Sunday, December 30, 2007

What Is Your Commentary?

Maybe it's just us- but after any given family gathering we get back in the car (since we have hours to kill, because we travel everywhere) and comment on what has happened, what our thoughts are, gossip and give grades. Grades are based on many different things. There are many things that I now can't comment on publicly because who knows who has this address, but there are somethings no matter who is reading it I have to comment on. Like the holidays.

Did you know I absolutely hate traveling to NY and would like to avoid it at all costs? If not, you haven't been paying attention. This time last year, I swore that we would spend Christmas in Boston. Because I have come down with a case of amnesia, we made the trek. I am now committing it to writing, next year, we are staying in Boston. I even set an outlook reminder outlining the reasons we will not be coming back to NY this time next year. Shouldn't Santi visit L at her house? And shouldn't she have her mother with full mental capacity as long as possible? It already seems likely to be touch and go as it is.

We love the family, we love seeing everyone (even those I don't love seeing, I enjoy on some levels) but the commute is a biotch and if you didn't know we haven't so much as seen half of our relatives in the far far away land of Boston, MA. So to this I say, no more.

Our families could not be more different. At one it's eat eat drink drink, more more more, go go go go, hurry hurry hurry, drink drink, eat eat, go go go. At the others- it's slow as all get out, you go gonna eat that? Did you quit drinking, forever? Slow and silent times or loud and unnecessary screaming. Between the two families it's a bit of a schamozel, an identity crisis of sorts- and we leave feeling a bit bipolar. One thing they do have in common is the d-rah-ma and where there is none we find some, because a commentary is nothing with out a little drama.

Minus my grandmother's attack, we'd give the holiday week a solid B+. You're surprised by the high grade (if you are my family), I'm sure. But it's true, even with the drama and driving. In re: to my grandmother's attack, if you don't know her- you're saying to yourself "oh no, I hope she is okay." Keep your good thoughts for another occasion. The attack was unprovoked and unjust. The victim fell fast and furious. My grandmother walked away unscathed, as she was the attacker, as per usual.

Thursday, December 27, 2007

Mr. Miyagi Gets Schooled

Several years ago, C got me a gift certificate for Frederic Fekkai salon which is a fabu salon in NYC. Upon doing some research it seems that this fine place is where the stars go. I of course saw no stars, unless botox is famous. There was a expressionless army of woman and they frightened me.

I felt so fabulous, in the beginning. I had a facial in a room that overlooked 5th avenue, a mani and pedicure- where I watched episodes of Sex & the City and then it was off for my long awaited and highly anticipated hair cut.

I had to change into a robe that tied in the front, and by this point, I'm a little nervous that I'm going to hit any given servant asking if I'd like a beverage in the face with milk. I need to pump (yes I had to bring my pump into NYC, luckily it looks like a completely unfashionable backpack), my pants are kind of falling down because they need a good wash and dry and I have on disposable shoes from the pedi and I may take a digger at anytime. I look like a hott mess, surrounded by the most overpriced woman in NY. My holey, rain soaked, 6 year old sneakers I was carrying around with me was not quite the Manolo Blahniks that people around me had.

My nail woman brought me to meet my hair guy. He was kind of mute. Did a lot of poking and shaking of my hair. He blew onto his hands before touching my hair, somewhat in a meditating fashion - he reminded me of Mr. Miyagi with his wax on wax off. He was very expressive with his hands, with out saying much at all and there was a lot of hugging. He asked me to explain what I wanted, and I told him- what I've told a million hair stylists all over the country- in every podunk hair salon coast to coast- "short in the back, chunky- with lots of piece, kind of messy and funky, fun- not straight across in the back."

Could I have explained it more? Sure. Did I know this was my only opportunity to explain what I wanted before we assaulted me with a pair of scissors? No.

