Meg and Mommy

I have moved!

2005-07-28T21:31:00.000-05:00

I am now located at www.mommyblog.typepad.com

You know you are a chocoholic when...

2005-07-27T12:44:00.000-05:00

1--You have "categories" for your chocolate
(PMS chocolate, work stress chocolate, every day chocolate, etc.)

2--You hide your chocolate

3--You buy and eat Count Chocula cereal

4--You don't even consider getting a dessert that isn't chocolate, why that's not even dessert!

5--There is no such thing as too much chocolate

6--Death by chocolate sounds appealing to you

7--You've tested the theory that consuming large quantities of chocolate produces the same affect chemically as an orgasm

9--You are afraid to go to Hershey Park because you may never come back

10--You can drink hot chocolate in the summer!

Finally! A GOOD party!

2005-07-25T13:15:00.000-05:00

So, you all know how I feel about parties not held in padded rooms.

This weekend, I had another "yard party". Needless to say, my stress levels were high.
However, this one pleasantly surprised me.

First off, one positive was that it was about three minutes away from my house. Hey, we could have walked, but NO ONE does that in Long Island. One point for location!

Arrived and there was a huge dj set up. Meg liked the music. One point for the dj!
We enter the yard and I immediately notice, in a way a mom only could, that it's a kid friendly yard! It's totally flat and mostly grass, it's got a huge fence around it, there are tables set up with rounded edges, there are tents to block out the sun......and I am thinking "this could actually be a good party!".

After learning from some past experiences, I was armed with balls, bubbles, dolls, cheerios, sippy cups, and crayons. Meg played very nicely with her cousins and I actually had a few cocktails that were located conveniently near by.
Just after I started relaxing....the food came out. The sister in law cut up a hot dog for Meg. I stopped her and heck I wasn't hiding it anymore! I simply told her "thank you but Meg can't have any because they are choking hazards and make me nervous." I was proud of myself for about two seconds until Meg saw her cousin eating it and insisted on eating some too.
I had to concede but not before I doctored this hot dog until almost unrecognizable.
Skin was peeled off, and it was chopped into tiny bits.

After the first crisis was over, we didn't hit another one until she began eating ice out of the beer cooler. Again, I panicked, tried to stop her but she really let me have it. So, I had two choices:
1--let her tantrum and let everyone else see or
2--throw some caution to the wind and just let her eat the ice.
I mean, it was keeping her busy and could you really even choke on ice? Wouldn't it just melt? If someone knows if ice is a choking hazard, please let me know.
jennmcauliffe@aol.com

Anyway, there was one table with a pointed edge and Meg found it and bumped into it once, cried a bit, but got over it and then it was smooth sailing. I got to dance and drink, she got to play and run around. We got home late, she went right to bed, and as I hopped into shower to wash the summer day and night off of me, I didn't even mind that the only apparatus in the shower to use as a wash cloth --was a bath bunny puppet.

Cleaning Ladies or NOT

2005-07-15T11:48:00.000-05:00

My dream of having a cleaning lady was short lived.

Here I was thinking it would solve all my problems, and it did not. First off, she was weird and she brought another weirdo with her. Weird how, you ask? Well, let's put it this way, I wouldn't be surprised if she lived in a trailer, had 100 cats, and bit the caps off of her Budweisers before she drank them.

It went like this:

9a.m. no one is a ringing my bell

9:05 my phone is ringing, it is my saviour asking for directions and telling me she's going to be late, only she has a raspy voice, reminding me of Marge Simpson's sisters. Both of them.

9:15 she pulls up in a beat up old car, gets out, is not wearing shoes, is overweight, has a moustache and is screaming, "sorry we are late, my mom's cat had to go the ER last night and we were there with her, so it's been a rough night and it's not like we were drinking or anything"... good thing she threw that in there because from the looks of them, it did look like they were out all night drinking, and lost their shoes!

The "other" one with her is equally as weird and equally barefoot. They must have been reviewing my stats on the way because she knew my last name and she asks if we are Irish. At this point, we are at my front door and my husband is there.
I look at him and he answers "yes" and then the "other" one says "oh, I just got my Irish Tat" (Tat= tatoo) and she turns around and shows us a big Rose that says something or other about being Irish underneath it.
My husband looks uncomfortable. I feel uncomfortable. I instanlty know I will never have them back and my cleaning lady dream is over. But, they are here now, so let's make the best of it.
I realize I don't want them

a--out of my site or

b--near anything valuable, so the two of us kind of "watch them" as they begin cleaning. I am not up for the small talk she thinks we have to make and the conversations were about how nice it must be to have your own home, how absolutely adorable my daughter is, and the weather.

The comments about my daughter were creeping me out. These two look like the kind of people who would come back, kidnap her and sell her on the black market.
I decide I should maybe drop a hint about getting a home invasion alarm, but then quickly decide against it becuase that would just be too weird.

I am now counting the minutes until they are gone, and my goodness, how happy I was when they left. I quickly assessed their work and it was mediocre at best.

11:15 Cleaning lady dream is O-V-E-R.

Meg at the beach

2005-07-12T14:18:00.000-05:00

P6110007
Originally uploaded by Dibbers.

Here is a recent photo of my princess at the beach.

Hope you enjoy!

Big 4th of July Weekend

2005-07-05T14:19:00.000-05:00

Things accomplished
1. I found and hired an available and reasonably priced cleaning lady!
2. I had both the inlaws and my parents over at the same time for a BBQ and everyone is still alive (namely me, as them being together makes me nervous, but thank god there was lots of alcohol involved)
3. Same for the sister in law. Much more tolerable after a few glasses of Pinot.
4. I scheduled my cleaning lady to come next Sunday. I am so excited.
5. I took the Megster for photos at Target. Haven't done the professional photos since October.
Here's how that went:
Leave house. Forget coupon (for those of you who don't know, if you DON'T have a coupon you may as well bend over and let them have their way with you. It's amazing how much you save with the stupid piece of paper in the coupon section of the paper or the website print out)
Go back home. Get out coupon. Notice it has expired. Go into den, turn on computer, wait five minutes for it to decide to let me access a web page. Access Target website, kick printer in ass and click print.

