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

Get Oot! Get Oot of the Hooose!

Read the title of this post aloud, phonetically, & with gusto...I dare you not to smile 

Do you ever have one of those days (or weeks, or months?) where everything feels off? You feel crooked and irritable? Easily distracted, overly busy, yet accomplishing nothing? I do. I'm just coming out of one of these mini ruts. It started with this years flu virus. Little slap on my wrist for not getting vaccinated [#buzzword] against it. But sue me. I'm pregnant! 

Which BTW - world's GREATEST excuse for everything!!! 

(I suggest using it even if you're not - what are people going to do? Argue with a pregnant woman?)

Oops sorry - pregnant!

Baby please? I'm pregnant!

Why is your slice of cake bigger? I'm the pregnant one!

Anyhoo it was simultaneously too soon and too late to get the shot so I didn't. And I suffered for it. With lingering laryngitis and a golf ball lodged in the nook of my throat -  I was recently suffering from having an off day.  I was home and out of bed but hadn't been out of the house doing anything for what felt like weeks. When the sickness starts to wear off, & television gets old, the mind starts a-wandering & suddenly I find myself in this weird downward spiral of privately owned and operated self deprecation. My thought process goes something like this:

Wow I'm up!
Man I haven't been up in like 6 days
6 days - you're a loser. You weren't even that sick! 
Were you throwing up? No. You slept!
You can't do that when you have a child, let alone a new born - what makes you think you should do it now?
God I'm so lame
What have I done in a week? NO-THING 
I didn't even read a book...I am a waste of space
Why do I even bother? 
With anything?
I should just quit...

Ahhh - repeating my inner thoughts is too depressing...and I must admit - I was feeling it: depressed.  I digress, my point? You see how this trajectory starts? And grows? It's terrible. And if you don't make it a personal mission to stop it - you're screwed up depression creek, binge eating Ben n Jerry's out of the carton and then worst of all - feeling sorry for it later. Binge eating ice cream is sometimes a necessary evil I will never deny anyone of, but feeling sorry for it? SUX. When you're already feeling depressed - feeling sorry for something is the last thing to help your cause. 
You know what fixes it though? It's a depression remedy I SWEAR by. Listen carefully because it's intense. You ready? 
A wonderful cure for that sometimes mild but feels really serious depression is 

GETTING. OUT. OF. THE. HOUSE. 

Mind blown yet? Or as I like to scream in silly collapse worthy laughter with some of my favorite females: GET OOT! GET OOT OF THE HOOSE!!!! 
Saying everything loudly with a hefty Canadian accent makes everything more serious and definitely more fun! 
Whether you are going for an invigorating run, a quick walk around the block, or just a short drive across town, I promise you - you can - and if you really want it - YOU WILL feel better.

So on this particular day of feeling down and out, having an off day, a day of being down in the dumps, I forced it upon myself: 
First I showered & put on clothes (as opposed to pajamas) - ok ok...this feels alright
Then I put on make up - dang girl at least you clean up nice!
I blew my hair dry - alright if nothing else I look good
And I took off in my humble little Prius for some totally boring errands: Post Office, Target (who can really hate on Target though?), various returns, bladdity blah blah. Then I did something kind of crazy - you know, just to spice things up. I rolled down my windows, plugged in my good ol' aux cable and BLASTED some of my favorite sing along music. With me and my eclectic mix of moody Lana Del Rey, falling in love Ed Sheeran, and classic Beatles I hid behind my sunglasses and sang and car-danced as though no one in the world were watching or listening.
AND MAGIC (as per the now nearly expected usual) I FELT BETTER.

Next time you're not feeling like you - try getting oot of the hoose and let me know how it goes!

...and her life was Simply wonderful

All my very best,
Em 

Nice is Important

Simple statement, true story: NICE IS IMPORTANT.

Being nice is a relatively easy thing to be and the reward is so brilliant. It just takes some thought and a wee bit of selflessness (you can do that right?). And something magical happens: A ripple effect is created. 
Have you ever even considered the thought? 
A ripple effect from being nice. 
What a concept.

Don't believe me? Well humor me & think of the adverse for a second.

