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