Tapas!
Last night,
Meg (for the love of the internet, Meg, update your blog!) and I met up at
Amada for dinner. Two words for you: super yum! Honestly, I thought the meal was just perfect. I'm usually not one to be particularly adventurous with food, but with Meg as a guide, we sailed through picking out 6 tapas. Meg and I wanted to order the hazelnut spread that came with one of the cheeses and bathe in it. And the beef shortribs on flatbread was to die for--as were the spicy potatoes. I don't have a particularly refined palate per se, but everything was just so delicious.
I loved that the tapas came out at all different times. It gave you a chance really savor each one and not feel gluttonous for having a ton of plates on the table at the same time. I'd definitely go back!
Labels: food
Oh Give Me a Break
Newsflash, Isaiah:
sometimes racism isn't a factor. I really don't keep track of what happens to the stars of Grey's Anatomy, as I've never watched the show, but I've heard this gist of this situation. Maybe racism was a factor, maybe not. But last I checked, I really don't think any white folks, in
Hollywood of all places, are expecting black folks to say things like "Yessa, massa sir." Nice try though, Isaiah.
Labels: society
I Really Do Need New Dishtowels
I really want to order
these, in like every color they come in. However, looking at them all in my online shopping cart, I've somehow accumulated a $50 bill. Which seems silly for dishtowels. Particularly when I am reminded that I like to buy all-new EVERYTHING when moving into a new place. Today it's the dishtowels. But tomorrow it will be lampshades. Next week it will be shower curtains, bathmats and a closet organizer.
Labels: shopping
Hiccup!
The baby has the hiccups. It's pretty weird.
Labels: baby
Pink Elephants
So my girlfriends, Hope and Kim, got me
this diaper bag, in the pink elephant pattern. I love it. Yesterday, I was strolling by Robinson Luggage, which carries Vera Bradley and decided to pop in on a whim. I knew that a couple of style handbags were on sale,
including this one, which I really like. They had one left in the pink elephant pattern and so I got it. Now I have a matching purse and diaper bag. I can't decide if that's a good thing or if it's over the top (given we are talking about pink elephants here). But I do know that it's next to impossible to carry two Vera bags of different patterns simultaneously, because most of those patterns are way too busy to go together. So at least now if I want to carry the diaper bag and a purse, I can match.
Pink elephants make me happy.
To my last point, I think Vera should start making coordinating, but not necessarily matching patterns. She does some non-patterned microfiber bags, but they're just too blah. I often carry a large tote bag to work, but I like putting a smaller purse inside it. So, take the pink elephants pattern for example. She could make purses that are mostly plain pink, the same pink as the elephants, and then maybe just have a black accent stripe on them with the elephants. That way you could coordinate without looking too matchy-matchy....or for that matter like a
floral arrangement exploded all over you.
Labels: shopping, style
Scorching
So if you live in the general vicinity of the City of Brotherly Love and Sisterly Affection, perhaps you've noticed that outside? It's ridiculously hot. Like unacceptably so.
It's a Rita's water ice night for sure.
It's Raining Babies
I have the great fortune to have surrounded myself with some of the most wonderful people in the world. My husband, in-laws and several of my friends threw me a baby shower on Saturday. It was completely overwhelming.
I had figured that I'd eventually have some sort of shower. What I didn't expect was that so many people would pitch in and work together to make it happen. I can't quite put into words what I was feeling, but I love that the different people in my life get along and any walls that separate my social circles are coming down. Even my brother was there (it was a Jack& Jill type shower) and I about fell over when I saw him.
People were really generous and got most everything we needed. Ron, proving once again that he's not as dumb as I might think sometimes and really is the best husband in the world, got me a
Bugaboo Frog in red, which I call my 'Boo. I'm thrilled. I started bawling, not just because the sight of a Bugaboo was so beautiful, but because it hit me at that moment that Ron, my in-laws and my friends must have gone through so much effort to plan all this. Being surrounded by people who care about you is a wonderful thing.
I am a lucky, lucky girl.
Labels: baby, preggo
My Own Writing
I don't write much particular substance on this site, but
this post is always one that haunts me. Of any post I've ever written, this is the only one I cried while writing, and cry still every time I read it. Alot of sad things happened during those two weeks last year, but letting go was the saddest.
We are going to the cemetery today. I don't often like to go, but it'll be one year since Baby M passed away this week, so I think it's appropriate.
Vanity
I enjoy looking good. By no means am I a supermodel, but I do try to create the illusion of looking put together. I wear an appropriate amount of make-up every day. I have a skin care regiment. I dress up for work every day. On days I'm not at work, I still take care to look presentable. I wear jewerly. My nails are always painted. I swap purses to match my outfits. That kind of stuff.
I have a feeling that when this kid comes, some of this may come to a screeching halt. Damn kid.
