"Uh...Marley?" I ask my daughter, who is completely engrossed in the soapy drama. "Isn't anyone going to save Baby Duck?"
Thursday, December 30, 2010
"Uh...Marley?" I ask my daughter, who is completely engrossed in the soapy drama. "Isn't anyone going to save Baby Duck?"
Monday, November 29, 2010
With this pregnancy, now at 13 weeks, I have been plagued with:
-Icky, barfy stomach
-Cold sweats and hot flashes (a sneak preview to menopause?)
-Crazy mood swings
-Bad ideas. (Maybe I should buy that really expensive dress that I won't be able to fit into until next summer? or next Fall? It's a classic...a statement piece!)
The worst part? This is making me DEPRESSED. I've had no energy to do Stroller Strides, which is my lifeline. Because I'm not working out, I'm getting even more depressed, because I need to work out and get fresh air, but I can't. Poor Ian comes home and I am STILL in my pajamas, no makeup, looking like the frumpy wife and mother I promised myself I'd never, ever be.
The bummer is, when I feel like I'm going to barf, I can't barf. I can't even gag myself. There's just that PENDING DOOM of a barf-to-be, looming on the horizon like a creepy relative who's coming to visit you at some undisclosed date in the future. You have to always be ready for it, yet, it never comes.
Until last Saturday. I got the stomach flu. Oh yes, ripe at 13 weeks, so happy and joyous to be out of my first trimester, finally starting to feel better, and BAM. This time, the barf came. And came. I think I threw up about 10 times in 5 hours.
So now I'm on the mend, in jammies and no makeup, still no Stroller Strides, but looking forward to feeling better. Because I will start feeling better, right? RIGHT?
Monday, November 22, 2010
1. People get out of your way in the grocery store. Large lady coming through!
2. You never drive around drunk anymore.
3. No more hangovers!
4. You can eat whatever you want. Arby's Roast Beef, anyone?
5. Caffeine is the new naughty. You used to feel guilty after 3 glasses of wine. Now, it feels downright scandalous to order a Coke with dinner.
6. People say endearing things like, "Oh, look at the belly. Isn't it cute?"
7. You live with the comfort of knowing that, if you were at sea, and your ship starts sinking, you will FOR SURE get a lifeboat. Because letting a pregnant lady drown just isn't cool.
8. No one offers you drugs anymore.
9. You don't have to suck it in! Finally you can exhale and let it all hang out.
10. No more ab exercises, because everyone knows you're not supposed to work out your abs when your pregnant. Duh.
11. Prenatal yoga!
12. Leggings become perfectly acceptable streetwear.
13. It is now completely acceptable to randomly stop whatever you are doing, and decide to "nap" or "go lay down for a bit."
14. Tie: No more cleaning stinky cat litter/no more working with toxic home cleaners. (The fumes could hurt the baby!)
15. If someone accuses you of being lazy, you can say, "Today, I was busy creating a new life in my body. What did you do?"
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
You're a friend when I need one the most.
You deliver treasures so great in brown, cardboard crate
Before I can butter my toast.
How do I love thee, my point-and-click friend?
I drag and drop into my cart
Pink princess pull-ups, organic fruit-rollups
No more trips to Target and Wal-Mart!
From carseats to baby wipes, to diaper cream (all types)
You never let me down.
Need some Earth's Best carrots? Or butterfly barrettes?
No need to drive all over town!
Whether your Bjorn or Ergo, Britax or Graco
Pampers or Seventh Generation
It's all there for you, organic and plastic
Oh praise, joy and elation!
And when I just haven't reached free shipping
You always let me know.
Just five dollars away? Check out the sales today!
And score, "Potty Time with Elmo."
And now that you've released Soap.com
My ecstasy's at its height
From Garnier hair-dye to Saline (sensitive eye)
Shopping's never felt so right!
Don't ever leave me, my Diapers.com
My life would spiral into despair.
I'd have to get in my car, and travel afar
(And figure out something to wear.)
Monday, November 1, 2010
Thursday, October 28, 2010
"Christine!" My mom (let's just call her Margaret) yelled, as she marched into my kitchen. "I was playing with Marley in her room and she just said the F-word!"
"Marley said f-ck?'" I asked, bewildered. Really? I thought I had cleaned up my act a little bit. Except for this morning on the way to preschool, when some dumbass pulled out in front of me, resulting in some swearing and a double pump of the finger. "Are you sure?"
"Well, actually, she said f-cky," said Margaret.
"F-cky? With a 'y'? That's not even a word," I declared.
"I know, but Marley said it, and she said it like she knew it was a bad word. She knew." Margaret wasn't backing down.
