I changed the look of the blog because I really love color. A lot. I love it in art, in flowers, in people, in clothes...
although I do envy those women that pull of that black / white wardrobe - they always look so chic. I, on the other hand, have Punky Brewster's closet. An ex-boyfriend once told me that I reminded him of Punky Brewster on acid. I think he was trying to be romantic and complimentary... at least that's the way I took it at the time. Hmmmm...
Remember when Punky Solei Moon Frye did the talk show circuit, discussing her breast reduction. It made me identify with that spunky little brunette even more. Not that I've had a breast reduction...
I turned 28 yesterday. To be honest, the first few hours of my birthday were beyond awful. Felix was screaming as hard as he possibly could muster, knees to chest, reeling from horrible gas pains in his tiny buddha belly. By 4 am, it was all I could handle. I was trying to keep my cool, knowing that he can feel my energy and my upset will only lead to more of his... but tears were pouring uncontrollably from my tired eyes. I felt so helpless. Most of Felix's crying is done with eyes tightly clenched, but every now and then he would open his eyes as if to plead "please, mama, make my belly better." It broke my heart. Terry, as an unspoken birthday gift, did all the midnight changes - he swept him away, knowing my angst, and eventually Felix calmed down enough to sleep for a good few hours.
The rest of my actual birthday was a bit brighter. Terry stayed home from work so we could spend the day together. We had planned on attempting to take Felix to lunch with us, but after the rough night we were both a bit afraid of him. So we ordered some takeout and took a really long drive through Columbia and Dutchess County instead - Felix napped while we toured the riverside and backroads, fresh with newly fallen snow. We saw a bald eagle (I think) and some really cool white horses, beautiful clashing with the snow.
Today was a whole new ball game. More on that later.
P.S. Have you heard Carmelo Anthony was traded to the Knicks? Yeah, I don't really care either... but my husband has asked me that question at least 18 times today and I thought I should talk about something more than my kid for once.
Sometimes there are small moments in your day that feel like a breath of fresh spring air... I had one of those moments a few days ago while peeling potatoes. Terry put the baby down for a nap as I straightened the house and started a pot of soup, preparing for a visit from some much adored long lost girlfriends. As I sat at the kitchen table, sipping on the half cup of coffee I allow myself every few days (oh, the joys of breastfeeding), my husband sat down with me - his cup of coffee in hand and silence ringing throughout the house. He offered to finish peeling the potatoes as I started to chop the onions... so we sat there, alone, drinking our coffee, peeling and chopping, talking about something I don't quite remember... and everything just felt peaceful.
Jump to the next day. Yesterday. I was putting the finishing touches on the lunch spread set out for my girlfriends. I actually had makeup on and felt semi-human in my pre-pregnancy jeans (not sweatpants, thank you very much). I put the homemade potato soup on the stove to reheat and simmer and... WWWHHHHAAAAHHHH... Felix starts screaming wildly from upstairs. He's hungry. Again. So I rush to his aide. I feed him, burp him, feed him, burp him, change his diaper, wash his face and hands, apply some lotion, change his clothes... and that's when I smelled it.
It'll be the first time Terry and I have ate a meal alone since Felix was born (thank you, Grandma Rae, for babysitting).
I normally am not a Valentine's Day person. I'm not anti-Valentine's Day though. I can recognize the fact that it's a Hallmark holiday... but I am in love with the idea of love, so an excuse to celebrate that simple feeling is a nice sentiment. Sue me, I'm a Picses, it's in my gills.
Anyway... I'll restaurant review it next week. I have been there twice already. The first time for champagne and an espresso with Ashley Judd. Ok, not WITH Ashley Judd. But she WAS there at the same time while my friends Meegan and Kevin joined me at the bar.
This time, the only stars that will matter are the ones in my hubby's eyes. Wow, that was so sickening sweet.
In my constant efforts as a mildly "off beat mama" I've come across this term three thousand times: BABYWEARING. It sounds far more serious than it really is... which is basically slinging your kid in some sort of wrap/backpack/papoose and hanging out. Ok, so babywearing is a bit more intense than just using the kind of carrier my Dad used to haul me around Disney circa 1984 - but I just can't get used to idea that I am wearing my baby. It makes Felix sound like an accessory... like Paris Hilton's chihuahah. Or Nicole Richie's sunglasses. Or Renee Zelweggers "Either-I-just-ate-a-lemon-or-I'm-a-complete-bitch-face."
While dancing with Felix today, this song took on a whole new meaning for me.
"I wanna love ya
and treat you right.
I wanna lova ya
every day and every night.
We'll be together
with a roof right over our heads.
We'll share the shelter
of my single bed."
On a side note... DAMN, I miss live music. We'll be back in action soon though. When the snow melts, it'll be team Lynch on the festival circuit. Bigger and better than ever! So pumped to start using these.
This was the first book I read post natal. Well, actually, it's the first novel I read post natal. The other books were on breastfeeding, diaper rash, and calming colicky babies... but I did more like frantically fact check as Felix whaled confused newborn rage in the background. Little Bee was for ME. Read during times of calm, while he swang beside me or even as he rested on my chest at naptime. Perhaps my opinion of this book would be different if it had been read at a different juncture in my life... but I guess it's that way of all books, read at all times.
So here I am, blogging in babeland. Not sure exactly where this is going, but I'm thinking it'll be a place to...
- share some mommy research
- trade recipes that don't include standard measurements (I don't follow directions well).
- talk about the art / books / music / restaurants / wine / whatever that I'm currently in to
- somehow manage to connect to the outside world
... all without waxing my eyebrows, which seems increasingly difficult to fit in to my routine. Hence the new haircut... bangs can be very forgiving of forehead pimples and a few stray hairs.