Time may fly but this love will last forever

It all goes by so fast...cherish every moment.

He's born today and before you know it - he'll be starting college.

Time flies, don't blink.

I've heard it all, everyday since the day you were born. Those who shared these words of wisdom couldn't have been more right and more wrong at the same time, if they were the last true words uttered on earth. 

I have a 'line a day' book, good for 5 years, which I have written (or at least had the intention of writing in) every day for the past 364 days. Some weeks I'm diligent, writing everyday once you go to sleep. Other times, I skip a week at a time, and have to go back through the catalogs of firsts in my head to remember what milestone you crossed 6 days ago, or what new food you tried, a special experience we shared. Nothing has made me more present of my current moment nor humanized me more than having documented a blip of each day of your life for the past year. I never document your day in the morning, because why would I? The day has only begun and there's so much more day to share! But today, on this last day of your first year, I thought it necessary to remember this morning and what it was like to roll out of bed and walk into your room. To see you standing in your crib and grinning waiting for *usually just* dad to come get you to bring to me for our morning cuddle and feeding session. Now, on this Monday morning as I sit down to write my one line, as tradition would have it, I'm 3 days behind in the daily recount of your life. As I backtrack to three days prior, I am a mess of emotion and tears and a flurry of love surrounds my heart, my hands, the pen I hold. 

I start with Friday where I write about meeting a new baby, baby Jack. This was my first time back in the new born wing of West Hills hospital where you were born; since the day we left the hospital to bring you home!  From walking into the hospital to arriving back home in time to tuck you into bed for the night, Friday's entire experience was something special. The last time I walked into this entrance, I was in full blown labor. Your little body was forcing my uterus to contract in an effort to get you out. I was in pain. My eyes had been shut tight in an effort to push the pain deep down into my body all day long.  I had hardly opened them at all except for one moment when as I was forced to in order to walk into the hospital by myself while your dad parked the car. I recall one queen of observation looking at me as I was trying to make it to the automatic sliding doors, doubled over in full stage 1 labor and saying, "uh oh! It's that time..." This time around I observe everything from the security guard at check in, to the slow approaching elevator doors. The smell, knocking on the hospital room door, the excitement of meeting a new life,  it is all so familiar. The whole experience gives me chills and tears and floods me with sweet memories. I am talking and congratulating, but I'm thinking of you and your grand entrance in this world every second I'm there.

Then came Saturday. For this day, I write about the morning snuggles that has become a weekend tradition. To quote my self in the book, I write, "Saturday morning snuggles in bed with your dad, has to be one of my favorite things ever..." And I stand by that. These snuggles are a chance to celebrate the laziness a weekend morning can bring. For twenty minutes or so, there is no obligation except to love my beautiful family, even if just for a few minutes. On this last Saturday morning of your first year, I feed you like usual. And as per the usual, when you are finished, still on your belly, you pick your head up and give your daddy a goofy grin then say something in a gibberish which only a devoted parent of their own child would understand. A phrase in sweet combination of, 'I love you mom and dad,' &, 'boy I love when the 3 of us lounge in bed.' Then you do something which is brand new and I can't get enough of it. You climb up through the pillows and bed clothes, pull yourself up on our headrest to standing, then casually look over your shoulder only to dramatically tumble on top of dad and I landing in a see of cotton and down. You roll onto your back and giggle and squeal loudly with delight only to repeat all of this 6 or 7 times. Watching you grow into an adventurous little boy who lives for laughing and entertaining yourself is pure magic in it's finest form. I am so lucky to be your mom. 

