tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28301053757204698872024-02-18T23:32:19.469-05:00smores for breakfastRaising a child in New York CitySmores for Breakfasthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12109079028486259015noreply@blogger.comBlogger100125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2830105375720469887.post-73272308766449662112010-04-18T08:00:00.001-04:002010-04-18T08:00:05.808-04:00My Morbid Chatterbox...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>So Oliver has decided it's time to start conversing and I have been waiting for this since he was born.<br />
<br />
But instead of excitement from others I have encountered the exact opposite.<br />
<br />
It's okay, I'm used to it.<br />
<br />
See, when Oliver passed the 6 month mark and could finally eat food, people told me "my life would never be the same." They were right, but I thought it was exciting.<br />
<br />
When Oliver turned 1 and started walking, people told me "my life would never be the same." They were again 100% correct. Sure, the first few weeks were terrifying but I swear he became happier the moment he claimed independence.<br />
<br />
Now Oliver is 18 months and the words keep coming. Everyone rolls their eyes warning "my life will never be the same." And yes, they all predicted it correctly. But hearing Oliver count to 10 and say the alphabet makes my heart sing every time.<br />
<br />
Well, almost every time...<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgIyfk9ffxwt63u2StqXXhnLpU4RnWBMKxPor392dWeVPXg_HwDHLfTTLrD6MimbnuMF1wttuxewEYZ0txaN5EZa1LJoCyatnETWEqQN7V2S3ktgF2JD6hjWC2r8M8n1GLPwVOV6iOwAc/s1600/IMG_1980.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgIyfk9ffxwt63u2StqXXhnLpU4RnWBMKxPor392dWeVPXg_HwDHLfTTLrD6MimbnuMF1wttuxewEYZ0txaN5EZa1LJoCyatnETWEqQN7V2S3ktgF2JD6hjWC2r8M8n1GLPwVOV6iOwAc/s320/IMG_1980.JPG" /></a></div>Last Thursday we were sitting in the park drawing chalk circles on the ground when another toddler approached us. Oliver dropped his chalk, waved and said "Hiiiiiiii!"<br />
<br />
And, after a few moments the toddler turned to leave and again Oliver dropped his chalk, waved and said "Die, Die."<br />
<br />
"Die Die!?"<br />
<br />
In addition to telling me how "my life would never be the same" everyone also told me Oliver would have his own dialect that only Brett and I would understand. At this moment I knew 'everyone' had once again been correct. I knew Oliver's intention was to say "Bye bye."<br />
<br />
He's 18 months old and he'll straighten out the B's and D's eventually; but until then, I'll remain the proudest Mama in the world no matter how many people he wishes death to on a daily basis.Smores for Breakfasthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12109079028486259015noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2830105375720469887.post-72022413906185598832010-04-17T09:08:00.002-04:002010-04-17T09:09:41.263-04:00A Bit of Craziness...It's been a while since I blogged, but I have a fabulous excuse.<br />
<br />
Hubby and I have decided to move. <br />
<br />
Not a simple move across the street, but a big move from New York City to Chicago. It happened fast and furiously and the two of us have been prepping our brains out.<br />
<br />
First, we had to fly to Chicago to look for a home. Then we had to research and find a preschool for Oliver. Next we had to buy a car.<br />
<br />
While those were the three major elements to check off the list- those checkmarks actually proved to be the easiest. See Brett and I have always found the big things easy.<br />
<br />
It's the minutia that makes me crazy.<br />
<br />
After looking at 10 houses we walked into the 11th house and both knew we were home. Then the details of the mortgage, paperwork and negotiations began.<br />
<br />
After touring 5 preschools in Chicago, meeting with the directors and observing the classes we knew instinctively which one we both wanted Oliver to get accepted to. Then came application procedures and the fact that we missed all the deadlines.<br />
<br />
After walking down the street searching out cars we liked, we narrowed the choices down to two that deserved a test drive. One quick drive up and down the West Side Highway and we knew instantly which one I'd look cutest in. Then the details of calling car dealers throughout the United States began to see who could give us the very very best price.<br />
<br />
Now that we've secured the home until the closing and Oliver has gotten into our first choice school and we found a sweet deal on our car, the minutia of the minutia begins:<br />
<br />
1- Calling the movers<br />
2- Arranging the dates<br />
3- Getting the plane tickets<br />
4- Throwing out everything we don't want anymore<br />
5- Saying goodbye to everyone who has made these past six years in New York City the most special and unforgettable years of our lives.<br />
<br />
I'll get through 1-4. But the mere thought of #5 has me quaking in my shoes and crying every morning. I hate hate hate goodbyes.<br />
<br />
So that's what I've been up to.<br />
I hope you can forgive me.<br />
<br />
I'll keep you updated on the insanity as the moving date approaches.Smores for Breakfasthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12109079028486259015noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2830105375720469887.post-12095454627322054122010-03-10T06:00:00.001-05:002010-03-10T06:00:10.936-05:00There's just no winning...The weather in New York City has been glorious and the entire island is experiencing a collective good mood. With warmer temperatures new baby bumps are revealed, children can go hatless, and blueberries become cheaper at Whole Foods.<br />
<br />
The past month has brought 3 huge snowstorms that kept most of us cooped up in our 700 square foot apartments with little ones who were bored blind. They rebelled against us for reasons we understood but could do absolutely nothing about. Basically, this was the winter we all considered drugs.<br />
<br />
But just like Sandra Bullock winning an Oscar, out came the 60 degree weather and surprised us all.<br />
<br />
At 1:59 pm Oliver woke from his nap and I ran into his room with a smile from ear to ear. After the world's quickest diaper change I grabbed his stroller, jacket, and snack and we were out the door. 10 minutes has got to be a record. We were headed to the playground.<br />
<br />
The problem was everyone else had the same idea.<br />
<br />
Our most favorite playground, Washington Market, was so crowded Oliver would have gotten stomped alive. So we continued to Battery Park which is no less lovely, just an extra 15 minute walk.<br />
<br />
This was crowded too. Hmmm...I started to think. This could get dicey. I let Oliver loose and memories of summertime flooded back.<br />
<br />
Within one minute Oliver was into the sandpit. I was pleased that he was raking his hands through the sand. He was clearly over gulping it down by the fistful phase. That's what I call progress. However with progress comes struggle. Apparently we are now into the throwing sand phase. Shit.<br />
<br />
After removing Oliver from the sandpit came the fountain. Since starting pre-pre-school Oliver has had a major obsession with water. They taught him how to wash his hands and if he could he would wash them all day long. Now, not only was he covered head to toe in sand, we were both all wet too.<br />
<br />
And, finally, the swings. It has been months since we hit the swings, Oliver's clear and favorite playground activity. The problem here wasn't the actual swinging, it was the actual waiting. Waiting on line is torturous for a 17 month old even if they're the first and only one in it. It was verging on embarrassing how he was unraveling. The mother whose baby was in the swing took pity on us and took her baby out much too early to ease Oliver's obvious physical pain.<br />
