Where is my personal assistant??

I think I need a detox from vacation.  Although we had a great, realaxing time there, things have been non stop and crazy since we got home.  In the future, I will definitely take a day or two off work AFTER we get home from laundry, Brody cuddling, and cleaning.  Getting home late Monday night and going to work early Tuesday morning does not help this crazy lady who wants a clean house, clean clothes, and serious son time after days away.  Where is my personal assistant?  This would all be done and done if he or she would actually show up for work (wink).  I guess you live and you learn.  While I take a few more days to recover from my Mexican getaway, here are some fun vacation pics to get jealous over.

Where we spent most of our time...AHHH

Hi...we're parents

Great friends...our first 20 minutes there on my favorite holiday, St. Patricks Day!!

Since we had to leave him on his first St. Patty's Day, I had to take this the day before.  Seriously, could he be any cuter?!?!

Hola Chica

Well friends, I survived my first major trip away from Brody.  We left for our Mexican getaway last Thursday and got home last night.  It was amazing.  Yes, I missed my baby like crazy and constantly wanted to grab his chubby cheeks and kiss him but he was getting quality time in with “Mimi,” my mom, and his Aunt Teri and Aunt Katie.  I know he missed me like crazy too (of course he told me that through coos over the phone) but we all survived and mommy and daddy had an amazing time.

We arrived at the resort around 2pm on Thursday.  We were meeting our friends and luckily, they had just gotten there too so we all checked in and walked down to the pool bar for some celebratory drinks.  They have a four month old son so the four of us decided that in order to truly enjoy our time; we needed to limit the baby talk.  Don’t get me wrong, we are all insanely in love with our sons and definitely missed them but this trip was supposed to be about us as friends and couples.  We needed to enjoy these days without TOO much poop and spit up talk.  As any parent knows, this talk can sometimes consume your daily conversations so we all needed a breather.  We toasted our Dosekis and Skinny Girl Margs (I’m not kidding, they made us skinny girls!) and proceeded to people watch, beach walk, and do absolutely nothing.  It was marvelous.  The first night was pretty low key (and by low key I mean my husband and I meant to go downstairs after a quick sex and shower but ended up laying down to take a quick nap that quickie turned into 10 hours of blissful sleep).  We woke up at 7am the next morning not knowing what was going on.  "SHIT!"  We slept through dinner, drinks, and our first night in Mexico.  You know what that means; night two had to be memorable.

So, I’m sure some of you are thinking…”isn’t spring break right now?  Were there tons of college kids in Mexico?”  Here are your answers.  Yes, it is spring break and yes, there were college kids.  Our resort was not full of them (20 max) but let me tell you, being around them made me feel two things.  One, was I that obnoxious and slutty when I was on spring break in college?  Two, my post baby body looked bangin next to some of those 21 year olds who lived off electric lemonades, beer, and pizza.  Half of these girls looked like they might have been 6 months pregnant or never heard of a lunge.  I’m not saying I look like Gisele but I definitely know the difference between lettuce and a cheeseburger.  These teenyboppers are in for a rude awakening.  I wanted to say, skip the carb hunny and make that next drink and vodka soda but I zipped the lip and enjoyed watching them add calories and look like idiots.  Also, I have never seen so many tattoos.  I’m not hating on tatoos, I have one…just not one that says “Daddy’s Angel” next to a playboy bunny on my lower back.  There was also a white preppy boy who had the polo pony tatooed on his chest.  He seriously looked like he was wearing a white polo in the pool.  Can you imagine hooking up with him and taking off his green or blue polo only to find a permanent pony on underneath??  Have I been out of college for that long or does this sound utterly ridiculous?   