Lots of women lament that once they had a baby they gave up on make-up and would go for days without showering. I do not understand this. But given that so many women report this sort of behavior, I have to believe that I am just grossly underestimating how difficult having a new baby will be. But I really am going to try to, you know, at least
bathe every day. I'm really going to try for the make-up too, because no one really needs to see me without eyeliner on, trust me. I am vain and so much of my self-esteem is wrapped up in looking nice that if I just let myself go to hell post-baby, I see myself not being very happy. And my theory is "happy mommy=happy baby". See? My self-absorption knows no bounds.
I'd better go stock up on my Clinque products now, while I can still justify spending money on make-up instead of a freaking Baby Einstein play center.
More With the Reading
So the other day, I stumbled upon a Barnes & Noble on the Main Line that was going out of business. Apparently they don't read out there on the Main Line. Anyway, everything was 30-50% off and they still had most books in stock. I had to restrain myself and walked out with just 6 books.
In other news, I didn't really enjoy the ending of "The Memory Keeper's Daughter". I loved the first two thirds of the book but that last third just lost me.
I just finished "The Road" By Cormac McCarthy. I tore through it in two days and all the things you've heard about it are true. It is powerful and it is haunting. It is not, however, recommended reading if you are already in a dark place. I am not in a dark place and yet, I've had nightmares the last two nights and a general feeling of being on edge. I think I'm correct in attributing these things to the book.
Labels: books
A Year Early
This past Saturday, I decided to surprise Ron with a little pre-Father's Day present. Get it? The day before Father's Day, since he's not actually a dad yet?
Anyway, he'd been eyeing up
this bag to use as a diaper bag. I like the "Life is Good" stuff and I know they're artsy and all, but I've never been to a website where there drawings of merchandise instead of photos. But that's besides the point. My husband had decided that none of the 42 man-bags he already owns would be suitable for a diaper bag, so that's when he fixated on this one. It's a huge bag--we had seen it in person down in Miami a couple of months ago--and personally I think it makes him look like a little kid. But he fell in love with it and knowing he would never buy it for himself, I went ahead and ordered it for pre-Father's Day.
Come to think of it now, it's strange that he has a gzillion man-bags already, because honestly, the man never buys anything for himself. Where on earth do these bags come from?
Anyway, he was very surprised by his pre-Father's Day gift and promptly proceeded to wear the bag all weekend long. I've also ordered
this, so he understands this really is supposed to be used as a diaper bag.
I have to say, despite the many times I want to hit him over the head with a vacuum, I think Ron's going to make a great dad and I'm thankful every day that I married him.
Labels: random
Purchased!
The
aforementioned onesie! Plus, a very fab, matching
orange diaper cover and socks.
Awesome.
These are actually the first baby clothes I've bought. Considering we're probably only about 6 weeks away from the baby being born, it's probably a good idea for me to have at least a couple of outfits, right?
Labels: baby
Gender Stereotyping Begins Already
So we're trying to decide what outfit the baby will wear home (like that's of paramount importance, right?) . Do we just get a blue outfit and a pink outfit and return whichever we don't need? Which means Ron would actually have to wash whichever outfit we needed between the time the baby was born and the time we were released from the hospital. Which means, you know, he would need to OPERATE A WASHING MACHINE. Unheard of, I know.
Or, do we just get a gender neutral outfit?
In the gender neutral category (at least in my book) are
these onesies that I think are adorable. And they have matching socks. I really like the "Orange You Cute" one. The problem? Ron thinks it's too girly.
What? It's a WHITE onesie with ORANGE trim. How, I ask, is that too girly? The watermelon one with pink trim--sure, maybe that's not quite what I had in mind for a boy, but orange? C'mon.
Labels: baby, preggo
The Insanity Begins
So, I started packing last night. That's big fun. Now I get to spend the next three weeks tripping over boxes in my apartment.
One of the benefits of marrying into a large family: I called a moving company yesterday and had a nice conversation with the owner. I decided to tentatively reserve the date with him, saying that I needed to double check with my husband. Let's just pretend our last name is Smith. The following conversation ensues, as the the owner of the moving company takes my information:
Moving dude: Smith? I know some Smithes.
Me: Oh yeah, there's a lot of them out there, but we're probably not the ones you know.
Moving dude: Well, my last name is Canter...
Me: Wait a minute, are you related to Lou Canter?
Moving dude: That's my grandfather and my grandmother is Josephine.
Me: Get out of town! Josephine was at my bridal shower last year. Do you know Felix Smith?
Moving dude: Yeah I know Felix!
Me: Well, I'm married to his son, Ronnie.
Moving dude: No way! Oh, we'll do the move for you for a 20% discount!
