicked by Gregory Maguire

2) The Life Of Pi by Yann Martel

3) Our current selection, Atonement by Ian McEwan

We try to keep our selections varied by genre which keeps things interesting. We fell into a rut of Women Who Are Struggling Against The Circumstances of Their Lives last year, which I suppose is a common problem in all-female book clubs. We also have learned that your typical bestseller may be a great read but it may not make for a very interesting discussion.

In other news, the finger is healing nicely and I should be able to take the splint off next week. Yippee! I guess I'm going to have to start doing the dishes again.

Ouch.

2008-03-31T19:24:00.005-04:00

Things you cannot do when you have a broken pinky finger:

Buckle your 14 month old into his carseat
Change said 14 month old's diaper
Prepare any foods that involve slicing, dicing or chopping
Get yourself into your slim-fitting, going out jeans without the assistance of your husband who you have to keep reassuring that yes, these jeans are indeed the correct size
Wash dishes
Sleep well
Drive a stick shift car in a safe manner
Straighten your hair
Type well (note that I'm not using many letters on the far left side of the keyboard)
Open your child-proof bottle of Percocet

In what may have been the lamest injury story ever, I broke my finger Friday while running up the steps with a full laundry basket. I slipped, fell, and rammed my finger into the wall.

The positive side of things-- it is in situations like this that I am keenly aware of the awesomeness of my friends here in town. One friend took Owen for the morning, another brought us a delicious dinner, and the phone has been ringing all day with offers of food, transportation, and other nice things.

I'm a lucky girl.

Fashion Trend That I Don't Understand

2008-03-25T23:35:00.002-04:00

Can someone please explain how this outfit makes sense?

Or this one?

What is UP with pairing a lovely, lady-like jacket with Daisy Duke shorts? Has anyone actually WITNESSED an individual wearing such an ensemble?

Actually, I do have one friend who probably could rock this look but even she might risk looking slightly ridiculous.

Trust me... I love me some J Crew. I even bought a jacket there purely on impulse last month, thinking that the idea of having such an article of clothing in my wardrobe might inspire me to wear something other than fester pants every day. And I felt like treating myself because that morning I was able to button a pair of khakis that had been taunting me from the depths of my closet for over two years. And I had Emmy with me, who assured me that the jacket looked really pretty. Yes, I take the opinion of a five year old into consideration when buying clothes.

Maybe I just don't have my finger on the pulse of today's fashion vibe. But seriously--- can anyone other than Carrie Bradshaw wear shorts with a tailored jacket?

Swiss Miss

2008-03-18T15:37:00.007-04:00

Not to sound bitter, but this is where I could be right now....

Chip called me one afternoon a few days ago to tell me that he'd been invited to a conference this week in St. Moritz. I suppose the investment bank guys are trying to fit in one more luxe "business conference" before they are all canned later this month. This is something that his boss would normally attend, but for various reasons he declined and told Chip to go in his place. And oh yeah-- Chip could bring a guest, all expenses paid.

Excuse me while I weep for a moment.

When Chip called to tell me about the trip, I could practically hear him tap dancing on his desk. He has been a snowboarder for over 25 years-- he got his start on one of the first boards Burton made, on the hills of the golf course in the town where he grew up. Before kids, we took some awesome winter vacations together that we still wistfully talk about.

Chip: Remember that time we went to Vail? I think my favorite part was getting first tracks in the powder every morning!

Tressa: Yeah, I think my favorite part was when you convinced me that the easiest way down the mountain for my apres-ski cocktail was a black diamond mogul run. Remind me... how many hours did it take for me to speak to you again?

Chip: Oh, no more than two or so. But that drink was really good, huh?

Ahh, those misty, watercolored memories. Good times!

We found out I was pregnant with Liam right after we booked a trip to Jackson Hole. I spent that trip reading copious amounts of baby reference books and checking my underpants for signs of spotting while Chip shredded solo. Our skiing and snowboarding vacations pretty much melted away once we had kids, that is, until this winter. When I could take photos like this one...

Liam is DYING to snowboard but we were repeatedly told that he should get the feel for it by learning to ski first. This made absolutely no sense to Chip but he went along with it for the sake of saving the cost of the rental (we borrowed skis for both kids from friends).

So where was I? Man, this post is like a real conversation with me. I'm all over the place as usual.