Get back in car. Child looking at me confused. (Made the child's father come out and sit with her while I went on my maniac coupon search and recover.)

Get to Target only five minutes late for shoot, have pocketful of excuses. Not sure which one to use, will wing it. Notice am good at coming up with excuses. One of which is "I have a baby". hahahaha

Get to studio area. There is another shoot going on, there is no one to even notice I am even there, let alone late. Since it's a holiday, there is only one person manning the photos and she's about 14, taking the pictures and not happy that she's not making out with some dude at some BBQ.

Keep Meg busy with cup of Cheerios while waiting. Luckily, the Cheerios ran out at the same time the previous shoot was over.

We enter the special dark "room". Meg is suspicious. She does not want to come in.
I go in and call her. She peeks in and decides to come over but she will not go up on platform. The 14 yr old looks horrified. I am thinking "ok, we can't take pictures, I will have to leave"...but then she comes over to me and starts climbing up with some coaxing.
Just then the 14 yr old calls out her name. She looks over at the scary goth creature and clings on to me for dear life.
Ok, now we are definately going to have to leave.

In a last ditch effort, I hop off the platform and throw myself on the floor and begin to do all kinds of crazy things trying to get her to laugh --such as: fake sneezing (ahh ahhh ahhhhhhhhhh choooooo, banging my head and yelling "OWWWW" very loudly, and some things that I would die if someone played back to me on video tape)

Both Meg and the 14 yr old are looking at me, not sure what to make of me.....but suddenly Meg starts to laugh, and the 14 yr old gets with it and starts clicking away.

I keep this up for another ten minutes or so.
I do, and we get some good pictures. My face hurts from the smiling and crazy expressions I was making and I have a headache from banging my head.
And sometimes I am louder than I think.

6. I got a cleaning lady!
7. We hung up Meg's "growth chart"!
8. I got me a cleaning lady
9. Cleaning lady.
10. Cleaning lady.

So, I think I am pregnant

2005-06-29T15:19:00.000-05:00

Well, I am probably NOT pregnant, but it's either that or I have really bad PMS.

Actually, I took a test, it was negative, but I feel really really weird. The way one does when the alien baby takes over your body.
Here are my symptoms:

--Bloating (It certainly LOOKS like I am pregnant, maybe I just need to work out!)
--V. Tired (Could have something to do with not sleeping well)
--Cravings (From ice cream to that greek yogurt crap, which I am happy to report that Trader Joe's now carries)

--Bigger & tender breasts (I admit, I like this one, and hope that it stays forever)
(oops, the big part only, hear that God?)

--Crankiness (Could be the heat or the PMS)
--Gas (erm, could be the erratic eating or the PMS)

--Cannot concentrate (Could be all the aforementioned things)

Regardless, I am probably NOT, but I did happen to mention that I felt pregnant to most of my co-workers, the receptionist, one of the mangers, my friends, my mom, my daughter's daycare providers, my sister, a lady online for ice cream, and someone on the LIRR.

Which leads me to think that when I do get pregnant, I will tell every single soul I know or encounter in about five minutes after I find out. Or at least suspect.

How kids break your heart-- chapter 341

2005-06-24T21:45:00.000-05:00

Just a few random realizations....
This week I was sent by "upper management" to take a three day class to further my career knowledge. I used to get real jazzed about this crap, because I am a geek and not only do I love "school" but I also love being the teacher's pet.

Apparently, that's all changed too. Firstly, the class started at 9am. This means I needed to get up earlier, pay extra for my daycare worker to get up earlier and get her ass to the daycare ontime (only late once out of the three days-- her, not me), get Meg up earlier (leading to crankier evenings) change her routine,which she did not take to well and wound up falling asleep this week on the couch, only to awake in a puddle of my own drool.

My husband used to ask me about my day, and with something like this going on, I'd have all the more to talk about. It was day two of the class before he "remembered" that I was not in the office and instead in a class. We've yet to discuss it. For all he knows I was in pole dancing class. Which would have definately been more interesting.

Further more, and this is not commical, I can't believe the emotion that I have experienced this week worrying about the Alabama teen missing in Aruba. Natalee was apparently on a high school graduation-celebration trip and was last seen leave a club with three boys.Every time they show those boys in custody, I want to jump into the TV and rip their throats out. Natalee's mom is vowing not to leave Aruba without her and she spends her days handing out flyers and prayer cards.

It's the saddest thing I have ever seen and I can't stop watching it because I am so hopeful that maybe she IS alive somewhere and this is just a terrible joke.

Also heart wrenching, is watching the moms of the suspects crying and terrified to lose their children to jail. Though a piece of me does judge them for raising kids that could have done something so suspect. The entire thing is totally and utterly tearing at my heart and soul.

Kids break your heart into a million pieces, put it through a meat grinder and then stomp all over it and they don't even know it.

Note to self-- Meg is NOT EVER going on any overnight trips, nor is she allowed to drive, date boys, drink alcohol, wear red nail polish, wear a thong (oh please let this trend end in the next 15 years), and or wear anything "low rider". Ok?

2005-06-20T15:03:00.000-05:00

Since being a mom I have become obsessed with just a few things:

1--outlets being covered
2--the toilet being closed
3--schedules
4--doing everything I can to ensure a healthy "sleep" environment
5--my floors being clean
6--the tub being clean
7--television shows being educational
8--shielding her from violence on TV
9--talking to her endlessly about everything
10-saving for her college education
11-safe driving
12-making sure she's social
13-making sure her finger nails are cut and clean
14-keeping sugar products to a minimum
15-keeping her away from coin money
16-choking hazards

Some common choking hazards are:
1-popcorn
2-raisins
3-grapes
4-hot dogs
5-hard candy
6-coin money

Now that you have all of that background information, here is a quick story.