<br />
So. the good news is we're back to the playground. The bad news? We're back to the playground.<br />
<br />
I guess every season has it's perks...Smores for Breakfasthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12109079028486259015noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2830105375720469887.post-8619701034010245132010-03-09T06:00:00.009-05:002010-03-09T09:44:49.928-05:00Bad Mommy<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; white-space: pre;">Thursday Oliver vomited.</span></span><br />
<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; white-space: pre;">Friday Oliver had pink eye.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; white-space: pre;">Saturday Oliver's boogers started again.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; white-space: pre;">Sunday Oliver fell at the park and got a bloody nose.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; white-space: pre;"> </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; white-space: pre;">Let's just say it's been a hell of a week. For everyone involved.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; white-space: pre;">And back at school today, Oliver was cranky, but really can you blame him?</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; white-space: pre;"> </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; white-space: pre;">However, he's definitely regressed a bit.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; white-space: pre;"> </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; white-space: pre;">See it took a couple of weeks to get Oliver to stop throwing his sippy cup </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; white-space: pre;">clear across the room when he finished. He thought it was hilarious and I </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; white-space: pre;">clearly didn't. I refuse to raise a kid with bad manners so the rule became, </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; white-space: pre;">"you throw it...you lose it." And it worked. For the past month he's been </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; white-space: pre;">handing me the cup when he finishes or he places it carefully on the table.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; white-space: pre;"> </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; white-space: pre;">But not the past few days. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; white-space: pre;">No he's pissed. And he's taking it out on us.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; white-space: pre;">He's pissed about the eye drops we have to put in his eyes in the morning.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; white-space: pre;">He's pissed we have to wipe his nose every 5 minutes.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; white-space: pre;">He's pissed we had to give him a bath to rinse off the blood.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; white-space: pre;">Clearly he has reason to be pissed. We are terrible uncaring parents.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; white-space: pre;"> </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; white-space: pre;">So today while picking up a new shirt at a favorite store of mine where hip </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; white-space: pre;">young single thangs work, Oliver decided to chuck his sippy cup. </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; white-space: pre;">What did I do? </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; white-space: pre;">I took it away. This set off a tantrum of epic proportions which I ignored. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; white-space: pre;"> </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; white-space: pre;">He was simply pissed I took the sippy away. Anyone could see that. But as </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; white-space: pre;">I paid for the shirt, the two stupid young thangs were looking at me in horror </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; white-space: pre;">for not giving the cup back to my baby. They glared at me and the whole time </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; white-space: pre;">I could see their thoughts flashing in neon above their perfectly plucked </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; white-space: pre;">brows "What a horrible mom she is!"</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; white-space: pre;"> </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; white-space: pre;">Now it was my turn to be the pissed off one. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; white-space: pre;">Here I was, being a mom, teaching my child a lesson on manners </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; white-space: pre;">when he was CLEARLY misbehaving and I was being judged. After this </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; white-space: pre;">whole past week of taking care of every possible bodily fluid of Oliver's, </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; white-space: pre;">I was being judged by a sippy cup. The rest of my day I carried a chip on </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; white-space: pre;">my shoulder to everyone.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; white-space: pre;"> </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; white-space: pre;">Tonight at dinner I let the chip go. You know why? When Oliver wound </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; white-space: pre;">up that arm of his to chuck the sippy. I glared at him, as only a mom can </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; white-space: pre;">do, and you know what? He got it. </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; white-space: pre;"> </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; white-space: pre;">He carefully unwound that arm and set the sippy on the table.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; white-space: pre;"> </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; white-space: pre;">Those girls can go to hell. </span></span></div>Smores for Breakfasthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12109079028486259015noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2830105375720469887.post-65962681536272048272010-03-04T06:00:00.003-05:002010-03-04T08:11:03.285-05:00No more renting please!We spent most of February pleading with our downstairs neighbors, asking them nicely to tone down their pot habit because their smoke goes into Oliver's room through the heating duct. Essentially, he is getting hotboxed while he sleeps.<br />
<br />
Even in college I would have been mortified had known I was in someway hurting a child and would have immediately reversed my behavior. I figured most human beings would have the same reaction. But apparently we don't live above human beings and they kept right on smoking their pineapple express to the point where even Bill Maher would blush.<br />
<br />
After that did no good, we contacted our super who ignored us and a lawyer who said our case wasn't strong because we were more than half way through our lease. We were left with no choice but to call 911.<br />
<br />
Our lease is up May 31 and we clearly have to move. I know I talk about moving all the time. But this is the first year it is a reality. The longer we stay the harder it will be to leave and we are now looking at a 90 day countdown.<br />
<br />
One of the very best reasons to move is that we will be able to buy a place to live. Not just a 700 square foot apartment. But a home. <br />