Ah, yes. St. Moritz. So my first, most practical problem is that my passport expired over four years ago. And that passport was still in my maiden name. Chip was certain he had heard someone say that you can drive to Philadelphia and get a passport in a day, but that sounded a bit dubious. I mean, I want the thing to have MY name on it, not someone else's. This isn't like getting a fake ID, yo.

And then of course there is the issue of who we could foist the children upon for a week. We have been very fortunate to leave the kids with family in the past- Chip's parents in particular are usually game to have them for an extended period. My mom, however, secretly disapproves of me leaving the kids behind for a vacation. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that she never left my siblings and me with ANYONE. Even for a quiet dinner out with my Dad. Of course, now she's 65 and the only places she has gone on vacation other than the Jersey Shore are on trips that Chip and I have taken her. That's what happens when you're widowed at age 42 and spend the next 23 years doing nothing but raising your teenage children, working your butt off to send these children to college, and then shopping for pajamas for your grandchildren. But that's a post for another day.

I had to explain to Chip that while I would love to spend a week with him in Switzerland, our life is such that I can't pack up and leave on a moment's notice. The logistics of going away without the kids are enough to kill me. When we went to Miami for a mere weekend in January with ample time to prepare, I actually considered NOT GOING two days before because I felt so overwhelmed. What can I say. I'm a control freak. I like to have every item that the kids will possibly need neatly packed and inventoried for the in-laws along with comprehensive lists of insurance information, meal ideas and Tylenol dosage charts. Don't even get me started on all the crap that I need to remember for Owen-- baby monitor, diapers, wipes, snackies, music thingy for the crib that he needs to fall asleep (or so I'M convinced he needs), extra changes of clothes.. aaagh!!!!

So I took a pass. Chip said he'll probably get to go again next year, but who knows if he'll even have the same job at that point, right?

But that's ok. Because I got to do this instead....

I took Owen for his first non-stroller walk, along with his big brother and sister at his side, making sure they were RIGHTTHERE in case he fell down.

We made it as far as the mailbox, but that's ok with me.

It may not be St. Moritz, but I'll take it.

It's harder than it looks.

2008-03-12T19:03:00.003-04:00

This whole blogging endeavor is not what I expected. I mean, here I am, less than a dozen posts into this thing and I'm already feeling tapped out.

I should have seen it coming, really. I'm not exactly the type of person who enjoys talking about herself. I was raised in a family in which such things are deemed narcissistic. But I'm going to keep plugging away, hoping for some inspiration because I think it's GOOD for me to turn inward once in awhile.

I don't want this blog to become a status report of what my family does every day. I could fall asleep just THINKING about how that would read. Don't misinterpret what I mean, however. My Google Reader is filled with posts written by women like me who write about the ins and outs of their daily life, but the difference is that it's actually interesting and funny.

I think I'm still searching for my point of view. I'm hopeful, that with time and some practice, it will come.

Meet the Bs

2008-03-04T12:14:00.011-05:00

Forgive me, but I don't think we've been formally introduced.

This is me.
Without makeup.
Without a shower.
But it's what I look like 90% of the time,
and I'm trying keep it real here, okay?

This is my husband, Axl.

No really, this is Chip.
This is how HE looks 90% of the time.
Without his wig and sunglasses.
And he usually has a kid attached
to him when he's home.

These are my kids. Aren't they cute?
You would be smiling like that too if
YOUR mother was standing off to the
left, promising trips to DisneyWorld
if FOR THE LOVE OF GOD you would
smile like a normal person and keep
your hands away from your face and
hold onto your baby brother so he
doesn't fall on his head.

I would include more photos, but figuring out how to get these four out of my camera and into my computer and uploaded onto the Information Superhighway (again, must be spoken in Robot Voice) is quite enough for one day, thankyouverymuch.

So this is us. I hope you come back and visit soon!

Jinxed

2008-03-03T19:49:00.006-05:00

I knew I was asking for it when I mentioned to my mother the other day that Owen has had the healthiest first year of my three babies.

So yeah, there I was this morning at 7:30 am, sitting with Baby O in the waiting room at the pediatrician's office. He didn't sleep well last night, and in this house, that's reason enough to call the doctor (I'm spoiled, I KNOW). He had a slight fever on Friday and the booger faucet has been on full blast ever since. Sure enough, he has an ear infection. He was introduced to his first antibiotic later in the morning, followed by his inaugural dosage of acidophilus to fend off any tummy trouble. Poor little guy.