Hmm. Yes, I've been known to release more than my fair share of expletives. Prime opportunities include (but are not limited to)
-interactions with other drivers on California roadways (as mentioned above)
-accidents posing great physical harm, ie, ramming my toe into the highchair. Mother f-cker!
-accidents creating messes of a large nature, ie, knocking over a full glass of wine. Holy sh-tballs!
-heated conversations with my husband. The house IS clean! I just vacumed! What the f-ck are you talking about?
Clearly, the world offers up a multitude of prime opportunties to engage in the colorful use of language. Among adults. Ahem.
I decided to go straight to the source.
"Marley, did you say f-cky?" I asked, holding her little hands in mine. She looked up at me with a big smile, and said, "Yes Mamma! F-cky!"
I decided to let it pass, and hope that it didn't happen again. But around dinnertime, Marley was jumping up and down in the kitchen, yelling "F-cky, f-cky!"
Then I saw what she was pointing at. The DVD of Disney's Princess and the Frog. She was saying froggy.
"See froggy! See froggy!" she said. She wanted to watch the DVD. So you see, of course my little angel wasn't using the f-word. Now I'll just have to call my mom.
Have any of your kids dropped f-bombs or other bad words? How did you handle it?
Monday, October 18, 2010
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Thing is, I think I've really cleaned up my act. Once I had Marley, I found that my whole life orbited in a spastic, semi-chaotic state, so I had to create some order. And once you have a kid, you have to clean your house, otherwise it's just not sanitary.
I now have an arsenal of cleaning supplies under the sink, and wage war on dust and clutter on a regular basis. While our condo doesn't always sparkle, I like to think of it as "fresh," "relaxed," and "relatively uncluttered" considering we reside with a two-year-old.
And then there's my car.
I don't know what it is, but I just can't manage to keep my damn car clean. When I put Marley into her carseat this morning for dance class, I took a cursory look at the back seat and was horrifed.
I spied a bevy of half-eaten crackers, an apple core, and spoon with Kraft mac-n-cheese stuck on it. (No, we don't eat mac-n-cheese in the car. How the spoon got there will remain a mystery.)
I also found some other nice little treasures, in no particular order:
-an old library book with half the cover missing (Ahem)
-a beach bucket with sand in it
-two packages of hot sauce from Taco Bell
-a size 4 diaper (Marley's been in size 5 for months)
-a pair of panties (Marley's, not mine)
-a sippy cup with old juice in it
-a headless Barbie
-A TARGET receipt from last December
-A CD called "Summer 2004."
-An old piece of string cheese.
What is the weirdest thing you've found in your car?
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Back to the dress.
"Um, that's a little skimpy," I reply.
"But we're in Vegas," he protests. It's true. We are in Vegas. But we are on a family vacation in Vegas. I am pushing my child in a stroller, for Chrissake!
"That dress is ugly," I say.
Anyone else out there have a husband who wants them to dress like a stripper in broad daylight? Please tell me I'm not the only one!
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
1) Don't make the bed. I leave it intentionally messy, like a pillow monster exploded all over it.
2) Eat cold cereal for dinner. With wine, of course.
3) Let animal furballs form in the halls. The vacuum has left the building!
4) Go to Target at night. Something about wheeling Marley through Target after dinner, when everyone else is home hanging out with their families, makes me feel like such a rebel. BADASS!
5) 80s dance party with Marley.
6) Invite other moms to bring their kids over for "happy hour." Make mac-n-cheese for everyone. With wine, of course.
7) Apply scary blue face mask.
8) Watch Devil Wears Prada.
9) Leave all cabinet doors open.
10) Watch reruns of Beverly Hills, 90210 all day. (Only the high school years, of course.)
11) Wear ugly nightgowns around the house.
12) Let Pagoda, white Pekingese, sleep on Ian's side of the bed.
13) Go to bed at 8pm! Wheee!
Good times indeed. But...by the time Ian boards his plane back to San Diego, I am always happy to end the chaos. I am excited to bust out the swiffer, make the bed, do my hair, and fix dinner. And when he walks through the door, I am reminded that I am so lucky to have such a wonderful man in my life...forever.
Ok girls...what do you do when YOUR man leaves town?
Saturday, October 2, 2010
What is a SUPER PLANNER, you ask? I'll give you an example. I was walking by my neighbor's house the other day. You know, the cool mom with the three little kids. She's hanging out in the front yard, rocking in her porch swing with a glass of ice tea in her hand, watching her kids play in the dirt. She's always doing that, you know. Just sort of swaying in the breeze. I think it's pretty cool.