Sunday's entry follows. An entry wonderfully exemplifying what a social little being you have become in this first year of life. We had two birthday parties to attend. One at a play gym for 3 year old Atticus, and one for your birthday twin and best buddy EJ. Cranky all the way to the first birthday party, after a long drive, all frustration melts away as I place you inside a pit of foam blocks. You immediately start socializing and hand a peer a ball saying, 'ball!' He doesn't really get it, but you don't mind. We move onto EJ's birthday party where we are greeted by many of the friends our whole family has made in the last year. We pose you for pictures with 2 of your buddies which we have done since you all met. Today you sit up on a bench on your own and know to look at the camera. This is a drastic change from when we began posing you for photos when you were all just 3 months old, lying on a blanket on the floor. Next year - we'll be lucky if we can get you to all stand there and look at the camera simultaneously - but I'm not rushing that so I'm not even going to think about it!

As I sit in my office and write, straight in front of me your monitor sits. You are half on your side and half on your belly sucking your thumb and sleeping, holding tight onto your closest confidant, your blanket; which began as your swaddle 12 months ago. You are starting to stir, waking any moment for sure. To my right is a pile of fun which we have been collecting for weeks now in preparation for your birthday party. There are bubbles and plastic balls, dessert plates, ketchup & mustard bottles, a case of beer. As I finally catch up in my Mom's One Line a Day a 5 year memory book, and prepare to write today's entry, I turn the page to May 23rd, and without thought, tears fill my eyes. Today's entry will be written on the left, but the right side of the page has us starting all over again, one line down, the start of a new year. Tomorrow is your birthday. The entry I wrote a year ago tomorrow has me an emotional mess, "The day my whole world changed. Oliver James Lewis was born & my life was complete...WE DID IT!"

They say when you meet your baby for the first time you instantly fall in love.  A love so deep, you can't fathom it before it happens. And that's true. What they don't tell you is that in the coming year, and I know eventually years to come, that love grows exponentially to the point of disbelief. I said it the day I introduced you to the world on social media, "I love him so much, I need a new word aside from love..." They say the time flies, and they're right about that. I don't know how a year has passed since that ever so fateful day. What they're wrong about is how quickly the time goes. A year ago I was a clueless mess. I was told it gets easier at 4 months and getting through those first 4m months seemed to have taken a lifetime in itself! I'm contradicting myself, I get that, but as you're now leaning out of your crib and calling, "Mama!!" it truly feels like it was another life in which I held your helpless, unknowing, scared & innocent little body in my arms and tried to learn how to feed you, how to care for you, how to be your mom. Today you say words, you walk (with assistance), you laugh, you share your needs. You have scars, likes, dislikes. You know who your mom and dad, grandma and grandpa, and aunties are. You've had more firsts than I can count and now we're off to celebrate this last day of your first year. 

Thank you for choosing me to be your mom. I am a changed woman full of patience,  protection, so much more than that and there isn't anything in the world I wouldn't do for you. 

..and her life was Simply wonderful

I love you. All my very best,

Mom

I just got checked by the universe.............

Picture this: a hot, young mom, pulls out of her driveway with her infant son in the back & her long blonde hair blows in the wind. This would be me...only reader beware - before you start the envy, make the following edits:
Place the word 'mess' after 'hot.' 
Assume 'young' means my child is young and I am still very much learning. 
Replace the word 'pulls,' with 'squeals.' 
Sneak 'unbrushed' between words 'long' & 'blonde. ' 
Understand that my hair was only blowing in the wind because my windows were down in an attempt to drown out the stench of my son's freshly loaded diaper....
I mean you're catching what I'm throwing here right? Glamorous doesn't begin to cover how picturesque my life is. Ha. 

It's true, I am squealing out of the driveway because it's 10:21 & my son's 9 month check up has been rescheduled for today at 10:30, because I missed yesterday's appointment because with all that is this life, I forgot - and - NOT TODAY! Not again, at least. He is upset because, well diaper, and he's screaming which is only adding to the chaos. I'm driving down the street like a bat of hell when we get to a green arrow (my favorite traffic signal EVER) and of the 2 cars in front of me, one is waiting for her top coat to dry & the other is eating a 4 course breakfast...or something - but whatever it is, THEY AREN'T DRIVING! Don't these bitches know we have somewhere to be?! So I honk and wave and say, "Let's go people! The light is green!!" We are all driving up the street now and I've decided I hope they see I'm headed en route to the Dr.'s so they feel badly they made me wait...no really. I'm actually having these thoughts. It's kind of ridiculous, but in the spirit of authenticity - there ya go...