I know that I shouldn't complain about a minor illness... he really has been remarkably healthy. I find this particularly interesting considering 1) he is the younger sibling of a 1st grader and a preschooler who probably bring home more germs than a NYC subway and 2) I breastfed him for the least amount of time of the three. Liam and Emmy were both on the boob until about 13 months, mostly because they wouldn't take a bottle. Oh, believe you me, I tried. And cried. But they always started rejecting the sucker by the time they were a month old.

Not long after I found out I was pregnant with Owen, I declared to C. that although I was over the moon to be having our third child, there was no way that this baby was going to subsist on breastmilk alone. I couldn't imagine myself sitting on the couch, peacefully nursing the baby whilst sipping a glass of water, the older children played quietly nearby. After all, I had watched my sister nurse her third daughter while standing in the bathroom getting the second one to potty train and the first one to do her math flashcards. I knew it was going to be a very different experience.

And it all worked out okay. Owen arrived in the middle of flu season last January, and he managed to stay just fine all that winter and the majority of this winter, too. A few runny noses here and there, but that's it.

Yesterday I read this post and it made me realize something. I'm so glad that breastfeeding ended up working out ok for all three of my babies. But looking back, I wish that I hadn't spent so much time agonizing over it when Liam was an infant. I worried that he wasn't getting enough. If he was the least bit fussy I vowed to eliminate dairy from my diet. When he was a little bit older and eating solid food I was anxious for him to be able to go longer between feedings. The same scenario ensued for baby Emmy, and despite the fact that she nursed until 14 months, she constantly had a cold and was often on antibiotics for ear infections. Owen, on the other hand, was weaned by 7 months and was amazingly healthy.

I am certainly not against breastfeeding. I just wish that women didn't feel the need to beat themselves up about it if it doesn't work out.

All the Comforts of Hibernation

2008-02-29T16:33:00.002-05:00

Two new things in the B household to make winter just a little more bearable....

1. Keurig Single Brew Coffee Maker I have been eyeing this contraption for a few months. I have to say what made it so attractive is the idea that we will no longer have to spent an hour every day cleaning the damn coffee pot components.

2. FIOS Oh my lord, how did we survive before this? It's only been 22 hours since the heavens parted and paved the way for the Information Superhighway, but it has rocked our world. Wireless internet? Check. DVR? Check. 800 gazillion channels, including one dedicated to karate?

Excuse me as I go hunker down for the weekend, crazed by the copious amounts of caffeine coursing through my body.

Technologically Challenged

2008-02-21T20:41:00.004-05:00

I believe that you can accurately target someone's age, or more precisely, their "generation" by their level of comfort with technology. My mother, for example, uses her pointer finger to change channels on the TV remote as well as to dial her phone. For some reason she just can't hold it in her hand use the thumb of the same hand (you know, her OPPOSABLE THUMB) to operate the device. And it should be noted here that she just switched over from rotary dial not that long ago. Seriously.

I have not disclosed my age in my sparse number of posts, but if I told you that voicemail was the hot new communication preference when I started my career, you probably could guess roughly how old I am. As the marketing assistant in a busy corporate office of a retail chain, I spent most of my day chained to the fax machine, rocketing off memos to one of our stores or shopping lists to the nanny of my boss (she really deserves her own post which I shall save for another day). About three years and two promotions later, the world wide web, aka Information Superhighway (you need to say it like a robot) and its scary twin, email, were rolled out in our office. The higher-ups were very skeptical that anyone would actually receive email, so I continued to communicate through the fax machine, or, if I was feeling lazy, an all-store voicemail (you had to use that function sparingly or the store operations Nazis would come after you). Here's an example of one such voicemail:

"Good morning, store managers. This is Tressa calling from the Marketing Department at Corporate. Can you please check your stockrooms to see if you have the head of the Curious George costume? We need it for a store Grand Opening in Akron on Thursday and the store received George's body but no head. Please call me at ext. 105 if you have any information on the missing Curious George head. Thank you."

It was a glamorous job, I tell you.