LONG STORY SHORT, I'll give you the highlights.
  • He made me stand for most of my hair cut.
  • He walked up to me grabbed the front of my hair, pulled it down and cut bangs on a diagonal.
  • Bangs.
  • He gave me the Rachel circa 1997.
  • While my internal monologue was "Don't let him do this. Why aren't you saying anything? Speak up woman!" I said nothing, until the very end because I was going to trust the idiot.
  • Upon telling said idiot that I was going to trust him, he replied with "You have no choice."
  • After the metamorphosis was complete, I demanded a recount- I wanted him to fix the mess he had made and while he instead chose to show me the movement in my hair - he would not fix it the way I wanted it because "the short is not good for you." Something, that I explained, would have been best to know before I sat down in his godforsaken chair.

I left to get my stupid make up done, like he told me to. He told me to come back after if I really didn't like it. So after I got my make up done, I went to the front desk and explained for the 15th time that I didn't like my hair and that i was looking for, short and choppy in the back was translated to a feathered mullet and I wanted it fixed before I left. I fought and did not cry. I had to come back in a half hour, and wait another hour and half to be done. I entered this hell hole at 11:30 am and didn't leave until after 6pm. But I left with the party piece of the mullet cut off. It is not how I wanted it, I have what looks to be almost grown out bangs, and my hair does not fit back in a pony tail, but luckily for the Miyagi, I have great hair and I'll make it work for now. It's just not the fab haircut I have been waiting for, since the summer. As he finished the second haircut on me, before I left he did make me laugh and break the verge of tears I was fighting since we met. He shook his head confidently and said, "You know what? You were right. This is much better."

Wednesday, December 26, 2007

Smells like the Holidays!!



Season's Greetings! Wishing you and your family the very best this holiday season.

Love,
The Gs

November Photos

Here are the photos from L's 2nd month, 1st month home. Now that I can release December photos, I need to file back. There are over 100 pics below, only the obsessed may want to hang out and see the below.

Tuesday, December 25, 2007

Christmas at Your House and Mine



*for those not in the YouTube fold, this is not me or anyone I know. If you close your eyes and listen though it's everyone I know and you know too.

Friday, December 21, 2007

On the Road Again

After a long hiatus of our hellacious commute to NY the Guarros of MA are hitting the road. In her first ever trek, L will be coming to a home near you (if you live in the NY). After I swore I would not take the trip until there were 2 logged visits from all, and the first to see the baby did not count.... we are going to NY for the holidays. This is with most not taking that first trip to meet L (yup, I'm talking about you) we are going back on all we said. To be fair, the first month was obviously not a month we wanted visitors, despite how many wanted to. To be honest, there have been 2 more months since then. We have had many of our friends come to visit (not just those that live in MA, either- representatives from NY, CT, GA, TN, NC, IL now Switzerland). Other countries, people. And what about you? Upon doing some math and only counting adults we have only had 30% of our immediate family have come to visit. If I include the children... 20%.

These are not good numbers.

Bitter? Maybe. Mostly, just stressed at the thought of having to take that drive, once again. OH how I have not missed the drive, the traffic, the rest stops... now we get to add feeding, changing and crying to that. It just takes bad to worse. And in the last few days we can add sloppy weather to the equation. Let's not even think about the packing puzzle ahead.

We ride soon. We'll leave at night, like the Von Traps- but unlike the musical crew going over the mountain with a simple bag over their shoulder- we'll be packing that Impala like a mule and get in as much crap as possible. Hopefully we can fit everyone and everything. It sure would be a shame if we had to leave the baby at home. Oh well, that's what everyone gets for never coming to the outer banks of that far far away land of MA.

Monday, December 17, 2007

Christmas Tree UPDATE

The tree has been dressed- it turns out any tree with 500 lights is a fabulous tree. Happy Holidays!

Sunday, December 16, 2007

Santa Claus Is Coming To Town

Next year, when she knows what is going on, I'm going to go nuts- I'm sure. But right now, since she's only now learned how to grab a rattle- L isn't going to get much from dear ol' Saint Nick.

