I actually do look back, to times before I had a toddler, and say, “Gee, I wish I spent more time at the office.” Especially because nowadays, I really gotta get out of here early.
A short list of things I’ve failed miserably at:
Selling something on eBay. Seriously, how are what appears to be a million individuals doing this? I thought it was a decent light and the “buy it now price” was really good. I’d buy it… if I wasn’t already selling it.
Poaching an egg. No one can do this at home. No one.
Facial contouring with make-up. I did try and follow the YouTube tutorial, but to be fair, my heart wasn’t in it. I kept thinking about how crazy the Kardashians actually must look in person. And then I went into a Google rabbit hole. Look up “celeb make-up up close” – it’s nuts
French braiding my hair. Via a YouTube tutorial. Again, not sure I blame YouTube. Maybe I’m just bad at hair? Though I wasn’t ready to give up on a cute new style.
French twisting my hair. (aka a chignon if you’re feeling a little fancy). Now I do blame YouTube. And I’m definitely bad at hair. And I’m abandoning all hope of a cute style.
Getting upgraded to first class. The internet claims this is easy. No one cared it was my honeymoon. Or I was pregnant. Or my husband is 6’4.
Finding anything interesting on Facebook in the last 3-4 years. It’s just not there.
Finding anything I want to “create” on Pinterest ever. Come on now with these boards. No one does this. Okay, maybe crazy brides. But no one else.
Making it past the 2nd “meal” on a juice cleanse.
Making it past the 2nd day on a low carb diet. Giving up carbs made me hate food and therefore hate life.
Making one new friend in my suburban neighborhood. My next door neighbor who is most likely a hoarder who hasn’t mowed her lawn possibly ever does not count. We’ve only really interacted when she banged on our door begging us to sign a petition against snow plows. And that is not a true friendship.
Why have I failed at these things? The first 10 are obvious. They are impossible for anyone who can’t dedicate literally their entire life to them.
The last one, the friendship – the jury’s still out, it’s a mystery.
I am now 2 years post-partum.
And although I’m 19 years old in my head, in normaltown years, I’m 36.
Wearing pajamas pants around town on a Saturday morning and having adorably messy hair is not cute anymore. And, I can’t blame not making plans, not showing up, being a total flake, etc. on my baby, since, well, he’s not a baby.
It’s time to start finding myself again.
I read a lot of other bloggers, because I want to be like them and because I love tips. Seriously – I used to buy literally every single lady mag out there. I love a diet, a new regiment, an improvement plan, a cleanse, whatever. I love the idea of re-invention. There’s a lot of information out there, but also a lot of the same things that keep coming up over and over again. So I’m going to start smallish and focus on those. These aren’t new ideas, but I PROMISE you my take on this will be hilarious and poignant. Also, I’ve never really stuck to anything, so it’ll be a fun ride ending in potential failure. Woo hoo!
So I’m going to start smallish and focus on those.
Here are the key things for me:
Get more energy
- drink 8-10 glasses of water a day. Kim K drinks 20, I think I’m going to land at 12
- eliminate processed foods
- stop eating leftover food from your toddler and a million snacks per night
Look good, feel good
- get some clothes that actually fit, aren’t 5- 7 years old, not stained, and cost more than $10.
- Fix your damn hair. Try a decent hair place. Stop collecting photos of SJP’s hair and actually dye it. Maybe stop leaving the house with hair wet and hope it turns out okay.
Is the home a lady’s castle?
- make the bed everyday
- spend 5 mins per day cleaning up
- get rid of some crap already
- plan one DIY project to make my space feel “my own.”
They are stuck with me, afterall
- plan a creative project my family can do together
- go on an adventure
- write my mother a note telling her how much I love her and why
- reconnect with an old friend and make plans with a new one.
So that’s where I’m starting. Wish me luck!
Ready, set, go!!!!
There’s a huge danger affecting me getting to work safely and on time. It’s a threat no one is talking about and is truly mind boggling.
Everyday I see several (yes, SEVERAL) people Facetiming while walking the sidewalks of New York City. WHAT??? You have to walk. Carefully. Light conversations with someone else I’m fine with. But FaceTime? This place is chaotic and dangerous enough already.
Kinda zoning out while walking in this city is a thing of the past.
I’m not saying he’s bad, but what I am saying is my toddler is starting to scare me a bit.
He’s approaching 2, and things are getting intense. Our baby is no longer a baby. A few things that are new, and horrifying:
- He winds objects back behind his head. He can and will throw with force. And he looks you dead in the eye so you know he’s ready to launch.
- He views the highchair as the enemy. Breakfast is filled with dread. We know he’s hungry, he knows he’s hungry, but it doesn’t matter. He will use literally every muscle fiber to not get strapped down in that chair. It’s a daily, soul crushing battle.