So not to confuse the 2 - we'll call it the negativity ring.
Someone, we'll say a barista at a coffee shop, is rude (as they are busy riding their own wave of the negativity ring). After you politely explain they made you the wrong drink, they correct the issue, but not before they snap at you in defense demanding you ordered incorrectly. 
Oh so now it's my fault!(?). 
We've all been there - on both the giving and receiving end of this. 
The not-so-happy-barista completes the transaction by slamming your drink down and storming away. You gather yourself and your whip-cream FREE latte and make your way to the parking lot, just as you initially intended. Only now you've got a sour taste in your mouth. The sour taste lingers as you drive away and you carry that with you to your next endeavor. Perhaps you drive a little more hastily and now you cut someone off. Maybe they're already having a bad day and they snap at their partner in the seat next to them because it's all they can do not to burst into tears. 
Whatever the scenario may be, you see how quickly it can happen. It's like a mean game of telephone but instead of a secret piece of gossip getting misunderstood - it's an angry virus that is transmitted through social interaction. 
But it doesn't have to be. A simple act of kindness can go just as far - if not even farther than an angry virus can. The concept of the ripple effect born from niceness, is exemplified perfectly in one of my favorite poems. I discovered it in a Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul book when I was about 15, and it has stuck with me ever since. 

The poem is called "Smile," and it goes like this:

"She smiled at a sorrowful stranger.

The smile seemed to make him feel better.

He remembered the past kindness of a friend.

and wrote a thank-you letter.

The friend was so pleased with the thank-you

that he left a large tip after lunch.

The waitress, surprised by the size of the tip,

bet the whole thing on a hunch.

The next day she picked up her winnings,

and gave part to a man on a street.

The man on the street was grateful;

for two days he'd had nothing to eat.

After he finished his dinner,

he left for his small dingy room.

(He didn't know at that moment

that he might be facing his doom.)

On the way he picked up a shivering puppy

and took him home to get warm.

The puppy was very grateful

to be in out of the storm.

That night the house caught on fire.

The puppy barked the alarm.

He barked 'til he woke the whole household

and saved everybody from harm.

One of the boys that he rescued

grew up to be President.

All this because of a simple smile

that hadn't cost a cent" 

(I can't figure out the author's name to save my life, so by all mean's if you can, please do, and let me know!)

Being nice may not always come naturally - or easily - but it goes such a long way. Besides what's that old adae you hear all the time? 

Everyone is fighting some sort of battle. Be kind. Always.

Recently I was temping at an office and I had a rather humanizing experiencing reminding me that I'm - oh yes - human and that I can stand to take my own worldly wisdom often (I write this stuff for me, not you). I saw the same woman every day and she could rarely squeeze out a smile, let alone make eye contact. I don't know what my deal was, but I made the mistake of speaking up to a colleague, "What is her problem? She seems so angry all the time...really unhappy & not very nice."

To which my colleague quickly replied,"She's actually really nice. I think she's very insecure about her personal situation. You should talk to her."

He was so right, and I was embarrassed I let myself go there.

The next day was a new day - a great day to be judgement free, to be selfless, to be nice. I saw her and instead of assuming and avoiding I said, "Good morning Claudia*! I am loving your dress!" I did - it hugged her in all the right places. 

And guess what? She stood a little taller, smoothed the non-existent wrinkles at her hips, smiled ear to ear looked at me and said, "Would you believe I got it at Ross?!" The conversation took off from there and when finished she had a new bounce to her step. She paraded around the office for the rest of the day as the best dressed woman in the office that she was. I saw that ripple effect first hand, and it didn't cost me a cent. 

Within the hour of this interaction, I made my way to the copy room where I saw a large and naked bulletin board that had been there all along but today I really saw it. It was empty of any fliers, reminders, company picnic announcements, or lost dog posters and one very powerful statement on it: NICE IS IMPORTANT. 

A reminder to all that Nice goes a long way. A simple truth that creates a magic ripple effect and doesn't cost a cent? Where do I sign? I WANT MORE. And you should too. Sometimes it can be hard, I know, but I think we can do it.

...and her life was Simply wonderful

All my very best,

Em

Eyeliner and Granny Panties

It's Valentines Day and to me just another day with a little extra bit of red sprinkled around the day and maybe some flowers if you're lucky. And I like that!  
In the week gearing up for this cheesy albeit Hallmarky (I think they're going out of business?? So sad) type holiday though, I have watched the self loathing pity posts exploding all over social media and you know what? I don't like that. Everyone can have their day of doom. Their moment out of the sun, fine; but, let me offer a different perspective: 

#1. If you're wearing your self loathing pity party anywhere near your sleeve - the rest of the world can smell and feel your desperate lonely self from a short mile away, making your prognosis for nailing down that perfect someone far from a reality. Harsh maybe, but true - lighten up! 

