Balance

A week ago today, I was here:














Aruba Marriott Resort & Stellaris Casino

And tonight I had to deal with a constipated three-year old.

Dear Nick Jr. or Noggin or whatever you're calling yourselves these days,

Commercials on your website? Seriously?

All my three-year old wanted to do was watch a Wow Wow Wubbzy video. What she got was a commercial for Always maxi pads.

I am sorry to tell you this, but my three-year old does not have her period yet. And she is not the sole purchaser of feminine products in our home.

Also, most toddlers do not enjoy commercials. That's why we watch Noggin and buy as many Max & Ruby DVD's that our budget will allow.

So when my precious started to whine because she was not able to stop your commercial, I promptly switched to the Sesame Street website. Which has no commercials.

Regards, Coma Girl

Why My Neighbor Clearly Needs a Shopping Spree, a Booster Seat and a Baby Name Book

Ever since my daughter's first public temper tantrum at Borders, I have vowed never to judge other mothers. Our job is hard enough without having to worry about another mother making a face as we sit with our children and enjoy a slushie and pretzel during dinner time at our local Target (oh yes, I have).

But sometimes, we just have to judge.

There is a mother who lives across the street from me. I try not to judge that she has five children all under the age of eight. I try not to judge that she wears work-out clothes every.single.day. Even when she's pregnant. I tried not to judge when her little son was outside playing in a huge pile of dirt that her husband was in the process of moving with a bobcat. I tried not to judge when she named her daughter the same name as mine (ok, that one I may have judged just a little). And I try not to judge that she barely waves hi as she drives past me - and really when you have five little kids, wouldn't you jump at the chance to befriend the woman across the street with only one kid so your kids can go bother her play with her lonely child? (or maybe it's me that really wants to befriend her so my daughter can play with her brood? Like she'd even notice another one?).

But last week she gave me a very good reason to judge her. She drove past my house and her son's head was hanging out the opened back window. Now, it took me a second to think; even if he's six or seven (even though I think he's more like four or five), shouldn't he be wearing a seat belt? Therefore rendering him unable to stick his head out of the minivan window?

Seriously?

I think putting a seat belt on our children is the easiest thing we can do to keep them safe. I see it way too often that kids are in the backseat not buckled in.

I do know that it is possible for kids to take their seat belt off without the parent noticing. I realize this, but I would think you'd notice your child bouncing around in the back seat or sticking their head out of the window.

Again, I try not to judge, but something about a parent being lazy about safety just pisses me off.

That and clearly copying my daughter's name.

Naps

My daughter’s naps are very important. Yeah, she needs her sleep and energy, blah blah blah. No, her naps are important to me. I need her naps. I need them for my sanity.

The first seven months of my daughter’s life were like a bad baby boot camp. It was awful. She didn’t sleep during the night. She didn’t have any sort of routine, which honestly threw me for a loop because I thought she’d be on schedule by the third, maybe fourth day home from the hospital (sadly, I’m not joking). I mean, she’s my child; of course she’d quickly establish a routine. And sleep through the night. And wipe her nose when the buggers would accumulate by her nostrils. And, when the time came, build a great disdain for glitter and anything messy. Like her mom.

But no. She didn’t get the memo. She was all willy-nilly with her sleep habits until she was over seven months. And I was over-tired and extremely sleep deprived.

So now you can understand why I love the naps. I love routine. I love time to watch missed episodes of 30 Rock and Rescue Me. I loved to read blogs. I love to call my health insurance and argue with them. I love to write…or think about writing while I scrub my toilet. All without having a three-year old scream “Mmmmoooooommmmmmyyyy, I wan another cccooookkkiiieeee!”.

And I have been blessed. From months seven to thirteen, she took two naps a day. Sweet Jesus is was glorious. But then the second nap disappeared and I was sad. But the one nap moved later in the afternoon and hold the phone – she was napping for three hours. Sometimes more. Sometimes I had to wake her up because it was past 4:00 (and we did not want to disturb that 8:00 bedtime, no sir).