"Hey Christine!," she calls. "We're heading to the beach later today. You and Marley should come with us!"
I should have been delighted. After all, it was a beautiful day for the beach. Not a cloud in the sky, and barely enough breeze to ruffle Marley's pigtails. But I wasn't delighted. I was appalled. Appalled! Why? Because going to the beach wasn't part of the PLAN.
"Oh, thanks so much!" I reply. "But we have a really busy day. Maybe next time!"
"Oh yeah?" says my neighbor. Clearly, I'm not off the hook. "What are you up to?"
"Well," I respond. "We are going for a little jog, then over to the park. Marley's really into the swings now. Then we're going to the library, because we REALLY need some new books, and I have some old ones to return, and, you know, I don't want to get a fine."
I'm feeling really stupid now, because none of these things are THAT important. I COULD go to the beach and still have time to return the books...but...well...I planned on doing these other things.
"Stop by some other time then," she says. "Just bring Marley over to play. She'll have a blast! Come anytime."
"I will, I will, thanks!" I say, and we are on our way.
Later on, when we're inside the library reading books, I look out the window at the sunny, perfect day. I silently wonder if I'm depriving Marley of a fun day at the beach. I wonder if I'm depriving myself of a fun day at the beach. I vow that in the very near future, I will bring Marley over to my neighbor's house to play. I will be more spontaneous. I will not plan everything, I will let life happen to me!
I guess planning is my nature. It's my way of keeping order out of chaos. I have my special black day planner, and every day is carefully planned out. Most of it is fun stuff--Stroller Strides, Marley's dance classes, playdates, the occasional date night or happy hour with the girls. Of course, I also list work-related items, like updating our real estate website, following up with clients, etc.
And then there's the home-related stuff. Every week, I list what I will make for dinner that night. I also list dumb things like WASH HAIR (les I forget) and VACCUM/SWIFFER (because I do forget.) Once a task is completed, I strike thru it with a blue (not black) pen. If a task is eliminated (ie, playdate cancelled) I mark it out with my special dryline whiteout, so it looks like it never existed, and therefore cannot be mourned.
In short, if it's in my planner, it's probably going to happen. And if it's not in my planner, it probably won't happen.
In many ways, managing my time so well enables me to balance a lot of good stuff. I think it helps me be a good mom, hopefully a good wife, run a business, and still have a pretty rockin' social life. But in other ways...it just feels so limiting.
Finally, a few days later, I stop by my neighbor's house, unannounced. I'm doing it! I'm coming over for a spontaneous playdate. At first, I am nervous. I hesitate before I ring the bell. Then I hear three pairs of feet charging the door, and Grace, the oldest, announces with a huge smile of delight, "Marley's here to play!"
And that's how it is. My neighbor and I drink iced tea and sit in the porch swing in the afternoon sun. We watch all the kids playing in the dirt. And it is beautiful.
Is anyone else out there SUPER PLANNER like me? How do you remind yourself to just go with the flow, and let things happen?
Sunday, September 26, 2010
This is just wrong. It's like the Bjorn and the Snuggie got drunk one night, and this is their lovechild.
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Now that I've shared my mommy guilty pleasure, do any of you have any spastic online shopping addictions? Come on girls, I know you have them!
Anyone else thinking of having another kid, but still sorta on the fence? What made you decide one way or another?
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Exhibit 3: Mumford and Sons, "Little Lion Man." This would be OK, but the one verse she seems to know is, "It was not your fault but mine. It was your heart on the line. I really f-cked it up this time, didn't I my dear..."
Clearly I need to watch what we are playing in the car. That, or start purchasing the edited versions from Itunes. But even the EDITED versions of most songs on the radio are pretty skanky!
Even so, Marley's singing skills are dwarfed by her good friend Bella. Bella, who is 2 and a half, has cornered the market on adult songs. For example, Bella can sing "It's Five O'Clock Somewhere." You haven't seen funny until you see a sweet little girl with pig tails and bangs, singing, "Pour me something tall and strong. Make it a hurricane before I go insane."
I was dumbfounded. You might as well have asked me what was the square root of 4958.
"Uh....hobbies, yes I do!" I answered, eager to prove to this person that I had hobbies. "I...er...do Stroller Strides with my daughter, it's a great way to get in shape outside with your kid! We also do lots of playdates. Oh yeah, and we take a great music class! SUPER fun."
"Oh," she said. "Do you do anything...you know...just for you?" Mind you, this person does NOT have a kid.
"I sure do," I answered, then drew a blank. "I like to read?" PAUSE. "And drink wine?"