I often had to travel to these Grand Openings to ensure that all the hoopla went smoothly, so when I did, I was given the department cell phone to take with me. Yes, our entire department was allocated ONE cell phone. And it was the size of a shoe box. And you had to carry it around in a BAG that had a shoulder strap.

By the time I moved on to the ad agency in Boston, everything was communicated via email. If something needed to get done, you sent an email and cc'd every one of your colleagues, which is also known as a CYA move. (Cover Your Ass). You couldn't just pop your head over the half-wall of your cubicle and make your request face to face. Oh, noooo. You needed documentation.

Then I got pregnant, had a baby, and dropped off the face of the professional earth for the next six years. And all of these new-fangled technologies came out during my hiatus. Things like text messaging and instant messaging and crazy languages like CSS and HTML. When I made a brief foray back to the working world before Owen was born, I was scared of those young whipper snappers who could edit web content while clicking away on their Blackberries. And I felt like that woman I used to make fun of at my first job who couldn't figure out how to mark her voicemail URGENT.

What I'm trying to say here is that while this is not the most aesthetically appealing blog-- it's just my words plugged into a boring Blogger template-- I hope that I can learn how to do all the cool stuff that I see on the blogs that I love to read. It's sort of like taking up a new hobby for me to learn about editing HTML and putting photos into my posts. I used to be an avid journal-keeper in my younger days, and this blogging thing is right up my alley. I think.

Well, it's certainly easier than faxing everybody.

Winter Forgotten

2008-02-18T14:47:00.003-05:00

I spent my childhood growing up in a town that's a thirty minute drive from the place that I now call home. The summers of my youth were hot and sticky in our un-airconditioned house, but the shade of the trees in our backyard always felt like a cool drink of water. The winters were cold and snowy and there was always at least one or two serious blizzards every year. I will not claim that I walked uphill both ways ten miles to school in nine feet of snow, but it was close. Don't you love how the passing of time distorts reality?

Now I'm not going to go all Inconvenient Truth on y'all but those winters of my childhood do not exist anymore here in NJ. Sure there have been a couple of major storms since we moved back here six years ago, but I can count them on one hand. Instead we tend to have a few months of a damp chill with muddy yards, perhaps a few cold snaps that last no more than a week.

Winter pasttimes such as skating, skiing, and sledding are rarities in my life now that I'm a mom. Liam and Emmy have partaken in all of these activities (not big fans of the skating, however) but it's usually Chip who takes them while I tend to the baby. This weekend, however, I've had a taste of winter that I am loving.

Liam and Emmy both have this week off from school for winter break. Last summer, when I was perusing the upcoming school year calendar and made that discovery, I decided that a family vacation was in order. Staying home with the three kids all day for a week is enough to make my eyeballs bleed, so C. agreed we could plan a getaway. However, after some internet research, I discovered that the idea of traveling with three small children during a peak vacation week to an island getaway would amount to the cost of adopting a fourth child from a third world country, not to mention the eyeball bleeding that would ensue if our travels were hampered by bad weather. We wimped out and decided on a winter destination that we could drive to. We settled on a beautiful, luxe lodge in the Adirondacks. Keep in mind that I booked this trip on JULY 21, PEOPLE.

So here we are, and let me tell you, it's awesome. The lodge is one of those timber-crafted, rustic jobs but with flat-panel TVs and jacuzzis. Our accommodations consist of a combo sitting room/dining room/kitchen and a bedroom. Liam and Emmy are sleeping on the pull out sofa and Owen is in the Pack & Play in the master bathroom. Are we terrible for making the baby sleep in a windowless cave? Maybe so, but have you ever slept well in a room with a baby rustling around in a Pack & Play? Ugh.

We went snowshoeing as a family yesterday, which was a great experience. Chip pulled Owen behind us in a little red sled. He looked like a little baby prince, regally surveying the scene. Emmy was our trailblazer, leading the way and feeling very proud of herself. And Liam brought up the rear, flinging himself down every hill and landing in the snow-buried landscape. Chip took the older two skiing today while Owen and I hung out at the lodge. All in all, it's been a great vacation. I want to savor in the present, but I can't help myself from being excited about the family vacations to come when the kids are a bit older and we'll be able to enjoy more activities as a family.