For our second night we were determined to go out.  Not only did we need to erase the loserville that we were in the night before, but it was also our friend Johns birthday.  We decided to venture down to Senor Frogs for the festivities.  When we first got there, it was mostly a family scene.  We ordered our dinner and drinks, watched a little March Madness on the flat screens and took pictures.  When the clock struck 9:15pm, things changed a little.  Party music started poppin and the dinner tables were moved away to create bar stool space and a dance floor.  I couldn’t keep my feet still.  Those two margs had kicked in and I couldn’t control my body.  I was standing there dancing like my life depended on it.  Yes, my husband was dancing a little.  Yes, our friends were swaying to the beat but I was in a full out music video in my own little world.  Then, spring break starts pouring in.  Once again, hoochies.  I am not trying to hate on college girls.  My sister and cousin are college girls but these girls were a different breed.   These girls also had no sense of style.  Flip flops, shorts, and t-shirts to the bar??  I don’t care where you are ladies, let’s at least find a party dress or something other than a spring break T.  As they danced around, some started getting on stage.  I was staring, drawn in by the train wrecks and the lack of rhythm in front of me.  I was trying to recall every spring break I have been on (when actually in college) and wondering if me and my friends looked this stupid.  No way.  Then, I felt someone grab my arm and start pulling me to the front of the restaurant.  Was it my husband looking to relive our college dance sessions?  No no.  It was a Mexican worker pulling me up on stage.  He must have seen me in my private dance studio in the back of the restaurant and thought everyone needed the pleasure of seeing my moves.  I pretended to fight him and then “gave in” and jumped on stage and started dancing.  Seriously…picture this scene.  Eighteen year olds all around me rocking out in Corona tshirts making dirty eyes to guys in the crowd and there I am, watching my friends and husband laugh and clap as I (wearing a party dress and cute wedges I might add) really took the dance party to a new level.  Brody would have thought I was so cool.  My stint on stage didn’t last long but it was amazing.  The rest of our second night continued with more drinks, dancing (mostly with myself and husband) and having a spring breaker tell me (after asking me what school I went to and I explained I was there with my husband and I just had a baby) that he wished his future wife looked just like me after she had a baby.  I can’t lie, it made me feel great.  As we left (we had been there for hours) there was a huge line to get in.  “What time is it??”  I asked.  “11:45.”  Nice.  Did I party like a rock star spring breaker on night two?  Yes, but it was probably just the pre-game for the college crazies. 

Night two was probably the craziest.  The rest of our trip was spent sipping drinks by the pool bar, laying on the beach under cabanas, eating more guacamole than anyone should ever ingest, getting quality time with my husband, and truly relaxing.   We had an amazing time but were definitely ready to get home to see our boy.  When we walked in the door last night, he grabbed at my face and started hugging me.  He felt like he gained five pounds while I was gone.  I cried.  I didn’t realize how much I missed him until I saw him.  I also shed a tear or two knowing that he is never going to meet a respectable girl if these spring breakers are an example of today’s college girls.    

P.S. – my computer is horrible and keeps erasing every picture I try to post!  I am in the process of buying a new computer so please be patient friends, our look will be updated soon!

Cheers to 80 Years

I know that I have mentioned I am very close to my family.  Well, have I mentioned that this family I love so dearly is huge, crazy, and very Irish Catholic?  The “Papa” on my moms side who has held the glue together is my grandpa Terry and this weekend, we celebrated his 80^th birthday.  The proud father of 6, grandfather of 14, and great grandfather of 3 has touched the lives of many and continues to crack jokes and converse with anyone who will listen.  What does an 80^th birthday consist of you may ask?  In a typical family, it might be a brunch, dinner, or family get together.  Things are a little more elaborate in my family.

Of course we were planning to do something for him but my grandmother, who is one of the most active, wine drinking, lipstick wearing grandma I’ve ever met, insisted we throw him a party.  She and my grandpa have been “hibernating” in Florida since December 26 so her help has consisted of phone calls to my mom and aunts telling them what needed to happen, who needs to be there, and what we should all wear.  After several yelling matches (all out of love) and a final guest list (96 people!) the party was coming together.  So here we are, in a large bar and banquet hall at the Knights of Columbus celebrating the birth of a wonderful man.  Oh yeah…did I mention it was from 7pm-11:30pm, there was an open bar, and a DJ?  This Papa knows how to party.