Another family party went down this weekend. Several of the above mentioned choking hazards were served. (except the coins)

Between that, the in ground pool, and the large elevated deck complete with steep killer stairs, I'd say my nerves were tinkering between a 12 and 15 on a scale of 1-10. Boy, parties are just not what they used to be.
Can't anyone have one in a large room with some padded walls?

Anyway, Meg is aware that there are all kinds of good food items around her, so I quickly
chose the grapes, and instead of half-ing them like some parenting books recommend, I decided to sixteenth them, just to be on the safe side. Hey, if the host had a blender in site, I'd have been all over it.

Alas, I take to cutting up the grapes inside the kitchen in miniscule pieces and putting them into a tiny, unbreakable bowl and hand to Meg.

Enter sister in law and same age child. She proceeds to walk up to the grapes, grab a "vine" and hand them off to daughter. Meg looks at me, the bowl, her cousin, and her grapes and immediately goes for her vine. Child is afraid of my lunatic piggy, and drops grapes to run to her mommy. Sister in law hands vine to Meg and gets new vine for her daughter. Now I have to interfere and look like the maniac that only my husband truly knows.

After some quick diversions, I manage to get vine out of her hand and re-introduce beautiful and tasty grapes in bowl. It works!!

A short time later, my sister law is showing the crowd her daughter's new "habit", which apparently they find completely charming. Their daughter likes to scour the floors in their house for loose change and stash it all in her pockets. Thank god my husband caught me before my knees gave out.
There are certainly different kinds of parenting, but she breaks the mold.

Later, her daughter enjoyed a hot dog and popcorn as her side dish, while I, the weak at heart continued to break up everything into a zillion pieces and tried to keep the two away from each other. Imagine how this will be when one of them is thirteen and discovers make-up, booze and condoms!

Radom things

2005-06-20T14:09:00.000-05:00

Ever go out to eat with someone, and you are famished, so you keep eating and eating and the other person finally looks up at you like you are a piggy beast?

That's how I felt at lunch today.

Went with Sabrina, to talk about the "pregnancy". (Hers, not mine)
She's in town from California to tell the family her big news. Prior to lunch, I kept thinking, GREAT, we can pig out and dish out the gossip.
Only, pregnant and all, she ordered a Veggie burger, with no bun (and the waitress had to ask her twice if that was what she meant) and I had a cheeseburger and onion rings and french fries. (she told me to order both because she said we could split them)

I saw her eat one onion ring and about two, maybe three, but certainly not four french fries.

I told her the joy of being pregnant is to eat like you don't care.
She looked at me a little funny.

So funny, I stopped eating my hamburger, and left a few bites on the plate.

Sigh.

Top ten reasons it's been a good week -- so far!

2005-06-14T21:55:00.000-05:00

1. I remembered to take my birth control pills three nights in a row, which means I won’t endlessly spot if I keep this up.

2. I have paid all tickets and am now even with the Nassau Department of Traffic Violations Pricks.

3. It’s so hot out, I am pretending I am on a tropical island --evn at work--and sip ice coffee while at my desk and do not much else besides surf the net.

4. I got checked out by a cute boy on the train.

5. I got checked out at work by the fashionable girls and was complimented on my new summer wardrobe.

6. I took my princess to our “private” town beach and we had a blast (way to start off the week right!)

7. It’s so hot, I don’t have to feel guilty not cooking.

8. Responses to my blog have been favorable

9. We are redoing our kitchen! Getting estimates this week!

10. After our car inspection today, I can resume parking in the LIRR parking lot and hold my head up high.

Party, party, party

2005-06-12T21:17:00.000-05:00

It's June, and party season has begun, except this summer, our little one is walking so I guess I didn't quite know what to expect.

I was looking foward to this particular party as the food is always good, the company is intellectual and funny, and the alcohol is a plenty.

When we first got there, Meg was calm, checking out her new surroundings and eating some grapes. This quickly changed as she got a taste of what I like to call "baby crack" a.k.a Cheetos. Trying to keep her off the cheetos, I offered chips instead. This was a purely selfish move as I considered my white shirt and light acqua skirt and quickly thought I could live with greese stains better than orange stains.

This worked-- for the short term.
Cut to an hour later. Her "older" cousins arrived and now the running aroung begins. My sister in law let her go upstairs and she got a taste of a zillion toys followed by Mommy freedom and all hell was breaking loose. I was desparately trying to locate tylenol and beer, and was not successful in either.

After coaxing her downstairs with the promise of cookies, someone told me the beer cooler was out back. So I took her outside with me to find it. She ran up ahead and managed to jump into a huge puddle making her legs all black with dirt and leaves. From there, she took off like a maniac towards the swing set, which I was promptly told by her to "sit" and swing her. I sat on the wet swing and did as told for a good fifteen minutes before it started to downpour out of nowhere.

We ran inside and I realized that I hadn't located that phantom beer cooler yet.... I did however locate a brother in law whom I recruited to get me a beer while I sat in the kitchen with my crazed child on my lap reaching for the cheetos with her huge hands not taking no for an answer. (It's amazing what moms will let their kids do, just so they don't scream and cause a scene.)

Alas, the beer arrives but after a sip, Meg -- in her cheetos frezy-- manages to knock it over. Adults run to clean up the spill and it is at this time I wonder as you may have"where is this baby's father?" After I apoligize and thank the crowd, I drop her off with the nearest family member and proceed to look for him with a vengence.

After I find and sail into him, he comes into the house, takes Meg into another room and I go on a hunt for more alcohol. I give up the beer cooler (too far) and instead find an open bottle of wine. I drink it down like I am doing shots. No one seems to notice. Unwillingly, I look down at my outfit which is covered in whatever she got on the bottom of her shoes and legs.

It is at this point I realize, parties are not what they used to be, and while I had a good fifteen minutes before the pair of them came a lookin for "mamma" I ran off to have some intelligent and funny adult conversation so I could fulfill my goals.