See, with my own family, that would never happen, because there are like 5 of us and half aren't speaking to the other half. But with Ron's side, everyone's family. Ron's likely never even met this moving dude. But you know, family gets discounts!
Labels: moving
Excuses to Dine Out
Today was a bad day, the kind of day when I wish I could take a swan dive into a vat of tequila.
Two things saved me: having lunch with my friend
Christy and Ron taking me out to dinner. One, having lunch with Christy forced me to focus on something besides my work-related misery and two, I really didn't feel like cooking tonight, which I think Ron wisely sensed.
Sips
So I was all ready to send an email suggesting that my girlfriends and I go to a
local establishment next Wednesday for some sips. Then I realized I already have a breastfeeding class the same night.
Which do you think I'd rather do?
Conversations
Me: We really do need to get something to put the good china in. I mean the new apartment doesn't have the same storage closets like this one.
R: Uh-huh.
Me: I'm serious. It doesn't have to be anything fancy, just a buffet piece from like Ikea or something. And it's got to be something that locks, or that we can put childproof thingies on.
R: Right. Childproof the storage thing.
Me: You're not taking this very seriously.
R: We haven't even moved in yet.
Me: I know that, but I'm just saying it's something we need to get. We can't just have the china laying around. Because trust me, if the child breaks the china, I will kill the child.
R: That's really nice, honey.
Me: A mother's love only goes so far.
Prayers Answered
Proof that God loves me. Ann Taylor Loft now carries a maternity line.
Labels: preggo
Sweetcheeks
Seriously,
this might be the cutest baby ever. Even more proof
here.
Doom
For the second year in a row, my birthday has been marked with an impending sense of doom. Last year, it was my sister-in-law. This year, my father-in-law.
On Friday, the father-in-law fell down a couple of steps in his basement, and when he put his hand to catch himself, he put his pinky finger through an exposed metal stud and essentially ripped the finger off.
I know. Ouch, right?
Total freak accident that maybe wouldn't have been as bad had he ever drywalled over the studs. Anyway, he spent 5 hours in surgery where they attempted to reattach the nerves and arteries that were severed. They won't know for at least two weeks where the reattachments will take or whether he'll lose the finger.
He's still in the hospital because, as you might imagine, he's in a tremendous amount of pain. Also, he started having fevers yesterday, which could either be attributable to the surgery or meds he's on, but they could also be a sign of infection. So my husband is panicked that it's the latter option, because his dad seems to be prone to infections. Of course that this all occurred over the weekend, when doctors are scarce in the hospital, didn't help.
So we spent yesterday rushing home from Baltimore, and sitting in my father-in-law's 80 degree hospital room. Apparently, they need to keep it (literally) that warm to keep the nerves dialated.
My husband was in no mood for celebrating so it was essentially a non-birthday for me. Which because I'm all hormonal upset me way more than it should have. So I threw myself a giant pity party, which included crying, upsetting the husband even more. But really, I'm blaming all that on the hormones.
Next year though, if anyone in his family has so much as a head cold, we're not going to the Italian Festival. It just seems to be a bad omen.
TGIF
So, seriously? I am so ready for the weekend to start. Baltimore, here I come.
Weekend Fun
I'm really looking forward to this weekend because we're going to Baltimore for the St. Anthony's Italian Festival in
Little Italy. We've gone every year for the last 5 years and I'm hoping this isn't the first one where it rains. I can't say the festival is super exciting, but it has a great spirit about it. Lots of great food, often served by nuns, stands selling photos & nicknacks, and loads of people playing bocce ball. It's really cute and there's one small street that has games for the kids. One of the things we liked best is the $2 beers from a truck. Sadly, I won't be able to partake in that gloriousness this time around.
Each year we drag some people with us, sometimes my friends, sometimes Ron's. This year I think Ron's cousin and wife, Ron's parents and sisters, along with Deidre and her husband are all headed down. I'm just hoping for no rain.
We're staying at a hotel not far from the festival, a hotel that is also very close to
Fells Point. Usually after a day of eating and drinking at the festival, we'll head over to Fells Point where they have some great bars. I'm hoping we can find some outdoor ones this time around because I don't think Baltimore is smoke-free. I just love being pregnant in a bar--I feel like I have "classy" tatooed across my forehead. But Fells Point tends to be where we just get silly. One year we played darts for like what seemed to be 5 hours, until one member of our party literally started falling down and we needed to leave.
Sunday, we'll either head back to the festival or we'll walk around the Inner Harbor. Even though it's pretty small, I really like walking around the harbor. Ron and I will likely go to lunch or dinner or something, because Sunday is also my birthday.
I think I just really like Baltimore. I don't think I could live there as I really only like the Inner Harbor and Fells Point areas. But on a nice day, walking around down there...there's just a great energy about it. Next year when we go, we'll be adding a 10 month old to the party.
