Still blaming mommy brain

Do I get to still blame mommy brain for the following, even though my youngest is about to turn 2? Here is my morning:

1. Ahhh. It’s amazing I have free time. I am SO organized and can just sit here and enjoy my coffee.
2. Oh. Right. I haven’t made the kids’ lunches yet. Or mine.
3. Ah. Wow. Even after throwing together lunches, I’m still doing fine on time! And I did the dishes!
4. Dawdler Toddler, sit down at the table to eat or you will OMG YOU ARE DRIPPING SMOOTHIE ALL OVER EVERYTHING. Let’s go change you!
5. Got him changed after a 10 minute wrestling battle. Whew! I’ve got to clean the table, too.
6. Okay, let’s go to the truck. Still doing uh, okay, I guess on time.
7. Why are you crying? You need a blanket? Fine. Sigh.
8. Oh, it’s good Preschooler asked for a blanket, forcing me to return to the house so I could discover I was about to drive off WITH THE FRONT DOOR OF THE HOUSE WIDE OPEN.
9. Okay, good. Blankets & cuddlies & lunches all packed & loaded in the truck, let’s GO.
10. Oh. I need gas.
11. Finally. At school. Should only take 20 minutes to walk both of them in since they’re soooooooo slow.
12. Ah. I finally get to go to work.
13. OMG. I never got myself dressed. I’m still in sweats. Back home.
14. Oh! Good thing I came back. There’s my coffee I never got to drink. That might help.

I hope.

unfiltered thoughts: an ethical dilemma

The new French bistro down the street from my work is soooooooooo good. But, as it has just opened and my building is a bit off the beaten path, I find myself faced with an ethical dilemma. Do I:

    1. Tell everyone that it is a delightful little hidden gem and you should absolutely go there at every opportunity, running the risk that it will become as popular as it deserves to be, at the expense of me never having their cozy warm atmosphere all to myself again?

– OR –

  1. Tell no one to help to keep it hidden as long as possible so that should they fold I will not have to go on as extreme a diet as I would have had they stayed open long-term?

As much as I enjoy having it to myself, enjoying the peace and quiet as I sip my smooth, perfectly roasted coffee and sample their flaky, buttery croissants and delicate macarons, I am going to choose #1. If you are in my neck of the woods, you really must go to Delice.


Vacation recap

Yesterday was my last day of vacation staycation off. I just don’t know what to call it. It’s probably no secret that a vacation with two kids 3 and under is hardly restful, so while calling it a vacation is wrong, even the “-cation” part of staycation just rubs me the wrong way. Here are some handy reminders that I may need to review when planning our next trip to ensure sanity next time around:

  • If at all possible, avoid making the first day of your time off a 19 hour day of packing, travel with the two kids 3 & under, trying to coax the two kids to sleep in unfamiliar beds and surroundings, and picking up all members of the party.
  • When hiking, make sure none of the children goes too far ahead, potentially selecting the wrong trailhead. You know, that one that goes 600 miles to the Mexican border? Avoid that happening.
  • Keep in mind that all sightseeing road trips are for everyone else. You will be spending every stop feeding a child, calming a child, or helping a child use the bathroom.
  • But fear not! You will have plenty of time to sightsee blue skies and trees from inside while you man your station at the kitchen sink, where you will be stranded doing dishes for 9 people, 4 of whom graze throughout the day, requiring an endless supply of clean dishes.
  • Be sure and eat out as much as possible at restaurants you’ve been dying to try. Because restaurants are tons of fun with kids 3 & under, am I right?! You may not get to eat the food you ordered your Better Half selects for you (because you’re not given the chance to read a menu nor are you around when orders are taken) until hours later but you’ll be sure to enjoy the ambiance of the potties, on account of the parade of children who decide one after another, but never simultaneously, that a trip to the potty is necessary.
  • Bring a bottomless supply of coffee because you will get no naps. None.
  • And/Or bring benadryl for the children.
  • And/Or BYOB. So you can doctor up your coffee so you can prevent yourself from becoming a total witch to your family. You won’t be going anywhere most days anyway.
  • The day your time off ends, you will get to go to bed at 6:00 p.m., though and sleep a glorious 11 hours. And it will not be enough.

Yup, this one’s about the weather

Today is a nearly-May miracle. It’s been only 72 and it’s rainy-ish.

Let me repeat that. Seventy two degrees.

Look, I get how perfect that might sound to you, Dear Readers, who may still be mired in winter. In fact, some of our friends came in town this weekend *because* they couldn’t stand yet another snowstorm and so decided at the last second to come here. They’ve invited us over to their hotel to hang by and in the pool all weekend. Here’s how that conversation went:

But it’s freezing!

“What are you talking about, it’s 70 degrees today and supposed to be almost 90 tomorrow!”

Like I said, freezing.

Maybe unless you’ve lived in a climate like this, it’s hard to relate to loving rainy, gray days as a byproduct of hating so much sunshine & warmth. But I do. (And I’m not alone.)

So while they’re hanging in shorts & swimsuits, I’ll be inside, curled up on the couch under a blanket, sipping hot coffee, and watching a movie with the Dawdler.