Ten things I lied to my husband about -- recently

2005-06-09T12:39:00.000-05:00

1. Her Christening dress only cost 200.00.
(It was actually 280.00, plus 20.00 for the shoes, and 12.00 for the bib.)

2. I promise to sell her Christening dress on e-bay after the blessed event.
(I can't bear to part with it, so instead it hangs in her closet. I often go in and just look at it, it's so darn pretty.)

3. I paid that parking ticket forever ago.
(See previous post http://megandmommy.blogspot.com/2005/06/kids-are-costly.html)

4. The party we have to go to on Saturday starts at 2:00pm
(It actually starts at 3, but he's always running late)

5. I had to buy her a new dress for the party because she's outgrowing all of the other ones she has.
(I don't like any of them anymore)

6. The dress was only 9.99 and I had a ten percent off coupon!
(Why I threw in the coupon part, I have no idea...otherwise that one could have been lie-free. I think I am just used to taking 30percent off of all purchase prices)

7. I don't hate your sister-in-law. I just find her challenging.
(I never stop talking about how much I loathe and detest her to all of my friends, my sister, people on the train, my co-workers and anyone in the doctor's office waiting room)

8. (About my new tank top) "It's actuall a camisol to wear under other shirts". (Not true, I will wear it solo)

9. I did't tell your mom about our last fight.
(I tell her about all of them, and she tells me how to deal with him since he is EXACTLY like his father.)
(Except if any of them have anything to do with S-E-X, cause that's just weird.)

10. I am NOT high maintenance!

Kids are costly

2005-06-08T16:10:00.000-05:00

So, I think I finally figured out why people say "kids are so expensive"....
I used to think it was because parents bought them too many toys, or took them out for ice cream too often. Then after having a newborn, I realized it was the diapers, definately the diapers. But now that we are in our little routine, and she's a little older (less diapers) I realized that in the past 18 months my husband and I have lost our minds.

Let me tell you why.

When we used to live in Queens, there was this little thing called "alternate side of the street parking". That basically meant that two days a week you needed to make sure you car was not on a certain side of the street. No big deal, it's one of the things we had gotten used to over the years. Our days were Thursday and Friday.

After she was a few weeks old, we got a ticket because we did not know what the hell day it was, nor where the car may or may not be parked. This continued to happen at least once more while we were at our old residence.

A few months later, we moved to Long Island, got ourselves a driveway and figured our worries about car tickets were over. Until we began commuting via LIRR into NYC and subsequently using their parking lot.
Apparently, the cops out there LOVE to do nothing else but examine all cars in the parking lot for various offenses.

First up, a license plate cover that was "illegal" -- 55.00 Bam!
Ok, so I yell at my husband to take the stupid thing off over the weekend, but of course we forget. Monday comes and BAM, another 55.00. I yell and scream that it needs to come off TONIGHT-- EVEN THOUGH IT IS A MONDAY!

He takes it off, throws the tickets "somewhere". End of story.

Skip to a few months later, another ticket shows up, due to an expired inspection. I think I hid that one, not wanting to upset the husband who was in another crisis over something or other to due with our front lawn. (hid meaning--bring to work, leave on desk, I can still see it out of my peripheral vision sitting ever so nicely in my file holder--not paid)

A year later, we get hit with an expired registration. Bam 90.00. I go down to the DMV and I cannot renew it because we moved and I need to first produce the title of the car. Hmm, we bought the car when I was pregnant and I have no recollection whatsoever of the title of the car, I do remember the smell of the leather making me want to puke, but no title recollection.

After weeks of looking for it and avoiding the parking lot, and having to explain to all my neighbors who asked "what's wrong with your car?" when they saw me hoofing it to the train, that we are just unorganized morons......I finally find it in a folder of "important papers". (Hmm, fancy it being THERE!)

Back to the DMV I go, show my proof of ownership and get my registration renewed.
During this period, I fear that the this unpaid tickets fiasco was was going to rear it's ugly head and that the reason I didn't get any "late notices" was due to our official record not knowing our new address, and not simply that Nassau County had decided to drop all charges out of the goodness of their heart.

A quick online investigatin and I am able to view my "record". With all our late fees, we owe about 725.00. I squeal and in true "jenn fashion" pretend in my head that it doesn't exist and go on with my life.

Cut to this Monday. Ah, "Monday Monday, can't trust that day".....
Husband calls. Now our inspection has expired. Hmm, this feels vaguely remniscent of last year.
Another 90.00. I decide that before they tow our car, I had also better resolve past late fee issue and find out that it's now over 800.00. I charge it since everyone knows that your credit card balance does not mean that you are in debt and cannot go to the gap at lunch.

So, bottom line, kids make you crazy. So crazy, you forget that you have to register cars, pay for inspections, keep important papers in a retrievable place, pay tickets and avoid late fees and hence the "expensive part".

The second shift

2005-05-31T20:17:00.000-05:00

Sometimes people ask me why I am a working mom.
The answer to that is I have to be.

Sometimes people ask me what it's like to be a working mom.
The answer to that is similar to working two jobs.

After I leave my "real" job, I start my second shift.

Upon arriving at home, Meg is usually eating dinner in her high chair. I will then take over, see her eat the rest of her meal and then carefully take her out of the chair, holding her like a granade as to not get my work clothes dirty (also know as my "good clothes")
(Good Clothes -adj. & n. something owned by a mommy that does not have poopy stains, spit up, cookie, spinach, chicken grease, ice cream, dirt, boogers or any other kind of remnant permanently stained on it)

I will bring her into the bathroom, strip her down and clean her up. This also explains why you may find macaroni and cheese on my bathroom floor. After that, I allow her to run naked through the house and try to assist with dinner, usually by making a salad or some kind of vegetable because the husband, left to his own devices will only cook meat, meat and meat. Sometimes he throws in french fries or a packaged noodle of some sort.

Salad dicing and assembly can be challenging when a toddler is hanging onto your legs crying "mamma" but sometimes I am lucky and she's off playing with baby dolls.