We want to get her a little something, so that she'll have this little something as the first present from her parents her first Christmas. I figure, we gave her life, isn't that the very best gift of all?? I'm sure most of our family will blatantly ignore our request for not going crazy- I do hope they listen to us. (shameless plug to follow)

Take into consideration the fact that despite numerous threats to never come to NY again, we are traveling to and from Boston, MA. With the babe, the dog and the monstrosity of a wonderful but not compact stroller... never mind my little problem of constantly over packing... there is no more room at the Inn. Plus we have to take home our Christmas decorations so that we don't have a Hanukkah bush, nakey Christmas Tree next year... we have a full house. Santa Claus has a sled, we have an Impala. While C boasts, it fits three dead bodies in the trunk, it will quickly fill up with our crap PRE holiday. Don't go crazy, she doesn't even get it yet. And if you do decide to ignore our request, please provide gift receipts, huh. You kids all have the same taste and the last thing we need are multiple repeat outfits.

Back to our girl's new talents... while she did just learn how to grab at things, she hasn't yet learned how to steer her hand, which provides a lot of entertainment to me but just frustrates her to no end. So, she has the bink'er dink (as we call it- some call it Chewchete, binky, passy... the au pair calls it the nooky which spins me into thinking of Fred Durst. He did it all for the nookie, come on, the nookie, come on so you can take the cookie and stick it up your (yea)....) I digress.

L has the bink'er dink in her mouth. She takes her hand and pulls out the bink'er. This immediately makes her scream, until she starts waving her hand (still holding the bink'er) into her view. Once she can see it in her hand, she calms and whines as she tries to get the bink in her mouth. There are numerous tries until she finally succeeds and plugs herself up- only to be startled while her hand still holding on to her bink'er. Rinse and repeat the fun for us and frustration for her. I'd love to say I'll get it on video, but as soon as I pic up my camera, which can record some small lengths of video, she freezes and gets a deer in headlight face. She better become a ham soon, this camera shy bit is going to put her on the naughty list, for real. Coal only, next year, that should be easy enough to fit.

Friday, December 14, 2007

The Resurrection

This is not an embellished story. This is the truth. No matter how hard it is to believe, I write the truth.

You may remember Thanksgiving 2007 we had the unfortunate experience of loosing our first pet, as a family. Marley (of Bob Marley- named for his blue color, so he must be a boy and for his dreads) met his untimely death in what we could only assume was a sacrifice into our Thanksgiving feast. Now what I didn't tell you was with ourau pair witnessing the whole thing- I took out the plant, shook it out, moved around the rocks, Marley was not in the hiz-ous. For sure.

Tuesday, November 27th a miracle took place here at our humble abode. As I walked to our kitchen table to set it for dinner, what did I see??

Marley.

Clear as day- happy and swimming around. I promptly screamed at the top of my lungs. C & the au pair think I planted the fish to freak them out. I did not.
It's a Thanksgiving Miracle.




About 2 weeks later, the fish in L's room... Erykah Badu was found dead. Now Erykah Badu was t & g for months. Her little fish bowl gets dirty quick. After coming close to loosing her once, she had been sedated but getting better. She was a sick little fish but with a little TLC we thought she'd be back to new. And back to new she was, until her bowl got dirty again.

On 12/5/07 Erikah Badu didn't make it. She held her own for quite sometime, we knew this could happen. I let C know and we said goodbye to our sweet friend. Goodbye. I couldn't send her off to sea just then, as the baby was clearly torn up by our loss so I left the room- take her away from the site of death and all.

I returned a few hours later to do the deed when what did I see? Erykah Badu. C
lear as day- happy and swimming around. I promptly screamed at the top of my lungs.

If I could go back, I would have taken a picture of her upside down and clearly dead. BUT how was I know that we have a haunted house that brings back fish??? Now I know. NO deadfish goes un-photographed from here on out.

Thursday, December 13, 2007

Meeting the Crazys

I thought it had to do with the inability to NOT talk about fluids- but it turns out it's just my mean spirit. Last night I went to the first meeting of a Book Club I joined. I found them through craigslist and it could have gone either way. Crazy nuts or decent people. They turned out to be a group of decent people... who immediately upon leaving dinner I found it impossible to not talk about and give stupid names of reference (circa Pinky-no-bra). This is why I have no friends.

Who are my new friends? In addition to never being the owners of this blog address- they are (in no particular order): the fiddler, the beast (sounds real mean, but there is a story behind that and she is in way a beast), plain Jane, purp cord, wind Esq., and Marcic. Shannon came with me- and thank god.