Can you guess where I am going?

A few weeks ago we finally moved her into a big girl bed. I know she’s three and it’s late. She loved that darn crib and never tried to climb out. Plus with her prefect sleep patterns, I didn’t want to disturb anything.

Now can you see where I am going?

She slept fine in her big girl bed both Friday night and Saturday night. But she didn’t nap Saturday. And by 4:30 she was cranky. So we called the baby-sitter and went out. Don’t judge.
Sunday. No nap. Both afternoons she sat in her bed, playing with her toys and singing at the top of her lungs. As if to say “haha, you screwed yourself! I’m never napping again!” And you guessed it, by 4:30-5:00 she was cranky and even we wouldn’t call the baby-sitter again (well, she had a party).

I am not going to lie. I was upset. “It can’t possibly be that time, can it?” I asked my husband. He shrugged his shoulders. One would think since I married a guy who already had four children, he would be some sort of help. But one would be completely wrong.

But this is major. I thought for sure that since she’s an only child with no other distractions during the afternoon, she would nap until it was time for Kindergarten. Plus she always seem to love her naps. Now I am longing for those days when she would look at me after lunch and say “Let’s go upstairs mommy, I’s tired.”

Is this normal? At what age do they give up naps? If she's ready to give up naps, why is she such a nightmare by 5pm? And at what point do you start spiking their milk with Benadryl?

Why I Love The Internet

It was 2001 or 2002. There was this Mercedes Benz commercial with a cute young guy in a white Mercedes coupe. He was driving over a bridge with all the windows and sunroof open loudly singing a song (isn't it amazing that I remember those details, but I have no idea what my daughter's weight and height were at birth?).

The guy was cute and the song was catchy.

Flash forward to 2007. As usual, I was spending my daughter’s nap sitting in front of the computer. Within 15 minutes I found the name of the song - “Whoever you are” by Geggy Tah (that video is not the commercial).

With the little amount of information I had – “2001 or 2002 Mercedes Benz commercial song cute guy” – I was able to find and download this song.

How amazing is the Internet? Well ok, it’s not like I was looking up some cure for a medical problem or something important. It’s just a song. But had this been 1987, what would I have done? I would have talked about “that song from that commercial” for the next 6 or so years until I cruised the information superhighway (remember when we called it that?) and by the time I found it, I probably wouldn’t even like the song anymore.

Really, can you tell I don’t have many important things to do with my time?

Ted The Mirror

This is the conversation I overheard as I cleaned up after dinner and my husband and daughter watched Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs:

Ava: "Daddy, what's his name?"

Daddy: "That's the magic mirror, his name is just mirror"'

A: "No, what's his naaaammme?"

D: "His name is just mirror. Mr. Mirror"

A: "No daddy! What's his NAAAAMMME?"

D: "His name is Ted."

A: "Ok, his names Ted"

Oh, I Forgot I Had This Blog

I read blogs daily. I have about 30 in my Google reader and I hate it when I have over 5 unread, it stresses me out. Clearly I have issues.

But I'm not so into the writing anymore. I've started a few posts, but I don't seem to have the gumption to finish them. Instead, I just read other's work. Everyone else has a much more entertaining life...or they're better writers. Either way.

I promise to come back soon when I have something interesting to say. Or at least something that doesn't make me go "blurg" when I re-read it.

It's a word, look it up.

Identity

Like most moms, I wear many hats. Unlike most moms, I am not entirely comfortable taking off one hat and putting on another. And unlike my sister, I actually don't look good in any hat.

It's weird, I guess I still think of myself as that single girl just going through the motions of her late teens, early twenties. When I speak with an old friend on facebook or run into an former co-worker at Target, it's still strange to say "I'm now a mom and a wife".

I am some one's mother.

Crazy.

So last week one day I was coordinating a move for my company's office (there are three of us, so even the part-time girl had lots to do), the next day I was coordinating and hosting a play date at our house.