After dinner is made, the table is set by putting all utensils and plates into the very center of the table so that her little hands can't reach any of it.

As soon as we sit down to eat, she will usually want to sit on my lap and also eat whatever I am eating. I usually get a fork full of food in and then go about fishing out something off my plate for her. After dinner, I try to clean up in between building towers with leggos, reading books, running around chasing her, changing her diaper, and trying to get pajamas on. Sometimes the good bribe of a bottle can get her to sit in one spot but she's usually got her second wind around then.

After I finish reading her every book she has, I get her off to bed, which knock on wood, has been going smooth and not required several trips into her room to calm her down.
Then, my real work begins......dinner clean up and prep for tomorrow!

At this point, we ususally tag team clean up, load the dishwasher, wipe down the table, stove etc. Then it's time to clean up all of her toys and try to sweep up remains of dinner off the floor.
Then, I will rumage through the refrigerator and cabinets in search of something nutritional for her to make for lunch the next day. After all that is done, I "close" down the kitchen, wiping down the counters and throwing away the junk mail.

I usually sit down, without anyone on my lap, for the first time around nine pm. I am usually so tired at this point I do not even catapult off the couch when my lovely husband passes his nightly gas. Instead I just threaten that if it smells I will throw the nearest item I can reach at him.

Blissful!

I just couldn't do it

2005-05-27T22:03:00.000-05:00

I just couldn't get out of bed this morning, immediately jump into a shower, change a poopy diaper and rush my daughter through breakfast to get out the door.

I just couldn't hold her down, making her put shoes on, while simutaneously try not to tear or wrinkle my work clothes.

I just couldn't refuse reading her a book because I had to get ready for work.

I just couldn't shut her television show off when she just got into it and make her put her coat on drag her to the car and strap her down into her car seat.

I just couldn't drop her off at daycare while she cried out "mommy" and run out the door and off to the train.

So, instead I decided to get her out of her crib, put her in my bed, where we laid for awhile and sang songs.

I made us scrambled eggs and toast, we ate the butter off the top first. We watched her favorite television show, cuddled up on the couch, our heads on a pillow, breathing in unison.

We took a bath, we blew bubbles, we napped and ran through the grass barefoot. We had ice pops in the afternoon, smelled the flowers and collected rocks.

Those things I could do, all day long, with my sweet daughter while I was supposed to be at work.

Shhh! Don't tell my boss.

Pets are not like babies......enough!

2005-05-26T13:41:00.000-05:00

Dear Public, (Especially the lady that insists on talking to me on the LIRR)

I assure you, having a baby and being a parent is much much different than having even a pet, even a needy dog. (the lady on the LIRR says she has a needy dog)

Yes, you got us on the fact that your pet needs to be walked, in all kinds of weather three times a day. Yes, they can chew on your favorite pair of shoes and wreck your apartment.

But, you do not have to:

--bath your pet daily
--fight with your pet to get out of it’s crib
--paint your pet’s toenails because it insists
--let your pet wear your shoes around the house, only to inevitably fall and hit their head
--worry about college costs
--shop for new clothes for your pet every three months (ok, wait this one is fun)
--worry about the amount of stimulation you are providing
--worry about the amount of TV she is consuming
--deal with temper tantrums
--have food throw at you
--have to keep your floors meticulously clean for fear that she will either put something horrible into her mouth, or pick up a million germs and get sick
--come to work sick so that you can save your real sick days for when your child is ill
--worry about getting professional photos taken and distributed among family members and friends to appear that you are a good mommy
--actually worry about you being a good mommy (or parent)
--actually worry if your spouse is being a good parent
--worry about fighting in front of your child with your spouse
--step over and on a various amount of toys and books to get to the bathroom

And the list can go on…….

Oh and for the record, MY morning was hectic because I had to, feed, bathe and clothe my child, get her lunch ready, and her bag for daycare, all the while being fought tool and nail…. because I had a doctor’s appointment for myself (gasp!) before I had to get on my train and go to work, which I could not be late for because I had an 11am meeting. I cannot believe that your morning had even half of this chaos.

And, my apologies to the Doctor’s office and the nice Doctor himself (I didn’t even get your name) for demanding that I be seen after waiting a half an hour, and refusing one of their tests simply because there was no time.

Cheers,
Frenzied Mom

My anal and pregnant friend Sabrina

2005-05-23T21:37:00.000-05:00

My very anal friend Sabrina called me tonight to tell me that she is pregnant, she just found out last night.

She only tried one month and it worked.
She was very excited, since she has had this all planned out for months.
She is very anal.

After we gushed and screamed, she said "OK, now I have some questions", and I swear I think I heard her pull out a piece of paper.
(some have compared her to Monica from Friends, this is what I mean about anal)

Question one-- "How much folic acid did you take?"(ha, as if I remember.....)
Me-- "umm, how much to they recommend?"
Her-- "blah blah blah mg"
Me-- "yeah, that sounds about right"

(One summer, we rented a house in the Hamptons together, and she used to clean it all weekend long)

Question two--"What books do you recommed?"
Me--"What To Expect When You Are Expecting, Your Pregnancy Week by Week and a good breast feeding book"

(One time in the house in the Hamptons, I left my plate in the sink, and I got in trouble from her)

Her--"Who is the author of Your Pregnancy Week by Week"
Me-- "ummm, I don't know, just look for it on Amazon"

(Also, in the Hamptons, we were not allowed to place any beer bottles down without coasters)

Her--"I've done some research and found out I should increase my calories by 300, how did you do that?"
Me--"with potato chips and cookies"
(I think she giggled)

Her--"Did you have an epidural?"
Me--" I think you have plenty of time for that!"

So, you get the gist.
She's got this down to a science. I was silently laughing to myself because the next time I talk to her will surely be a different converstation. I picture it being one where she yawns every five seconds and/or dry heaves. All caloric intake calculations will be out the window as she struggles to find a food group that does not make her want to sit at the toilet face down, crying and wondering why oh why nature does this to you!!!

Or maybe that was just me.

My “Seven” jeans….