We manage to get to the Dr.'s office all in one piece. The baby is sucking his thumb & has calmed in the backseat. I've managed to get here on time (& how did I manage that?!) & find close parking. I grab the monkey man (baby), our luggage (or so it would seem) and trek to the front door of the building. A tall, fatherly figure, whom I would guess to be Haitian, is kindly holding the door for us; I have a baby after all. He says something to someone on the elevator & I realize he is speaking to his son, who mind you, is following in his father's footsteps and holding the elevator door open for a teeny old lady who is moving slowly as she pushes a walker, he is asking his son to continue to hold the elevator for me and dad says to son, "Please hold for the mother & baby..." We all load up. My son is taking it all in, smiling at everyone on the elevator & I am catching my breath...
And [finally] climbing out of my head space to observe my surroundings. 

The man's son is about 15 years old. He's a full grown boy, somewhere between 5'10 & 6 ft tall I would presume. He has a brace supporting his entire torso. It starts at his hips and works its way up on either side of his rib cage. It hugs either side of his chest & back. Eventually the brace sprawls its way around the boys neck so that his head is completely stationary. His right arm is fully extended, and this brace, this piece of equipment that appears to be holding the boy's body together, extends all the way to the very tip of his middle finger, with joints & webbing spanning across his hand, wrist, elbow, shoulder and back to his torso. Its made of many pieces of metal & plastic & foam. The boy couldn't possibly be comfortable but he stands so I can see his profile, and he's smirking at my son, in an attempt to keep him smiling. Four of the five of us were getting out on the 2nd floor, pediatrics. The father & his son exit the elevator with my son & me. The father lingers for a moment & asks the elderly woman if she's sure she's got it from there, ensuring her he'd be happy to help her get to her destination. She is gracious but insists she will be fine & makes a broad statement to have a good day, raising a shaky hand to wave goodbye to the infant on board. 

The father and son entered the first office off the elevator which is a nationally recognized burn center. I am observing only what I've seen thus far and from one parent to the next, I look at the father and offer an encouraging smile telling him my heart is with him. I gently whispered to him, "poor thing," only to offer empathy and a hint of understanding. Understanding that if that were my son, I too would be instilling good manners but that I get what it's like to love a child...I actually get that. And for that pain & that kind of love, I'm sorry. The son turns to look at me for the first time, and I see that half of this beauty's face is severely burned, as his neck, and from the small amount of skin showing at the end of his brace, his hand. I can't tell you what has happened to this teenager but I can tell you it will be, and has already, been a long road to recovery. 

From entering the building to arriving on the 2nd floor, the whole thing couldn't have taken longer than 20 seconds. But it was 20 seconds, this spaz of a woman, this rushed mom with a false sense of high importance, REALLY needed. I quickly realized that none of this other bullshit matters! Tardiness doesn't matter, slow cars don't matter. What's the worst that would have happened if we were late to the Dr.'s appointment? I would have had to reschedule? Maybe if the office was in some sort of special mood, they would have charged me for a visit?? It doesn't matter. What matters is our health. Our safety. Our good manners. Our kind ways. Our love for one another. The fact we are alive and it's all going to be ok. These are the things that matter. I try to live to these philosophies as a rule, but sometimes I forget. I'm hurried or I'm overwhelmed and I stumble. It happens, I'm fallible...hard to believe but it's true! I make mistakes & I don't always know how to correct them. I believe in evolution though, and I believe that for every action there is an equal & opposite reaction & I believe this interaction with this father & son duo; teaming up to offer politeness & kindness wherever they go, was the universe speaking to me from another dimension, reminding me to slow the fuck down. 
Take a deep breath. 
Breathe. 
Calm. 
Be. 
And it will all be, ok. 
Ok? 
Ok...