100 Disclosures

2008-02-13T11:34:00.008-05:00

1. My first name is Tressa, which is pronounced tre-SUH. Not Theresa.

2. I'm named after my father's great aunt who I never met.

3. One of Great Aunt Tressa's needlepoint pieces is hanging in my daughter's bedroom. The phrase "Let me live in the house by the side of the road and be a friend to man" is stitched (embroidered?) on it.

4. I am not a crafty person. I do not sew, knit, hem, decoupage, wield a hot glue gun, or scrapbook.

5. I am, however, a mean cook.

6. Alas, I cannot bake worth a damn. I like to blame it on my oven, or my lack of patience with exact measurements, but even the cakes made from a box mix come out terrible.

7. I have had three serious romantic relationships in my life-- one in high school, one in college, and one post-grad.

8. I married the third one.

9. We will celebrate our tenth anniversary this October.

10. I lived in the same house growing up from birth until I went to college.

11. It was a sweet little blue cape cod that I can still recall the smell of if I close my eyes.

12. I have an older sister who lives two towns over.

13. I don't see her much as she has three school-age daughters who do every sport and cultural activity in the history of the world.

14. My first job (other than babysitting) was at an ice cream store. I was fifteen and it paid $3.45 an hour.

15. My first job in the real world after college graduation was as a marketing assistant at a chain of educational toy stores. I was there for five years and got many free toys for my nieces (see item 13) and C. His favorites were the juggling supplies.

16. The toy company was a sponsor of the Easter Egg Roll at the White House. One year C. and I drove a Ryder truck right up to the South Lawn to set up the supplies (I somehow talked him into helping us. I may have promised him more juggling stuff.) This was obviously pre-9/11.

17. While setting up for the event (this was the day prior), we came across a Secret Service guy (agent?) walking Socks the Cat on a leash and had our photo taken with the cat.

18. I am not a cat lover.

19. We have no pets other than fish in our house and probably never will.

20. This is solely for the reason that I don't want dog or cat hair all over my house.

21. I'm a bit of a neat freak.

22. I have passed this trait onto my two older children, who are meticulous about cleaning up the playroom and their bedrooms at the end of each day.

23. That being said, if you look inside pretty much any closet or open any drawer in my house, you will find a mess. Let's not even mention what my basement looks like.

24. I have three children- a boy age 7, a girl age 5 and a boy age 1.

25. No, the third child was not a mistake. It just took me awhile to get over the roller coaster of having the first two relatively close together.

26. My children's names are Liam (he's actually William), Emmy (she's actually Emilia) and Owen.

27. I have a thing for nicknames.

28. Owen is named after main character in the book A Prayer for Owen Meany by John Irving.

29. I haven't told C. about this blog yet and I'm not sure if I'm going to.

30. Sometimes (like today) I go to the gym and I don't shower afterwards. I really don't think I smell that bad.

31. C. and I were introduced my one of my college roommates, who was working with him at the time. She was not pleased when we hooked up at first because C. was the guy who sat at the desk next to hers and stole her food and goofed off all day but the boss loved him anyway.

32. C. was once caught demonstrating step aerobics on his desk, using said desk as the step. I can see why Beth thought he was a bit annoying.

33. C. and I dance terribly together. We are ok with other people, but put us together on the dance floor at a wedding and prepare to be appalled.

34. I live in New Jersey.

35. I do not live near the Turnpike, a toxic waste dump, or a Superfund site.

36. The town in which I live is actually bucolic and lovely.

37. The town in which I live just got its first Starbucks. This should give you an idea about how rural it is here.

38. I cringe at the stereotype of the stay at home mom, driving her gigantic SUV while talking on her cell phone and sipping her grande skim soy double shot frapped foo foo Starbucks drink.

39. I drive a gigantic SUV.

40. We are not minivan people. I know, I know. Once you get inside one, you never want to get out. Blah blah blah. My carbon foot print could stamp out the entire county. I know. But I just can't get over the vision of myself getting into my minivan while wearing high-waisted mom jeans with a tasteful Talbots sweater and a helmut hairdo. So I will continue to drive the gigantic SUV and feel guilty about its wastefulness.

41. Sometimes on a Sunday morning C. will take all three kids to church and I will go to the new Starbucks and sit in the corner with a skinny decaf hazlenut latte and read the ENTIRE paper. It is HEAVEN.

