Stealing My Thunder

It's been a few days since I've posted, but things on the home front have been a bit hectic. Hubby had hernia repair surgery last Thursday. I don't know why the hell I agreed to the timing of this. I guess it was because when he visited the surgeon back in the late fall the doc informed us there wasn't a rush; we wanted to get through the holidays and the birth of our second son and were even considering having the surgeon do a little snip-snip while he was down there.

We ultimately decided against the vasectomy, but at the time, January 24th seemed eons and eons away. We both (mistakenly) thought that the hernia surgery would be drive-by and didn't think about the logistics of having one of us laid up while the other (me!) contended with this new challenge of caring for a newborn and toddler simultaneously and singlehandedly.

A few days into this ordeal -- me bringing him meals in bed; he watching ESPN on a percocet high -- I started thinking something wasn't right with this picture.

On Saturday night I was offered a second glass of wine and declined saying, No thanks, I'm the one responsible for driving tonight. Then it really hit me, He's stealing my thunder! How is it that I've been the sober, pregnant, designated driver for the last 9 months and here we are just 4 weeks post partum (and more importantly, our 2nd night out) and I'm the one not drinking!?

Since then I've tried to have a good attitude about this whole deal: it is what it is, so better to just find the humor in the situation and get through it. As such, I've been keeping track of all the times he's whined and/or complained about something and proved the point that men are babies and could never get through pregnancy or childbirth:

• Just feels sooo tired: I heard this one a lot this weekend. I realized what a broken record I must have sounded like when my last trimester of utter discomfort equaled mind-numbing insomnia. Of course, the difference between his situation and mine was 4 days versus months and months, and he simply took off work and spent the weekend napping and passing out at 7:30 pm every night leaving me with the dishes to do and two kids to wrangle to sleep. I couldn't help feeling a bit of resentment that I had to weather my fatigue through normal work weeks and weekends where napping just wasn't an option -- and I did my fair share of cooking, cleaning and kid duty to boot.
• Disruption of normal bowel movements: Let me be blunt, certain circumstances of the percocet possibly causing constipation and the likely pain of engaging stomach muscles made hubby very, very afraid to shit. I won't go into this one in much detail, but c'mon mommas, don't we know the joy of the first poop post episiotomy!
  
• Problem of toddler kicking stomach: This is my favorite. After bathing the Jackal, he calls me into the bedroom because he really needs my help putting pjs on the kid. Why, I asked. Just now he almost kicked my stomach - I can't let that happen, he said. Interesting. I had to kick myself (no pun intended) for not using that excuse to get out of more chores while I was pregnant.
  
• Humiliation: If you've read his blog, you'll know how violated he felt by the utter horror of waking up to find that someone had groomed his private parts in prepping for the surgeon's knife. Obviously, all you ladies out there who've ever been through a Brazilian wax or have given birth will collectively roll your eyes at this one. I mean, puh-leeze. Getting through a vaginal delivery with your dignity intact is completely impossible. As I was sitting on the toilet at the hospital a few hours after getting sown up and the nurse was crouched down eye-level with my 'baby wound' shooting it with warm water I thought, Wow, it really doesn't get any more personal than this - I'm actually getting used to being on display.

Anyway, joking aside. I am happy to report that hubby is feeling well and getting back to normal. Love you, w...and can't wait until you can start lifting heavy things again.

Should I Stay or Should I Go?

Being on maternity leave means I get the chance to see what it'd be like to be a SAHM. I'm not even going to go there on which option is better or worse -- staying at home or going to work. I think we're all enlightened enough to realize that both have their unique challenges and rewards, but here's my take on the pros and cons...at least in my small microcosm.