- He can un-do a perfectly put together room in seconds flat. I have spent hours cleaning, only for him to totally dismantle the place without blinking an eye. The thought of putting him down and letting him loose in a newly straightened room is unnerving.
- He won’t nap. We were told at 24 months he’d be sleeping like 14 hours a day. (Ha ha ha ha ha ha.) Sleep time is the most terrifying time of all. We put him down for a nap, and he immediately protests. His body rejects sleep as though it was poison. His lung capacity is far greater than it ever was before, and his screams are blood-curdling. And amazingly long lasting.
Perhaps it’s the time of the year, or the age. All I know is that I wasn’t ready for all these sudden, unnerving circumstances.
Fashion bloggers have put magazines out of business.
Have you seen these things? I mean, they crippled an industry.
Regular ladies become the new experts by showing off what they wear on a daily basis. There’s tons of themes – NYC street style, plus-sized, maternity, workplace focused, fashion on the cheap, and even ones targeted to moms!
There’s one thing I’ve noticed – these women look too good. Especially the working mother ones.
I’ll show you how to look great when you have minutes to focus on yourself while trying to make a train. Fashion while you’re waiting for your bread to toast and a toddler is pulling on your leg. It can be done ladies!!! And by that, I mean, you can get to work on time AND dressed. Check out my Real Working Mom Fashion Blog below.
This is one of my “good” work outfits. These jeans are probably in the top 10% of things I own, which means I paid over $100 for them, and will wear them to the office multiple times on any given week.
This is a nice shirt for work, it sort of makes me look pulled together, and it’s denim, which I believe is young and fashionable. Notice the casual, slightly uncomfortable, “I have to pee, I think” fashion blog lady pose.
This is fun, and very serious and I am deep. Fashion. Also, I got to put on mascara today!
And now for the ever-important accessories. I’ve been told they make the outfit, and can make cheap things seem better (less cheap).
This is my watch, that I think looks kinda expensive, because it’s simple and black, but I’m probably totally wrong. And that’s my geode bracelet. I loved geodes as a teen and my parents wouldn’t buy me one. My son snapped it the very next day.
Another fabulous accessory! Actual blood from my toddler’s skimmed knee, injury occurred mid-shoot. There goes one of my few good work shirts. On second thought, I think it adds to my grittiness, and will probably wear again next week.
There’s a safety pin that I think no one can see. I had no idea if this top would stay closed over my breasts and might have needed it in a jam. Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose. I’m not sure which is which.
I’m on a barrel. A barrel that hides a mysterious sewer cap on my back lawn. Whimsical! Fashion!
Taking candy from a baby is very hard I’ve learned, now that I have a baby.
The internet is a dangerous place for the average, slightly off-balanced 36 year old woman. In an age where you can find absolutely any bit of information, stat or study on just about anything and everything, there’s a high probability you’re going to stumble upon something you don’t want to read. A few things have happened in the last decade or so; first off, everyone’s an expert, and these “experts” all have a platform. (It’s super easy and pretty cheap to get a blog, and being anyone will read anything you put out on the internet – trust me). Everyone is hungry for their information since we can’t be bored anymore and need to drive ourselves mad with overanalyzing facts. Secondly, scientists or universities or whatever other faceless, nameless entity is behind these big research studies have simply run out of things to research. They are just making up findings now. And I’m not sure what to believe.
Take stories about the science behind love and relationships I’ve read lately. These are some real things I’ve read on website that brand themselves as fairly legitimate:
If you have more than a 45 minute commute, you’re 40% more likely to get a divorce. 7% of the working population in the US has a commute of more than an hour. I am one of those idiots. My marriage is statistically doomed, and I need to move immediately.
Couples who go to bed together at the same time everyday are 60% more likely to stay married than couples who do not. My husband and I go to bed at the same time 95% of the time. Back in the black!
Then there’s this gem of confusion: Gay couples have happier and longer lasting marriages than straight couples. There’s nothing I can even do with this information, I can’t make us gay (or can I…?) Doomed, once again.
My advice is – don’t read any of this stuff. We are all searching for answers. And your computer will happily provide them for you. And if you search long enough, you’ll find the answers that you want to hear. (And ones you don’t, but who cares about those. Keep searching!)
It’s like going to a psychic – some piece of information that they tell is bound to be right if they talk long enough or if you wait around. Stuff is going to happen. Both paying intuitive strangers to map out your life decisions, and trusting your marriage to advice found on the internet are both equally dangerous propositions. One is much cheaper, but the danger is equal.
On a few occasions, my mother has talked about a class she took in college called, “How To Lie With Statistics.” I’ve never believed this course existed or that she took such a course, but I do believe this – taking a bit of fact and twisting it for weird and nefarious purposes is quite easy.
So, living in this age of being able to find out anything, my advice is don’t find out anything. Because it’s all probably a lie anyway.
