This coming weekend marks the 7th wedding anniversary for hubby and me. An apartment, two houses, one dog, two babies, one near divorce, a damn good therapist, four jobs and many cases of wine later we're better friends and more in love than ever.
To celebrate -- and to remind ourselves that we are husband and wife -- we're taking a mini vacation. The in-laws are coming from St. Louis to watch the 2 boys. I'll start freaking out about the horrible mess in the house about 12 hours before they're due to arrive. But for now I'm just happy to daydream about and plan for the weekend.
Life has been so hectic lately that we've decided to waste absolutely no time in transit and book a room at the Mandarin Hotel right here in DC. I'm supposed to get a discounted rate through my company so we figure we can afford the semi-splurge since we aren't spending any money on a train to NYC or a flight to some warm beach.
The Mandarin is so removed from most of the city that we think it'll feel like we're in some other city. But not having the responsibilities of parenthood for 2 days will make it feel like an other-worldly experience.
Maybe we'll try some new restaurants, finally check out that exhibit at the Corcoran and sleep in past 7 am.
Maybe we'll work out at the hotel gym, read the paper from front to back, stay out late and not worry about stopping at the ATM to get cash to pay the babysitter.
Maybe we'll sleep through the night, have sex that lasts longer than an episode of Curious George, and not check under the bed for monsters.
Monday, April 21, 2008
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Bi-Polar
Last night I attempted to self-medicate-away my stress with half a bottle of Petite Syrah and a little Knob Creek on the rocks.
Tonight I'm trying a cup of Sleepytime herbal tea and the latest issue of Real Simple. Should be thrilling.
I have to say, the Knob Creek website is much cooler than the Celestial Seasonings. Knob Creek does a pretty damn good job of making you think you're special for being a bourbon snob. The 'customize your own label' feature and personalizing the people behind the ad campaign almost had the cynical marketer in me converted. However, when I saw that their 'ask a professor' feature was just a fancy FAQ they lost me.
Maybe I'll join the Celestial Seasonings book club. That is - if I can get past all the mentions of "bagged teas". Right, tea bag?
Sunday, April 13, 2008
Too busy
Of all the titles I carry - Wife, Mother, Milk Bar, Executive Producer, Friend, Cook, Housekeeper, Accountant and Blogger - I've slacked most in the Blogger department lately. I have a list of draft posts that is getting embarrassingly long. And I have even more mental-note-blog-about-this ideas crowding my brain.
The irony of it all is that my work - helping clients understand and use social media - is really becoming a roadblock to my blogging.
The week started out mildly enough. The hubby and I were determined to get a head start and not have the head-spinning chaos of the previous week. So Sunday became the day we prepped for the week. Groceries were purchased. A slow-cooked meal was prepared. All laundry was cleaned, dried, folded AND put away. Even the pile of old receipts, unpaid bills, half-addressed baby announcements and forgotten tax forms was sorted through, organized into color-coordinated folders and neatly hidden away. We felt ready for the week.
Monday came and went in a flash. I actually started blogging about the week's menu -- exciting times now that the weather is nice and the grill has a new propane tank -- but then got sidelined working on a proposal.
Tuesday was so long ago I forgot what happened. Except that the baby who normally sleeps 12 hours through the night decided to get up at 2:30 and feed.
Wednesday involved business travel. Up at 4:30 am to pump a bottle, shower, blow dry and be at Reagan National for the 7:30 American flight to Raleigh. Met with very cool Lenovo executives about their Olympic Blogger project. Stole away for 15 minutes to hand pump a few ounces so my boobs didn't explode right in front of everyone in the conference room. Was back to DC in time to send a few emails from home, dash to the store, nurse and bed baby, and make Ina Garten's Roasted Salmon Nicoise Platter for diner guest. Drank slightly too much wine and smoked a regret-filled cigarette or two.
Thursday involved crazy day at work trying to catch up from being out the day before. Dinner was supposed to be the left-over salmon but both hubby and I lost our appetites when the smell of reheated fish permeated the house. Cereal is always good for dinner. When hubby heard that I'd need to work most of the night, he decided to go visit a friend whose wife was also going to be burning the midnight oil. It sucked to be home working by myself, but part of me was also grateful for the time to get some shit done.
Friday was the perfect escalation to the by now out-of-control week. Hubby had plans to spend the night away, and I was looking forward to a quiet Friday night with the luxury of a little alone time.
Friday morning involved big meeting with the U.S. Office of Personnel Management, which went well despite me and the client's mix-up over who was supposed to bring the print-outs. I returned to the office looking forward to expressing myself with my handy-dandy Medela pump, but realized I'd forgotten to bring storage bottles to work and made a mad dash to a near-by breast feeding store to pick some up. Grabbed grilled chicken salad at the Corner Bakery and got back in time to be 15 minutes late to creative meeting. Left half-eaten salad at desk as boss calls in the team for a crisis situation.
Shit! Now realize that we're going to be at work very, very late tonight and I have no one to watch the baby! Race home to pay the nanny and bring the baby back to work with me. Sit on conference call with big, important company people while jostling baby so no whines or cries give my situation away.
And they say us working moms can't have it all.
The irony of it all is that my work - helping clients understand and use social media - is really becoming a roadblock to my blogging.