5 Joys of Working Outside the Home

1. You are more likely to shower regularly: It's amazing how not having a routine schedule can place showering on the back burner of your day. Back when I was working, my day began every morning at 7 am with a cup of coffee and a shower. I took exactly 1 hour to groom myself, check the Blackberry for any overnight fires, find the desired Backyardigans episode on TiVO for the Jackal, slurp down cereal, throw the dirty laundry down into the basement for later attention, find my sunglasses, grab last night's leftovers to take for lunch and head out the door. These days my mornings go something like this:

5:30 AM - feed baby
6:30 AM - wake up, realize I have passed out, put baby back in crib, tuck boob back in nursing bra, crawl into bed
7:00 AM - hear baby whimpering, bring baby into my bed, pull out boob, pray for a few more minutes of sleep
7:30 AM - after 18th time 3-year-old has screamed "Mom!" at top of lungs, get out of bed, pull on robe, gently place baby in crib, go downstairs in search of coffee
8:30 AM - realize I've been watching (I mean, really watching. Watching to the point where you find yourself wondering why Jerry Falwell singled out Tinky Winky.) Teletubbies for an hour when you hear baby waking up; feed baby (has it really been 3 hours already?)
9:00 AM - change poopy diaper, fight to keep 3-year-old from physically harming baby
10:00 AM - spend hour trying to burp baby and settle down to nap
11:00 AM - remember I'm breast feeding and should probably put something besides Seattle's Best in my stomach
11:30 AM - consider taking a shower, hear baby whimpering, feed baby (repeat from above)

Needless to say, at noon when I found myself unshowered and still enrobed, I felt myself questioning my very existence because I obviously had no purpose in life.

2. Your Outlook calendar makes you feel productive: On the contrary, if I had an Outlook calendar that had each 30-minute segment tightly scheduled I'd be more likely to view myself as contributing member of society. There were many, many times at work when I'd have a day full of meetings -- all anal-retentively documented with 5-minute reminders -- and even thought I didn't do a damn thing all day long other than sit in meetings (some were even meetings about meetings) and at the end of day I felt that, by gosh, I had done something that day. Perhaps I should start scheduling the feedings and diaper changes...

3. Other adults may notice your contribution: Hubby has blogged about how our 3-year-old graciously, constantly and repeatedly tells us 'good job, daddy' or 'good job, mommy' for the accomplishment of any task ranging from drinking our coffee to blowing our nose. While it's nice to have his cheap praise, there's no one to appreciate the fact that yesterday I managed to clean the entire house, do 6 loads of laundry, buy groceries, pick up the dry cleaning, pay bills, get in 30 minutes of cardio, make a fabulous dinner from scratch (people, I roasted an entire chicken and de-boned it by hand to yield the meat for the chili) and recycle 2 rotten bananas into a moist banana bread that left the entire house smelling heavenly. And did anyone notice? Yeah, hubby complimented the dinner and banana bread, but it wasn't like my stellar accomplishments were going to make a client happy, or be discussed during my annual review, or noticed by an impressed co-worker who'd nominate me for employee of the month.



Made chicken chili on Monday night. This would have NEVER happened when I was at my job.

4. You have something to discuss with your spouse besides poop: My husband and I frequently call each other during the day for no reason in particular. The conversations go something like this:

Hey, what's up?

Oh nothing, just at work.

Yeah, so what's happening.

Oh nothing, just working on this proposal. It's so annoying because so-and-so expects me to do such-and-such by COB today....[launch into venting session about how life, work and people suck]

Now that I'm home, we still call each other but the conversations go something like this:

Hey, what's up?

Oh nothing, just feeding the baby.

Yeah, so anything going on?

No, not really. I just fed him and he spit up all over himself and me. And, oh my god, you should have seen the poop he just took....

[silence]

Hello?

[sound of typing]

You're emailing aren't you?

Um....[more sound of typing]...what?

Nevermind, I'll just see you later.

And at that point I realize I've become one of those people who only talks about their kids. Or maybe it's just that your state of mind is in a different place when you're faced with office stress versus being faced with a day of poop-slinging. What seems important to one just isn't all that hot to the other. I've been at work on days where my husband is having a less busy day. I'm in the middle of some crisis (e.g. $5M proposal is due in 20 minutes and I can't get the fucking formulas in Excel to work) when my husband calls asking what room we should take in the beach house we're renting with friends ...in 7 months! I can't deal and practically hang up on him.