The entire family, his friends, my grandma’s hairdresser, and several other people gathered to eat, drink, and toast.  There were speeches, “Top 10 things we love about Pa” from the grandchildren, and cake cutting.  Because it was such a late night event, there was no way my almost 6 month old son could stay for the whole thing so my husband and baby left around 8:45pm.  After this, I’m not sure what happened.  Before I realized what was happening, tables were being moved to create a dance floor, one cocktail turned into four or five, and this party for senior citizens turned into a rager.  Did I really think that because my son and husband left, so did my responsibilities?  The cupid shuffle started playing and when my grandpa hit the dance floor for that song and the booty call, it was all over for me.  I was dancing, singing, laughing, and DRINKING.  Before I realized it, this mama was toasted and the party was over.  But wait, all of my cousins and sisters were going to an after party at my one cousins house.  The fam started chanting “Party Michelle, Party Michelle” and the next thing I knew, I was calling my husband asking if I could spend the night out (I kinda felt like I was calling my parents from a party in high school, a little nervous).  I haven’t spent a night away since Brody was born, this felt weird.  He said that was fine but remember, I had to be home early because he had plans to golf with buddies and had to leave the house at 8am.  Not a problem!  I’m up at 6:30 every day.  So, my party continued.  There was more dancing, more drinking, more laughs, and eventually I was eating an entire bag of pretzels at 3am. 

Sunday morning was like a nightmare.  Not only was it daylight savings so I lost an hour (planned that well!) but my total hours of sleep was approximately 3 and I felt like I was hit by a Mack truck.  When I got home, I was secretly praying that Brody was still asleep because there was no way I could function as fun mommy for at least 2 hours.  I dragged my tired self up the stairs and into my room where my two boys were laying in bed watching SportsCenter, wide awake.  “Brody, Mommy doesn’t look so good this morning.  I think she needs to brush her teeth before she can kiss you.”  Let me tell you, no amount of toothpaste could take the taste of nasty beer out of my mouth.  What was I thinking?

A night as party Michelle with my family was amazing but morphing into functioning mom the next day was next to impossible.  I had to suck it up because I had no choice but all day, I was counting down the minutes until my husband would be home so I could take a nap.  So, here is a warning.  The next time you go to an 80^th birthday party, make sure you have a babysitter for the night AND the entire next day because you never know what state you might get into when you are celebrating such a long, amazing life.

Rain is only fun if you're making out in it

Rainy days are never fun.  The day is usually gloomy, cold, and in no way, shape or form, motivating.  I mean who seriously wants to get out of a warm bed and go to work when it is pouring outside?  For me, this particular rain day was a little worse than others.  Rain days for me are a little worse than the average 9-5er.  I don’t work in an office.  I am out and about in the city all day.  On most days, I love that part.  I’ll park my car, no matter how hot or cold, and walk around visiting clients, making sales calls, and even stopping in at café’s to work on the computer or focus on the blackberry.  Most days, I love that I don’t work in an office all day.  Not today.

Getting yourself together and looking decent on a rainy day is hard enough alone.  Try adding a work event, a 6 month old, and a straight haired woman (remember how crazy I am about my hair?!?!)  This morning was proof that every working woman should have a garage.  Never in my wildest dreams would I consider a garage a luxury.  I usually think  that is the man’s domain.  Oh no no ladies…today I realized it could have been my saving grace.

Like most mornings, Brody and I were hanging out and getting ready for the day.  He slipped on his “worn” looking new Gap jeans and I was contemplating how to look cute in excessive rain gear.  I had an event to go to after work so I decided I would bring the business suit and wear comfortable clothes that worked with a long rain poncho and boots.   Well, adding an outfit only added another bag to the many I drag out to the car every morning.  So, here we are, ready to tackle this beautiful weather.  I take my typical first trip to the car.  I bring the diaper bag, my laptop bag, my work bag, now an additional outfit bag, and a lunch bag (at least I didn’t have to feel bad about not going to the gym today).  By this point, it is no longer raining, it is POURING.  There is no hoodie, blanket, hat, or sheet that will prevent Brody from getting soaked.  The poor kid already has a cold so the last thing I wanted to do was soak him.  I decided I would have to use an umbrella to cover him.  It shouldn’t be too hard to hold a baby carrier, umbrella and a travel cup of coffee.  So one would think…  We get out the door and the large and trendy Burberry umbrella is covering both of us.  The coffee is adding a challenge but nothing this mom can’t handle.  There is no way I am locking the front door, I’ll have to run back for that.  We trek out to the car and I realize I’m holding the carrier in the wrong direction.  As I curse the rain (my sons first word might be a four letter one)  I am now trying to flip the car seat carrier as I slide open the side door to my mini-van…that’s right, I said mini-van.  That is my new whip these days.  Don’t judge me; at least it’s a Swagger wagon.  Anyway, while opening the door, trying to keep the umbrella propped over my sons head and get him hooked in, the coffee mug goes flying into the street.  “You’ve got to be f*ing kidding me!” (again with the four letter word)  Brody smiles at me and I can’t help but laugh (just a little, tiny laugh).  I go to grab the coffee mug, there is not a drop to savor.  Of course I reached without the umbrella so now there is hair frizz.  I run back to the house, throw the cup in the sink, lock the door and we’re off.