Obviously play dates happen often and it's not as arduous as relocating a small company. But here I am one day meeting with the phone and computer company, explaining to them what needs to happen in the next four days so we can move in on Friday and be up and running quickly, making phone calls to get boxes delivered, and the copy machine moved, and ensuring that everything is done perfectly so my boss doesn't freak. Then the next day I am making tuna salad, preparing the backyard for four little girls to destroy it play, then striking up conversation with two stay-at-home mommies and making sure the four girls play nicely and none of them freaks.

Two different worlds. One I wear make-up and heels. The other I barely brush my teeth and wear flip flops.

And most weeks, I wouldn't have it any other way.

$13 Saved. $12 Lost

Yes, I saved myself $13 when I found the back to my earring last week.

And yesterday I lost $12, plus tax, when a four-pack of deodorant fell off the roof of my car onto a four-lane road. Don't ask.

Yup, I am just lucky that way.

The ironic thing, I was going to return the deodorant because I accidentally bought the $12 four-pack instead of the $7 four-pack.

So I guess now I am technically out $19.

Plus tax.

Yay me.

How to Find The Back to An Earring In High Pile Carpeting or Why I Should Have Bought a Berber

Opps, I did it again.

I took my earrings off as I was sitting at my computer and I dropped the back.

The last time, I never found it and it cost me $13 to order a new back. Why you ask? Because my stupid earrings are a screw back and the several jewelers I have been to do not carry the size I need. Yes, I know most jewelery stores carry, oh about 300 earring backs. I am just lucky that way.

And after about 20 minutes of crawling around under my desk with a flashlight, hubby and I gave up looking.

But you know how they say necessity is the motherhood of invention. Well have I got an invention for you.

Ok, not so much of an invention as it is an idea, but I am still proud of myself.

I took a piece of screen I found in the garage - don't ask, I didn't. I taped it over the vacuum hose and I vacuumed away.

Of course I had to stop several times to clean out all the dust and other little crap that was under my desk. But I found it!

So now my earrings are back securely in my ears, the rug underneath my desk is clean and I still have $13 in my wallet. All is good in the world.

Moving On Up...

But not to a deelux apartment on the East Side.

A few weeks ago, after reading this article in our local paper, my husband and I decided that it really is time to get off of Long Island. Step-son #3 will be entering his senior year of High School in the fall, so we have to wait for him to graduate. But that hasn't stopped us from scouring the internet for places to live. And drooling over nicer houses that cost half as much as ours.

I've talked about this before and we thought we'd wait a few years, but we don't think we have that kind of time. If the property taxes go the way they're predicting, it may get harder to sell.

Again, Dallas, Texas is the front runner because my husband runs his company's Dallas office. And I have to admit that I love everything I have read about the Plano area, but it's far from my friends in New York and family in New Jersey. And I don't look good in a cowboy hat.

We're also looking at the Baltimore, Maryland area and Charlotte, North Carolina.

We know we have time and we know we're going to have to do a lot of research. We've even talked about taking little jaunts to the areas. I will of course need to check out the local Target (and any suburb that has one of those grocery store Targets will move to the top of the list). And my husband will want to check out some restaurants to see which places have our favorite beers on tap.

Oh, and I suppose we will need to check out the schools for the little one. Yeah, definitely put that on the checklist.

But I have lived in NY my whole life and have no idea what it's even like to live elsewhere.

How will I adapt to the TV channels being different?

Will I miss Sue Simmons and Chuck Scarborough giving me my 5:00 news?

How will I learn the quickest route to Target? (Targets are everywhere, right??)

Will I know where to find the ketchup in my new grocery store?

I've heard that in other parts of the US, women don't call it a pocketbook - what do they call it??

If I order a meatball "hero" from an pizzeria, will they laugh at me? Am I supposed to call it a sub or a hoogie?