<br />
Here are my Top 10 reasons to stop renting now:<br />
<br />
10- My neighbors pot habit won't affect my toddler.<br />
<br />
9- My dishwasher won't fall out of the hole it sits in.<br />
<br />
8- My kitchen garbage won't be within an inch of the pots and pans I use to cook with.<br />
<br />
7- My heater won't wake me up in the middle of the night thinking shots have been fired.<br />
<br />
6- Government officials won't see me going to the bathroom.<br />
<br />
5- No one will be making snowmen drunk at 3am on the terrace below us.<br />
<br />
4- I'll be able to paint and move walls if need be.<br />
<br />
3- My laundry can stay safely in the dryer if I'm too tired to take it out.<br />
<br />
2- I'll be able to design the worlds coolest little boy's room ever.<br />
<br />
1- We'll be able to build memories with my family in a place we call home.<br />
<br />
We're officially in the market to buy!<br />
It's about to get exciting!Smores for Breakfasthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12109079028486259015noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2830105375720469887.post-22666313963768736552010-03-03T06:00:00.021-05:002010-03-03T06:00:02.380-05:00It just keeps getting grosser...I thought I had seen it all.<br />
<br />
I thought after 17 months, I had handled every gross thing that had come my way.<br />
<br />
• Spit up for 6 months? Yup.<br />
• The colic for four months? Done.<br />
• Bloody gashes on the side of the head? Check.<br />
• An explosive code brown that forced me to sterilize the apartment? Been there.<br />
• Four months straight of boogers? Finally past that.<br />
<br />
But yesterday, Oliver brought gross to a whole new level.<br />
<br />
I was knee deep in vomit and could not find my way out.<br />
<br />
See I've never dealt with vomit. Not once.<br />
Even in my college years I never hurled.<br />
<br />
I was about to snap a pic of Oliver covered in chunks, but I thought that would be crossing the line.<br />
<br />
I felt very badly for myself. My husband, on the other hand (who happened to be out of the state during the vomit assault), thought I should have felt worse for Oliver. But Oliver had no fever, no runny nose, no nothing. In fact the spunky little chunk-spewer spent the afternoon dancing his butt off and running wild through the apartment. So I thought I clearly won the "who-to-feel-worse-for" category hands down. After all, Oliver's wasn't the one who cleaned up the floor. He didn't have to rinse out his clothes. And he didn't wash his hair three times yesterday. I did. I did. I did.<br />
<br />
After putting him to bed I bee-lined for the shower. There was nothing more I wanted to do than get the smell of Pedialyte chunk off my hands.<br />
<br />
There is nothing, and I mean nothing, worse than vomit.<br />
<br />
Now...I've seen it all.Smores for Breakfasthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12109079028486259015noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2830105375720469887.post-87235615027870211132010-03-02T06:00:00.001-05:002010-03-02T06:00:07.882-05:00Oliver in a nutshell...Every Thursday, Oliver gets a report card at pre-pre-school.<br />
<br />
You never think another person will get to know your babe as intimately<br />
as you, however, last week's report card proves they know Oliver<br />
pretty damn well.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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</div>Smores for Breakfasthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12109079028486259015noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2830105375720469887.post-12472422294369454222010-02-27T21:27:00.005-05:002010-02-28T20:31:59.090-05:00A game I refuse to play...Oliver is all about creating games these days. <br />
<br />
I was cleaning up the kitchen last week and looked up to find Oliver staring at me hard. The moment our eyes connected he laughed hysterically and dove behind the island. Two minutes later he was there again waiting for me to "catch him looking." I was more than happy to participate in his game, but there is one game that I will not play.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXTO_Aq1vtLbAMo106otmqInF57ktZdB0lBgQqWbxFKGUPuG8imSwGFZGJ04cW0VjFA_jKI1zxeDbGhZb1RFUotZ5LrMYXMcvnWxba8IlB4QmbQYR-h7T4wEs5lThzC2B_FGAfI9SLnaQ/s1600-h/IMG_1943.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXTO_Aq1vtLbAMo106otmqInF57ktZdB0lBgQqWbxFKGUPuG8imSwGFZGJ04cW0VjFA_jKI1zxeDbGhZb1RFUotZ5LrMYXMcvnWxba8IlB4QmbQYR-h7T4wEs5lThzC2B_FGAfI9SLnaQ/s320/IMG_1943.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbY7kCGVSk5I4dl9rs3JF5EuH9j5YHaKin1MkKrw5vg1Y2fcToTS2FdOnt102cGLI58OYXz_iwCMnGNBozzgIv75UMKAbTRbrnQ0Oc3gdX3eoatosxREawNO8EwtS4ioHJU5y16egrDnw/s1600-h/IMG_1895.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; color: black;"></span></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Every morning at 6am we wake to a hard thud. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Then another, another and another. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">After the thuds come the moans. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">The moans turn to cries. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">And then by 6:45, the cries are full on screaming. </div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
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</div><br />
<br />
We walk in at 7am to find the lovies, soft books and blankets we put in his crib to keep him happy in a big pile on the floor.<br />
<br />
He stares longfully at them.<br />
<br />
Then when we walk in he looks at us like it's our fault his friends are on the floor.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbY7kCGVSk5I4dl9rs3JF5EuH9j5YHaKin1MkKrw5vg1Y2fcToTS2FdOnt102cGLI58OYXz_iwCMnGNBozzgIv75UMKAbTRbrnQ0Oc3gdX3eoatosxREawNO8EwtS4ioHJU5y16egrDnw/s1600-h/IMG_1895.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbY7kCGVSk5I4dl9rs3JF5EuH9j5YHaKin1MkKrw5vg1Y2fcToTS2FdOnt102cGLI58OYXz_iwCMnGNBozzgIv75UMKAbTRbrnQ0Oc3gdX3eoatosxREawNO8EwtS4ioHJU5y16egrDnw/s320/IMG_1895.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbY7kCGVSk5I4dl9rs3JF5EuH9j5YHaKin1MkKrw5vg1Y2fcToTS2FdOnt102cGLI58OYXz_iwCMnGNBozzgIv75UMKAbTRbrnQ0Oc3gdX3eoatosxREawNO8EwtS4ioHJU5y16egrDnw/s1600-h/IMG_1895.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
</a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbY7kCGVSk5I4dl9rs3JF5EuH9j5YHaKin1MkKrw5vg1Y2fcToTS2FdOnt102cGLI58OYXz_iwCMnGNBozzgIv75UMKAbTRbrnQ0Oc3gdX3eoatosxREawNO8EwtS4ioHJU5y16egrDnw/s1600-h/IMG_1895.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
</a></div><div><br />
</div><div>At school they don't punish bad behavior, rather they introduce them to "natural consequences." </div><div><br />
</div><div>The first times he tossed his friends out of the crib I immediately gave him them back. </div><div><br />
</div><div>5 minutes later, I heard thuds again and realized this was his latest and greatest game.</div><div><br />
</div><div><br />
<br />
This is not a game he's going to want to keep playing as I refuse to play.</div>Smores for Breakfasthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12109079028486259015noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2830105375720469887.post-17398922389266651652010-02-25T06:00:00.001-05:002010-02-25T06:00:02.796-05:00Kitchen Recall...So I am actually a pretty good cook.<br />
I cook regularly at home and take enjoyment in picking out the meal, shopping for ingredients and watching it all come together.<br />
<br />
But something went hideously wrong this morning while cooking my morning eggs.<br />
<br />
I blew them up.<br />
<br />
Seriously.<br />
<br />
I didn't know it was possible but the entire yolk actually jumped straight out of it's little hole and exploded right across the rest of the whites.<br />