42. I was raised Catholic but now attend an Episcopal church, which was the faith in which Chip was raised. I am conflicted about this, but I made the decision a few years ago that it would be easier for us to go to church as a family at the Episcopal church (except, of course, when I skip church to attend Starbucks). The religions are basically the same with two major exceptions-- 1) the Episcopal priests can marry and 2) you can skip church-- even skip the entire summer, for heaven's sake-- in the Episcopal church without any of the Catholic guilt.

43. I am a Mac addict.

44. We have one TV in our house, and it's a nineteen inch RCA with fake wood paneling. No, we don't have TiVo.

45. I love music. I can talk about music all the live-long day.

46. My favorite genre of music is British pop-- Coldplay, Snow Patrol, Keane, Radiohead, etc.

47. I also have been known to rock out to High School Musical and Hannah Montana.

(quietly barfs)

48. My first concert was in seventh grade when I saw Bryan Adams.

49. The last concert I attended was the Police reunion show at Giants Stadium last summer and I have to admit it kinda sucked.

50. The best concert I have been to was U2 back in '93. Awesome.

51. I did a summer semester in England before my senior year of college.

52. When C. finished business school, I quit my job in Philadelphia, we sold our condo and we traveled for almost the whole summer.

53. My favorite place that we visited that summer was Rome.

54. I was not expecting Rome to be my favorite city as we had been warned about the evil gypsy folk who prey on naive tourists and steal their wallets while pressing cardboard against them. Seriously, who does that?

55. My sleepwear consists of old lady nightgowns that my mother buys me when I'm having a baby.

56. I have a dime-shaped birthmark on my right arm.

57. My brother had the exact same birthmark on the exact same spot on his arm.

58. My brother, who was six years older than me, died at age 24.

59. He suffered from Cystic Fibrosis, but for the most part lived a healthy and normal life.

60. Now that I'm a mother, I cannot even fathom how my mother got through the experience of losing a child.

61. C. works at a biotech company that is working to develop a drug that will cure CF (he's not a scientist- he's on the finance side)

62. Feeling the need to move onto a lighter note.

63. I dislike wearing shorts because I have horrible varicose veins (I know- I need to get them zapped or something).

64. I went to college in Philadelphia.

65. I thought it was a very apathetic city, although I ended up living there for nine years.

66. I missed it when I moved away.

67. We lived in Boston for three years after that.

68. I loved living in Boston, but I was a little bit lonely because I didn't know anyone and didn't have any family there.

69. After I had Liam, I began plotting how I could convince C. that we should move to NJ.

70. My entire family lives in NJ, as well as C.'s parents and one of his brothers.

71. C. was a competitive rower when I met him.

72. His girlfriend before me was an Olympic rower who won two medals (one silver, one bronze). She also donated one of her kidneys to her brother (overachiever).

73. I am not athletic or competitive.

74. C. and I met at a Halloween party. I was dressed as one of the Charlie's Angels (the smart one, of course). I thought that he was cute but I studiously ignored him the entire night.

75. My favorite food is pasta and bread.

76. I've been doing the South Beach Diet for 9 months. It's the only thing that works for me- I have no self-control so I need to completely avoid certain foods like carbs and sweets. Once I have a taste of it, I can't stop eating it.

77. I visited South Beach for the first time last month. Highlights included seeing someone wearing a nude-colored bodysuit ride a unicycle down Collins Avenue as well as a biker dude sitting at a cafe table with two ginormous snakes curled up in the chairs on either side of him.

78. I was an English major in college (which is why I need to go back and edit the split infinitive in Item 76).

79. I am very lazy about getting my hair cut. I tend to let it go for months and months at a time, then get a drastic cut. Lather, rinse, repeat cycle.

80. The advent of the flat iron changed my life.

81. I am half Irish and half Italian. Unfortunately I have the Irish complexion (read pasty white) coupled with the Italian body (read short and not very skinny). Why couldn't I have gotten the olive skin tone that tans wonderfully along with the slender physique of someone whose ancestors survived the potato famine?

82. My mother's mother, who died last year, once taught me how to make ravioli from scratch, using a glass to cut the dough into circles. I now wish I had paid more attention.

83. My father's father was an amazing piano player. I can still remember the way his hands effortlessly rolled over the keys.