There were a few times I put my foot in my mouth and needed saving. Like when Wind Esq. was introducing herself and I said, "I'm sorry- did you just say wind? I thought you said you were a lawyer for the wind. (laugh laugh laugh)." She turns to me and says, "Yes, I did. Wind." Rather than back peddle I reiterate, "NO! I thought you said wind, like blowing wind. W-I-N-D." She says, "Yes, I did. Wind." I mean she was clear the first time that she said that, but since when does the wind need legal council?? I would have never thought. That's where her name came from. More about this unlikely Motley Crew at a later date.

I have to read a book, that should be interesting. I haven't sat and read in awhile. OR maybe I'll adopt the Beast's practices. She doesn't read. Nope. When asked the question "Why do you buy any given book?" She explained that she gets her books off iTunes. Most of the table turns their head to the side and gives a puzzled looked. I learned my lesson from my initial interaction with the wind esq so I kept my mouth shut. She later confirmed, that yes in fact she does not read books, she listens to them. She was my favorite, even though she joined a book club and doesn't read- she was funny so for that I will forgive her laziness.

Tuesday, December 11, 2007

God's Sense of Humor

I hope God is a funny man, I'm thinking He might be. I sure hope He is. 3 weeks ago, we went to church. The original reason, if I'm being honest, is we have to figure out and work out the baptism of our little one.

In the beginning and if we are going back to when we were married- getting into a church to be married was harder than finding parking in the North End. No one would marry us- you'd think we were entering each conversation with a request to preform a sin on the alter. But not only are we both Catholic, but Chris was even President of his C.Y.O. group back in the day. We were really close to not getting married in a church- which would have suited me just fine.

Through out the whole wedding process I learned many things- including the fact that our mothers are committed fo'Catholics. I'm absolutely certain their faith is real, however their conviction, in my opinion, seems to be reserved for weddings and funerals. I don't think anyone realized how close we were to getting married by a tranny named Peaches (a fictional character I threatened to find). If I couldn't find a Peaches, then I had a realistic option of a guy I worked with that not only was ordained via the Internet but had a mean fairy get up that I'm certain would have been the talk of the wedding community. In all reality, I wouldn't have had someone dress up- or come in costume- but if the church we ended up at didn't work out I was giving up. Finding a church was the most stressful and enlightening experience that actually turned me off of the Catholic church. But like many things for our big day- it was done for others not for us. Now our wedding, to be honest, ended up being the best day ever but the road to the big day was not. I will use this opportunity to put it on the record. If L wants to get married by a cat in the dead of summer so be it. It's her day, it's her decision. I dislike cats, I dislike oppressive heat- I will take the hot smelly cat presiding over the ceremony as I melt if that is what she envisions. And smile. I hope that's not what she envisions.

That being said our mothers wouldn't have it any other way but in a church so we did what we could to keep the peace. It took months to find the church and endless stories of corrupt priests and angry sisters- but eventually we found the church we need up loving getting married in. Now the search is on again, because it turns out Jesus has zoning laws. Before L was born my mom brought up major concern about having the baby travel with out being baptised. Apparently "back in the day" babies were never to leave the house until they were secured a spot in heaven- and to get this spot the baby has to be accepted to Catholicism which means a baptism. My mom felt before the baby could leave the state, since with modern times come modern rules, she would need to be baptised.

With all that happened with L, this because difficult. Her zoning laws have quickly become a distant memory because these same zoning laws would mean no baby girl for Christmas. And no one wants that!!! Originally, we were going to have it in October, but she wasn't home yet. November was too soon after she came home, December there were scheduling complications... now we are looking at January and February.

My feeling is, she has been blessed and prayed for so much I think we can go to NY for the holidays with out the official Catholic passport. We did have to get things going, which leads me to going to a local church about 3 weeks ago. I figured by speaking with a Priest we could get the process moving along. C had to drop the au pair at a meeting, so I went in alone.