<br />
I even took a picture because I was in such shock.<br />
<br />
Check it out:<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0fteFSVreeBGh75Piuj5KYMK7rLltJadtYd8wzMtMP-9-s2UJr8RrCJsrkPU-nt-SGDREu1U-gD28bwVZq6mIcluJOOW-z2uvx7-6UJedGEqGEKAiIPziLmteGl9vwQ6gUvAHF8gtZKE/s1600-h/IMG_1888.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0fteFSVreeBGh75Piuj5KYMK7rLltJadtYd8wzMtMP-9-s2UJr8RrCJsrkPU-nt-SGDREu1U-gD28bwVZq6mIcluJOOW-z2uvx7-6UJedGEqGEKAiIPziLmteGl9vwQ6gUvAHF8gtZKE/s640/IMG_1888.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>Smores for Breakfasthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12109079028486259015noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2830105375720469887.post-41354265625765569132010-02-24T06:00:00.008-05:002010-02-24T06:00:03.355-05:00Hair Always Grows Back.<div style="text-align: center;"><b>The Situation</b></div><div style="text-align: center;">It was pouring down hurricane style rain all yesterday in NYC. </div><div style="text-align: center;">We had no plans in the afternoon and I didn't feel like getting drenched. </div><div style="text-align: center;">So, we were stuck inside all afternoon like caged animals.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>The Problem</b></div><div style="text-align: center;">I was bored.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>The Solution</b></div><div style="text-align: center;">I was going to give Oliver a haircut.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>The Known Issues</b></div><div style="text-align: center;">1- I don't know how to cut hair.</div><div style="text-align: center;">2- Oliver is a young toddler who can't sit still.</div><div style="text-align: center;"> 3- Large shiny objects such as kitchen sheers attract his attention.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>The Result</b></div><div style="text-align: center;">You tell me.</div><div style="text-align: center;">My husband wants to kill me. </div><div style="text-align: center;">I think Oliver does too.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMu5FjjWUjAKICuKVn6FmHmfCThQoCW221_kDQvOJz622yto-ULTQJypzQWmN7_KA2Y6CqbCDJtL4niszTJtpnD7uQHFwGh_gsA7JVKeUpfgZwMDwXuG3SMdGhpO2xzkZfYQ4Uv8DlMnw/s1600-h/IMG_1880.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMu5FjjWUjAKICuKVn6FmHmfCThQoCW221_kDQvOJz622yto-ULTQJypzQWmN7_KA2Y6CqbCDJtL4niszTJtpnD7uQHFwGh_gsA7JVKeUpfgZwMDwXuG3SMdGhpO2xzkZfYQ4Uv8DlMnw/s320/IMG_1880.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDpKX37wo7fsUNS9qw4b0h0d_NYo66JBTZfT_i-5WSr1VOCHXrVWlID9V26tU2vsx50b6WCCRlX_F4Y3mbZ2KGf0zMKDdYeLEy83KEtNJwZr-XYJBRlajsyie4N1J8LncS0er2M9Y4yS8/s1600-h/IMG_1883.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDpKX37wo7fsUNS9qw4b0h0d_NYo66JBTZfT_i-5WSr1VOCHXrVWlID9V26tU2vsx50b6WCCRlX_F4Y3mbZ2KGf0zMKDdYeLEy83KEtNJwZr-XYJBRlajsyie4N1J8LncS0er2M9Y4yS8/s320/IMG_1883.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">The Aftermath</span></div><div style="text-align: center;">I will never again attempt to play salon with my own child.</div>Smores for Breakfasthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12109079028486259015noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2830105375720469887.post-29463767324339747952010-02-19T06:00:00.004-05:002010-02-19T06:00:06.751-05:00The Washcloth.I can't take credit for this story as another Mama posted this on one of the internet boards I participate in. I took off the name of the person who it happened to, but it kills me so I wanted to share it:<br />
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<b>The Washcloth </b><br />
Ladies, this has to be read, laughed at and passed on. There is not a woman alive who won't crack up over this!<br />
<br />
I was due for an appointment with the gynecologist later in the week. Early one morning, I received a call from the doctor's office to tell me that I had been rescheduled for that morning at 9:30 am. I had only just packed everyone off to work and school, and it was already around 8:45 am. The trip to his office took about 35 minutes, so I didn't have any time to spare.<br />
<br />
As most women do, I like to take a little extra effort over hygiene when making such visits, but this time I wasn't going to be able to make the full effort. So, I rushed upstairs, threw off my pajamas, wet the washcloth that was sitting next to the sink, and gave myself a quick wash in 'that area' to make sure I was at least presentable. I threw the washcloth in the clothes basket, donned some clothes, hopped in the car and raced to my appointment.<br />
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I was in the waiting room for only a few minutes when I was called in. Knowing the procedure, as I'm sure you do, I hopped up on the table, looked over at the other side of the room and pretended that I was in Paris or some other place a million miles away. I was a little surprised when the doctor said, 'My, we have made an extra effort this morning, haven't we?'<br />
<br />
I didn't respond.<br />
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After the appointment, I heaved a sigh of relief and went home. The rest of the day was normal ... some shopping, cleaning,cooking.<br />
<br />
After school when my 6-year-old daughter was playing, she called out from the bathroom, 'Mommy, where's my washcloth?'<br />
<br />
I told her to get another one from the cupboard.<br />
<br />
She replied, 'No, I need the one that was here by the sink, it had all my glitter and sparkles saved inside it.'<br />
<br />
Never going back to that doctor. <div><br />
</div><div>Ever.</div>Smores for Breakfasthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12109079028486259015noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2830105375720469887.post-48996099575892273652010-02-18T06:00:00.018-05:002010-02-18T06:00:00.108-05:00Did you ever XXX with your baby?One of my very best friends just had a baby boy three weeks ago and she's going through the new mom jitters. I check in with her almost daily and I've noticed she's started asking me some familiar questions:<br />
<br />
"Did you ever feed the baby late because you were asleep?" Yes. Many times.<br />
"Did Oliver poop himself right after you cleaned him up and put a new diaper on him? Yes. Every time.<br />
"Did you ever feel like a crazy person when they don't stop crying?" Yes. Still do.<br />
<br />
I told my friend to always call and ask me anything day or night. But I promise the answer will most likely always be a yes. I am truly the last person to judge another mom.<br />
<br />
In fact, after I hung up with her I laughed to myself remembering my questions that I wished I could discuss with a friend who'd been in the trenches. Such as:<br />
<br />
Did you ever bring home a naked baby from the pediatrician because you didn't know to ALWAYS bring extra clothes with you? This is where my friend would say...Yes!<br />
<br />
Did you ever have to run to a drug store to buy formula or milk because you left yours at home? All the time!<br />
<br />
Did you ever run out of diapers and have to use tissue paper so you could again run to the drug store? Quite frequently!<br />
<br />
Did you ever swear you were never having more children when your baby was 7 weeks old and it was 4:00 in the morning and they won't stop screaming? Totally! In fact, I considered giving my husband a vasectomy!<br />
<br />
Did you ever tell a random person you're up to your ears in diarrhea and wonder why they're looking at you like <i>you're</i> the weirdo? Of course! Poop, pee, boogers, nothing phases me anymore!<br />
<br />
Did you ever order your dinner in the same tone you talk to your baby with and then realized half way through you need to get out more? Positively yes! And right after, we hired a babysitter!<br />