5. You can afford to pay someone to watch your kids: This is the best and worst thing about working outside of the home. You get to leave the rug rats with someone else who will wipe their butts and referee their temper tantrums while you're typing at your computer and sitting in conference rooms. The stress is different but I often question which vocation requires the greatest amount of patience and restraint. I spend all day missing the kids and race home to spend a few hours with them before bedtime. Cooking their mac & cheese and giving them their baths takes on a sweet and memorable flavor and it's not until right before you read Goodnight Moon for the 7th time that you're getting sick of them. On the other hand, spend all day with your kids and you find yourself obsessively watching that clock for 6 when your spouse will be home to take care of at least one of them. Which leads to the the next blog topic: 5 Joys of Being a SAHM.

DC Restaurants: Blue Duck Tavern

My husband and I have always talked about doing a 'he said, she said' restaurant review column. Wouldn't it be interesting to hear the two sexes different takes on a given restaurant?

Last night we went to Blue Duck Tavern. It was a big event for us - the first big date night after my second pregnancy meaning the first chance for us to enjoy a good meal and some good wine together. Hubby has blogged about how he's missed me due to the pregnancy, and I had to concur, I have missed myself. As a humble foodie and someone who loves wine, going to dinner when you have chronic heart burn, have a list of forbidden foods and aren't supposed to drink alcohol isn't the culinary experience I pine for.

Anyhoo...about Blue Duck Tavern. We made sure we arrived a few minutes before our 7:45 reservation (booked on opentable.com) so we could grab a drink at the bar. The design of the restaurant was really interesting - interesting to the point that I found myself studying my surroundings and questioning the juxtaposition of the contemporary and traditional. It was almost like someone took a W Hotel lobby and stocked it with a bunch of Shaker furniture.

As we were enjoying our pre-dinner cocktails at the bar, the hostess came over to tell us there was some mix-up with our reservations -- apparently we were in the computer for 7:45 AM instead of PM so there was a chance we wouldn't get a table and might have to settle for the limited bar menu. Damn! We went ahead an ordered some cheese to start: a humbolt fog goat, a bandaged-wrapped cheddar and a bleu. The cheese platter was top notch - great accompaniments of quince paste, wild blossom honey, raisins and enough bread to go around. (It's a pet peeve of mine when a cheese platter doesn't have the right cheese-to-bread ratio.) Of course, we had to get a glass of wine to accompany the cheese: I chose the Caymus Conundrum -- a flirty mix of savignon blanc, chardonnay, viognier and even muscat canelli -- and hubby chose the Steele Chardonnay Cuvee -- noteworthy because it was nicely balanced and not too buttery or oaky. The wines by the glass offered at the bar were decent and provided a good range of price points - from $10 to $55 per glass.

We finally did get shown to a table -- nicely buzzed and satiated thanks to the cocktails, wine and cheese. Hubby and I both knew we'd be ordering something in the red meat category so I narrowed the wine list down to the cabs. When our waiter came by to take our order, I pointed out a cab I thought we might try and he offended me with, 'If you're wanting to go with a cab in that price range, you might want to consider this one.' Thanks jackass, do I look like someone who only chooses a wine based on price?

Once our main courses of braised barbecue beef "long rib" and new york strip came I was a very happy camper. The triple-fried, finger-sized steak fries and creamed spinach were decent but didn't compare to the beef. By the end of meal, we were both moaning over the barbeque beef ribs - tender meat in a perfectly nuanced sauce of sweetness, smoke and spice. If the chef will give out the recipe for that sauce I'll happily spend all day in the kitchen to re-create it.