Be wonderful and your life will follow. 

...and her life was Simply wonderful

All my very best,
Emily 

Non-Mom's We Need to Have a Talk...................... (11 Simple Rules to Being Friends with a New Mom)

A while back, when my baby was a mere 3 months old, and I hadn't started working yet, I was a sad case. I was lonely. Somedays I was sad. I was bored. My intelligence was dulling, and I needed people.  I needed my friends, badly...I was flaked on 4 times throughout the course of 1 week (yah how's that for the old ego?).  I'm a relatively easy going person, that being said, I completely understand life happens: exhaustion, work, sadly even death happens. But here's what can't happen: We have plans, I look forward to the plans of breaking out of my mommy monotony & you call me a couple hours - maybe even the morning prior to said plans, and you bail. No. Not okay friend! As a new mom I respectfully request that you don't blow me off  (blah blah blah - unless you've got a really good reason to).  I realize it's not personal, but it still sucks. As a new mom, my life is so different, I have needs and although I'm not able to meet your needs all the time right now, I promise, the day you pop a little one out - girl - I've got your back.

In the mean time, here are a few things you're going to need to know about the rules and expectations us new mom's have when it comes to this friendship

1. IF you make plans with us, know that we are grateful.  I realize I'm not the barrel of fun I used to be. I'm a chaotic mess barely hanging on and mostly look like a train wreck so the fact you've offered your free time to entertain me - is beyond. That and any human interaction aside from what we have with baby daddy, is so so valued. Being able to talk about something other than sleep schedules and poop frequency (it's true - it happens guys), is like a vacation. Making plans though, means you've got to stick with them. If you can't make the date, or there's a chance you will have to cancel -  tell me! I'll force myself to be ok with that but communication is key. I look forward to getting away from baby babble and if you stand me up - you break my heart. I'm already lonely and quite bored - I'm counting on our 2 hour meet up to keep my sanity for the rest of the day; maybe even the rest of my week.

2. Never show up without wine or coffee. Because you're such a good friend you're going to ask me if there's anything I need & because I don't want to impose or maybe because I can't think that far in advance, inevitably I will tell you no - just bring your diaper free self....but let's be real. I am tired. I am cranky. I am thirsty. I look forward to wine o'clock and if it's too early (but really what is too early anyway?) I rely on coffee to get me through the day, sue me.

3. Bring us your drama. Please. I don't get out much. I know the cracks on my ceiling, the number of tiles in my bathroom, and the number of spit up towels NOT on hand when I need them. Sure my baby is adorable and exciting but I don't want to talk about the baby. I don't want to talk baby talk. I want to talk about you. I want to hear about your dates, where you ate last night, and your take on what rap sounds like this week.

4. Encourage us! If I am going back to work, or scared or if I have the next big idea and I'm sharing it with you - tell me to go for it! Encourage me! Short of introducing nap time, I haven't had a good idea in months. I want to know I've still got it - that I count. That maybe one day I can contribute to society again. 

5. Tell us we're doing a great job as a mom. That's it - that's all. If you think (even for a split second) that I'm doing a good job, please tell me because I'm questioning EVERY MOVE I MAKE.

6. If we bitch about something - listen. Hear me. It could be my husband, it could be about the baby, it could be about sore boobs. Just be there, hold my hand, and prop your shoulder up right under my head. I need you.

7. You want to hold the baby? Hold him! I hold him all day er'y day - you can't hog him. I will let you hold him as long as you want. Hold on friend. Hold on.
     7 a.) I won't ask for him back so when you're tired of holding him - just give him back. Let's not force me to do the obligatory, "do you want me to take him?" 

8. Do NOT under ANY circumstances - NEVER NEVER EVER EVER offer your negative or questioning opinion on anything parenting we are doing; unless I happen to ask - which I won't, so just don't. Because if you do, I promise you will unleash the beast. Every thing I do, every decision I have made has been well thought out - researched more than anything can be researched, and I am making the best decision I can for my baby, for my family, for myself, and I certainly don't need your input. 

