Category: Being a girl

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Baby Being a girl Drew Family Love Memoir Nonfiction Sentiment

Happy 1st Father’s Day!

When I was pregnant, Drew and I did not find out the sex of our baby – we wanted to wait. But for some reason, during those 9 months, we both had a strong intuition that it would be a girl. Which means no one was more surprised than we when B was born and Drew announced, more astonished than ebullient, “It’s a BOY.”

B was born just after midnight, which means that aside from being tired from the hours of labor, we were also dealing with it being the middle of the night. And B, like probably most newborns who have just been shoved unceremoniously into the world, would not stop crying. Since I was sort of stuck in bed, at least for a little while, Drew took up the task of walking ceaselessly around, shhhhing and soothing. This was the beginning of the rocking/swinging dance that, for awhile, was sometimes the only way to put B to sleep.

He immediately started calling B “Buddy,” which at the time, I found baffling. Where did this “buddy” thing come from? Who actually says that, outside of old TV shows? When did we decide that was going to be a nickname? But then it just stuck. And while I say it occasionally, I still think of it as a father’s nickname for his son – something he’ll call B when they’re out fishing or playing catch or camping in the backyard or something. You know, guy stuff.

For the record, I’m sure that Drew would be an amazing dad even if our first baby was a girl. But I’ve become obsessed with watching this father-son relationship develop. I love watching my two boys together. I hope that B realizes how lucky he is to have such a great dad, and I hope he grows up to be an equally incredible friend and partner. He’s got some big shoes to fill, but he’s got the right role model to help him grow into them.

Happy Father’s Day!

husband

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Being a girl Dreams Humor Memoir Nonfiction Self improvement

30 Before 30

I’m turning 30 almost exactly a year from now, so I was thinking about doing a “30 before 30” list. I like lists and goals, so it seems like an exercise that I’d enjoy.

But maybe I’ve made too many lists in my life, because my 30 before 30 list was very derivative of all my other lists, including but not limited to: to-do list (short term), to-do list (long term), wish list, New Year’s Resolutions 2013, bucket list, to-do list (work), RunKeeper goals, New Year’s Resolution 2013 updates, and the half-hearted bucket list I’ve been keeping in my head.

I don’t want to just repurpose old bullet points for a new list. Isn’t 30 supposed to be a big milestone in a girl’s life? I don’t want to pay my respects to 30 by vowing to floss every day until then. (See also: I have totally flossed every day for last the two weeks and I am incredibly self-satisfied.)

But a year isn’t a very long time, and realistically, there’s no way I’m going to go in a hot air balloon in the next year, or buy a house, or go on a cruise. Those are bucket list entries – at least, I think they are, but I’ve never written any of them down. I feel like maybe I should have done this 30 before 30 list about 5 years ago.

I’m not sure if it’s responsible and wise of me to know my limitations over the next year; or if it’s kind of sad that I’m not bothering to dream big. Is my love of crossing things off making me censor what I write down? Should I go ahead and shoot for the moon here, even if part of me doubts that I’ll ever actually find the time and the means and the inclination to even get off the ground?

Or should I focus on some of the tasks I’ve already set myself? And just enjoy the last year of my 20s?

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Beauty Being a girl Nonfiction Self improvement

Gettin old

Post-college, I went for a couple years with no dental insurance, and consequently, zero dental visits. This eventually led to such problems as a cavity, which led to a broken tooth, then a root canal and a crown. Oh well…hindsight is 20/20 and all that.

Other than that, I’ve had a really good dental history. I might sometimes be a bit vain about it. (So maybe it’s good that I had to go through all that – it knocked me down a peg.) But now that I’m an adult with actual good health insurance (thanks husband!) I like to go frequently and responsibly.

My next appointment is at the end of June, and I decided instead of lying about flossing this time, I’m going to actually floss. So for the last week or two, I’ve created this new bedtime routine of brush, floss, mouthwash. It doesn’t take that much longer than just brushing, and it makes me feel super clean and self-righteous. Plus, it will hopefully pay off at my appointment.

I even added another non-teeth-related component to my bedtime routine: moisturizer. I haven’t really used it regularly, besides the cocoa butter during pregnancy, but I was realizing how much of me is constantly exposed to the sun, and how I’m kind of getting old and should be taking better care of my skin as well as my teeth.