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All I can tell my friend is to hold on tight. <br />
It's a wild, dirty, crazy ride, but nonetheless, the best ride in the world!Smores for Breakfasthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12109079028486259015noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2830105375720469887.post-15940030705911288972010-02-17T06:00:00.001-05:002010-02-17T06:00:07.034-05:00An Unplugged Rant.Last Thursday I boarded the plane to New York calm and collected only to discover my dvd player had not been charged properly. For the next hour and a half, we would have to make do on a plane with no entertainment. Crap.<br />
<br />
Last Friday Oliver was sleeping and I was eager to finish Elizabeth Gilbert's new book <i>Committed</i> only to discover my Kindle wasn't charged. Shit.<br />
<br />
At the playground last Saturday Oliver was off running around and I had a moment to text my friend only to realize my iPhone was dead. Sucks.<br />
<br />
Last Sunday I had an idea for a blog post, and hmmm...what a surprise, my computer had not an ounce of juice. Shoot me.<br />
<br />
What kind of world are we living in these days! <br />
<br />
You think Moms remember to charge every gadget we have? Give us a break!<br />
<br />
Steve Jobs and Bill Gates: If you can invent all of this stuff can't you invent a battery to last longer than 24 hours?Smores for Breakfasthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12109079028486259015noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2830105375720469887.post-26657469930578677082010-02-16T06:00:00.003-05:002010-02-16T08:13:02.788-05:00Bag Lady Stroller<div style="text-align: center;">Is this unique to New York?<br />
<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Every day my stroller is packed so heavy with bags<br />
hanging off every hinge, clasp and hook.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">Does your stroller make you look like a bag lady too?</div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpQLPWXrdh5EPOT-34jCx5TOoaxzj-XCY3fRcGyFMPSWbyYuxYvQkFo7Uyvon2HqZGlJ2m8xq0k4u40bTEXd6dgPG6x9YAF4ebILv44YD43sUVucrbn2AQuxZyA9Wx7AB1F4lGqY2rPmk/s1600-h/IMG_1831.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpQLPWXrdh5EPOT-34jCx5TOoaxzj-XCY3fRcGyFMPSWbyYuxYvQkFo7Uyvon2HqZGlJ2m8xq0k4u40bTEXd6dgPG6x9YAF4ebILv44YD43sUVucrbn2AQuxZyA9Wx7AB1F4lGqY2rPmk/s320/IMG_1831.jpg" /></a></div>Smores for Breakfasthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12109079028486259015noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2830105375720469887.post-72012465313218212932010-02-15T06:00:00.001-05:002010-02-15T06:00:01.188-05:00Bye Bye Arcade FireOne of my most favorite concerts I've ever been to was Arcade Fire at Radio City Music Hall. They were musically perfect and at the same time perfectly irreverent. I was surrounded by hipsters and true music lovers and the only downside was that my 70-year old boss was sitting behind me. But I didn't care. We were all there to enjoy the music.<br />
<br />
This past weekend I noticed how much my life has changed since that concert. Once again, I was sitting center stage at another New York City landmark, Madison Square Garden, only this time I was sitting with Oliver on my lap. Surrounding us was thousands of other kids worshipping at the alter of Elmo.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzNSDmoqiwoMYLdOFH07xK6YewT97rypRBm-yODWpMbKzO7Ig8QEpdO0p5XjJIeumGW9HLyaB-zzNKlHUJRb4glSr-dGHcJ4zrjzBG2lWseVv6sCZG9sRc-dVELcTSr1Z-HTgeQS3pBZc/s1600-h/IMG_1838.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="192" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzNSDmoqiwoMYLdOFH07xK6YewT97rypRBm-yODWpMbKzO7Ig8QEpdO0p5XjJIeumGW9HLyaB-zzNKlHUJRb4glSr-dGHcJ4zrjzBG2lWseVv6sCZG9sRc-dVELcTSr1Z-HTgeQS3pBZc/s400/IMG_1838.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">At intermission a funny thing happened. Men appeared from all corners of the Garden with thousands </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">of Elmo balloons. Each balloon was $10.00 and they completely sold out within 5 minutes. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The thing is you have no choice but to buy a balloon for your kid. If the child in front of you, behind you, to the right and left of you is holding a balloon you CAN'T explain to your child that it's a stupid waste of money. And even worse, we saw at least 20 balloons sadly waft up to the ceiling after they were accidentally let go of. You KNOW that parents had ponied up for another $10.00 balloon to comfort their crying child. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Now, I'm no meanie and obviously an Elmo balloon and electronic Elmo-light-up-spiny- thingy are part of the show but i'm just making an observation.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6PmALHFCqnMQGTDJtLx1W2ix3vPMY3xgtE_c-ebbSDES3X_IcyWYh-4_-U7ypE1Ij-vrxLPDqE3zuV4GXkGaV2hQsWQ79cDp-G5j2Jdoaawo4tPCZtRHNW8xBSiT6dUAfRF8j3aYH3KQ/s1600-h/IMG_1839.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6PmALHFCqnMQGTDJtLx1W2ix3vPMY3xgtE_c-ebbSDES3X_IcyWYh-4_-U7ypE1Ij-vrxLPDqE3zuV4GXkGaV2hQsWQ79cDp-G5j2Jdoaawo4tPCZtRHNW8xBSiT6dUAfRF8j3aYH3KQ/s400/IMG_1839.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The kid in front of us had to leave early and left his electronic Elmo-light-up-spiny-thingy </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">on his chair so we took it. Why let it go to waste right? </div><div><br />
</div><div>------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</div><div><br />
</div><div><i>Congratulations Sherri! You have won the first ever S'mores For Breakfast Contest! Be sure to email me your info so I can get that to you right away! And thanks everyone for supporting S'mores! We'll be having another contest soon!</i></div>Smores for Breakfasthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12109079028486259015noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2830105375720469887.post-80049295879472744602010-02-12T06:00:00.005-05:002010-02-12T06:00:00.921-05:00And Now...<img alt="[week+in+review+logo.jpg]" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB7qzUbjkRAIuZ0AzTV-V6oaLwBLtjQ02O99V1Lwepvdu-3peBo5v6lccuQpbvsgT6NBNvdV8qCMAWLWEIhXIE-AcWt_YiTsfLBadTsTadMHW-H9iSRGmhAnztYVKvOB1OU-10j6xZI8I/s1600/week+in+review+logo.jpg" /><br />
<br />
1- Did you hear? There was an earthquake in Chicago. Apparently it caused quite a stir for some people down in Elgin, Illinois. It measured out to a whopping 3.8. Now, I can't deny it is unusual for an earthquake to occur in the midwest, but people, come on now. Haiti was less than a month ago and we are quaking in our shoes over an itsy-bitty tremor that Chicago proper didn't even feel. I was in Chicago the night of the earthquake and I didn't feel a thing. Can we all just relax? Check out the store <a href="http://www.nbcchicago.com/news/local-beat/Breaking-News-Earthquake-Shakes-Chicagoland-84000302.html">here.</a><br />
<br />
2- Did you hear? The un-storm of the century didn't hit New York City on Wednesday into Thursday. Yes, Newark, Laguardia and JFK did close down for a few hours, and yes, most every airline cancelled their flights, including mine. So do you want to know how many inches the city got? EIGHT! That's it. Eight. You want to know about my flight back from Chicago to Laguardia Thursday afternoon? We departed on time, arrived early and there were 20 passengers on board my 80 person jet. Believe you me, I'm not complaining as I got a whole 6 rows to myself but I would find it infuriating if I was trying to get back to NYC today and couldn't. Check out the story <a href="http://www.timessquaregossip.com/2010/02/blizzard-of-2010-in-times-square-nyc.html">here.</a><br />