A Problem Only for Upper Middle Class Moms

I started my new job almost a year ago, when I was six months pregnant. And within a couple weeks, my new boss connected me with a woman who works here who had just come back from maternity leave. I went up to talk with her one afternoon because she’d just enrolled her daughter in the same daycare we were considering. We compared notes on the daycare, and, naturally, touched base on a lot of other baby-related issues: hospitals and birth, pumping at work, and, of course, sleep. She told me the following anecdote:

“We had our first overnight away from the baby when she was about 3 months old. My in-laws kept her while my husband and I just went down the block and checked into a hotel. Right after check-in, we ordered room service, took a tylenol PM, and slept for, like, 12 hours.” I thought she was kidding. Thing is: she wasn’t kidding. One of my friends says to me, frequently, and with pity, “I always tell [our other friend] how bad I feel for you guys because you don’t have any family here, so you’ve never really had time away from Baby! I’m SO sorry! It must be really difficult.” Is it hard? You betcha. Is it worth every sleep deprived moment? Absolutely. Would we give anything for a night of uninterrupted sleep, since it’s been nine months without so much as a night off?

Sorry, had to get another cup of coffee.


But let’s keep this in context. Do you really think that moms around the world feel sorry for themselves because they can’t get a night off? Do you think that moms across the US have the luxury to entertain the thought of getting a full night’s sleep, nevermind in a ritzy resort where they get room service and a pedicure and facial the next day? We certainly don’t. Clearly a first world problem. Especially in this sh*tty-ass economy.

Our world has been turned upside down, but in all the right ways. We are blessed with a healthy, adorable, loving, curious, funny, happy Baby. We couldn’t be luckier. So we’ll have to put up with being  sleep deprived and caffeine-dependant until she sleeps through the night since we don’t have someone who can take her. If that’s the biggest problem we have, we’re doing pretty damn well. We’ll just keep brewing more coffee so we can keep up with her.

Let’s Get One Thing Straight

Today I went to a workshop for work, and at the beginning we received an agenda that gave a run down of the day – the morning sessions lasted until noon with one break, and then after an hour for lunch, the afternoon’s sessions would last til 5:00. By the last morning session, I found it really hard to focus. I was sleepy, hungry, distracted by the woman Facebooking in front of me, and tuning out all the really dry material. I began counting down the minutes until lunch. And boy, did those minutes pass slowly. By 11:58, I was ready to bolt for lunch, but the presentation went over. At the end of it, at 12:17, they asked for any questions from the audience, and I thought “Please, no questions, no questions, no questions…” I just wanted some caffeine and lunch. And I had to figure out somewhere to pump and fit that in some where in the lunch break, without being rude or strangely abrupt to whoever I would end up sitting and networking with. So I was praying nobody asked questions that required us all to sit there politely and behave.

Once lunch ended, the afternoon sessions began, and the first presentation went by pretty fast, so I was surprised that break time was upon us so soon again after lunch. But then they just dove right into the next topic and presentation with no mention of the scheduled afternoon break. I thought I must’ve been mistaken about the timing of the afternoon break, so I checked the agenda again, and looked at my phone, and sure enough, we were supposed to have had a break 20 minutes ago. I glanced around, no one else seemed antsy, so I figured, Sweet! We’ll get out of here 30 minutes early! I can get home earlier, spend at least 10 minutes with baby before she taps out, and not have to pump in the resort’s bathroom stall again.

But that second afternoon session was extremely boring, and just kept getting more and more off-track with anecdotes and, since they’d taken away the coffee after lunch, I found it harder and harder to stay awake, focus, and listen to anything with any interest. I looked at my email, popped onto IM, did some web surfing, and still, only 10 more minutes had passed. That session had slowed to a crawl. I must not have been the only one totally distracted and disinterested because the next thing I hear is “You guys look zonked. We were supposed to have a break earlier, but let’s take it now and regroup. So, how about we take a break, regroup in 30, and then we’ll go til 5:30, ok?”


No, no, no, no, no. Ever since I read that agenda this morning and saw that we’d be wrapping up no later than 5:00, I had been anxiously awaiting 5:00. So, no. I am NOT staying til 5:30. I am tired, the coffee surreptitiously disappeared right after lunch, there’s no more caffeine around here, and staying til 5:00 is going to take every ounce of patience and focus that I brought for the day. Or, if you would rather hear the unfiltered response from my brain, “Do you really expect us to sit here an extra half hour today? Let’s just plow on through and get out of here early as planned. That agenda? It’s more like a contract, and you will NOT fuck with my expectation of getting out of here at 5:00. My boobs are going to explode, I’m sleepy as shit and there’s no Diet Coke, no coffee, and my phone can only entertain me so much longer before I run out of here screaming, so no. No, no, no, no, no. NO!”

Yes, Virginia, There is Such a Thing as ‘Too Much Coffee’

This morning, baby woke up to feed at 2 a.m. and, as is her usual pattern these days, just needed a little top-off to get her back to sleep, so she was back out within 10 minutes. Me, on the other hand, could not get back to sleep.

At all.

So when it came time to get up, I stumbled into the kitchen to get the coffee that I so desperately would require to make it through a workday. I poured a gigantic mug full and drank it, and packed another mug for the road. Drank most of it en route.

When I got to work, I poured another cup.

And now I feel ill.

My Regular Coffee Order Just Changed

So Michael Jackson’s dead. I don’t know why everyone is so shocked. I’m certainly not. But this does rock my world in one significant way.

I guess it’s now in poor taste to continue to order my coffee “black like Michael Jackson.” (With cream).