Friday, March 28, 2008

The Guarros take Boston

It was an Easter miracle. Sure, it doesn't beat the original but a miracle all our own. The Guarros of NY made the pilgrimage to Boston. I never thought I'd see it happen, but it did! Christa Stewart really tore the roof off the kitchen. And other than good food, good company and lots of good wine- not much else to report. STINKIN cute pictures to share...

Thursday, March 27, 2008

Batteries, Arseholse & Bears OH My!

A few weeks back I went to NYC for a work meeting. It was a shmozzle, from start to finish. As the story goes, C was traveling and the baby wasn't sleeping through the night- up at the most random of hours and the duration of her time awake was not consistent. I sat awake for most of Thursday night waiting for her to wake up.

She slept 9 1/2 hours. I ended up having to actually WAKE her up so I could feed her. I'm tired, up and packed ready to go. The plan was to bring my bags to work - as I would be taking the train to NYC and a friend of mine would bring my bags in a car. This plan, I thought, would make the travel to NYC painless.

I get to my car and realize I left my door ajared. The light in the door was on. My batteries were dead. I have little to no time to vear from the plan to get to work to drop off my bags. I have to find a cab and am almost forced to knock out a homeless man in the process (I hate our neighborhood, have I mentioned this?).

I get to work, run upstairs, drop off my bags, hit elevator traffic on my way back down, get in the cab (left the meter running) and off I go. I'm a 15 minute walk away from my apartment and I realize I don't have enough cash. Cab pulls over, drops me off. I walk to my car, to take out something that I had left in it- for the trip. Not major... but hold up wait... where are my keys?

I pat myself down.
Nothing.

Is it in the cab? At work? There I stand in the middle of the road cursing so hard it would make you blush, jumping up and down. I'm surprised there wasn't a 5150 out for me. I call work, every single number I know and no one answers. Honestly.

I end up catching someone on their cell phone and low and behold my keys are found but of course I can't get back in time. I cut my loses and get on the road- I've got a train to make. I thought taking the train would be relaxing and I was going with child- she was in a stroller, so it should be easy enough. Right? Wrong.

Being from NY, I am accustomed to people behaving like arseholes. It's a cultural. On this particular day I was met with a trails of unimaginable proportions. How horrible could I be treated with out needing treatment- that was apparently the task at hand for the public. I was met with test after test. The Amtrak window associate, every single arsehole on the train (not one person was nice to me, let me go through, or helped a sister out) and the NYC commuters. This particular train was not baby friendly- neither the people or the train itself. The people looked at me as if she was screaming crying profanities from a bull horn. Instead she spent 98% of the ride like snoozing. I have proof.

The aisles aren't bugaboo friendly either and no changing tables. I had to change her over a sink and there were automatic air dryers which were set up as she kicked. While likely a safety hazard, I took pictures.

I actually had several people CUT me on line for the elevator in the subway. I mean, it's not like they were disabled like the elevators are intended for. Why cut the girl with the stroller? When I finally get to the main floor I now have to search for my mother who tells me she is by a pizza place and a newsstand... in Penn Station as if this is supposed to alert me to her whereabouts. She mentions an info booth so I start in the direction she might be in based on the train she took in, as I talk and walk with her on the phone she says "Oh here is another pizza place..."

I ask, knowing the answer, but just can't help but ask, "are you moving?????"

But of course she is. As if finding a person in Penn Station isn't hard enough lets have it be a chasing game. We of course find each other eventually (she couldn't be further from where I was if she tried, I'm pretty sure she was technically in the state of NJ) and get on the subway- according to C it's a quick subway ride- no change overs- straight shot. I'll spare the details but let's face it- you know we're going to get off at the wrong stop and mostly because Nana Lu couldn't bear to take advice from a local (unsavory character). The stop we get off at is not handicap accessible and I have to carry the baby and stroller up and down 7 flights of stairs in the NYC Subway Sewer system. I am not exaggerating. Homeless men, on more than one occasion, stood up and applauded. When we finally get to street level- I take off my jacket and long sleeve shirt because I am of course sweating and the skies open up and it starts to rain. Since we did not get off at the right subway stop- we have to hoof it.

We don't know where we are going out on the street either- we eventually find our way. The rain is more like drizzle and as we set our eyes on our hotel we see the subway stop we would've could've should've got off at. And wouldn't you know it... handicap accessible sign. This means elevator access. Also had we gotten off at the right stop, would have landed us right at the hotel. You can't make this sht up.