84. I have no musical talent to speak of.

85. My father passed away unexpectedly when I was twelve years old.

86. He had suffered a relapse of Hodgkin's Disease and had been undergoing chemo, but I had no idea how sick he really was.

87. My father's younger brother looks and sounds exactly like my dad. He came to my house for a family get together a few months ago, and at one point I found him on the floor playing cars with the baby. I had to excuse myself and go hide in the bathroom to cry for a minute.

88. Despite the loss of my dad and my brother, I feel like I have had a blessed, incredibly fortunate life.

89. I sometimes think that God is trying to make up for all the bad things that happened to me by giving me the family I have now.

90. OK, we need to wrap this up on a more lighthearted, less philosophical tone.

91. I hate tampons.

92. I have a subscription to US Weekly, which I read from cover to cover every Thursday afternoon. It takes about fifteen minutes.

93. I am fascinated by the wide range of people who pick up US Weekly when they come to my house. My pre-teen nieces, my father-in-law, every babysitter (including the one who speaks minimal English), the husbands of my friends are all sucked in by its drama of hard-core news.

94. I was a big fan of Six Feet Under, although I usually turned it on five minutes after it started because I didn't like to watch the death at the beginning of each episode or the creepy opening credits.

95. My favorite TV shows, other than the ones on HBO, are thirtysomething, Once and Again and My So Called Life. All of which were shamefully cancelled. So what if I was the only one watching?

96. I love to watch clips from My So Called Life on You Tube, especially the one in which Jordan Catalano goes up to Angela in the school hallway while the Buffalo Tom song is playing.

97. I have never watched American Idol because I am embarassed when people sing on TV.

98. I have trouble assembling Lego sets if the recommended age exceeds age 7.

99. I'm much better with Playmobil.

100. I played with Barbies until I was twelve.

All done! If you have read this far, I thank you. You probably know more about me than most of my extended family members.

A Series of Saturday Nights

2008-02-09T22:52:00.001-05:00

I got the idea for this post from one of my favorite blogging ladies, Kristin of Better Now.

Saturday Night, Fall 1994- I'm a recent college graduate, attempting to make a career for myself out of a job that pays absolute crap. I'm living in suburban Philly with Beth and Eileen, who are helping me ease into the adult world by showing me that we can be just as silly as we were as undergrads- we just have to get up for work the next morning. We spend our Saturday nights bellied up to the cool new bar in town, drinking Honey Browns (which unfortunately GIVE us the honey browns) and sharing our inside jokes.

Saturday Night, Fall 1995- C and I have been a couple long enough that it's assumed we will spend the entire weekend together. After having spent the afternoon at yet another crew race, we hop in the Saturn and head to New Jersey to spend Saturday night with one of our families. It feels familiar, like we've been doing this routine for years instead of months.

Saturday Night, 1999- We're living in Boston and I'm still trying to figure out how to make it feel like home. I miss my family and my girlfriends but I know that we have all moved on in different ways and that life will never be the same. In this first year of marriage, I am depending on C to be there for me in a wide range of capacities. On the weekends when I haven't talked him into going to NJ, we spend our Saturday having brunch at the Paramount, followed by strolling down Newbury Street for some shopping, then maybe a nap before we head out for dinner and a movie. After the lean business school years of living off my meager salary, we feel almost rich with our dual incomes. We have no idea that these days are just a blip on the timeline... so much will change so quickly.

Saturday Night, 2001- The carefree days of living in the city have melted into a suburban groove of nap schedules, laundry, Baby Mozart and Whole Foods. We are so proud of our beautiful boy and love to take him out to dinner with us to show him off. After we are home and he is tucked into bed for the night, we call C's parents to tell them about the fuss everyone made about the boy in the restaurant and how amazing he is.

Saturday Night, 2003- We have made the not so triumphant return to NJ. Having an infant and a toddler is kicking my ass. I am just so grateful for the weekend to come so I can take a shower in peace and maybe go to the grocery store by myself. We spend Saturday evening sitting on the blue couch in our tiny living room in our little blue house, watching an old Raffi live in concert VHS tape. L is watching with rapt attention and E is nursing (for the twelfth time. Since an hour ago). C and I look at each other and make a wordless vow to never spend a Saturday night watching Raffi again.