...Oh you had a friend that did what and it worked? Oh???? 

...yeah I don't care. Not one bit, and now you've irritated me. 

As nice you think I am, here's what I'm doing behind my smile and bright eyes while you ramble, "...and how many children have you had? None? Oh yeah? That's cool and your opinion means jack diddley shit to me. So can you please just STFU?" 

9. Don't talk shit about another mom and expect us to agree with you. If there's one thing I've learned through this whole child rearing process (so far), it's that every body tries really hard to do the right thing. You just don't know until you know. So if you're going to come over here and tell me your thoughts on how so and so parents/disciplines/gives in, you best believe she has me on her side. This parenting business is really really beyond the hardest thing you can imagine. Unless someone is really dismantling their child's future by truly being shitty, you're not getting my vote. 

10. This is somewhat of a reprise of request #1 but IF you wanna hang - you've got to stick to the schedule. You see, I know you think I'm just wandering around the house waiting for you to show up and entertain me (dance monkey dance!) but the truth is I am running around trying to coordinate his naps, his feedings, his hygiene, his entrainment, my hygiene, maybe even a snack for myself, and I don't have time for you to be running an hour late or show an hour early! I may have been spontaneous once upon a long time ago, but now everything in my day is meticulously thought out and planned for. You showing up when you please doesn't suit me, and it definitely doesn't suit the baby. Please, when we make plans for noon, be here at noon, not 11:30, not 1:15. 

11. Please remember this: We had a baby, we are not dead. For awhile, possibly a few years, I'll be scarce or maybe even absent; but I'm still here.  I'm still me. Just me with a bed time. Me who actually chooses to put someone else's needs above my own, and I love it. If you choose to stick by me during this most transitional time in my life, it will never be forgotten. They say if you want to know who your true friends are, have a baby. You see, above all other plans of fancy vacations, and Louboutins, raises,  freedom and mystery - I knew I wanted a baby. Ever since I was playing with those cabbage patch kids hoping so badly they would come to life, I knew I wanted this, and I have worked to create a life that would bring it to me. Either support me or don't but don't lead me on. I will be back.

The bottom line is you don't get it. I know it because it wasn't until I was elbows deep in spit up, poop, pee, and unable to hear my inner thoughts of doubt through his screams of new born despair, and all I wanted to do was hold him and not run away. I don't expect you to get it. I swear it. All I ask is that if you are going to be my friend, commit, and be it. Don't judge me. Don't blow me off. Love me. Support me. Be a friend.

Thank you for listening. We need you now more than we ever have.

...and her life was Simply wonderful

All my very best,
Me, a new mom - on behalf of other new moms, 
Emily

me drunk on a cruise ship in Greece BB
(before baby)

How To Really Clean Your Breast Pump In 10 Simple Steps

I'm a stickler for sanitary, especially when it comes to my baby, and have struggled with getting my Medela breast pump pieces clean. I wash them of course, sometimes 3 times a day! After using them for a couple of months, though, I realized they were starting to smell like feet after a long hike in old shoes with no socks - and well that just can't be sanitary. I use my Medela sterilizing bags frequently but even still, after awhile it got to the point where I could actually see old breast milk residue in the hard to reach spaces within the pump and that's just [for lack of a better word] YUCK.  I considered bleach but that didn't sit well with me, even with a thorough rinse, I still felt like I could be endangering the babe. So I've opted for something else completely safe - Isopropyl Alcohol - no really...ok maybe not that much safer than bleach but with a thorough rinse anything is possible right? Right. 

So here's how to clean your breast pump (like you may have cleaned some other things in college - we won't mention what and if you don't know, don't worry about it.) Since I can't stand life stories before How To's I'll get right into it. 

