ME TIME

Last Saturday afternoon I went to the mall to find a birthday present for my husband. I had about two hours to myself before I had to run home and feed the baby before bed. I was frantically hopping in and out of stores, desperate to find the perfect gift. Periodically, I would dip into a children’s store to pick up a couple of new outfits for my three-year old. I was thoroughly drained from a long day of soccer practice, apple picking, and chores. When I passed Brookstone I was very tempted to collapse into one of their inviting massage chairs. After an hour I paused to reassess which stores I would hit next.

“Would you like a sample, miss?” 

I turned around to find myself facing a fancy tea shop and saw a woman holding out little cups of steaming elixir.

 “Are you in a fruity or spicy cinnamon mood?”

Frankly, I had no idea what kind of mood I was in. I hadn’t thought much about myself all day. I had deliberated over the quickest approach to cleaning up my baby’s leaky diaper without missing too much of Big Bro’s soccer game. I had also worried about making sure Big Bro got his apple cider donut that was promised him. I had rushed to do the laundry and make some attempt at cleaning up the living room so that we could at least walk across the floor without tripping over ten different toys along the way. I had considered whether I had the spare time to make it to the dry cleaners or post office, and fretted about the fact that I should have gone to the supermarket to pick up some provisions for the week.

Now here I was being approached by a stranger trying to sell me some overpriced tea, and all I wanted to do was hug her. Someone actually cared what kind of mood I was in.

“Fruity.” It felt really good to say it out loud. As she handed me the miniature cup of tea I took a deep breath and exhaled the stresses from the day. 

“Does this come in tea bags?” I wanted this serene moment where my only focus was enjoying my 1 ½ sips of tea to last forever. As the woman began to offer her very detailed explanation as to why loose tea is preferable, I allowed myself to sink deeper into the moment. I wasn’t tending to anyone else’s needs or stressing about my to-do list, I was just focused on my fruity tea.

I decided to allow myself the remaining minutes I had left to focus on myself and ended up purchasing a couple of cute tops. I left the mall feeling rejuvenated, not from the tea but from taking a moment to check in with myself and what kind of mood I was in.

I just hope my husband appreciates the tea I bought him for his birthday this year.

OLD SCHOOL TOYS

Last week, my mom bought my son some Silly Putty, and I was so happy to see that he could derive enjoyment from such a simple toy. The Silly Putty didn’t talk to him, it didn’t move around the room, and it didn’t teach him how to count or spell. All he needed to have fun was a little imagination. I suddenly became nostalgic for other toys from my own childhood. Below are some of my favorites.

 

Mousercize

I may not be so great at spin class, but I was amazing at Mousercize. I loved putting on this record and dancing along to all of the songs. I think you can still purchase these songs in iTunes, but what’s the point if you don’t have the helpful guide book that came with the record to show you how to do all of the groovy moves?
 

Garbage Pail Kids

It’s wonderful how so many characters and toys created for children nowadays impart all sorts of valuable lessons about individuality, tolerance, and feelings. Garbage Pail Kids did the exact opposite and I collected them all. The best part was that every pack came with a stale, sugary piece of chewing gum that would help to loosen any teeth I had not yet lost.

 

Cabbage Patch Dolls

I’m pretty sure that Garbage Pail Kids were made to parody these dolls, although they really didn’t need much help to make them look disturbing. Each doll came with a birth certificate with the name of your doll. I think mine was named Cissy. I recently visited the American Girl store, and those are some beautiful dolls. Cabbage Patch Dolls? Not so much. But I still loved mine, which I guess you could say taught a valuable lesson in loving something no matter what it looks like.

 

Atari

All of the children’s apps I buy for my son have some sort of mathematical, verbal or cultural lesson incorporated into the game (or at least I tell myself that to justify the purchase). As far as I can remember, all of the Atari games involved hitting balls, eating dots, or digging holes. I didn’t learn a single thing from any of them, and they were all amazing. Joust, Centipede, Ms. Pac-Man, Dig-Dug, Asteroids, I loved them all.