I can't explain it- but for whatever reason I came up against more emotion then I was prepared for. There I sat in a pew with L, balling like a crazy woman, talking to my sleeping baby- like a lunatic. I was in good company... the parishioners are quite the eclectic group. Just like our neighborhood- there was quite the mix. Gangsters to my left, yuppies to my right. C walked up and I warned him that I was feeling a bit weepy- so he spent the majority of the service laughing at me, who spent the majority of the service crying or laughing at myself. In thinking about it that day, I realized I would be going back the next week- even if I didn't have to to get L baptised. I don't want to be a fair-weathered Catholic- we spent weeks praying, asking others to pray- for god's sake we had people from all over the WORLD praying. I was talking to every person who has died that I ever met, even those I hadn't met but had heard about- my family, other people's family. If there was a possibility of calling in a 'favor' I was doing it. And with all of this, I hadn't sat through a mass? Forget that. That being said, I won't be apart of anything that doesn't let me be myself anymore. Church is a time for reflection- and I'm learning more and more about it. I may not end up going every week or I may not end up going to a Roman Catholic Church- but I do want to invest more into something more than waiting until the last moment.

Now C calls me Mary Magdalene, and we go every week. It's been 3 weeks in a row and while that doesn't seem like much- this is big time for anyone who knows me at all. Last week we were almost late and I was freaking out. C started running in circles screaming "Jesus is waiting Jesus is waiting!" Of course this calmed me down a bit, we got there just about on time but once again we continue to laugh and have fun through out the service. I always remembered church as boring, quiet and stifling. I always remembered having to get dressed up. All things I dislike, no wonder I didn't like church. But it turns out it doesn't have to be. Now don't you worry, I won't be trying to convert anyone- but it's nice that it's nice.

Now maybe we shouldn't laugh quite as much as we do- but like I started with, I'm hoping He has a sense of humor. I'm hoping He is laughing as we laugh when we break free from some woman who is trying to get us to come to the after mass reception (one step at a time, I say) - now it would be one thing if she merely asking- but she was manhandling me. She grabbed my shoulder and tried to physically steer me downstairs. I broke free, lied (in church... one step at a time, I say), ran for the door, laughing. Or for two weeks straight we have been singing this song that only recently we learned the real words to. We thought the last line was "As the Jew drops down." Now granted, I found the line controversial, but I think a bunch of stuff I hear in church is- and it's only been 3 weeks. Turns out the line is: as the dew drops down. We'll keep you posted on the church shenanigans that arise.

Wednesday, December 5, 2007

Happy Hanukkah

You may not know this but the Jewish faith holds a very special place in our hearts. For our wedding we had the dance, with the chairs, I know and love as the "Hava Nigela" which I am told it is not called- but that's how we roll.



You may not know this either, but in addition to a fun tradition of a wedding dance that we incorporated into our big day.... the biggest addition to our life, L, likely arrived if you will during the 8 crazy nights of this holiday. Again, that's how we roll.

You'd think it would be on purpose then that we currently have a Hanukkah Bush in the house. A Hanukkah Bush? Yes- it's what most would consider a Christmas Tree, kind of. The thing is last year when we lived in our glorious yet ridiculously teeny tiny apartment in Charlestown, we had no room to store things. We usually used our "room" at Nana Lu's house. One fine day we decided to stir things up a bit, for whatever reason, and brought all of our holiday decorations to Grammy & Poppa's house in the 'Burgh. What sense did it make to separate the family of junk we have collected over the year? None, so it was only fair that when the time came to get out the decorations we all remembered where they were. Conveniently 5 hours away in the 'Burgh. We also conveniently remembered this the very same weekend the crew from the 'Burgh made the pilgrimage to Boston. Too bad we remembered 10 hrs too late. Now here we have our glorious tree, which like last year is broken (story to follow), but it looks good. With no decorations. A bare naked tree standing in our living room. The decorations are on the way via the US Postal Service, so lord knows when we'll see those- if we see them. Instead of Grinching about it... I'm embracing it. We will have a Hanukkah bush. What a way to celebrate the holidays. Mozel Tov to us.

Monday, December 3, 2007

Social Skills: Wanted

Pregnancy and motherhood takes a lot from you. I always worried it would take away my hair, my 'figure', sleep... but what I never anticipated was it would take away my social skills. I've lost the ability to talk to people, new or old, about anything at all or appropriate.