2005-05-23T14:55:00.000-05:00

So, when I say to someone “I got a pair of Seven jeans”, it immediately separates people into two groups for me. They are either “in the know” or “not in the know” people. The “not in the know” people will ask if I meant “seven pairs of jeans”. My dad falls into this category.

The scene: Mothers Day is approaching
I previously regarded this Holiday as another one of those made up by Hallmark , and refused to participate in the flowers, cards and jacked up dinner prices etc.. That is…..until I became a mother myself.

After giving birth, this holiday quickly morphed into a reason to demand a luxurious gift from the husband, such as a Dooney and Bourke bag (last year) and a pair of “Seven” jeans (this year). I went to scope them out and here’s how my experience went.

Saturday afternoon, put the baby down for her nap. Hop in car and call out to husband that I will be right back…going to buy jeans. He was forewarned that these jeans may cost 100 bucks. But, I don’t think it registered at the time.

Arrive at store and go near “Seven” display. Am immediately hounded by high-school waifs asking if I needed help. Somewhat embarrassed and feeling undeserving, I express my desire to buy a pair of “sevens”….we go through the types, low, super low, super super low, crazy ass low, or something like that.

I land at one pair of low and one pair of slightly lower than low which she assured me weren’t THAT low because I liked the color and we headed off to the dressing room.
I decided that the slightly lower than low ones were a better color but the problem was that they were slightly lower than low.

My high school assistant, assured me that they weren’t THAT low. I told her I had kids. (I only have one, but I pluraled it for drama). She replied “really, you have kids?” (insert hair toss here), “cause your body isn’t even THAT bad”.

This statement sold me on the slightly lower than low pair.

I was taking my compliment and my 158 dollar pair of jeans and heading for the register, credit card in hand. Once getting there, the cashier saw I looked a little skeptical. I told her what my dilemma had been and told her I was thinking of changing my mind back to the “low jeans”. She went and got them for me and said “well these are the highest jeans we have in the whole entire store”. That was not making me feel better but hey, I got kids, so I switched back to those without my high school assistant seeing and whalllllllla! I have a brand new spanking pair of Seven jeans!

Once home, the husband asked how much they were……I always take of about thirty percent of all clothing costs and was calculating that number when he asked “about 80-90 dollars?”. I said “yeah, we’ll go with that”. After chasing me around the house to see the price tag, he gasped and immediately said he’d report me to my parents.

He did, later that night, to which my dad replied “do they light up?”

I thought that was pretty cute.

Hokey Pokey

2005-05-20T19:33:00.000-05:00

Tonight we did the Hokey Pokey, Meg's new favorite thing to do with Mommy and Daddy.

We were going round and round for what felt like the 100th time, when she suddenly stopped, ran over to her fake kitchen, searched for something, got it, came back, and declared "spoon"!

And then we resumed the Hokey Pokey, spoon in hand.

That killed me!

My House In the Middle of the Week.....

2005-05-18T20:42:00.000-05:00

Here’s what my house looks like right now (living with one 18-month-old girl, Meg, and one husband):

There is a shiny new potty in my bedroom -- not the bathroom -- because Meg dragged it into my room and left it. Same with the box the potty came in. Same with the stickers that came with the potty to encourage training.

The shoes I didn’t wear today are in the middle of the hall because she insisted on tapping around in them this morning because they make so much noise on the wood floors. Speaking of shoes, four pairs of her shoes are on the floor of her room. (Yes, my baby girl is shoe obsessed!) Also there? Her pants, pjs, some socks, several stuffed animals and a pile of clean clothes which, for some reason, she decided not to disseminate through the house - YET. Oh, and did I mention two diapers? One clean, one dirty – one big mess!

On the counter in the kitchen is a cough medicine bottle (mine) and just outside the kitchen on the floor is its box (hers), crushed because someone stepped on it (husband). On the kitchen floor is smashed chicken, a few corn kernels and small piece of melon (otherwise know as “what we had for dinner”). There are several pots scattered on the floor where she “cooked” and several on the stove where I “cooked." Also on the floor is an empty milk container, which she was playing with -- and which, for some reason, I keep stepping over instead of picking up. (Note to self: Am I turning into a male? Ponder when have free time.) All the kitchen cabinets are open (think Poltergeist), as well as the microwave door, which gives a great view of all the dried-out, stuck-on little peas inside. Yum.

I think there is a binky (pacifier) on the floor in every room, as well as a sippy cup. God I hope I find the one with the milk from this morning before she does -- it’s surely sour by now.

The garbage is overflowing and the lid is just hanging on -- but it may not be able to keep up that commitment much longer. My front door is open, and there is mail, mostly junk mail, on the floor next to the door. In a half-hearted attempt to “clean” the other night, the broom sits nicely in the corner. I think the phone rang and I never got back that way.

In the dining room we have every jacket my husband has ever owned on the back of one of the chairs, and her jacket is on the floor (glad I just ran it through the wash). My jacket from today only is also on one of the chairs (I am guilty too, but at least it’s just one, and I did just come in). We basically have a multi-jacket stacking thing going on. That hall closet is really coming in handy!

There are several cups with water throughout the house, very reminiscent of the movie Signs, because I keep forgetting that I poured one and then I pour another one and… Well, you get the idea. I find some comfort in the fact that if water-repulsed aliens ever attack, we’ve got a chance.

There are two naked baby dolls on the living room floor -- one is wearing one of Meg’s old baby shoes (there’s that obsession again) and the carriage is toppled over like there was some horrific accident. Legos are scattered about, and boy do they hurt when stepped on barefoot. (Consider this your warning!)

Two horror movie references and it’s only Wednesday! We usually reach peak chaos by Friday.

She speaks! And, we understand!