I didn’t even get out of the neighborhood before I’m on the phone with my husband.  “I need a garage…I look like a wet animal and I almost dropped your son in a puddle.”  Ok, I was exaggerating but he needed to understand how serious I was.  If I would have had a garage, none of this would have happened.  “I NEEEEED a garage, I am done with this, and now I don’t have any coffee.”   After he reminded me I work for a coffee company (beside the point) and that he was sure I looked fine, he said he loved me and hung up the phone.  Of course today he decides to be rational. 

So ladies, listen here when I say that I will never again live in a house without a garage.  Heck, maybe we’ll even splurge for a double.  I am not taking this lightly.  That garage could have saved my caffeine and that is something you just don’t mess with.

Yes, I run like a girl

 

I have not always been a running lover.  Although an avid athlete, my favorite forte was not the conditioning.  While skill alone got me through my high school years, I found that college would not be as easy.  I quickly realized that if I wanted to continue playing soccer in college and earn a starting position, I was going to have be in phenomenal shape.  This drive took me down the crazy road of running.  At first, I started running purely to stay in shape for soccer.  I would sometimes take a run before practice or after practice.  There were no off days.  The summer was jammed with two running sessions a day and a feeling of guilt if I missed a run.  I started to love it.  I could put on my earphones, blast my techno, and go.  There was no stress or frustration, it was just me and the path and I found relaxation and joy out of it (yes, I am a little crazy and obsessive, I can’t help it!)

Once college (and therefore my soccer career) was over, I continued my love affair with running.  The problem was, now I had no goals and nothing to train for.  I decided in order to stay motivated I was going to have to sign up for races.  I started with 5Ks and eventually graduated to half marathons.  I loved the feeling of a race.  It was similar to winning a big game, a feeling of accomplishment.  Here was something I could train for, enjoy, and the after parties usually included beer trucks or wine tastings…I could get used to this.  Well…when pregnancy came, my running relationship ended.  Yes, I have heard of and read about several women who ran 6 miles a day until they were 6 months pregnant…not this girl.  I tried running for the first three months but I got so nervous.  Also, my boobs kept growing and it was sore and uncomfortable with all that bouncing (I realized why my sister always wore 2-3 sports bras before basketball games or working out…ouch!)  So, I started cheating on running with the elliptical and stayed married to the machine throughout my pregnancy. 

Now, here I am, not pregnant and the mother of a handsome, loveable little 6 month old.  The pregnant excuse no longer stands; it’s time to start running again.  I have to admit, the big reason why I didn’t start right away was because I didn’t want to feel how horribly out of shape I was.  I ran a half marathon about 2 months before I got pregnant and the first time I ran PB (post Brody) was two miles I felt like I was going to die…WTH?  I am now running 2-3 times a week and am up to 4 miles.  I feel  ok after 4 but probably can’t push it to 5 yet.  Luckily, my youngest sister caught the running bug.  We signed up for a 10K in June and then the big motivation…half marathon in October.  It’s time to get serious!  We all know that I know longer have the big boob excuse, the weather is warming up so that can’t hold me back, and my body is craving the adrenaline it feels after a long run.  Luckily, Brody has a great running stroller that is just waiting to hit the trails!  It also has an MP3 hook up that says is great for kids songs.  My son is going to learn to love techno at a young age because I am not blasting the wheels on the bus while I run.  Sorry B. 