Crowded
Know what's annoying? When you feel the baby shift positions and consequently, you just about piss your pants. Just minding your own business, sitting in your chair and then WHAMO! Baby moves, you piss. Apparently, there's not room for a baby and a bladder in there.
Labels: preggo
If You Are Able
I'm not the type to really hit people up for money.
You might remember
this post, or
this one. I can't believe it was a year ago. I still can't believe it happened at all. But this June, which will probably be one of unbearable sadness for my sister-in-law, I've decided to take a different approach to the mourning process. I've set up a
virtual band, where maybe, just maybe, we can raise money in Baby M's honor to help the
March of Dimes. The March of Dimes works to eliminate birth defects and premature birth. If you're able to, pop on over to the band. No amount is too small.
The link has information that sort of breaches the anonymity of this blog. If you're some random visitor to this blog and choose to donate, it's much appreciated. If you're some crazy stalker of mine, don't be a jerk.
The Finer Days
I've never gotten into much detail here, but you may have the impression that I'm not exactly BFFs with my folks. There's a long, long, long story there, but suffice it to say that we had a falling out thirteen years ago and things have never been the same since. We're semi-estranged and I suppose you could say we would be totally estranged, except that I keep (figuratively) beating down their door. I take the blame for our predicament, because although I did some very wrong things, and they did some very wrong things, the difference is that I knew better. In many ways I am more insightful, more open-minded and while my parents didn't recognize they pain they caused, I did. And I did it anyway. Doesn't matter the reason or the ends justifying the means, or any of that. I hold myself to a higher standard than I do them, and for this reason, I take responsibility.
My relationship with my parents now is, at best, strained. The funny part is that I am not so different from them. They would not agree, because as they see me, I am very different. At any rate, I would never debate whether my mother and father were good parents. In fact, they were excellent parents. They raised my brother and I with good morals. They made sure we had good educations, that we were not spoiled but did not want for anything either, that we learned the value of money and a good work ethic. They made a ton of sacrifices for us as well. They did without, so that my brother and I could have better lives.
Like the time I fell in love with a dress for my junior prom. It was nearly $200, a lot of money for a dress at the time. But I loved it and I could tell my mother loved it too. We went to look at it twice before we took my father, the controller of the money to see it, knowing it would be unlikely that he'd agree to such an expensive dress. I remember my dad negotiating the price with the store owner, something that greatly embarrassed me at the time. But then, I failed to see that we were not a rich family and my father had likely never spent that amount of money on an article of clothing before. In retrospect, it was sweet that he wanted me to have the dress--even if it was against his better judgement. I don't know what he paid for it, but I know we walked out of the store with dress in hand that day.
Speaking of things against his better judgement, my parents also didn't think that I should go away to college. They preferred that I commute to school. They didn't think I was mature enough. I, however, in my bratty way, made it no secret how badly I wanted to get away from them, how badly I wanted to go away to college. They took me to see about 12 schools. I loved St. Joe's and Scranton. I liked St. Joe's better, but it is in a city, which my parents didn't like, that their little girl would be in an urban setting, so they decided on Scranton instead. Despite it not being my first choice, I was not unhappy when they made that decision (although as a sidebar, my brother would go to St. Joe's four years later), but they were still uneasy about me going away. It was a huge financial commitment, but I was ecstatic.
Several months later, however, my father, the sole breadwinner in our family, lost his job. It must have been a terrible blow to a man like him, someone who was proud and had the burden of providing for his family. My bratty response to this news was, "Can I still go away to school?" Not one of my finer moments, certainly, but my parents have always reminded me that self-centeredness was one of my flaws. Somehow, although he was unemployed, my parents still managed to send me to Scranton that first year. I have no idea how they managed to pay the tuition. It doesn't matter what happened after that. What matters is that despite the obstacles, despite their own reservations, they made sure I went away to college. The last time we were truly like that, as an innocent family, was when my parents dropped me off on-campus that fall.
So I try to remember, in ways I didn't appreciate at the time, how much my parents really did for me. They are good people. They are good parents. It's what drives me to keep trying.
Where The Ending Gets Weird
So in continuing with my new reading kick, over the weekend I read nearly all of "
The Memory Keeper's Daughter" by Kim Edwards. I devoured the first two-thirds of the book, but now that last third is just getting a bit strange and disjointed. The very end may get better and tie up some of what's happening (I hope) but for now, it's just sort of unraveling in my opinion.
Labels: books
Song of the Day
Because it's stuck in my head is "Hey There Delilah" by the
Plain White T's.
Labels: music
Hyperventilating
It's June. After June comes July. After July comes August.
I'm due August 4th.
They say most first-time pregnancies go past their due date, but conceivably, by the end of next month, I could be the proud owner of a baby.
Gulp.
Labels: baby, preggo