Yup. Gettin old and boring.

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"Other people" Being a girl Friends Self improvement Work

Part-time optimist

I’ve been trying really hard to be more optimistic. Not just optimistic in the glass-half-full way, but also in everything-that-comes-out-of-my-mouth kind of way. Like, I’m trying not to complain about every little thing.

Some parts of my job are less fun than others, and if I give voice to the constant commentary going on in my head about these parts, I would probably spend a lot of time bitching to people around me. I try to keep a lid on that. (Drew still gets most of the splatter, though.) I try to be really aware of what I’m about to say, and whether it’s useful information, and whether the person I’m saying it to will have heard it a thousand times already.

A lesser version of this is badmouthing your friends. I’m going to guess that a lot of people do this, based on my experience. But I guess I could be wrong. I admire people who never say a single bad thing about their friends. (Or at least I would, if I’d ever met one.) I can be judgmental, I’ll admit it. But it comes to a point that even I have to say, Enough already.

I just think of the people I really like: optimists and positive thinkers. Versus the people I avoid: pessimists who complain about every single little thing. (We all know these people.) (Some of us are these people.) And since, at the heart of it all, I really want everyone to like me, I’m striving for goodness here.

I have this memory of when Drew and I first got together, of him telling me that a good friend would just do things for another friend, and not expect repayment. You just do things for your friends because they’re your friends. He likened it to Jesus, in fact, which as I recall made me feel really terrible about whatever I’d just been saying. I think he was even doing dishes while he said it. I’ve never forgotten that.

I want Baby B to grow up to be a kind person and a good friend. I want him to be friendly and quicker to smile than to complain. I want him to be happy in general. So I’m hoping that bringing him up in a household of laughter and positivity will help ensure he grows up to be the kind of person that I would want to be friends with. (You know, even if I weren’t already so biased.)

It’s just on my mind tonight.

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Being a girl Family Fashion Humor Memoir Nonfiction Not awesome

Isn’t it neat?

The other night the three of us were driving back from Lodi and listening to a CD I found in my CD case with no label, no name, and no track list. It could have been anything.

What it ended up being was a pretty good mix of the kind of classics that most people are sure to know: American Pie, Manic Monday, For the Longest Time, Fast Car, Tom’s Diner, etc. A pleasant surprise…a lot of those unlabeled CDs end up being much worse.

Then Part of Your World came on (yes, definitely the best mix ever) and I remembered, as I always do, a Disney trip with my family when I was in…late middle school? Early high school? I was in a big Little Mermaid phase, and I wanted to wait in line to take a picture with Ariel. (I’m already embarrassed about telling this story.)

I was in line, up next, and watching Ariel interact with the little girl ahead of me. She said, “Okay, now smile at the – what do you call it? – photographer!” and I thought that was so sweet. She was made of big arm gestures and smiles and hair flips.

When I got up there though, she was all business in a bad wig. She smiled for the picture but where was all the cutesy stuff? That’s okay, it would have been worse to be patronized. But the photo that came of it – awkward 13-ish-year-old me in a t-shirt and shorts and sandals with socks (oh man, I sat just now and debated including that, but you know, the truth will out) – is all the more embarrassing because of the big gap between the two of us.

Every so often, that photo resurfaces in my “stuff from the past,” and each time I debate throwing it out. Seriously, I don’t know if I need to say this again, but it is a really embarrassing picture. There is no possible reason I could ever want to show it to anyone, or look at it myself. But I just haven’t gotten around to getting rid of it. Maybe someone can tell me why.

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Beginnings Being a girl Drew Food Humor Nonfiction Self improvement Writing

Make Me

One of the best things about being an adult is ice cream for dinner. Not literally (well, okay, sometimes), but I mean that sense that you can do whatever you want and there’s no one checking up on you.

On the other hand, one of the worst things about being an adult is that you can do whatever you want and there’s no one checking up on you.

There are a lot of things that I want to accomplish this year. (See: New Year’s Resolutions, 2013). Unfortunately there’s also a lot of internet to explore, friends to chat with, articles to read, and thin air to stare into.

I think the missing piece of the puzzle that turns staring (whether it’s into thin air or at Facebook) into actual productivity is accountability. If I don’t have anyone to answer to except myself, then what’s driving me to complete anything?