You will need:
1 functioning nose - all mom's have these
1 toothbrush you don't intend to use on your teeth
1 large bowl
epsom salts 
isopropyl alcohol

hot water
place for everything to air dry (I love my boon drying grass)

Step 1.
Sniff Test
Smell your breast pump - if it reminds you of feet - it's time to get serious.

my morning hair for added authenticity 

Step 2.
Dismantle your pump
There should be 4 pieces per side: Breast shield, valve, membrane & connector. 
*There's also the bottles into which you pump, but those are pretty easy to clean and sterilize* If not - throw them into the mix too! Can't hurt. 

Step 3.
Wash each piece with soap and water per the usj then set on drying area to dry while you get everything else assembled.

Step 4.
Pour a small amount of the epsom salt into each piece - I pour salt into both sides of connector. 

Step 5.
Add a splash of the Isopropyl alcohol to each piece like you did the salt

Step 6. 
Now swirl your mixture about & use your tooth free toothbrush to work in all the crevices and small spaces of each unit; specifically the connectors and valves. 

Step 7. 
Throw all pieces into your large bowl and let sit for a minute or two while you prep your hot water.

Step 8.
Add your hot water to the bowl, maybe 2 or 3 cups, just enough to mildly cover your pieces. Fill your bottles with a small amount of the mixture and allow everything to sit for about 10 minutes. 

Step 9.
Turn that hot water back on and rinse everything throughly. This is when mom nose comes in real handy as you'll want to make sure the smell of the alcohol is long gone. 

Step 10.
Throw everything onto your drying area and allow to drip dry.

Now you have clean and fresh smelling pieces of breast pump ready for you to reassemble, plug in, and viciously pull at your nips for another 15 minutes!

A couple of things to remember: 
1 - make sure you do this during babies nap time as the smell of the alcohol is so strong it actually burns your throat. You don't want that near babe 
2 - nothing about this is scientific. I don't measure anything. It's a simple process, no need to complicate it!
3 - you may notice my stemless wine glasses hiding in the last photo. Boon Grass is also a great place to dry your wine glasses and I really don't think that's an accident. BONUS!

Happy clean and fresh pumping!!

...and her life was Simply wonderful

You're welcome,
Emily 

shaving and exfoliating like what?

This post is dedicated to the glamazeutiful shower I took this morning...lavender sugar salt scrub and all!

This weekend on What Are We Toasting To? (just a random new name for this blog I came up with...do we like it? Is it totally lame? Should I just stick with what I've got??  Let me know in the comments section kthanksssss....) we're talking about when life hands you lemons and you make lemonade and not necessarily because the lemonade is that much better; but because it's more of like - a necessary for your sanity, er - um tastebuds - and you've come to appreciate even the sourness the lemon offers to begin with because well theoretically the lemon is life...sweet bullshit additives such as sugar are not life. Sweet, bullshit, additives like sugar to the lemons of life, are a cover up, they're lipstick, a mockery of the lemon to begin with. Ok - I need less caffeine at night - I digress. And I love lipstick.  Lemons & lemonade and what happens when baby doesn't sleep, and how that can be lemony - which isn't necessarily bad - and how since my son has been born even though it's a helluva an adjustment, I have learned to appreciate so much more than I ever did before - is what's on topic for this here blog post (and I'm taking a breath you should too - that was a lot, and more is coming!).

I love the fact that at 3 months old, my precious bundle, Oliver, is an excellent sleeper - it's like - so so glorious....except for when he's not and it's like - so un-glorious. 
Like everything in this new world of parenting, when it comes to sleep, we have good days and we have bad days. Good days consist of several naps of appropriate length and an easy peasy goodnight lay down session in which he sleeps from around 8:30 pm to 7 am (hallelujah!). But guess what? In order for me to mucho appreciate the good nap days there's just got to be - (cue dramatic music....) DOM DOM DOM (!) -  a  shitty nap day. A shitty nap day means no naps, which equates to lots of fussiness & temporary bouts of smiles which ultimately mean just when I get into his fest of giggles - he erupts into a festival of cries (like out of nowhere - how do they do that?! Like us women, I tell ya...happy one sec and *boom* say/do the wrong thing - pissed the next.) 