#2. It's just another day! Why go around souring it for everyone else? Pull yourself up and charge ahead - just for today.

#3. Shouldn't we be sharing the love in our hearts with everyone we come across everyday? Maybe those poor souls who don each other with diamonds and luxury limo buses on Valentine's day really just hate each other the rest of the year.  Tell yourself that and move on.
When it comes to that ol' heart of your - don't cry because it's broken or lonely, laugh because you've got one and you can! You're alive and the sun is shining - celebrate that! 

Know that I laugh out loud as I say this and want to assure you it's all in good fun. Just try not to be so sad because you don't have a Valentine. Or because you have to work. Or because you don't have a valentine AND you have to work. Oh the hell. Can you imagine? 

On the contrary to the negative posts, my social media was also filled some great attitudes from single female friends of mine and I had to share their perspectives which is nail-on-the-head what I'm saying. 

"Hilarious! Happy Valentine's Day to the rest of us!"

"Happy Valentine's Day to me! I do it for the chocolate!"

"Happy Valentine's Day to my special boys!!"

Maybe we could all take a hint front these ladies who find the humor, love or appreciation wherever they can and move onward. 
I know I know, I'm married. So who the F am I to say all of this BS about not whining on Valentine's Day? Well I'll tell you.  I'm someone who has shared Valentine's day with the same guy for 10 years. We've had good Valentine's and bad. We've had ones where he didn't even remember what day it was and I was pissed. We have had them when we both worked and didn't celebrate at all. To us it was always just another day. One with a little extra red sprinkled around and maybe some flowers if I was lucky. But I am ok with that and I encourage you to be the same. 
When in doubt do what I did - put on a dress and some eyeliner, grab a partner if you can, and smile pretty for a homemade selfie...what you don't know is I'm wearing flip flops on my feet and granny panties underneath. It's all about perspective my friends.

Eyeliner & Granny Panties

Good Night!

...and her life was Simply wonderful

All my very best,
Em

I lost my job and I don't know where to find it CONCLUSION: PART 2 of 2

Just like I don't want you to care that I have chosen to add children to my life, I really don't give two shoots when the contrary occurs and you choose to opt out of children. None of my business. What I will say; however, is those without kids probably don't get the timing and scheduling constraints that come with oh I don't know - children - not to mention giving birth...and these potential new employers of mine (sorry - I choose discretion - but I will tell you they are NOT actors, more behind the scenes type folk) were no exception to the rule.
Now law says I didn't have to tell them about my pregnancy (and since my 3rd and final interview found me in the living  room of this family, a mere 3 hours after THE Dr.'s appointment to begin all Dr.'s appointments - and I barely believed the news myself - no this was not the moment I chose to share) but because I was supposed to be on a book tour anywhere from Los Angeles to NYC the week I was due, I thought it was only right that I come forward about the growing poppy seed within me prior to accepting the position.  And so I did. They were prudent enough not to offer a hard-fast sayonara, but place the ball in my court and offered, "Hey - if you can make the travel dates - the gig is yours..." I offered many alternatives, but as luck would have it - whether that's literal or sarcastic luck I'm still not so sure - my alternatives did not offer a solution worthy of accepting the position and thus, I was still left jobless. Unemployed. Without work.
So you can scoot back in your seats now, the tail of me accepting - or not - this ever so seemingly glamorous yet not-so-in-the-slightest position, is over.  I did not accept the position and although maybe begrudgingly, it was ultimately my choice. As exciting of a story as this shaped up to be, though, this is not a tale of that!
This is a coming of age - or as this basketball continues to expand beneath my shirt - perhaps shape and size - story (or should I say battle?)  I have within me about the fact that I am of a certain decade and completely unemployed...CORRECTION I work one day a week for my sweet husband at his company. And that's just nice. But certainly not what I had *ahem* PLANNED. A decade ago, when I pictured myself so many years out of college, and living in Los Angeles I did not foresee unemployment. Aside from movie stardom - I'm not really sure what I saw.  My mind's eye had me putting a career of some worth on hold to give birth and then possibly return later left to battle the stress of leaving my infant behind; or hell even succeeding enough in my entrepreneurial endeavors (more on those later) enough so that I could remain a stay at home mom and come back to my own business at my leisure with my little one on my lap. Ahhh the fantasy's. I never planned for this. I never anticipated being jobless.  But look - that's where my cards landed.
As my gait takes on a new swagger while I lean into my haunches a little bit more than usual and my belly protrudes - interviewing without prejudice becomes increasingly more difficult. My pregnancy hit 6 months today, and the writing on the wall is becoming more and more clear to interpret. The chances of me landing that dream job, or finding a new career path at this exact moment in my life, are slim.  And you know what? (as I heave a big & resolute sigh) I'm going to make a choice to be ok with that. Sure, it wasn't in my plans. G'head God - laugh it up buddy. I'm not saying I give up - but universes's would have to collide in order for things to go just so.
 On that note - if you've got the power to make any universe collide - I should remind you, I'm pregnant, not dead!
I once left what some might consider a dream job to pursue my entrepreneurial dream of owning a dessert company (are we seeing a trend??) and when I did, it was a calculated decision (which brings this whole thing full circle back on down to nanny-ville). A decision in which I had to ultimately put money, comfort, and conventional life choices on the back burner while I charged ahead with belief in myself. When I did so - I found this amazing vinyl sticker online, a quote by Mark Twain, I posted it in my office and to this day it remains there. Reminding me to have some faith in the choices I have made.