After a long day of travel and some meetings I came back to the room to remember I didn't bring enough diapers for the weekend and need to run out - and run out I do, into a tidal wave of rain. I come back into the hotel and people literally remark at how awful it looks out there, based on how I look. One person actually asked, "is that from outside?" No, I took a shower and forgot my clothes were still on. As I go up to the room I peel off my sopping wet clothes and throw my long sleeve shirt in the corner. As it flies to the corner the arms are weighed down by the water and it falls in, drags and knocks down a bowl of dry cereal that I brought for the baby, which falls into the formula and it all goes everywhere.

Everywhere.

I cry. I have been beat by the day. And while it was probably a sanity hazard, I took pictures.

I crawled into bed, not long after ready for the best night's sleep I've had. But this night wasn't over. OH no- it was far from over. Was it a loud neighbor in the the hotel? The baby up for a midnight scream? Nope. She slept soundly and I'll never understand how.

Nanu Lu slept soundly, probably because she is immune.

It turns out my mother is a bear and makes a noise unlike anything my ears have ever heard when the lights go out and like all other things this fine day (keep in mind this was one day) I took a picture.












Note to self: while an invaluable asset to have family to watch la bambina... must pack ear plugs. And an extra pillow to put over my head.


And a room down the hall, depending on wall thickness.

Wednesday, March 19, 2008

the trifecta

When it happens it happens in threes. Everything and always. Last week, on Tuesday we had a few friends over for dinner. And I tell this story now as it just about sums up the last few weeks.

Dinner party begins, people arrive, drinks are served. Laughs are had. Abelle squats and pisses on the carpet. I scream in confusion, demanding to know, "WHAT are you doing?"

It's not that she has never had an accident, but usually she is super sick if we are home. She has been known to let loose if someone is babysitting her (no one wants to babysit anymore) but never when we're all home. There she was squatting and decorating our rug with a full bladder.

Drinks continue and as a side note our au pair likely was thinking to herself that she had to babysit the lot of us. People were throwing F bombs like it was going out of style. I'm certain she prayed for our salvation the entire day of Sunday as a result.

Anyway, back to the dinner party. Christa Stewart (that's what we're calling my beautiful wife now) brings out the cheese & bread a little snacky before dinner and the drinks continue. Aditty takes it as her cue to stir things up. Directly across from her most recent addition to the carpet she lets loose and throws up all over- this process includes dry heaving and awful noises I'd rather not remember.

How lovely.

After a long wait, because dinner ended up taking way longer than Christa anticipated- there were many drinks to be had and constant joking on what Abelle would have in store for us next. HA ha ha ha...

The laughing stops after dinner. We finally eat and as the last person puts their fork down and we are about to get up from our meal the left side of the table silently thinks to themselves who the hell is lactose intolerant and couldn't they have excused themselves?


But no, alas- you know what happened. The dog completed the trifecta. Waited until we were done with dinner to really F with us. Right in the corner. Stinking like high hell. That's how we wrap up a dinner problem. Good thing we had enough drinks that it didn't sting as bad as it would have in the clear light of sober day.

That's the kind of month I've had- the kind with 8 people over my usually well behaved dog craps in the corner.

I hear many doubted if I would be back or if I've stopped recording the nonsenses and updates of our lives. No worries. We'll be here sharing the ridiculousness of our life, promise.

Monday, March 3, 2008

You Drive Me Crazy



The lack of sleep has made me crazy. Brit crazy. And as a result... I do crazy things to my child. Brit crazy.Shortly after the following photo montage, L started cooing with a British accent. Should I be concerned?

Sunday, March 2, 2008

Sweet Relief

After the restless nights and wake up calls hourly- we decided to give rice cereal a try. While the first night she had more on her than she had in her, it was the first night she slept 8 hours straight. Thank you rice cereal. Thank you.



Or so we thought. Alas, this was a fluke, and she hasn't slept 8 hours straight again- and the rice cereal is a routine. It was a nice Wednesday night. It's a night I won't soon forget. Meal time, we feed her and feed her and feed her until she can't eat no more and with each bite we say a prayer that tonight will be another night of 8 hours of sleeping bliss.

Maybe tonight is the night. It's probably not...
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