<br />
3- Did you hear? Bill Clinton is sick! This pervy President is in the hospital with yet another heart condition. I truly hope he gets better because he's the only normal, past President we got. I mean, the Bush crew can't exactly save the children Haiti on their own. Remember how they mistreated the children of N'Orleans? Besides, how else is Hillary Clinton going to run for President against Fairy Princess Palin in 2016 if Bill isn't around to help her? Check out the story <a href="http://www.thedailybeast.com/cheat-sheet/item/bill-clinton-hospitalized/developing-/?cid=cs:headline1?cid=hp:mainpromo1">here.</a><br />
<br />
4- Did you hear? MTV re-designed their logo. Now in my 30's I proudly continue to watch too many shows on the Rock of Love sister station. The Hills, Jersey Shore, and the Real World Wherever. I'm so confused as to what they would change about the station let alone the logo that I grew up with. But, it's not really THAT different. They claim they had to redesign it because there is a whole new generation involved now. They also claimed that music was still at the center of what they do. So explain me this- I'm totally happy watching a marathon of Jersey Shore but what's that got to do with music? See the new logo <a href="http://marquee.blogs.cnn.com/2010/02/11/mtv-redesigns-logo-for-a-new-generation/">here.</a><br />
<br />
5- The first official S'mores for Breakfast contest ends today! Thank you for subscribing and following and tweeting and commenting! Feedback is my most favorite thing in the world so let me know what you're thinking! I'll announce the winner on Monday!<br />
<br />
Have a Great Weekend!Smores for Breakfasthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12109079028486259015noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2830105375720469887.post-22462227404585016952010-02-11T06:00:00.006-05:002010-02-11T06:00:02.513-05:00I'm Leaving, On a Jet Plane...Today is going to be a test of survival. Only the worthy will make it out alive.<br />
<br />
There will be delays.<br />
There will be angry passengers.<br />
And there will be moments of hunger.<br />
<br />
But I.<br />
Must.<br />
Remain.<br />
Calm.<br />
<br />
This afternoon I will be traveling from Chicago back to New York City. No biggie right? Well, the problem is there was a blizzard last night on the East Coast and hundreds of flights were canceled including ours. Delta rerouted us along with 50,000 other passengers and now instead of traveling on a cushy non-crowded flight, I am stuck on a sold out one. Normally, I would just wait an extra day or two to travel, but this time I can't. We are going to see Sesame Street Live this weekend and I couldn't deprive Oliver of an event he is sure to love. While I have traveled countless times with Oliver before by myself, the past two flights have made me realize that traveling with a tot is very different than traveling with a baby. <br />
<br />
1- Babies sleep during the flight. <br />
2- They stare in wonderment at the call button. <br />
3- They sit contentedly in your lap.<br />
<br />
Fine, they might cry because they are teething, but that's nothing that a little Motrin can't fix.<br />
Toddlers on the other hand are a completely different animal:<br />
<br />
1- They don't sleep anymore because they are down to one nap a day which they will decide not to take for any given reason.<br />
2- They don't stare at the call button, they want to press the call button over and over which really tends to piss off flight attendents. <br />
3-They don't sit happily on your lap, they want to run, jump, and explore which directly contradicts the whole "fasten your seatbelt we are an active runway" type of thing.<br />
<br />
I'm already empathizing with the poor soul forced to sit next us.<br />
<br />
There is a bright side. In just a few months Oliver may not be 100% compliant, but at least I'll be able to bribe him with toys and candy. I'm counting down the days!<br />
<br />
So, the moral of the story is if you happen to be traveling tomorrow on the Delta shuttle and you see a Mother losing her mind trying to calm down a crazy tot, be sensitive because I'm doing my very best. And, if you play peek-a-boo with Oliver, I'll buy you a shot on the plane and give you a set of earplugs. Smores for Breakfasthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12109079028486259015noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2830105375720469887.post-41593870760995250402010-02-10T06:00:00.001-05:002010-02-10T06:00:02.085-05:00Home Sweet Where?Right now, my husband and I are finding ourselves smack dab in a conversation we encounter every February.<br />
<br />
It is not romantic. It is not sexy. It is not fun. It has absolutely nothing to do with Valentine's Day.<br />
<br />
See, we live in Manhattan. When we moved here we were positive we would be New Yorkers for 1 year and now 6 years later we still aren't sure if we want to leave.<br />
<br />
Understandably, we fell hard and fast for New York City when we were a freshly engaged couple. Who wouldn't? The bright lights, manic pace, sophisticated vibe...I mean, who can deny the bagels! <br />
<br />
But now with a toddler in tow, we question whether Manhattan is the right place to raise a child.<br />
<br />
<i>The Pros:</i> We have access to the best children's facilities, parks, museums, theater and <a href="http://www.billysbakerynyc.com/">cupcakes in the country</a>, possibly the world. <br />
<br />
<i>T</i><i>he Cons:</i> The price, the price, the price. Oh, and the small apartments.<br />
<br />
So then I think, okay, we'll move back to Chicago.<br />
<br />
But is it really much better there?<br />
<br />
<i>The Pros: </i>Growing up in the Midwest ups the chances of Oliver becoming a polite and empathetic child by tenfold. Owning a home. My family is there.<br />
<br />
<i>The Cons:</i> The weather. The winter. Having to buy a car. Not being able to walk everywhere and anywhere. Not having someone want to deliver me anything I want, even tampons, at 3:00 in the morning. The weather. The winter. No Zabars or Duane Reades.<br />
<br />
We have to make a decision soon. <br />
Anyone have any insights on where is best to raise a family?Smores for Breakfasthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12109079028486259015noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2830105375720469887.post-34190184706624144112010-02-09T06:00:00.002-05:002010-02-09T06:00:04.509-05:00To Grandmother's House We Go!I'm in Chicago visiting my parents for a few days.<br />
<br />
Day 1: Oliver is shy. Walks around the apartment curiously, respectfully, and slowly.<br />
<br />
Day 2: Oliver is charming. He giggles, engages everyone, and is still curious, respectful and adorable.<br />
<br />
Day 3: Oliver has the lay of the land. He climbed onto the ottoman and pretended it was a trampoline. We all laughed. It was funny. My son is a monkey!<br />
<br />
Day 4: Oliver owns the apartment. He opens every drawer, climbs on every chair and discovers the fireplace. Uh-Oh.<br />
<br />
Day 5: Oliver is dressed to the 9's. He has to be because if he's gonna cause trouble he should do it looking beyond adorable so we can forgive him instantaneously.<br />
<br />
I'll let you know about tomorrow. I might need helpSmores for Breakfasthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12109079028486259015noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2830105375720469887.post-66630735510664019642010-02-08T06:00:00.002-05:002010-02-08T06:00:02.643-05:00Teach Your Children Well...<div style="text-align: left;">I love to read.<br />
No, I take it back.</div><div><div>I LIVE to read.<br />
I devour books in about 3 days.</div><div><br />
</div><div>It melts my heart to see this early on a Sunday morning:</div></div><div><br />