Here are some things I’ve tried to accomplish in the past: Bicoastal book club. Writing club. Dieting. Here are some things I’ve failed at: Bicoastal book club. Writing club. Dieting.

The problem with a bicoastal book club is that, without the regular meet-ups to talk about what you’ve read, what is forcing you to finish it? And if your book club happens to be made up of other people who aren’t determined to finish – then you might as well quit before you’ve even begun. A good way to assess the commitment of the others in your potential book club is by how long you’re given to finish the book. More than a couple months and I say your club is going to fall apart after two books, tops.

Ditto writing club. It’s all well and good to pick a prompt and off you go, but if you don’t have at least one other person emailing you something at the end of the month and expecting something from you, then you’re doomed. I’ve tried this in the past, and we made it exactly one month.

All I’ll say about dieting is that, without a good plan, someone to support you in it, and some kind of goal, it’s basically impossible.

But there’s hope! I am now in a book club, made up of real-life friends, and we meet up about every 6 weeks and discuss the book that, for the most part, all of us finished. When we started, I didn’t know how long we would last, but we’ve been going strong for over a year.

A couple months ago I started a new writing club. There are four of us, and while I’m not sure of everyone’s commitment, there is at least one other person who seems totally into it. So I’m clinging to that connection and hoping that she motivates me to write something every month.

Which brings me to dieting…which also brings me to Lent. I’m no stranger to Lent – I’ve been giving things up (off and on) since I was a kid. At some point I decided that Lent shouldn’t be about using the church to diet, so I started giving up things to make myself a better person. One year I tried to give up saying bad things about people behind their backs. A few years ago I gave up fighting with Drew. Last year I gave up Facebook.

This year I was thinking about giving up judging people, but when I suggested that, Drew shut it down. Remember, I need support in whatever I do. We finally decided to go with giving up most carbs. I figured this year I’ll be a happier person if I can stick to a diet, so I’m still technically improving myself.

I know it’s only been a couple days, but I already feel more committed, more confident, and pretty good about myself. In an “I can do it!” way, and not in an “Ice cream for dinner!” way, which is a refreshing change.

Lake County Record-Bee, 2/19/13

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Awesome Baby Being a girl Humor TV

Luvs gets it right!

I just saw this commercial this afternoon, and I love it.

Partly because I’m like, “it’s so true!” But mostly because I think it might be the first time I’ve ever seen breastfeeding on regular cable TV. With all of the reading I’ve done over the last year, and all of the breastfeeding stats and stories, and knowing how trendy it is right now…I still haven’t seen it being portrayed on TV as a totally natural and public thing to do. And the commercial isn’t saying it’s particularly granola or new-agey…it’s just a regular-type mom in an everyday restaurant, doin’ what ya do.

Bravo, Luvs commercial. I’ll probably still buy Pampers because I really like them, but maybe you’re right and I’ll see you in a few years when we do this all again.

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Awesome Baby Being a girl Fashion Humor Memoir Nonfiction Sentiment Travel

Ode to a purple purse

Carrying a diaper bag suits me.

I’ve always been the kind of person to have too much stuff on me. Occasionally it pays off – like when I’m stuck in line somewhere  and need something to read, or when someone says, “Does anyone have contact solution?” or when someone needs to borrow a pen and I can offer them a choice between 7 different pens and 1 mechanical pencil.

(I like mechanical pencils way more than regular pencils: you don’t have to sharpen them and I just feel like they write really nicely. One of my favorite things in high school used to be sitting down to do math homework on a nice piece of fresh graph paper with a nice 0.7 mechanical pencil…NOT a 0.5!)

Often, of course, I’m just the person with a way-too-full purse, and people with good intentions will tell me that it’s too heavy and that it’s bad for me or something. I remember, right when we moved back to California in 2009, I finally decided to stop carrying around a messenger bag, and I went to Macy’s and bought my purse, the same one I’ve carried since then. It was purple and hobo style, not super huge, but big enough to fit a book and my planner and a granola bar and a bunch of papers I don’t need and of course, up to 10 writing implements.