About 7 months ago, Jimmi and I made a decision to start trying for some kidlets. I never dreamed I would blink and be knocked up - but here we are. I have stressed and pulled my hair out. Cried and questioned my decision of turning certain opportunities down while simultaneously pushing down the excitement of becoming a mom. No more. I am going to live in this moment. Celebrate my pregnancy and then the birth of this baby boy and begin to watch him grow. I have every intention of returning to the work force and doing something phenomenal with my career and I can't wait. It could be tomorrow. It could be next year. It could be the day he graduates high school. For now - I'm going to choose to CELEBRATE. Life doesn't allot for too much of that: celebration. So put your party hats on kids. I'm unemployed. I am growing the life of a baby boy. 

I'm not dead. I'm just pregnant. 

Thank you for taking the journey with me as I learn to accept my current state of affairs. 

...and her life was Simply wonderful

All my very best,

Emily

I lost my job & I don't know where to find it! --------- PART 1 of 2

Being a nanny for so many years (more on why 'nanny' later),  I decided I was ready for a career transformation. I wanted a new career, a new path, and the opportunities to develop the many skills I had only grazed the surface on throughout previous employment at fancy schmancy corporations in my years since college graduation. While working for one family,  I was quietly researching career opportunities and interviewing, even turning down job offers (!) looking for the perfect fit. After all, I had a job, time wasn't of the essence, and I was not in any mood to settle.

Well the joke was on me ultimately when in late August of 2014, my boss of 3+ years casually mentioned that he would no longer need my services come October. WHAT?! But I - was going to quit YOU! Not the other way around...SHIT.  This was not part of the plan. Have you heard the saying, "When you make plans, God laughs?" At times like this, I think I'm his best entertainment! Now, normally when one loses their job, they might collect unemployment and/or seek out the same position at the next best company and simply move onward and upward. Unfortunately for me, since I was paid under the table - which is all fun & games until you lose your job - (red faced emoji), and in the midst of transforming my career, neither of these were an option for me. It was time to hustle. I had 5 maybe 6 weeks to find a job replacement, and now I was suddenly feeling sorry for the positions I had turned down.

I had been an assistant, an administrative assistant, an administrative executive, an executive  assistant, and a NANNY for so long and while most of these positions paid rather well and even offered job flexibility - I never felt I was working toward anything! I was tired of taking orders and fulfilling them for all sorts of execs and doing a damn good job at it all while knowing I wasn't reaching my potential in any facet. This was killing my spirit.

I said more on why 'nanny' would come later, but for a small pieces of insight: I have been an entrepreneur and creative mess since as far back as I can remember. I never wanted to work for the proverbial man - I wanted to create for me.  After appeasing my parents with that good ol' college degree, I made the decision to work these sorts of jobs because I wouldn't have to bring my work home with me so to speak. I could work, get paid a reasonable salary, and still have time to come home and create...
...but when I scored an interview with a Hollywood super couple almost immediately after receiving the 'we're through with you news' from my boss, I didn't exactly mind that I was headed back down the same old path of assistance. Should I land this position I would be traveling around the world, I would be making more money than I had ever made before, and I would have the added grueling task of having to house-sit the Malibu barbie dream home 2 weeks in the summers. I was willing to bend my expectations. I started a round of interviews, prepared to get the job. I was determined to fight for it whilst keeping my expectations of growth clear. I wanted to be upfront and go in with integrity.
The first week of October brings not only my last day as a nanny but the much anticipated 3rd interview. The night before I head into the interview something magical happens which sends me to the Dr. the following afternoon. By magical I mean - I find out we are expecting this albeit cute and exciting - but totally untimely little bundle of joy.