2005-05-16T08:11:00.000-05:00

Just recently, my husband and I received our legal duty to fill out our census. I felt this was exciting since it was the first time that we'd be officially reporting Meaghan. Yup, our little princess would now be counted in the billions of people in the world! What does this have to do with Meaghan speaking, you ask? Well there was a question in the census that made my husband and I crack up which was "speaks english clearly?" Well, this made us laugh since up until this point the only words she said were "mamma, dadda, bye-bye, more, cheese, cookie, hi, no more, Oswald (her favorite tv character), woof woof, several other animal sounds, nose, eyes, love you, night night, shoes, poo poo, sticky, baba, down, please, and thank you" ... but we had to ask ourselves, did she say these clearly? We answered yes in our questionaire and funnily enough as the weeks past, she began to say more words and do the next step in language development -- put two words together! She started with "no dada" and "no thank you" and it dawned on me that I can actually communicate with her and she with me. It's a very exciting moment when your child can ask for what she wants and you can understand her. Now, I feel that we were really truthful in answering that question in our census!

Meggie -- all growed up!

2005-05-10T21:06:00.000-05:00

I can't help but look at my Meggie lately and be amazed at how big she is and all that she does.

Tonight, we put on some music and danced. She loves it when we both join in with her. Once Daddy left the room to get the video camera, she followed him. She is so in love.
I often joke that I can never get a divorce. She asks where he is in the morning and where he is when he is at the store. Any time that she realizes he's not in the room is cause for her to ask for him.
I think they are becoming closer. I know they share "special" time when he picks her up and they have dinner.

Meg is saying so many words these days. This morning, when I was driving her to daycare, I was singing a Bare Naked Ladies song and I got to the part about the "chinese chicken" and she heard me and said from the backseat and said "tiken?"
She certainly knows her foods.

I can't believe she's ONLY 18 months because she seems like she's three going on thirty. I used to call her a "midget" it's never been more true.

Today we had the cutest little outfit on her. I got her Old Navy capris that were more like lounge pants, ha ha. As if she needs to lounge!

Another cute thing her and Daddy do when they get home is look for the birds up in the tree. God knows they are certainly LOUD enough!

And, we play a little game where I say "I Love...." and Meggie yells very enthusiatcially "Daddyyyyyyyyy" putting emphasis on that last part since she's recently upgraded him from Dada to Daddy.

Yup, our little one is growing up.

One of THOSE days!

2005-04-22T21:28:00.000-05:00

Recently, my little Megster has learned how to take off her shoes. It's not too hard of a task since her sneakers have Velcro straps, which is easily pulled up, and then with a little wiggling, she can get it right off.
The daycare has taken to criss crossing her velcro straps, not sure why this helps but apparently it does.
Mommy didn't use this technique yesterday morning, as I was rushing against the clock, having been lazy the night before and not done enough "prep" work.

The day started out with the quick jump in the shower as soon as I hear her stirring.
It's not my favorite thing to do in the world, come out of a nice cozy bed and head into water, but necessary, since I cannot keep her in the bathroom or in a chair in another room long enough to shower in peace.

I then went in her room, did the coaxing to get her to come out of the crib (it has to be HER idea to come out) and got her changed and ready for breakfast.
While she was eating, I have my cup of tea, make her lunch and get her "stuff" ready for the day. After she's done, I clean her up and plop her in front of Sesame Street so that I can put on my make up and blow dry my hair.
After that's ready, it's coats, and bags and out the door to the daycare, leaving just enough time for the trip there, then back to the train station to park my car, get another cup of tea and the daily paper....this is our daily routine. But not this hump day. We got in the car and begin our trip when I look back and her and see that she seems to be pointing to something, and crossing her eyebrows. Not having the ability to figure out what was perplexing her -- trying to be extra cautious given my accident last week, I simply say "what sweetie?" and resume looking straight ahead.

When we arrived at the daycare, and I went round the back of the car to get her out of her seat, I noticed she only had one shoe on!
Now that's cause for some perplexed faces!

This shoe incident caused me to miss my scheduled and pushing it 9:01 train and the next train is not for another hour. Ouch!

After heading into the office --story in hand --to prove something, Rhoda, my pregnant mommy friend told me she had one better. Her darling son was being a bit wild on a recent NYC subway trip to the store, and before she could show the fellow riders that she was a good mom with an equally good child, he had turned around and licked the poll.
YUCK.

She won.

Tuesday, Reflecting at my desk

2005-04-12T14:52:00.000-05:00

Hi there. Yesterday, I took they day off and attended the Mets Home Opener with my Dad, sister and nephew. I did wind up having a good time, but before I left I was wrecked with guilt.

How could I take the day off and then drop Meg off at daycare just for my own pleasure? It made me feel horrible, and my husband knew it and asked me about it later. He then teased me about being a bad mother (yes, this is his way of teasing) but we did laugh about it.
I did spend the entire weekend with her, and I did take her to the park both Saturday and Sunday given that the weather in NY was finally (dare I say) *warm*. But nonetheless, you just can't take a day off like you used to.

Add to that mix, that I was trying to take Meg for pictures at Target. The last time we had professional pictures taken was for her (gasp) first birthday back in October.
I had to ditch the photo session given that due to last week's accident, I discovered my car registration had expired and we didn't get the notice given that I didn't change my registration address with the all powerful and sacred Motor Vehicle (sound of trumphets here). I attempted to remedy this once, but given that I had moved, I needed the title of the car in order to change my address. All these rules....I think moms should be exempt from all this and somehow live above the law.

I made us some eggs for breakfast, and dropped her off at daycare a tad before 10am, ran to the MV, and successfully made it to the LIRR train station to head to the game.
Whew! It was a hectic morning by 11am.

I got over my guilt later by heading over to Khols and buying her some cute pajamas. The Children's place ones I had bought last month are already too tight, considering they are very form fitting and I have a little chubba on my hands.

All in all, it did turn out to be a "good day" but taking off just for my own pleasure was definately not working well for me as the day started out.

2005-04-12T14:47:00.000-05:00

Meg and Mommy in September

April's Fools Day (and I had a fender bender-no joke)

2005-04-02T21:03:00.000-05:00

April 1st, 2005, April's Fools Day, or as I will remember it, the day I had my first fender bender.