The week started out mildly enough. The hubby and I were determined to get a head start and not have the head-spinning chaos of the previous week. So Sunday became the day we prepped for the week. Groceries were purchased. A slow-cooked meal was prepared. All laundry was cleaned, dried, folded AND put away. Even the pile of old receipts, unpaid bills, half-addressed baby announcements and forgotten tax forms was sorted through, organized into color-coordinated folders and neatly hidden away. We felt ready for the week.
Monday came and went in a flash. I actually started blogging about the week's menu -- exciting times now that the weather is nice and the grill has a new propane tank -- but then got sidelined working on a proposal.
Tuesday was so long ago I forgot what happened. Except that the baby who normally sleeps 12 hours through the night decided to get up at 2:30 and feed.
Wednesday involved business travel. Up at 4:30 am to pump a bottle, shower, blow dry and be at Reagan National for the 7:30 American flight to Raleigh. Met with very cool Lenovo executives about their Olympic Blogger project. Stole away for 15 minutes to hand pump a few ounces so my boobs didn't explode right in front of everyone in the conference room. Was back to DC in time to send a few emails from home, dash to the store, nurse and bed baby, and make Ina Garten's Roasted Salmon Nicoise Platter for diner guest. Drank slightly too much wine and smoked a regret-filled cigarette or two.
Thursday involved crazy day at work trying to catch up from being out the day before. Dinner was supposed to be the left-over salmon but both hubby and I lost our appetites when the smell of reheated fish permeated the house. Cereal is always good for dinner. When hubby heard that I'd need to work most of the night, he decided to go visit a friend whose wife was also going to be burning the midnight oil. It sucked to be home working by myself, but part of me was also grateful for the time to get some shit done.
Friday was the perfect escalation to the by now out-of-control week. Hubby had plans to spend the night away, and I was looking forward to a quiet Friday night with the luxury of a little alone time.
Friday morning involved big meeting with the U.S. Office of Personnel Management, which went well despite me and the client's mix-up over who was supposed to bring the print-outs. I returned to the office looking forward to expressing myself with my handy-dandy Medela pump, but realized I'd forgotten to bring storage bottles to work and made a mad dash to a near-by breast feeding store to pick some up. Grabbed grilled chicken salad at the Corner Bakery and got back in time to be 15 minutes late to creative meeting. Left half-eaten salad at desk as boss calls in the team for a crisis situation.
Shit! Now realize that we're going to be at work very, very late tonight and I have no one to watch the baby! Race home to pay the nanny and bring the baby back to work with me. Sit on conference call with big, important company people while jostling baby so no whines or cries give my situation away.
And they say us working moms can't have it all.
Friday, April 4, 2008
Pumping Moms
This week I had one of those moments when you kind of stop and realize what you're doing is utterly ridiculous - but also so indicative of your life. I was Googling "pumping moms" -- it's almost too painful to even admit/type.
The good news is that thanks to the Internet I now know I'm not the only woman out there who has a love/hate relationship with her breast pump...and struggles with everything from finding the time and privacy to do it, and the focus and dedication to actually fill enough bottles.
Ayelet Waldman at Bad Mother and the Rookie Moms' "Pump Project" reveal that it's better if you have a good sense of humor and realize that life as a pumping mom will never be perfect nor under your control. (Come to think of it, that's probably good advise for anyone out there.)
I realize that only a subset of woman will understand the intense obsession with pumping enough milk for your baby's next meal. But for the rest of you out there - try this analogy: How men equate their manlihood to the size of their penis; us pumping moms equate our womanhood to the number of ounces of breast milk we can eek out each session.
Perhaps it's a small symbol of a much larger feminist dilemma -- I want to be breastfeeding my baby, but I also want to work full-time outside of the home. Why should I have to choose between the two? In years past, women didn't have this choice -- it was probably either figure out a way to give cow's milk (pre-formula invented) or just never leave the baby's side.
I think Emily Bazelon in this Slate article puts it best:
"In the end, breast pumps aren't proof of our maternal dedication or abdication, or evidence of our feminist cowardice. They're a convenience that allows us to have it both ways, for a little while at least. That's not the same thing as having it all, but it's a compromise worth savoring."
The good news is that thanks to the Internet I now know I'm not the only woman out there who has a love/hate relationship with her breast pump...and struggles with everything from finding the time and privacy to do it, and the focus and dedication to actually fill enough bottles.
Ayelet Waldman at Bad Mother and the Rookie Moms' "Pump Project" reveal that it's better if you have a good sense of humor and realize that life as a pumping mom will never be perfect nor under your control. (Come to think of it, that's probably good advise for anyone out there.)
I realize that only a subset of woman will understand the intense obsession with pumping enough milk for your baby's next meal. But for the rest of you out there - try this analogy: How men equate their manlihood to the size of their penis; us pumping moms equate our womanhood to the number of ounces of breast milk we can eek out each session.
Perhaps it's a small symbol of a much larger feminist dilemma -- I want to be breastfeeding my baby, but I also want to work full-time outside of the home. Why should I have to choose between the two? In years past, women didn't have this choice -- it was probably either figure out a way to give cow's milk (pre-formula invented) or just never leave the baby's side.
I think Emily Bazelon in this Slate article puts it best:
"In the end, breast pumps aren't proof of our maternal dedication or abdication, or evidence of our feminist cowardice. They're a convenience that allows us to have it both ways, for a little while at least. That's not the same thing as having it all, but it's a compromise worth savoring."
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