</div><div><br />
</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhDntmTSOsK5a6DQSAxMWyWNYdd_QQSFXdHmLKB9dxfRac3R3e-cHkEcGM9ELI94Rg_qAsKdLMcb7ienPKbXOMpC2P9iDTfetzLYPXgfJlBLnlLccL7YBLfM4Yj-fK9uq7n41OSnEvkPQ/s1600-h/IMG_1661.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428511891192501426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhDntmTSOsK5a6DQSAxMWyWNYdd_QQSFXdHmLKB9dxfRac3R3e-cHkEcGM9ELI94Rg_qAsKdLMcb7ienPKbXOMpC2P9iDTfetzLYPXgfJlBLnlLccL7YBLfM4Yj-fK9uq7n41OSnEvkPQ/s320/IMG_1661.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 240px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: left; width: 320px;" /></a><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho8QEjtXvA6ynVxqdbdr4xGP7Nzl0FZ3bcwwz-O7WEiYvzRWpHX3DlNXjIKk78MQRvEMR_1jafqE3R0u7Ey3SGPbypI824qrlV3WWBep5Hg7NyvHRIsIL6uz8ByosH3fzTFlD2EPH203w/s1600-h/IMG_1656.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428511886139052402" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho8QEjtXvA6ynVxqdbdr4xGP7Nzl0FZ3bcwwz-O7WEiYvzRWpHX3DlNXjIKk78MQRvEMR_1jafqE3R0u7Ey3SGPbypI824qrlV3WWBep5Hg7NyvHRIsIL6uz8ByosH3fzTFlD2EPH203w/s320/IMG_1656.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 240px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: left; width: 320px;" /></a><br />
Because of this I scour book stores for the best illustrations and stories. It helps that my mother is a teacher and one of her dearest friends is a children's librarian. <br />
<div><br />
</div><div>My most favorite book is by Mem Fox and Helen Oxenbury and it happens to be Oliver's favorite book too. It's called <i>Ten Little Fingers and Ten Little toes.</i></div><div><div><br />
</div><div><br />
</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0000ee;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428513218536757170" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia5FUyFG-o4uA6RbUBbxWy-_uhe5_kjgKT2RotScmRBe8nXp1GQ-aAUhXFMBazJjzr7NJXa4qglDQvwyiCY9oPlVzfrm5QfNJqHXZwzYp_2xegTTQ4bjGwrTA9hfOPUXjqdTt59U3JaBY/s320/10Fingers.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 276px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: left; width: 320px;" /></span><br />
<div><br />
</div><div>Also, Mem's other book, <i>Hello Baby!</i> is equally adorable. The illustrations are just as stunning, vivid and dear, but this time Mem uses animals to drive home how precious baby is. </div><div><br />
</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0000ee;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428514240002548098" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCf6vnwVxm7ctNY6UWBytc10Pg5Lv7SSC9eyvsYc1SksneaNFtfLAdZyk1D501usZrSu9-CTEkZJ_6XGGpW-POW22Bnt0PE3EB2Vq5MibzmJmvMbI3Z8aVdxqrUmWUC92osinjBD3BN7o/s320/61zQ+T122PL._SL500_AA240_.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 240px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: left; width: 240px;" /></span></div><div>Read to your children.<br />
Even if they were just born and sleep all day. <br />
Even if they 16 months and aren't talking yet. <br />
Even if they are disabled and have a hard time focusing.<br />
Even if at 10 years old they only want to read about insects and that grosses you out.<br />
Even if they are 16 and hate you.<br />
Even if they are 25 and have left home.<br />
Even if they are 33 and happen to have their own children.<br />
Read to your children.<br />
Read to your children.<br />
Read to your children.</div></div></div>Smores for Breakfasthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12109079028486259015noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2830105375720469887.post-33076920898195829952010-02-05T06:00:00.002-05:002010-02-05T06:00:07.618-05:00And Now...<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB7qzUbjkRAIuZ0AzTV-V6oaLwBLtjQ02O99V1Lwepvdu-3peBo5v6lccuQpbvsgT6NBNvdV8qCMAWLWEIhXIE-AcWt_YiTsfLBadTsTadMHW-H9iSRGmhAnztYVKvOB1OU-10j6xZI8I/s1600-h/week+in+review+logo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB7qzUbjkRAIuZ0AzTV-V6oaLwBLtjQ02O99V1Lwepvdu-3peBo5v6lccuQpbvsgT6NBNvdV8qCMAWLWEIhXIE-AcWt_YiTsfLBadTsTadMHW-H9iSRGmhAnztYVKvOB1OU-10j6xZI8I/s320/week+in+review+logo.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">1- Did you hear? Vanity Fair Magazine picked some fresh faces to promote in 2010 and most were pale-faced anorexic blondies. They totally ignored Frida Pinto who might be the freshest face beauty I've ever seen in my life. They also ignored<i> Precious</i> star Gabourey Sidibe. Gabourey may not be 2010's version of "fresh-faced" but she certainly blows that Abby Cornish slut out of the water. (Anybody stepping on Reese better take heed!) Check out the story<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, clean, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;"> <a href="http://shine.yahoo.com/channel/beauty/vanity-fairs-quot-new-hollywood-quot-issue-completely-lacks-diversity-578862/">here.</a></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">2- Did you hear? Maniac Mel Gibson is at it again. When a local Chicago reporter asked him if he thought the public had "moved on" from his anti-semetic/drunk-driving incident Moody Mel said yes and then under his breath called the reporter an A$$-hole. Funny thing is, the cameras were still rolling. Mel- You are as Kristen Cavallari would say, "DUNZOOOO." Check out the story <a href="http://www.cnn.com/2010/SHOWBIZ/Movies/02/03/mel.gibson.controversy/index.html?hpt=C2">here</a>.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">3-Did you hear? Toyota is saying they have the future of the automobile industry by the balls. Or wait, I mean by the brakes. Screeeeeeeech! Yes, as you all know Toyotas across America are getting recalled and John Stewart had everything to say about it two nights ago. Check out the story <a href="http://www.thedailybeast.com/blogs-and-stories/2010-02-03/gunning-for-toyota/?cid=hp:beastoriginalsR1">here.</a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">4- Did you hear? I thought LOST sucked. I was sooo disappointed in the opening show of the final season! What was that Mr. McLosty thinking! I wanted some answers and you just sunk me deeper into the Tuesday Headache I call LOST! To find out more about the show every geek and their mother is talking about click <a href="http://lostpedia.wikia.com/wiki/Main_Page">here.</a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">5- Did you hear? Smores is having a contest! 100 starbucks to the person who leaves a comment, subscribes, and follows me till the end of time. Yes! I'm talking to YOU!<br />
<br />
Have a marshmallowy weekend!</div>Smores for Breakfasthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12109079028486259015noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2830105375720469887.post-62397593014858335872010-02-04T06:00:00.000-05:002010-02-04T06:00:05.164-05:00Peter Pan Shadow<div style="text-align: center;">We're busy pouring our morning coffee</div><div style="text-align: center;">while Oliver gets busy with his shadow.</div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwCuzA3Aggx_tW2IfwgfXRKAPVw0KafT9uRH0AiUxLmm2SedK-uid4fIK0B2L0vugfnq-zm2uUBtMwFsgC8DQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div></div>Smores for Breakfasthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12109079028486259015noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2830105375720469887.post-6582562509152439232010-02-03T06:00:00.007-05:002010-02-03T06:00:03.258-05:00Consider Yourself Dumped!<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Dear Equinox Fitness Club,</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This past Sunday I dumped you. </span><br />