So, as my training begins, I am going to need my supporters.  It’s time for me to throw on the booty shorts, lace up the asics, and sweat it out.  Stay tuned!

I want it all and I want it now

So, I have to admit that I absolutely love Bethenny Frankel.  I find her funny, entertaining, crazy, and in a way, relatable.  I loved her show (especially since I was pregnant when she was).  I would watch her, willing my tired eyes to stay awake, and relate to her crazy emotions, questions, pregnancy gear, and antics.  Well, she now has a new show about her life as a working mom and wife.  It premiered this week.  Once again, I forced my tired eyes to stay awake (this time I was not pregnant but my lack of sleep is due to an active 5 month old).  She was still her quirky, crazy self and now trying to “have it all.”  The show follows her through mommy-hood, business woman, traveler, wife, and friend.  As I watched her, I thought to myself, is it really possible to have it all when you are a working mom?  Believe me when I say, I am not comparing my career to Bethenny Frankels in the least but, trying to have a thriving career and be a wonderful mother and wife is a lot harder when the money isn’t flowing and the word assistant is not in your vocabulary.

I have been finding myself struggling with mommy guilt lately.  I feel guilty when I am at work and not with my son.  I feel guilty if I am not thinking about my son while at work.  I feel guilty if I plan a girls night or if I am ready for bedtime because I’m tired.  How can a woman really wear every hat?  If I were Bethenny, I would have an assistant, a second assistant, a baby nurse, and a nanny.  This way, if I had a meeting early one morning and my child was up at 2am, I could stay asleep while the baby nurse took the turn.  This wasn’t the case in my house last night when my son thought it was play time at 1:30am.  He made adorable cooing noises for an hour and a half, playing with his feet, and chatting in his crib.  Yes, it was adorable.  What wasn’t adorable was the fact that I had a meeting early this morning and had to get up, get myself together, get him together, get the babysitter bag together, and get out the door at an early hour.  I'll be honest and say that I forgot the diaper bag.  Thankfully, I had left diapers at the babysitters house and I did remember his food so we were in luck.  It isn’t a reality for me to hire help.  It is enough for me to pay the babysitter every month.  I seriously felt jealous of the "working mom" Bethenny this morning when I ran around like a crazy woman.  I barely had time to kiss my son good morning before I was hooking up the carseat and rushing down the road.  When does this guilty feeling subside?  Will I feel like this for the rest of my working life?

I have always been a person who wants to be good (ok really good) at everything she does.  I am not ok with mediocracy.  With this comes stress.  I know I do it to myself.  My husband is constantly telling me that I don’t know how to relax.  Even when I am sitting down on the couch, I am thinking about things I could be doing around the house.  Motherhood is starting to help cure me of this craziness.  Pre B (baby or Brody, take your pick) I wouldn't leave the house until the kitchen and main level were spotless.  There could not be a dish in the sink, a jacket on the banister, or a pillow out of place.  Now, I’m lucky if there is ever an empty sink (how many bottles can one baby go through?!)  I also told myself when Brody was first born that when he was old enough to try baby food, I was going to make all of his food and it was going to be organic.  Well here we are, 5 months in and my son is only on formula and rice cereal (whole grain organic).  The doctor said that I don’t have to worry about fruits and vegetables until he is 6 months if I don’t want to.  The issue is, I really want to introduce baby veggies but I haven’t had the time to make them.  I truly feel like I’m failing if I don’t make him homemade baby food so I am just putting it off until I have time to pull out the Cuisinart and go to town.  I am dreading the day that I give in and go to the baby aisle and stock up on Gerber.  The dilemma is this, is it better for my son to eat homemade organic baby food (that will probably take me at least an hour to concoct one Saturday afternoon) or spend that time precious playing with him?  The mommy guilt continues.

This is hard but knowing that so many women do it and do it well gives me the strength and the encouragement to keep going and to make the most out of every minute with my son.  So, here’s a shout out to all the working moms out there.  I raise my large glass of red wine to you.