Being the active type that I am - before baby, I was nothing if I wasn't doing 30 things in my day. This is no longer the case...and that is because, well - baby. You see when he isn't a happy baby (see shitty nap day), I'm not a happy mom and in order to get by I must consent to let go of whatever plans I thought I had and just let life happen the way it's meant to, sugary-additive free. 

Also Known As: OLIVER RULES (his way or the highway mmmm?)

It's just easier. Easier on him, cause that's how he expects it - and easier on me because I'm not fighting the inevitable. Accepting what is. Coming to this understanding and agreement with myself has made life a lot more simple, let me tell you. Besides, aside from this understanding, I also know that wherever a shitty sleep day lies, an exceptional sleep day follows. And that my friends is something to look forward to. 

~~~~~

T'was Saturday, and the child hadn't slept a wink. He couldn't! There was too much excitement going on in the outside world. His mind wouldn't shut off. Fret not though, I did, as I knew that Sunday, a day of exceptional sleep, lie ahead! And not just a day of exceptional sleep but a day when dad was home. Jimmi could be near should anything go wrong in dreamland and that meant I was free to shower and I will take that sir thankyouverymuch! I remember the feeling I got as I saw what lie in my future. A little slice of paradise was beckoning me from the bathroom. I could almost see the shower and all of the shower accessories - loofahs, smelly soaps, scrubs, and razors, yes even razors - glistening from the nursery as I lay him down for his second nap of the day. I could nearly hear the reflective ding that comes off of crystal champagne glasses when you clink 2 together, as I imagined all of the luxuriousness I was about to embark upon. This was not going to be any 3 minute hose down, oh no - this was going to be a shower MADE FOR A WOMAN. A 15 minute vacation submerging me into a steamy, hair free & smooth abyss of Japanese Cherry Blossom (yes I still use that - does that make me 12? Oh well #simplepleasures) awaited me. And I ceased every. Single. Moment. 


This brings me back to lemons and why it's important to embrace lemons as they are. There is a silver lining, free of sugary additives everywhere - or there can be - if you look for it. As I've said before, I am not one to shy away from celebrations, even if I have to create them. And so I didn't. To all you mommy's or severely time starved people out there: Shower on my friends, shower on.

words: me. melody and likeness:Raffy
(thank you Baby Einstein...)

...and her life was Simply wonderful

All my very best,
Emily  

When Getting Cat Called is a Good Thing

I did it guys. It started out as a walk. And then when I put on my running shoes instead of flip flops or chucks, it morphed into a run. Well it was more of a walk 100 steps run 100 steps walk-run sort of thing, but I left the house and before I knew it I was sweating. It wasn't easy. But to keep it real - I was having some mommy blues. Blues founded on thoughts like, "What happened to the life I once knew? Oh right. There it is - in that gorgeous bundle of blue joy staring back at me in the stroller...." He is worth every moment of pain, confusion and adjustment to this new life. Sadness founded on having the thoughts to begin with. 
But you know what cures sadness? Endorphins. You know how to get those suckers to appear? Simply getting outside is a good start!! Running is an even better one. 

I'm into self help - and so I did. And you know what else?  

I felt large and in charge. 

Not necessarily because of my expanded waist line (thank you again baby!) but mostly because of the, albeit under inflated, soccer ball sized boobs I now have. I mean huge is an understatement. These puppies make Oliver the envy of  tiny town. His food supply is never ending and my boobs are showing their work hourly. My sports bra (cause I'm queen of athleticism) could be a hat for a large set of Siamese twins. Aside from the girls, my leggings which I refuse to upgrade - and I do mean UPgrade - for my postpartum body, are at the point in their journey where they stretch so plump over my tight ass - er um make that - stretch so tight over my plump ass that one doesn't have to try very hard to guess the color of polk a dots on my granny panties. Then there's my feet - oy vey my feet. I started off the cutest little size 6  and well, my running shoes reminded me this is no longer the case. Never mind the blisters I scored, but the whole time I'm running (100 steps at a time people!) I'm terrified my big toes are going to simultaneously pop out the top of my shoes!  