I nail the interview.
The job is mine.
They need me to begin a 9 city book tour!
...the week I am due.
What was that about integrity?
Oh yeah B T Dubs new employers
I'm pregnant...

Assuming I haven't lost you yet - I'll keep you on the edge of your seat until tomorrow.

...and her life was Simply wonderful

All my very best,
Em

What true love looks li - BOOBS!

Last week I read a beautiful love story: A couple, Jimmy & Billie Breland, whom had been married for over 60 years, was but 1/2 of what they once were, as Billie passed away and left her husband a widower. Famous amongst her family for once writing special tokens down in form of the note, Billie had recorded quotes, memorable moments, and loving thoughts down forever.  It was a special trait of hers and one that even after she passed away would leave Jimmy feeling warm and still loved by his wife for she had one more surprise up her sleeve. She left a note for Jimmy to find hidden in her checkbook - in which she seemingly spoke to him from beyond the grave and gave him what I can only imagine was solace and comfort ensuring she wasn't far away. She wrote: 

Don't cry because I died! Smile because I lived! 

Know that I am in a happy place! 

Know that we will meet again! 

I'll see you there! 

I read this story and it broke my heart in all the right ways. I love my husband so much and it's only been 10 years - a third of my life! I can't even fathom the love I will have for him after spending twice the amount of time I've lived now, and at that point three fourths of my life, and then living life without him - and it touched me. It moved me to tears. I contemplated for a moment what that must be like. The best I could come up with is it's probably like functioning normally for 50 + years, and then waking up one morning and trying to take a step without your left leg.  It seems impossible because you've lived with this strong and supportive beam for so long and now it's just gone. I don't want to think about it anymore than I have. Not now - not for many many decades to come. We are both happy and healthy and in love and that's it.

Enough of the sap. Sometimes it's hard to love a man! The same man in the same ways day after day. Some days I want to run. Sometimes I want to scream - "ARE YOU ALWAYS GOING TO THINK FARTING IS FUNNY?! LIKE ALWAYS? CAUSE IT'S NOT!" Women want their men to be men when it comes to lifting heavy objects, having a deep stern voice to threaten the bad guys, and of course when it comes to rolling around in bed or on the kitchen table - but we can't stand it when men act like men outside of that. Isn't that funny? When they look at the boobs or ass on another woman, they laugh at dumb humor like Monty Python, or scream at the television during football season while you're trying to have a very subtle conversation about finances, the whole "MAN" thing can be exasperating...Oh us ladies, I'll admit, are so hard to please. My Jimmi has many attributes and habits (I'm assuming) that I would rather know nothing about. "Just do your thing, and I'll do mine," we don't have to discuss and share everything.  

I like to check out the Christian Gryy's of the world, and I know he - the Carmen Electra's - but we don't have to talk about it with each other. There is this man site that he conveniently has an app for and he's on it like I'm on Facebook: TOO MUCH. It's called the Chive. While I'll admit there can be some cute photos of animals here and there, it's mostly a man site filled with photos and videos to entertain the stereo typical man (see boobs, football, beer, 'the gap' ---> if you don't know you don't want to). As I check out thechive.com right now, the top string of photos is appropriately titled "Too Much Silicone or Not Enough?" and the one right after that, "Sooo....you got wasted." 

Being the support beam that he is, Jimmi and I spend a lot of time together. He is always tapping me so I can check out the latest cute, funny or wildly inappropriate photo on his beloved app. Mostly I do appreciate the share, I'm just glad I didn't have to sift through all the cleavage to get there. The other day he taps my shoulder to share and as his eyes are nearly pumping hearts out of them - I'm surprised to learn the share is coming from The Chive. He passes me his phone and I see this: 

the same beautiful note left by Billie Breland to her husband before she passed away. I exclaimed, "I read that on the Today Show last week!" He replied with, "It's just such beautiful story..." And I knew that he meant it. I knew he meant it because he understands true love and the support beam analogy and he knows how much finding this note would mean to him 50+ years from now should I pass away before him. And that to me, is just beautiful. I'll take all of your many habits including boob loving and fart smelling that I must just to hold on to this. Deep down you're a man, a human, my man, and while you may not true love the same way that I true love - you do love and that's what counts...

The en - PECS! 

...and her life was Simply wonderful

All my very best,

Em