Is pizza even good in other states?? (Once I leave the NY/NJ area, I don't eat pizza...or chinese food. Yes, we're snobs that way.)

Will all the years of making fun of southern accents and phrases like "y'all" and "the piggly wiggly" come back to haunt me? What they hell is a piggly wiggly anyway?

Will people only befriend me to make fun of my lawng island accent?

And what, oh what will I do with all that extra money? No more $10,000/year in property taxes! No more $400 electric bills!

Well, that alone is enough to get me excited. Bring on the meatball sub y'all!

Dad

My father is my hero for many reasons.

The obvious one is because he dedicated 22 years of his life serving the people of New York City as a firefighter.

And my father loved his job. He didn't love it for the "8 days of work a month" or for the benefits or so he can act like a big shot and say he's "on the job". He loved what he did. And he has countless stories to prove it. And just ask, he'll tell you. He also worked in one of the roughest neighborhoods in Brooklyn because that's where the action was. Even though his father was on the job and he could have gone to any house, he chose that one and stayed there.

Everyone has their own September 11, 2001 stories. And my dad, while not there during the collapse of the towers, was there for months following. Because that was his job. I'll never forget that afternoon when all NYC fireman were called in to work and my mother told him that she didn't want him going in. And he just said to her that he had to go. It was his job and those were his brothers.

My dad lost friends, went to way too many funerals and cried a lot. He was never too tough to show how sad he really was.

But no matter how macho my dad was when it came to his job, it never stopped him from coming home and cooking dinner. Or helping with homework. Or doing laundry. Or playing with us to give mom a break.

He isn't perfect. He is a little rough around the edges and he didn't always know what to do with a house full of women (especially since he grew up with five brothers and only one sister). But he tried.

And he did whatever it took to support his family. That always meant having a second job, but at times it also meant having a third.

I am lucky to have him. And even luckier to marry someone who I think is a lot like my father. They are probably the two most selfless people I know.

Happy Father's Day to all!

Sometimes I Should Just Keep My Mouth Shut

So yesterday morning my husband calls me after he drops our daughter off at daycare to tell me that he received a notice that she will be moving to the three-year old room at the end of the month.

Since I refuse to believe my baby will be moving into her third classroom at daycare, I call and ask if she can stay in the toddler room until September. I say that it seems like it would be easier during the summer for her to stay with her friends and then move when the "year" starts. What I actually mean is "I don't want my daughter to grow up. Can't she stay in the toddler room and sing 'Mister Sun' at the top of her lungs forever?"

The daycare is fine with my decision, so she will move in September.

Then I get home and read the notice. My husband neglected to tell me this part:

Doh!

I Hope You Can All Come to My Book Signing!

Oh, well I don't actually have a book signing date yet.

Or a book deal.

Or a book for that matter.

But I have the subject and a ton of notes. So that's something. And last week I started to write. Two pages in and I am feeling good. Borders, make room on that new release shelf.

Now I know that every blogger and their mother is writing a book right now. And most of them have actual publishers and everything. So I am realistic to the fact that it may never happen.

And I do own this book. And I hope that one day I'll actually get a chance to read it.

But this has been something that I have wanted to do forever. And like most things, I start but then stop because I am afraid of failure.

I don't like to consider myself a quitter, but when it comes to writing I am afraid I won't stack up. I have so many ideas floating around in my head, but they never quite make it to paper.

My husband was just telling me about some book about A-Rod that only sold 16,000 copies and I was like "wow!" And he was like "no, that's bad." And I was like "oh."

And yes, I know not to overuse the work "like" in my book.

But here I go. Like many, many, many before me, I am taking the leap. I just hope I don't fall...or quit.

In the meantime, while I shower I will continue to practice my interview with Today Show's Matt Lauer.

Mac Update

Yesterday my lovely husband emailed me this article.

I am not sure if he's giving me permission to buy one or just teasing me.

If he is teasing me, I will be wearing lingerie to bed tonight even though I have my period.