<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You were so hard to spend time with. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I mean, we hardly hung out so what kind of relationship could I expect with you? I mean, I </span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">hated</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> visiting you. Your decorating skills assaulted my senses and quite frankly, I thought your bathrooms were moldy and gross. I felt like you cost me too much money and you didn't give me much in return. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You caused me inordinate stress. When I saw you while out walking I changed my path. Our relationship made me shutter, shutter, shutter.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span> </div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So let me ask you this Mr. Impossible Relationship-</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span> </div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Why when I called to dump you over the phone did you force me to come by in person? I wanted to </span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">avoid</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> confrontation and you wouldn't have it! </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It's just like you to be difficult. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When I summoned the courage to visit you why did you subject me to 2 interviews, a contractional agreement of separation and a 45-day probation period? Why drag this out?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span> </div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Fine. You want to know the truth? I'll tell you the truth.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span> </div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I've found someone new. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span> </div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I was first attracted over a year ago but was too intimidated to do anything about it. I'm happier than I've been in years and I have found muscles I've never used before. After only one time I see a difference in my whole being. My skinny jeans mock me no more. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span> </div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Yup, you heard me loud an clear. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Buh-bye Equinox Fitness Club. Consider us broken up.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span> </div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Hello </span><a href="http://www.physique57.com/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Physique 57!</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You are my new love and I look forward to getting to know you better!</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 19px;"></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">CONTEST ALERT!</span></span></span></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">S'mores for Breakfast has decided to have a little contest. If there's one thing I've learned is that raising children is hard work. Sleepless nights combined with early mornings, will age anyone at least 10 years. I've come to rely on coffee more than showers over the past 16 months. And I feel like passing on a little bit of the love.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">S'mores is giving away a $100 Starbucks gift card to someone who does ALL of the following:</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">1- Subscribe to S'mores.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">2- Follows S'mores</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">3- Follows S'mores on Twitter</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A winner be drawn using </span></span><a href="http://Random.org/" style="color: #cc0000; text-decoration: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Random.org</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> and announced on S'mores Friday, February 12 . *You will be given one extra entry </span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">every time</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">you leave a comment on the S'mores blog page and </span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">every time</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">you tweet about the contest. So be sure to leave lots of comments and to tweet often!</span></span></div></span></div>Smores for Breakfasthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12109079028486259015noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2830105375720469887.post-17662749706368381142010-02-02T06:00:00.001-05:002010-02-02T06:00:02.356-05:00Red light. Red Light. Red Light. Green Light.How did you spend your Saturday?<br />
<br />
I can tell you how Oliver spent his...in time out.<br />
<br />
He climbed the highchair...<br />
BZZZZZ! Time out. 2 minutes.<br />
<br />
He erased the messages on the answering machine...<br />
BZZZZZ! Time out. 2 minutes.<br />
<br />
He climbed onto the tv stand and tried to pull the flat screen down...<br />
BZZZZZ! Time out. 2 minutes.<br />
<br />
He threw his time out timer across the room...<br />
BZZZZZ! Time out. 2 minutes.<br />
<br />
I think he was acting like such a maniac was because it was 20 degrees outside and our indoor playground was closed. There was no place for the boy to run around and get rid that energy. So when it was 6:45pm, and he grabbed his moisturizer bottle and pumped all of the lotion onto the floor while laughing hysterically, I pretended not to see.<br />
<br />
Everyone deserves a time-in, right?Smores for Breakfasthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12109079028486259015noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2830105375720469887.post-72479669205537297042010-02-01T06:00:00.002-05:002010-02-01T06:00:09.798-05:0024/7 365 Days Later.<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">As adults we may not notice just how fast time goes by </span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">or how far we come each year.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Looking back at these pictures teaches me </span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">to be grateful for every single day.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">You've come a long way baby.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpig1CYGSChUJX2QoikW_en_UsrZaINFYfCODyytvrsdcGoQ-yZpWZLm_wi0h-Mk9T3rftPx-chstBvElwXUolQcnJXiHleocEbYDuDHx4uoG1oT3k1K_Ty02nlGT7c1Bx_kK9gkyJGSY/s1600-h/oneyearlater1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpig1CYGSChUJX2QoikW_en_UsrZaINFYfCODyytvrsdcGoQ-yZpWZLm_wi0h-Mk9T3rftPx-chstBvElwXUolQcnJXiHleocEbYDuDHx4uoG1oT3k1K_Ty02nlGT7c1Bx_kK9gkyJGSY/s320/oneyearlater1.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSimf3jvMtszotyK1K7A5EZITbJJfw56MBgZGWcOBtGiJywEREryqtuNUVDE6fk_ennhVjW4WyGFXYSvFm2VTgzVBKC4YME_k8Lli-yvRUNbTO_zt4xkAYerk6ROclc6TIWadDF4xHoDY/s1600-h/oneyearlater2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSimf3jvMtszotyK1K7A5EZITbJJfw56MBgZGWcOBtGiJywEREryqtuNUVDE6fk_ennhVjW4WyGFXYSvFm2VTgzVBKC4YME_k8Lli-yvRUNbTO_zt4xkAYerk6ROclc6TIWadDF4xHoDY/s320/oneyearlater2.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg96OMSc6TEHk78_4eJlBFsrg-wqEJuetT9NdflFo-RYa3AJBpMjqcbGPQfuPbRjIgXlvEPLqhfeaLfD7vjtFbhBAuOMDMFtsMhTGcCdeLN2uAerzpBV6Te5rXAHJP9Dk4pUWczKprpAWk/s1600-h/oneyearlater3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg96OMSc6TEHk78_4eJlBFsrg-wqEJuetT9NdflFo-RYa3AJBpMjqcbGPQfuPbRjIgXlvEPLqhfeaLfD7vjtFbhBAuOMDMFtsMhTGcCdeLN2uAerzpBV6Te5rXAHJP9Dk4pUWczKprpAWk/s320/oneyearlater3.jpg" /></a></div>Smores for Breakfasthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12109079028486259015noreply@blogger.com1