Overall, Blue Duck Tavern will go on our top 10 list. The homey cooking that turns local, seasonal ingredients from local farms into three-star dining is a nice addition to the DC restaurant scene. Next time we'll double-check our reservation time, order less food and make sure our waiter is a better sommelier.

Notes from Wine Club: Pinots & Plugs

Last night was wine club. For almost 7 years now a group of girl friends have gathered on the third Thursday of every month to drink wine. It's been a journey -- we've evolved from drinking $8 bottles to $$20-$30 bottles and we've dated, married, birthed, adopted, and divorced our way through late 20s to mid 30s.

While we're not a snooty wine club, we have learned a thing or two through the years. When we first started wine club we had definite "themes" each month and came to each wine club having done some research/homework on our wine. We used to take tasting notes on each of the wines. Okay, not "we" -- there was one person who self-appointed herself the historian. Since she's had 3 kids and can't seem to break away to attend each month we've lost the written record of our imbibing.

Since last night was my first wine club post preggers, I made sure to make up for all those nights where I had a few safe sip/tastes and cursed the fact that I couldn't drink. So my memory of the wines is a little fuzzy, but I do know that the theme was California vs Oregon pinot noir.

From California:

• Rodney Strong 2005 (or maybe it was 2006) Estate Pinot Noir, Russian River Valley. This was your typical California pinot - fruity and velvety, nothing to offend yet nothing to really make it stand out.
  

From Oregon:

• I brought an A to Z 2006 Pinot Noir from Oregon. The Wine Spectator had an article on Oregon and said to keep an eye for for this one. Compared to the California pinots, this one had more of a clarity and a nice balance between fruit and acid.
  

• But best of all was the Solena Pinot Noir - not because it tasted so good (which it did) - it was noteworthy because it was the first time any of us had experienced the new glass stoppers that some winemakers are using in lieu of old-school corks, rubber corks or screw tops.

The glass stopper is a great idea. Nevermind that after 5 or 6 glasses of pinot, it bore a striking resemblance to a butt plug (we all had a few raunchy laughs and jokes), but it was super easy to open -- no need for a cork screw, it just pops off. Coincidentally, as I was skimming through the February 2008 Gourmet that came in the mail yesterday, I found a short article on glass stoppers on page 41 (how is it that I've never before heard of glass stoppers and in the last 24 hours have had 2 encounters?!):

James Rodewald says the glass stopper " is easy to open, reseals nicely, and imparts no flavors to the wine. It may not be the one perfect closure - there's probably no such thing - but it's nice to see U.S. wineries beginning to use it."


The 'morning after' each wine club the theme always emerges. Last night's wine club will forever go down as the "butt plug" wine club where we also happened to taste California and Oregon pinots. Remind me to blog about the "merkin" wine club some time soon.

So, wine club girls, what were the other wines we drank/tasted?

It's All About the Boobs

As a new-again mom who is in the throws of around-the-clock breastfeeding, I find myself obsessing about my boobs. In fact, as I was in the shower this morning attempting to keep most of the shampoo suds from running onto my boobs and possibly tainting the baby's next taste, I had to chuckle:

It wasn't too long ago that on any given Thursday morning I'd be stressing about something completely different: whether a website for a major snack bar brand would launch on time; whether the client in California was going to fire us; whether my department would have to write-off a couple thousand dollars because of poor project management.

And now, three weeks into my maternity leave, I'm worried about soap on my boobs. Earlier in the morning -- you know during that 2 am feeding when hazy thoughts rule -- I found myself actually wondering, 'is enough of my areola is his mouth?' And, 'is it the right or left boob that we start on this time?'

My husband is anxiously awaiting the 6-week post partum date when we can start having sex again. I have to say, it's going to be a challenge trying to feel sexy -- especially when my boobs are more like a fucking kitchen appliance than anything sexual. It'll be such a turn-on when we're in the middle of getting it on and the boobs start squirting breast milk across the bed. And while my mind should be on sex and my husband, I'm sure I'll be thinking, 'damn it, that's valuable milk I'm losing.'