 

Lite-Brite
I wasn’t the most artistically inclined child, so I mainly used those little plastic choking hazards to spell my name over and over again in bright lights. Apparently, they now make a Lite-Brite app for your iPhone. Lazy!

 

Speak & Spell

I think the voice from Speak & Spell was Siri’s grandfather, because they really sound alike. Seriously, is anyone else surprised that with all of the advances we have made in technology, we have made no improvements when it comes to creepy computerized voices?

 

What old school toys are you most nostalgic for?

Murphy’s Mother’s Law

If you obsess over finding the perfect little suit for your infant’s first wedding invitation, he will end up pooping all over himself before the valet has even reached for your car key.

Even the most stable marriages will be tested by at least one leaky diaper incident that will almost lead to divorce.

Whether you are preparing a turkey sandwich or beef bourguignon, your child has an innate sense of when you are about to sit down to eat and will choose that very moment to wake from a nap.

The night that you tell your child that he has to go to bed the second his television show is over will be the same night that Nick Jr. decides to air an hour-long Fresh Beat Band movie.

No matter how annoying you find the Fresh Beat Band, you will find yourself alone one day and without thinking start humming “Go Bananas”.

If you spend time lovingly preparing a meal of breaded chicken cutlets or homemade mac and cheese your child will push his plate aside, insisting he wants “the real one, not the fake one”.

Those who assume that potty training will be much easier for them than it was for any of their friends will three months later find themselves still strategically placing towels on chairs and rugs around the house, praying that they only have to do two loads of laundry that day.

 The later your child falls asleep, the earlier he will wake up.

If you prevent your child from napping before a flight, he will still stay awake for the entire flight.

When you ask your husband to watch the screaming kids for five minutes while you step out to drop something off at UPS and instead sneak off like a fugitive to get frozen yogurt and retreat to the back corner of the store savoring each spoonful as slowly as you can and return home and concoct some lie about having trouble finding the right box at the UPS store, your neighbor will see you and mention bumping into you at the frozen yogurt shop in front of your husband the following week.

Pee, poop, vomit, and runny noses will suddenly not seem so gross to you, but watching the myriad of foods your child insists on dousing with ketchup on will make you gag.

No matter how adventurous a child starts out being with food, by 2 ½ they will end up requesting four meals: chicken fingers, mac and cheese, peanut butter and jelly and a bagel with cream cheese. And oddly in my son’s case, miso soup.

The only time your child will want to try anything new will be when you are eating it, and they insist they are starving and must have a bite.

The day that your child has his first Dum Dum lollipop will be the initiation of him begging you for a lollipop every hour, every day, for who knows how long.

There will always be someone out there voicing concerns over whether your child is hungry, eating too much, too cold, too hot, needs a nap, shouldn’t be kept on such a strict sleeping schedule, has too many toys, or shouldn’t be deprived of anything his little heart desires.  The more unsolicited advice you ignore, the happier you will be.

Housework

The other day I was on the phone with my mom and she asked what I had planned for the day.

“Well,” I replied. “I was going to do some straightening up but it’s such a nice day out that I think I’m going to take the kids to the playground instead.”

“Honey,” my mom responded, “I think it’s just wonderful how you don’t care what your house looks like!”

One might assume that I would be offended by that comment, but I actually took it as my mom meant it, as a compliment. Her point was that the house will always be there, but there are only so many beautiful summer mornings that I will have to spend with my two young children at the park.

Three years ago, my priorities might have been a little different. I think that especially with the first child it is natural to want to keep a perfect house. How dare anyone wear their filthy shoes inside the house where my beloved child crawls on the floor! Keep that dirty binky that just fell to the ground away from my child’s precious mouth! And the bottle of Purell kept handy for visitors meeting the baby for the first time was big enough to be seen from space.