I carried that purse for over 3 years, probably never matching it to my “outfits,” and I loved it no matter how worn out it got and how dirty it was. But then at church on Christmas Eve, I tried to zip it shut and I guess it was just too full, and the zipper broke clean off. A couple days after Christmas, I remembered about the zipper busting, and so I sat down, ceremoniously emptied everything out, threw away all the old gum wrappers and receipts, sorted the papers into three piles (“shred,” “do something,” “file”), and then, without further ado, stuffed the purse into our kitchen trash can. Not the most illustrious send-off for an accessory that has served me well, but rest assured, purple Nine West purse, I will never forget you.

So now I’ve busted out my cross-body bag that has the NY Public Library lions on the front. Drew’s mom gave it to me for Christmas in 2008. I love it, and it’s got more room, so now I can have all my regular stuff, plus my Nalgene and even an extra granola bar. But probably my favorite thing about it is, since it’s a cross-body, it doesn’t require extra work to keep it on my shoulder, and it doesn’t fall down my arm when I lean over to pick up the carseat, grocery bags, baby toys, etc. (Women will probably understand what I mean.)

But a diaper bag opens up even more possibilities than just a medium-sized purse. I love having an excuse to take an even bigger bag with me. I love that I can just pack up everything I could possibly need: extra clothes (and they’re so tiny, you can fit so many!), bib(s), diapers, almost empty package of wipes, brand new package of wipes, burp cloths, disposable burp cloths, toys, nursing pads, travel lotion, more toys, extra pacifier, pacifier leash(es), other nursing pads, extra plastic fork (just in case?), large hook (for the stroller push bar to hang your plastic shopping bags on), pacifier wipes, diaper disposal bags (scented in case you have throw away a dirty diaper in your office)… and I might be forgetting something.

All this stuff fits in one regular-sized diaper bag…and means that we’re prepared for almost any occasion. I just love that. I love being prepared. I think that’s one of the things I really liked about stage managing – having a kit full of office supplies. (Well, being prepared, and, I just love office supplies.)

The funny thing is, we don’t really need this stuff that often. We do leave the diaper bag at home, or in the car, and go out without it. I’m sure a day will come when we’ll regret that.

In the meantime, we’ll make sure the diaper bag is well stocked for all contingencies. I’ll continue my quest to fit more and more things in my NY Library lions bag. And maybe one day, when all this baby stuff has calmed down, I’ll get myself a new, ladylike purse. One that would make the ladies of Sex and the City proud. Maybe.

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Awesome Being a girl Endings Holidays Humor Memoir Nonfiction Self improvement Sentiment Writing

2012 in review: thanks to WordPress

The looks back at 2012 begin! Up next: a review of my new year’s resolutions, and how well I did.

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The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2012 annual report for this blog.

Here’s an excerpt:

4,329 films were submitted to the 2012 Cannes Film Festival. This blog had 13,000 views in 2012. If each view were a film, this blog would power 3 Film Festivals

Click here to see the complete report.

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Awesome Baby Being a girl Children Dollars Dreams Drew Family Food Holidays Love Memoir Parents Sentiment

Three years of marriage

This week, Drew and I celebrated our third wedding anniversary. How did we celebrate?

My parents came down and babysat:

And they sent us out on a date, where we promised each other not to talk about the baby. (We had occasional lapses. But overall we did way better than I’d expected.) I knew the evening was a special one, because I used two different colors of eyeshadow, and put on jewelry.

We went to the Melting Pot, which we have talked about doing for ages but have never quite gotten around to it. Neither of us really knew what we were getting into – for instance, they prepare and melt the fondue on a burner at your table. And you cook your meat in a pot on a burner at your table. And there’s a burner on your table.

We had spinach artichoke cheese fondue…

…Salads; then a variety of meats we attempted to cook; and then a white chocolate/banana/caramel/cinnamon dessert.

It was a fun, out of the ordinary experience that we might not have had if we hadn’t been pushed out the door…so thanks, Mom and Dad!

In a weird way, this year’s anniversary felt somehow more significant than past anniversaries have felt. Maybe because this year we really took the time to plan something, make a reservation, get a babysitter (or two), and go somewhere. It was really good to get out. And I think the timing (baby B is just over 6 weeks old) worked out well also.

Happy three years! It feels like an eyeblink, or maybe a decade. Let’s go on more dates.