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)

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

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

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

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

HOLY $h!t - I'm pregnant (?!)

Ok so as week 19 strikes today...this is hardly news. But the further I get on this journey of growing the gender-uknown-being formerly known as "Poppyseed" who is currently referred to as "Henry" - the harder it is to believe that my husband and I are about to be parents....and the more I realize how UNPREPARED I AM FOR THIS CHILD!!! I believe I say this with delicate excitement - but you know, I'm still pretty terrifyingly ecstatic in all the right ways.

My husband is currently google searching which stroller is ideal, but aside from that we've done nothing to prep for this baby and I have a million questions/thoughts/concerns running through the very back of my brain (and they're getting closer) every day.
I can think of 5 things I need for the baby:
1.) A place to sleep: Crib
2.) A place to eat: Highchair
3.) A way to get around: Stroller - or a car - just pat him on the back and wish him luck?
4.) A way to transport: Carseat
5.) A way to bathe: Bath
Other than that - I AM CLUELESS!
What will the baby look like?
How scary is labor? I mean millions of human moms and animals do it every day so can it REALLY be that bad?
Will I still be able to work out?
Is it weird I think it's cool to eat the placenta? I mean in a capsule form of course! But that's a thing right?
How soon until the baby isn't a blob?
Can I take the baby to work out with me?
Do I get separate strollers for jogging vs errands?
Are we expected to cook meals when we have a baby or does a meal fairy show up with grocery's and a chef?
If I am supposed to meal prep - is it acceptable to have the baby strapped to me in some fashion while I do so? If so where can I find a flame retardant shield to place the baby in?
Will I ever sleep again?
A bear that mimics the sound of the womb?! Who thinks of these things? And where the hell do I get one?
What else don't I know?

...I receive 4,000 emails a day from Baby Center and the Nest and parenting.com and the What to Expect app and Babies r Us and - how the hell do these people know who I am?! What list am I supposed to trust? Are these websites sponsored?
Don't even get me started on how and when to feed the thing!
Primary colors stimulate a baby's brain more than pastels? Then why is every toy and blanket at target in pastels? Has target really made it this far not knowing this simple fact?
Now I hear baby socks can be dangerous - so do I not put socks on my baby's feet?
Will I really go days without bathing?
How will I ever work again?
Or sleep?
Or poop?
Or do yoga?!
I mean it's like the whole world prepares you for the worst of the worst while telling you its the greatest joy you'll ever experience. WTF does that even mean? It's a perfect oxy moron...And everyone who shares it with you says it with such confidence, and a smirk. A confidence that a year from now will probably make a whole lot more sense to me than it does today. I'm just hoping it's one of those prepare you for the worst things so you're pleasantly surprised when it's actually a walk in the park.
It's just been the 2 of us plus the puggle for 10 years - how the F am I supposed to incorporate another human?
Will I curb my sailor mouth tendencies?
Will I be a progressive mom who say's fuck it, 'bad words are for grown-up's not for babies - learn your role little one?' I mean SERIOUSLY?!
Or will I do the old bait and switch and start driving like a little old church lady who doesn't swear much less let her kid eat dirt? I can't bear the thought of not being me any more...

A lot of this I say with a smiling heart, and mild paranoia mixed with a ton of anticipatory excitement; but mostly I just realize that we are about to enter this world so completely unknown and I want to do it as right as I can.
So many unknowns but here is what I do know:
I know I already love this baby
I know that my husband and I are going to be bad ass parents one way or another
The nursery will get completed and I will get through labor
I will love this little poppyseed/henry/tiny human so much it hurts my heart and I cannot wait. I'm so "terrified" (see excited) we have been taking photos of my and babies growth since we found out of it's existence on October 5th.
You know what? Forget the unknown and the terrifying. I'm excited & the proof is in the pudding - i.e. the smiles seen below and the flutter my heart feels every time I talk about the baby.
We're going to do great.
Here's to living in the moment.

...and her life was Simply wonderful

All my very best,
Emily

October 5th at 5 weeks 4 days 

January 5th at 18 weeks 5 days

12:06 am

SO typical.
New year - big goals. Start a blog. Write every day.
January 1st - my 1st entry how poetic of a beginning!
Slow down though - Lewis, I tell myself: remember - this time, I'm going practice being ok with imperfection. I refuse to NOT write because I am fearful of not getting it right. Not making sense. Not adding up.  So here we go................................................
January 1st - I start off with a bang.
The new year is like my blank canvas and I am pouring rich paint all over it with fury and creativity. I'm uninhibited. I'm mesmerized by my thoughts. I am so inspired.  I can't type fast enough!

Then I go in for edits...and rewrites...and deletion's...and proofs...and read aloud my 1st entry to my poor unsuspecting husband over, and over again...

After 2 hours the 3rd read through,  I am yet to publish....when I finally do - it's 12:06 am, on January 2nd! Ah!! The unevenness of this is killing my little perfection craving ironic self. I actually contemplate not starting until NEXT January 1st. Because New Year - Jan 1 - 1st blog entry ---------
But then it hits me like me banging my head on the table (as I actually and dramatically drop my head to the table) - THIS is poetic. This is imperfection. This - is me celebrating it.

And that's what it's all about.

Happy New Year - on January 3rd dammit

...and her life was Simply wonderful

All my very best,
Em

Intro to this blog & me

My name is Emily Lewis I am a retired nanny, with plans to be a financially- successful-entrepreneur, and writer as I push through my quest to be ok with imperfection.

I am preparing for the birth of my first child by pinning nursery pins (in primary colors!), scheduling hard-wood floor refinishes, sticking to the self induced family budget and having dreams of our fixer upper home suddenly affording the budget to rival June Cleaver's story book abode. As seems to be the cycle of life, I am in full life-transition mode and the whole darn picture is my Something to Look Forward to.  

For years, I have been tormented by my own visions of perfection i.e. Life living,  recipe creating, personal workout level, BLOG WRITING; and while I frequently pretend to write by doing so in my head, I have never felt worthy enough of actually sharing my experiences. As I grow older though;  I realize these 'something to look forward too's' of life are made up of a series of little things. Those are MY experiences and it's time I appreciate this simply wonderful life of mine.

I've always been really good at enjoying life but I have a history of doing so in hindsight.  I have a great amazing time doing anything simple like going for an adventurous drive - adventurous being a simple added element like stopping at  In-n-Out on the way; but I tend to do the enjoying later while I'm retelling the story or reminiscing via my iPhone photos. On the surface I'm usually concerned with logistics or my 28th calorie splurge of the week...

Join me as I as I finally start to grow up, live in the moment, and really hone in on life's simple pleasures, the little things.  Here's to all of our journey as the Not so Perfect Wife Perfect Life and the beauty in all that is.

...and her life was Simply wonderful

All my very best,
Em