The day started out rough, I was exhausted, as I am almost every Friday. It had been raining all morning and Meg somehow slept in a bit, so we got off to a late start. I decided I would just have to call in and let my job know I was going to be late.

After a leisurely breakfast, I dropped Meg off at daycare and proceeded to the train station. I was in the left turn lane, we got our little arrow and a police car came out of nowhere, careening through the intersection, causing the guy in front of me to slam on his breaks, as did I, but I somehow skidded and hit him in the rear.

I couldn't believe it was happening, but yet it was. I actually had my first car accident. After the traditional exchange of information, I went about my day, travelling to work, telling both my husband and my dad about the accident.
It was small, and everyone was thankful that Meg wasn't in the car, and that was what was important.

A few phone calls later and I had reported it to my insurance company and had appointments for estimates, inspections, etc. It was then that I looked at my registration and realized that it was expired a week ago. After my heart rate slowed down, I went to the DMV website to find out how to fix this immediately. Unfortunately, I needed to go down to a DMV office, with the car's title because in the interim I had moved and needed to prove I was the owner.
Ugh!

Title of the car???!! Where in the world could that even be.
I searched through my "important documents".....marriage licence- check, Meg's savings bonds- check, car bill of sale- check, signed playbill from a show I had attended-check. No title.
This caused my husband I tremendous stress all week long. Since the move, things were still....upside down and previous organized mess piles were now mess piles thrown about.
Friends and family suggested I may not even have the document, but others insisted I must.

Some more digging and I did finally find it, under my "automotive papers" --go figure!
In any event, it just made me wonder, "how and when did I completely lose my ability to function as a human being in our society"....
Seems to be sometime on or around November 1st, 2003, the day I gave birth to my baby girl.

Having a baby does change everything, some changes are good and some changes are bad, but it never ceases to amaze me at how different my life has become.

Jennifer, Mom to Meg

Welcome!

2005-03-30T21:27:00.000-05:00

Dear Diary,

No, that’s so teenaged.

Dear Journal?

Wait, why do I need to put an “address line” on this. Hows about I just start writing, anyway, I don’t have time for any salutations. I have a baby. That’s a good excuse. I wonder how long I can get away with that.
Hi, I am Jennifer and I have a baby.
There.
It’s a valid excuse.
Hell, it should be tattooed to my forehead, and made into a bumper sticker for my car. Just to warn other drivers.
“Sorry I cut you off, I didn’t see you, I have a baby”
That sounds catchy.

Who has time to look for cars when you are a—sleep deprived, b—thinking about a katrillion things, and c—generally on edge because you have no idea what you are doing nor what you should be doing.
I don’t.

Anyway, I just wanted to write all this down for some reason. Maybe it will be therapeutic. Though, even therapy can’t save me now. What can save me is: a housekeeper, a nanny, a gardner, a painter and a personal chef.
Oh to be Oprah. Why doesn’t she have kids? She certainly has a full staff around her that could help out.

Anyway, I am Jennifer. I have a baby. And this is my story.

Mushy Brains and Tiny Bladders

2005-03-18T21:59:00.000-05:00

I am sitting at a large round table in one of those intimidating corporate conference rooms listening to my boss ask questions about the status of our company’s biggest project. He directly asks me a question, which I am relieved I know the answer to. The three second delay however that seems to have happened since the imminent birth of my first child, is too much for my collegue and work equal to bare and she shouts out the answer a second before my mom-like brain translates the message to my vocal cords. I feel silly as my words follow hers and the next question is then directed at her. Two points for the single woman with all her brain power! Minus one for the opposing team!

My colleague is a non-mom, in fact a single girl, who has all her wits about her, keeps a neat and organized desk that she spends time on before she goes home for the day, and eats intricate lunches that she makes and brings to work.

I on the other hand, am lucky I find my desk in the paper mountains that have long ago usurped my work dwelling. Staying after work is not an option, since I am both needed at home, and want to be there to see my child for the one hour a night I have with her. Lunch, to me is grabbing any old thing, bringing it back to my desk and trying to gulf it down while I am reading emails. The entire day feels like a big race. A race to keep up with what is going on as quickly so as not to have to stay past 5:30 and I can actually spend some time with my daughter.

That I can live with. But this “mushy brain” symptom which starts in pregnancy and so far hasn’t gone away is one that is hard to bare. “What happened to me?” I often ask myself, and the realization that suddenly I feel old is creeping up upon me. No longer can my feet tolerate high heels, can my body lose five pounds on yo-yo diets or wear the newest body clad fashions. Again, all “livable” but my wits were my livelihood and I mourn them every day.

I asked some new moms that I knew from online message board groups and the responses were high. MBA’s said they couldn’t even quickly calculate when they were going to run out of diapers! Others claimed their brains were overloaded with every day tasks and some others claimed its just good old fashioned sleep deprivation. This was intriguing but again I was wondering if it would “go away” so I asked some older moms – my mother – and my mother in law.
Both laughed and similarly responded, “you may regain it when things settle down, but by then old age will set in so you can’t win”.

This was not a solution to my problem so I decided to take matters into my own hands. I found that if I sat and focused a few minutes before each meeting to mentally review all dates, recent events and any other questions I could anticipate to have potential answers at my finger tips. This way I feel “armed”. So far this approach has worked well and has made me feel more confident when I am in these large meetings. At my last meeting, Stacey, a veteran mom, made eye contact with me and was rolling her eyes as our meeting ran a good thirty minutes past what it was supposed to. Her and I had done the mom speak now and then and I was curious as to what was causing her to give me the eye-rolling. Finally the meeting wrapped up and as we were walking out of the conference room, she caught up with me, waved her empty water bottle, smiled and said “ I thought that would never end-- my bladder is about to burst”!
I smile back at her, knowing that symptom is just another one of those things that us moms have to contend with, and I said “why do you think I didn’t bring any water with me?”
Off she ran to the ladies room while I walked behind feeling better knowing that I am not alone.