Facebook is Crack

And Crack is Wack. I recently signed up for Facebook after a few glasses of wine. I must warn you: alcohol and social networking sites do not mix. Now I have a full profile with pictures, and games and little icons that I have no idea what they mean. Plus, I have reconnected with people I haven't spoken to in 10, 20 and maybe even 25 years. The truth is, there was a reason I wasn't in touch with them in the first place. Now, it's all I can think about. I go on my "page" all day long. I play Scabulous. I look on my friends' pages to see if they have people on there that I want to be "friends' with too. Help me. It's getting out of control.

Mommy Land

There's a place called "mommy land" that I have been a frequent visitor of since late July 2006. It all started when I joined the "New Mothers Drop-In" at the 14th Street Y about 5 weeks after I had L. I was desperate to make new "mommy" friends -- women with whom I could share this ridiculously mind-boggling experience called being a mom. The group varied in size from 10-20 people and was filled with women in their late 20's to mid 30's with babies (give or take 3 months)the same age as L. I loved it right away. It was like a group therapy session on speed. It was that intense. I went every Tuesday for the entire time I was on Maternity Leave. And, I have to say, it really helped me through those first few months. Because, whatever ANYONE says, those early days can be rough. And, having some kind of support outside of your husband or immediate family, can really make a difference. I met a handful of great women who lived in my neighborhood and soon, my days were filled with play dates, meeting up for coffee, hanging out in the park or, on those very special occasions, a glass of wine or two at 3pm on a Friday.

I really look back on those days with such fondness. It was an incredible time -- I had never been so tired, yet so happy and yet so unsure of what I was doing. We all bonded so quickly and it felt like we were at summer camp, isolated from the rest of the world and having to rely only on each other for survival. I really loved "Mommy land" and all of the banalities and mundaneness that it entailed. I don't mean that in a negative way -- I honestly mean it was nice to focus on someone other than myself and on all of the things that go into caring for another human being on that level. Soon, though, I went back to work and quickly the friendships and the world we created began to dissolve. At least it did for me. I also came to see how there was such a divide between working and stay at home moms. I think I will go into that more in another post because I really struggle with that and have trouble coming to peace with how I feel about it.

I just visited Mommy land again today. We had a play date with a few of the original women and their babies (now almost 22 mnth olds) in one of the playgrounds near my house. We all shared a few stories and complained about how our rugrat wasn't sleeping enough or napping enough or eating enough...It felt good to be with them again, yet, I realize that like dark chocolate or Valium, it's better in small doses.

Another Thing To Stress About?

Dinner. It's been the bane of my existence ever since I've been married. Oh, I know I'm not alone and that there are hundreds of Web sites, and cookbooks and television shows dedicated to answering the age-old question: What can I make my family for dinner? But, somehow, I never thought it would happen to me. I never thought I'd be one of those millions of women (come on, you know it's usually our responsibility...even in the most modern households)who stress, worry and dedicate WAY too much time thinking about what to cook. The thing is, food is already a complicated subject for me. I have been "watching" my weight for as long as I can remember. And of course my dear husband is tall, lean and has never had to count a calorie his entire life. Plus, there's the time factor. During the week, we get home at 6:30. L has already eaten, so at least I don't have to worry about HER (only Wednesdays and the weekends - I'll cover that in another post)and little Ms. 21 month old doesn't go to bed before 8:30p (on a good night) so, I don't start cooking until then. Suffice it to say, we're not eating until at least 9 and then there's clean up...You get the idea. The good news is, I do have a few recipes that I can rely on -- mostly from Giada de Laurentis' pasta and everyday Italian cookbook. But, there's only so many times I can make those without getting bored and/or boring my husband (which I was accused of lately -- not a pleasant conversation.) So then I try a new recipe, but that entails the uncertainty of whether or not my husband will like it. Yes, I know, it sounds so 1950's of me. But, at the end of the day, isn't that what cooking is about? Making other people happy? Okay, okay, I know that's not exactly all that it is about. But, I know how much pleasure I get from really good food and I love the feeling of satisfaction (?) I get when I cook something that everyone (mostly my husband) thinks is delicious. Maybe that makes me a bit old-school. I can handle that. In the meantime, I need some new recipes (ideally, low fat and healthy for me -- rich and hearty for my husband)and more time. A girl can dream, can't she?

The Skin I'm In

No one would ever describe me as "freckle-y" but, I do have my fair share of those infamous brown dots all over my body. When I was younger, they were kind of cute. My mom used to pretend to play connect the dots with the ones on my back. But, now, as an adult, many of those freckles have grown into moles and quite frankly, they're just ugly. As a result, I am fairly serious about sun protection and 350 days of the year, I'm as pale as can be. Though, of course as a teen and tween, I burnt the SHIT out of myself constantly, based on the belief that the tanner my skin, the thinner I looked. I remember even before that, when I was just a girl of 5 or 6, my grandfather would encourage me to "get a little color," while slathering himself in Coppertone SPF 2, and smoking a cigar. Ahh, those were the days. Today, getting a suntan or burn is almost as taboo as drinking alcohol while you're pregnant or smoking in a restaurant. I kind of miss being oblivious to the danger that all that fun stuff can cause. Well, I'm here to tell you, the party is definitely over. I just came back from my annual appointment with my dermatologist and he took a biopsy of one of my mole/freckles on the side of my cheek. He didn't like the "color" of it and it had grown 2mm in the past 5 years. Anyway...turns out I don't have cancer. Phew! But, "they" (not entirely sure who "they" are) said it was a very unusual type of mole and, even though it's flat, it should be removed. Just to be safe.

So, I'm going to be safe and doing the procedure next week. I know I should be grateful and that it could be so much worse. But, I'm still a little freaked out by the whole thing.

 

Islamorada 2008

We've been back from vacation for almost 4 days. All in all, it was a good trip. The weather was beautiful, the house we stayed in was huge and well-appointed, and O and I were actually able to spend a few hours alone...which was due to the fact that we brought our nanny with us.

Bringing your nanny on vacation is not for everyone. And I'm not even talking about the money. Because, sure, it's expensive. But, beyond that it is definitely strange having someone who is not really your "family" (even if you say she is) spend pretty much 24 hours a day with your family.

J (the nanny) and I have had our ups and downs these past 1.5 years. But, lately, (before the vacation) we have been getting along really well. I would even say we've become actual friends. Of course I had my doubts about having her come with us on the trip. She had come with us last year, but, for some reason I had completely forgotten any of the awkward/tense/annoying moments, and just had a lovely, romanticized memory of the experience.

Well, this year, there were definitely times when I almost lost my shit with her. Specifically, I felt like she kept criticizing how I handled L -- insinuating that I wasn't being strict enough with her, etc. There was also the "celery incident" -- which is too ridiculous to explain, but suffice it to say it started with my storming off in a huff and ended with us hugging and crying in the kitchen. Oy.

But, overall, would I do it again? You bet.