Saturday Night, 2005- Through one connection I made with a mom at the nursery school, I have made friends with a group of women who are now like my sisters. We are at the house of one of these families, enjoying a free-for-all dinner and a fire pit in the backyard. Liam and Emmy are thick with the pack of children, running between the basement playroom bursting with toys and the snack cabinet in the kitchen. I love that these women love talking to my husband and laugh at his jokes and think nothing of wiping boogers from my kids' noses.

Saturday Night, This Weekend- Our family is complete with our little man, Baby O. We decide to take the three of them out to dinner to a Chinese restaurant to celebrate the Year of the Rat. The older two gamely try all the food and love using the "chapsticks". Baby O sits at the head of the table and eats mu shu pork right off the serving plate, long trails of cabbage hanging from his chubby little chin. There's a meal's worth of food that has fallen under the table. I shove shrimp into my mouth in between cutting up pieces of meat for Baby O. I take a moment to realize how far we have come, but also savor the possibilities of what is still to be with this family of mine.

Fester Pants

2008-02-06T17:28:00.000-05:00

One of the fringe benefits of being a stay at home mother is that you can basically wear your pajamas all day long. This is a fact that I sometimes love but on certain occasions can drive me to the brink of a dark, hopeless depression.

I have never been a morning person, and thus far the circumstances of my life have accommodated this character trait. The two different jobs that I had post-college were both reverse commutes, which meant light traffic and sleeping until at least 7:15 am. All three of my children, including the one year old, rarely awaken before 7 am. They know that Mommy is not open for business until the sun comes up. However, when my husband (I flat out refuse to refer to him as DH. Will need to come up with better term) finally prods me awake every morning, I need to hit the deck running. Lunches to be prepared, beds to be made, clothes to be staged, etc. I throw on my Fester Pants, put in my contacts, wash my face (if I'm feeling ambitious) and get going with the day.

What? You are not familiar with the term Fester Pants? Allow me to explain.

Fester Pants are stretchy pants that are perhaps what you wore when you used to work out regularly. However, they have lost their shape and are saggy in the butt. They have unidentified stains and maybe even a hole in the crotch. They are called such because that is what you do in them... you FESTER. You do NOT wear them to exercise. You do NOT wear them to show off your toned lower physique. They can either be the most comforting item in your wardrobe or the most depression-inducing, depending on the day.

Credit for the term Fester Pants (hereafter referred to as FPs) should be given to one of my college housemates, who coined the term on a rainy Sunday afternoon while we were sitting on the nasty old couch in our house watching Lifetime while nursing hangovers.

Back for More

2008-02-05T14:32:00.000-05:00

Well, I must say, I certainly delved into the blogosphere just like I do with many things in my life...

With a half-hearted thwap.

Hmmm... has it really been over two months since that last awe-inspiring post?

Moving on! I'm going to attempt to move on from mind paralysis by just hopping onto a ramble and see where it takes me.

So today is Super Tuesday, and my state is one of the many holding two-party primary elections. This will be the first primary election in which I have voted-- I plan on going right after my oldest son gets off the school bus later this afternoon. I have not voted in previous primaries for the usual ignorant reasons. Too busy, didn't know that as an independent I can vote, etc. And in all fairness, I have been of voting age only for the last five presidential primary elections (the last excuse, I know, is extremely lame).

One of my more clear memories of my father, who died of Hodgkin's Disease when I was twelve, is of him taking me with him to vote in the 1980 presidential election. I can still recall the smell of stale cigarettes in the basement of the neighborhood Masonic lodge where our district held its election, as well as the pale blue/green of the voting booths. He brought me behind the curtain with him and I watched him cast his vote, my head coming up about as high as the voting buttons. As he pulled open the curtain to exit the booth, I asked him, "You voted for Reagan, right?" What a little Republican I was... ahhh, the Camelot days of my fuel crisised, inflation charged youth.

(tap, tap) Ahem! Anyone out there?

2007-11-26T17:37:00.000-05:00

I have never been one who quickly jumps on the band wagon.

Rather, I tend to wait on the side of the road and watch the wagon start along, making sure that nothing crazy happens. I think I am now feeling comfortable enough to edge onto the tailgate of the wagon and hold on for dear life.

So now that I'm on the blogger band wagon, what do I have to say for myself? We'll just have to see.