After my first son was born, the living room was still a fairly presentable place to host guests. Skip to a few months later, and suddenly my living room had become a playroom and toys were everywhere. His little toy box was suddenly spilling over with trucks, cars, stuffed animals, puzzles, etc. and my son had a fun little habit of taking his entire toy box and tipping it upside down. Every ten minutes. He hasn’t really outgrown this habit and recently developed a new morning routine: about two minutes after I start my shower I hear him climbing out of bed, and around the time I am rinsing the shampoo out of my hair I hear a huge crash in the hallway.  No worries, he’s just dumped his entire box of trucks upside down, right outside of the sleeping baby’s room. By the time I’ve rinsed the conditioner out of my hair, there is usually at least one entire game of Memory and a puzzle dumped on top of the truck pile. And a crying baby on top of that.

Toys are not the only things that pile up in my house. Ever since I had my second son, I have worried whether my house has started to resemble an episode of Hoarders. There are piles everywhere: unread New York Times, old magazines, unopened mail, and preschool artwork that I cannot bring myself to get rid of. Then there are the piles of laundry that need to be tended to, not to mention the piles of dishes in the sink.

As my newborn grows older I find myself having a few minutes more to myself every day to chip away at these piles, and slowly my house is returning to its normal state. Soon, my children will not be begging me to eat the pretend meal they carefully prepared for me in their mini kitchen, or requesting that I read them the same book for the 11^th time. And I know that it won’t be long before I am taking a shower and no longer hear the sounds of all of those trucks crashing onto the floor. And I will miss it. 

So I plan on going to the playground instead of tending to the piles of housework for as long as I can.

FALLING FOR TV

Lazy summer days are almost a thing of the past and fall will soon be upon us. For this mom that means just one thing…Fall TV!

With two young boys my nights are now filled with endless reminders to my three-year old that chicken can come in a form other than nugget, struggles to get him into the bath, then the inevitable arguments when it’s time to get out of the bath, requests to read Goodnight, Goodnight Construction Site, followed by my son insisting on reading it again to me. Then we have to get the baby to sleep.

This routine usually leaves me about 20 minutes of free time before I collapse into bed, so that means that my DVR is always about to explode (right now my DVR is brimming with almost the entire season of The Newsroom and a couple of episodes of Friday Night Lights that I taped on ESPN Classic because I just can’t let it go). I decided to compile a list of must-see premieres for those who also have limited DVR space.

 

Here is the list of what I plan on watching this fall. I’m no expert, but I play one on TV…

 

Guys With Kids (NBC)

Premieres 9/12 at 8:30PM
Three thirty-something guys…with kids. Since Will Arnett is not one of the guys, this probably won’t be as good as Up All Night, but Jimmy Fallon is behind it so I’m semi-intrigued.

 

The Mindy Project (Fox)

Premieres 9/25 at 9:30PM
A successful OBGYN whose personal life is a mess. I have been a fan ever since I saw Mindy Kaling’s Off-Broadway play Matt and Ben. This will hopefully make up for the fact that The Office has gotten so bad.

 

Revolution (NBC)
Premieres 9/17 at 10:00PM
In a nutshell, the power goes out and no one seems to own a generator. Other than Fringe, J.J. Abrams has consistently let me down since Lost, but I am still a fan and will give any of his pilots a chance (except for the pilot from Lost because, well, you know…)

 

666 Park Avenue (ABC)
Premieres 9/30 at 10:00PM
A creepy tale about one of the scariest things known to man: Manhattan real estate. Terry O’Quinn is starring. See above.

 

Nashville (ABC)
Premieres 10/10 at 10:00PM
A country singer tries for a comeback. Honestly, I only want to watch this because Connie Britton is starring and I am loyal to Mrs. Coach Taylor but if this gives me the same nightmares that American Horror Story did, I will not be sticking around for very long.

 

Partners (CBS)
Premieres 9/24 at 8:30PM
A comedy based on the lives of creators David Kohan and Max Mutchnick (the creators of Will and Grace). Sounds cute and it has a fun cast.

 

Knots Landing revival
Ok, this doesn’t exist, but I got so excited hearing the opening credits of Dallas again this summer (growing up I always preferred Dallas to Sesame Street) that I wanted to pitch this idea to any television executives reading this blog.

 

Which new show are you most excited for?