Hmmm. When I asked this person what HER hobbies were, they ranged from rock climbing to poetry to Zumba dancing. (Did I remind you, she doesn't have a kid?) Wait a second here. Why did this conversation make me feel like such a loser?
The thing is, pre-baby, I had TONS of hobbies, loads of them! I was a cool, sassy, chick-about-town, always up for an adventure, and full of many talents! My past hobbies have included: flamenco dancing, guitar, belly dancing, hip hop dancing, yoga, oil painting, sailing, snowboarding, and even nonprofit work for La Jolla Friends of the Seals and the Barrio Logan College Institute.
I used to be a woman of so many interests and talents! How did they all...dwindle? True, I LOVE being a mom, and I work part time, and I'm a devoted wife helping my husband with his business, so my schedule is pretty full. But don't I have time for SOME hobbies? Couldn't I muster up enough energy to take a yoga class? What about starting a painting?
My other mommy friends still have hobbies. My friend Adaline started a baby blog. My friend Liz is an artist. My friend Julia is starting a jewelry business. My friend Jenny has a farm that makes organic olive oil. Andrea can grow a watermelon the size of a 3-year-old. My sister Christy is sewing up a storm. Charity and Grace surf. Claudia does yoga. My friend Becca is turning her hobby--party decor and styling--into a business. I'm sure my other mommy friends have hobbies too; I just don't know what they are yet.
So, even if I can't garner enough enthusiasm for a hip-hop class or to plant some veggies, I can still write, dammit! So...starting today, I pledge, to take at least SOME time for myself and write in this blog. Not only is it super fun, but it qualifies as a bonafide HOBBY!
So take that cigar and smoke it.
Are you a mommy with a hobby? What are your hobbies?
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
My friend Adaline asked me about it today. I was like, "Oh yeah, my mommy blog! It is super awesome." I went online and checked it out. Super awesome! What's not super awesome? My last post was in January. Hello people...it's September! What happened?
1. Spastic Toddler Activities. You know what I'm talking about. Now that Marley is highly mobile, ambitious, and...uh...restless, our days are filled with a myriad of activities, including (but in no way limited to: Stroller Strides, Shake Rattle Roly Poly Music Class, Dance FUNdamentals, swim lessons, and playdates.
2. Spastic Husband Work. Yes, I am so proud of Ian for selling so many boats in a down economy, but it would be nice if he had more than...say...one day off in the last 3 weeks. But hey, I can't complain.
3. Spastic real estate work. Need more details? See my last post, Baby Vs. the Bank-Owned Foreclosure.
Needless to say, I am having a blast, but yes...I'm SPASTIC! Anyone else spastic out there? Why are YOU spastic?
Saturday, January 9, 2010
How did I do it? How do I do it? The answer is, I’m still not sure.
I guess it helps that I work with my mom. We divide up our work so I do all of our marketing—the email newsletters, the internet marketing, database search updates, etc. I also work in the office one afternoon a week while mom watches Marley. Mom, on the other hand, does most of the open houses, property showings and negotiations…the bulk (and the most stressful) part of the job. In turn I get a percentage of every sale we make, ranging from 30-40%, depending on who brought in the lead.
That’s unless the client is a friend of mine. In that case, I do all of it myself. After all, it’s not really fair to pawn my friends off to my mom, is it? And besides, my friends know I have a kid, so they usually aren’t annoyed (at least visibly) when I have to take Marley to showings and inspections.
But things have gotten…well, complicated. And I had to learn the hard way to be careful about which clients I could work with.
Take my client Bob. Dear Bob was looking for a single family detached home under $300,000. In San Diego, that means you’re buying a bank-owned foreclosure in the bowels of southeast San Diego. Which means that I spent a good amount of time showing some pretty crappy houses in pretty crappy neighborhoods where no one speaks English. And if they do, they’re drunk, high, or missing a limb. Sometimes, all three!
I knew I had to rethink things when Mom couldn’t watch Marley one afternoon, and I had to meet Bob at a little gem of a house in a very special neighborhood, made special in its distinction of having the lowest-rated schools in San Diego. Marley sat quietly in her baby seat, smiling obliviously while I silently cursed myself for taking on this client and outwardly cursed when I saw the house was located just a block away from a halfway home.
Things got even more better when my friends Jesi and Brian bought a bank-owned foreclosure out by San Diego State. It was a gnarly transaction and when we closed, I couldn’t wait to greet them at the house and hand over the keys. I pulled up into the driveway with a bottle of champagne in hand, delighted to welcome them to their cozy new home. When I opened up the house and turned on the lights, I had a nice surprise….someone else thought the home was pretty cozy too. I found a bum in the kitchen, cooking himself a frozen pizza for dinner.