So there I am run-walking along with my 9 year old puggle and my beautiful 11 week old baby boy who has just learned the fun of his tongue, and it's really the cutest thing. The endorphins are flowing and truthfully I could not care less what I look like. I'm happy. Really happy. I'm slowing my pace to catch my breath when someone drives by and cat calls me. Friggin CAT CALLS ME. Like what are we in, high school? 
And I'm like "...high school...fuck yeah self. Fuck. Yeah." Ha! 
And you know what??
I'll take it.  
I WILL TAKE THAT! 

Just when you think you haven't got it anymore......

I realized a few things: a.) I have got it.  b) "It" is happiness. It's a life. A husband. A son. Breath. Thighs AND soccer ball boobs. And I've got it. High five. 

Haha I say most of this tongue and cheek cause honestly if we can't laugh (especially at ourselves) what have we really got anyway? I know I'll get my body back - and if I don't I don't. It's certainly a testament to how hard I worked for the biggest payout if my life: my Oliver.  I'm happy I've got a man who loves me through thick and thin. And even happier that I refused to sign that prenup! Muahahahaaa

...and her life was Simply wonderful

All my very best,
Em

Feed him Beatles

HIM being my unborn son 
BEATLES being "The" 

Picture this:
A small 7 year old blonde girl, with a bun representing a lemon muffin as it balances directly in the center of her dome - is dressed in a sailor dress, white tights, black Mary Jane's & completing the look with a splash of mom's blush, musters up all of the courage she has in the world, walks to the front of the stage at the church where her piano recital is being held, and with hands clasped behind her back she clears her throat and says,

"This next song is for my dad..."

Then, she turns on her heel, fluffs the skirt of her dress and positions herself on the piano bench as she begins to play "HELP," by none other than The Beatles.
  There aren't many memories from my childhood that I remember as precisely as this one but The Beatles were such a strong part of my upbringing - and that was such a moment for me - that I could never forget it. And now at tender age of somewhere between 27 & 42, I want to make sure my unborn son has the same tender memories I have when it comes to music.

While baking in the womb, babies have been shown to turn their heads in response to voices and familiar sounds at week 24! So it's no wonder why, when as soon as we heard this, my husband started having nightly chats and morning salutations with the belly; and I started instilling a strict regimen of daily Beatles listening. Although between the 2 of us, our music is quite eclectic, we like it all! It was suggested to us that if we play the same album repeatedly to the little one while in utero, it may (yes, we'll take anything) soothe him once he enters this big bad world to have something familiar to hear.  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 
Everything written above this line was about my UNBORN son - for whatever reason I never got around to finishing the post while he was still baking, and now here I am 6 weeks postpartum. On May 24th, 2015 at 7:17 pm I gave birth to the most perfect specimen of a human, my baby boy, Oliver James Lewis. 

Now at 6 weeks old, although we are just getting to know each other, even though everything is so very new to us all, especially him, despite the fact that he is just plain inconsolable at times, one thing is for sure: my baby boy loves his music. He likes the Beatles just fine, yes. And he better, we played a lot for him. But no matter how fussy he gets - or how LOUD that fuss becomes, whatever I play be it the Beatles or Eminem, Sonny & Cher or The Temptations, Britney Spears or Led Zepplin, Beethoven or Bach, Oliver's happy place is a time signature and a beat. 
It's a beautiful thing because his dad and I are both musically inclined and could never even think of doing anything productive without our life soundtrack gently playing or loudly thumping in the background! 
And for a life that I thought was simply wonderful before I had a baby, I hadn't a clue as to what I was missing until I held in my arms. 
Here's to many Hey Jude's, Opus's and Stairway's to Heaven as we begin the journey of a new life.

All my very best,
Em

...and her life was Simply wonderful