Everyone you know is a big fat liar. Other moms are the worst. Your own mom is probably a liar.
These are not just social media lies. These are big, fat, real life to your face lies.
These are some of the biggest ones that I’ve been tricked into believing.
People live in clean houses.
No one’s house is clean. It’s impossible. Unless you have a live in housekeeper who’s really on their game, or are my friend Eunice. She’s in PR and her husband is an attorney and they both spend a gazillion hours in their offices and have no kids, so their place might be clean. Except they live in New York City, so probably not. Told you.
People successfully do things themselves.
DIY is a big fat lie, and while I mostly blame the internet, I also largely blame HGTV and Home Depot. We tried to plant and grow grass ourselves. There are countless blog post and books on the subject. I assure you, it’s impossible. Gardening is next to impossible. I take that back – it’s possible to maintain a garden after you pay a pro thousands of dollars to create one for you and then you just weed, water and fertilize a bit. No one has ever built anything good themselves. No tile project or pergola or dog house a lay person builds is actually of quality. These, dear readers, are lies.
Kids will eat food that is remotely healthy.
Pediatrician’s probably have lied to me about so many things, but lies about food are the worst. I believe it’s my main job to keep my kid alive and healthy. Yeah, I’ve made him try broccoli probably 50 times. And carrots. And apples. And string beans. He’s not “just getting used to it”. He will not learn to like it. He knows what he likes. And that’s chips, tortillas, cookies, ice cream, and French fries.
Normal adults can do meaningful things after a full day of work.
Is anyone doing anything after eating dinner and putting the kids to bed?
Who is living their best life, experiencing the world on a Tuesday? Oh, people that don’t have jobs.
Jeans are comfortable.
Bold faced lie told to me by fashion magazines, style bloggers, every single store in every single mall, and by that annoying pulled together friend of a friend who you run into on a Sunday and they look amazing and they don’t look like they are wearing makeup but are and who is wearing an amazing sweater and trendy sneakers and perfectly tailored jeans and when you say “you look so cute” they respond by acting confused and saying “these are my Sunday comfy jeans!!!” She’s just the biggest liar of them all.
My son is fearless. Stupidly so.
He runs right into the ocean and jumps in head first. Even when it’s bitterly cold.
He does not adhere to the proverbial “look before you leap.”
He dances like a fool to songs like “Lean on Me”, “Rockin’ Robin”, and “Dancing on the Ceiling”.
He sings loudly to songs he loves, even when he doesn’t know the words. (He barely knows any words.)
He reaches out his hand to shake hands with strangers. He freely gives kisses, whether you want them or not (you usually do). He hugs kids, doctors, adults, family that he shares a moment with. He connects.
He wears whatever is comfortable or clean or is just there lying out on the chair and literally struts with all the confidence in the world.
If he wants to watch a show, he says “show.” If he wants something, he asks. If he wants to go somewhere he points. If not, he says “no.” No subtext, no second guessing.
My son is honest. He sees a Buddha statue and says, “mama.” (okay maybe too honest.)
He’s bored, he walks away and does something else.
He’s full, he stops eating. (it’s as simple as that.)
He is open. He’ll look you in the eye, touch your arms, sit on your lap, smile widely.
He never knows where he’s going, ever. But, he’s super excited for the journey.
I can only wish to be so stupidly fearless. And honest. And care-less. And so in the moment.
How does he have this all figured out, and he’s not even two?
At first only witnessing bizarre ads for vaping in the backs of magazines, I’ve now seen people vaping in real life – on the Long Island Rail Road, the streets of New York City, cross-country flights, pushing baby carriages, and even in the pantheon of sophistication, Roosevelt Field Mall. There are vape stores in most every shitty shopping center.
This is a thing that is truly mystifying to non-dbags. I don’t have much more to say, only that seeing this trend rise like a poop-filled comet, I am absolutely mystified.
What will idiots think of next?
Because you don’t.
You can describe exactly how you want your haircut, but you’re not a hairdresser, so it will never, ever translate. And those pictures look nothing like your hair to begin with, so that helps no one. How you’re describing the perfect seamless layers are meaningless.
75% of the store will be on sale. The shoes you like will not be on sale. And people say you love shopping, and you don’t. You can’t stand it. You want to save money, but you also want to get something you won’t totally hate. You buy the expensive, non-sale shoes of course because you want to stop totally wasting your life.
Voting doesn’t seem to make sense or work.
You get (sneak) out of work early, and then the train is 20 minutes late.
You get up at 6:00am, exercise, bring your own lunch, keep skim milk in the fridge and use it, actually eat carrot sticks, all before you enter a 90 minute meeting about something you don’t care about or understand. And then, someone walks in with literally dozens of warm baked cookies, from a place that you’ve been dying to try but can’t justify spending $5.00 on a cookie.