HAPPY HOUR AT THE SUPERMARKET

Before I had children, Friday night usually meant meeting up with friends for drinks, trying a new neighborhood restaurant, or maybe seeing a movie. 

Last Friday night was spent at the supermarket.  

As I parked my car in the almost empty parking lot, I couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for myself that this was the way I had to begin my weekend. I headed into the store pouting, and decided that since I had some quiet time to myself I would at least try to unwind with some music. I put on my headphones and headed up the first aisle.

The first song that came on was Madonna’s “True Blue.” I was immediately brought back to my childhood, since this was the very first cassette tape I ever bought. As I headed up the fruit aisle, remembering that my son had demanded I bring home some watermelon, I felt like a kid again.

True Blue ended and the next track came on. Ok, Missy Elliott, if you insist, I will “Work It.” I headed down the cereal aisle with a little swagger in my step and pretended for a moment that I was out dancing with some college friends, not choosing whether to buy another box of Cheerios or treat my child to some Lucky Charms for a change.

Next came some Ani. I very quietly started singing the words to “Untouchable Face,” but soon realized that it’s pretty difficult to sing any Ani DiFranco song quietly. As I was humming along I also concluded that Ani is just not as much fun to sing when you’re happily married. I made a mental note to pick a fight with my husband when I got home and then put on Dilate.

As I continued down aisle 17 (as a City Girl it took me a while to adjust to a supermarket with more than five aisles but now I am very used to it) I realized that I was actually feeling more relaxed than I had in a while. It was nice to be out of the house and on my own for an hour, and even though I didn’t have a cocktail in my hand, I was starting to feel a little drunk from the freedom.

As I approached checkout, James Taylor came on. The secret of life is enjoying the passing of time. Some words of wisdom to end my evening with. Suddenly I was very at peace with the fact that I had spent my Friday night at the supermarket. True, I definitely do not have nearly as much free time as I used to, but life is still pretty good. I arrived home from the supermarket in a great mood, invigorated from the time alone. Then I made myself a cocktail. It was Friday night, after all.

MY CAR

When Hubby first brought up the idea of moving from The City to The Suburbs my initial response was, “How am I going to get to the store?” It really did not occur to me that I would want to drive to get my grocery shopping done. See, I’m a City Girl, and I was being asked to use a CAR to GO OUT. This was a completely foreign idea to me.

“You know,” said Hubby. “You may end up finding a car to be a convenience.”

Inconceivable.

As it turns out, a car can actually be a useful thing to have.

When my older son was born the car was the one place we could be sure he would fall asleep. I remember one particularly bad night early on when he wouldn’t stop crying and at about 3:00am Hubby went into his room; a few minutes later I heard the front door slam. In my sleepy state I momentarily wondered where they could possibly be going in the middle of the night, but then decided the answer could wait until morning and rolled over to go back to sleep. It turns out they had gone out for a drive around the block, and after circling around five times my son had finally fallen asleep. 

My car has also become somewhat of a sanctuary for me. When I need a break from dirty diapers and spit-up I get behind the wheel, pump up the music and head for the open road. Sure, most of the time I end up at Buy Buy Baby for some emergency Diaper Genie refills (seriously, how many of those things can a person go through in one month?), but along the way I get some much needed private time and return home rejuvenated.

Of course, my sanctuary is often invaded by two small children who need to be transported to music class, doctor appointments, the playground, etc. And the car does not seem to magically lull the Baby to sleep as it did for Big Bro. Is there anything more frustrating than hearing a baby wailing in the backseat when you are driving and cannot stop? And if the Baby does miraculously fall asleep, Big Bro will choose that moment to insist I turn off my “boring” music and turn on his CD. He has also become a little bit of a back-seat driver. ‘Mommy, there’s a red light up ahead. Mommy, watch out for the big truck. Mommy, there’s Old McDonald’s, can we stop for fries?”

I was not immediately sold on the idea of having a car, but now, just like my iPhone, DVR, and Trader Joe’s Unsweetened Green and White Iced Tea, it is a luxury I cannot imagine living without.