Example 1:
A few weeks back on my first venture out sans baby and C I went to a bar for a birthday party. I arrived and literally didn't know how to interact. The beer was flowing- I mentioned that this was the first time I was drinking, in almost a year- I needed to make sure I didn't turn into that girl. No one likes that girl. When asked, "Why did you quit drinking?" I responded, "Well, if I was having a baby and if I didn't they would have taken my baby away." I was proud of this joke. For no good reason.. because I was met with a sideways glance and awkward eyes. And just when you thought it couldn't get worse, while up against deer in headlight eyes that are silent and awkward I decide to go with breastfeeding talk. You don't follow up a failed child abuse joke with talk of breast milk. I know this in looking back, but at the time I couldn't stop myself- yammering about how I could drink if I pump and dumped, or did you know that after your last drink, after 2 hours the beer wouldn't be in your milk? I couldn't stop. Diarrhea of the mouth took over and the awkward eyes turned into long pause and glancing away - she was looking around for someone to save her but alas there was no one and she was a stuck.

Example 2:
I join a mom's group of sorts, on the Internet- Meetup.com. There was an event that we could all go to - so I'm not left alone to my own devices talking breast milk and baby vomit. Although, this of all places would have been where to get that out of my system. As we pull into my debut to the mommy world, the place is d e a d. We do the only thing we can, we keep driving and circle back about a half hour later. Here's the thing- we were the only people in there with children who didn't walk... so a 2 month old was not going to cut it. Short of abducting a toddler, all we could do was make a plan. Operation: Bail was if it got weird pull the plug on the binky- have her freak and boom we have an out. That was until I saw a friendly face. A friend of mine from work who recently had a little bambino of her own was there. SO we weren't the youngest ones. We were able to sit and catch up with them, talk it out and not just talk puke and milk (although it was a lot about that) we had a good time. Good talk. They had to take off... so we did a lap (the place was the size of our bedroom) and we were off. We didn't even try. We just got back in our car and off we went. I could have introduced myself, I could have made conversation- we were getting compliments on our car seat, on the litt'le one. I could have made an effort.

Example 3:
I recently had to return my little yellow buddy. My pump. We had a good run together. In returning the wonder yellow machine, I had to and buy a pump- one that the mere mortals use. I'd been using a hospital grade pump- which is the real deal holyfield and if you were to buy one you'd pay for it too- it retails for $1300! With being used to and using regularly this beast of a machine, I needed to get a comfortable pump that will do good work but not cost what many pay in rent. Off I went to the Babies R Us and picked up a ridiculous priced pump that wasn't cheap, but wasn't buy a used car for the same ridiculous. While I'm upset about unloading a few hundred dollars on it- what can you do? The kid needs to eat. And if we were doing only formula, we would eat away at that right quick. (Side note: formula is EXPENSIVE! Good enough reason to bfeed, if you ask me. Dang. 30 bucks for a large container of powder formula wouldn't last long. It lasted 2 weeks here but we only use it for one feeding of 4 or 6 oz a night) Anyway- so there I am in Babies R Us, with my new pump box, looking around for other tchotchke that I don't need nor should I buy when a nice woman, around my age, strikes up a conversation. She starts with, "I don't mean to be nosey." And here it is, a woman who like me is about to share too much information and put her foot in her mouth. She could be my best friend for life- oh the stories we'll tell how we met over pump talk in the aisles of Babies R Us. Long and painful story short. I blow it. She starts to tell me about how insurance might be able to cover the pump and there I go and make a situation awkward and weird by going on and on about how I switched insurances, tests I took while preg that are now not covered, oh and don't forget the hospital grade pump over explanation, NICU, milk supply... the list goes on. She practically ran away from me. Honestly. I think she walked out and didn't even pay for whatever it was she had in her hand cause she didn't want to be stuck on line with me.

I used to be fun, I'm pretty sure people enjoyed talking to me. Now oh no all I can talk about is bodily fluid. No one likes fluid talk, let's be honest. I'm going to keep getting out there, and hopefully be able to control myself. Maybe just maybe make a friend. The first step will be to stop repelling people.
(c) 2007 all rights reserved. aka don't be a D and swipe any content, photos, etc - sucka. Should you be tempted, let me know so I can be flattered and then give me something write about.