Down the rabbit hole

Follow me...

Yesterday at music class I learned that the 18 month old twins in our class are fully potty trained. Like wearing no diapers potty trained. Whoa. I didn't know that was possible. Somehow I doubt we will be freaking other moms out with our peeing/pooping prowess in 6 months. Half the time I can hardly remember to change the baby's diaper. He's peed through 2 pairs of pants this week. And I'm the one who's supposed to teach him how to navigate through the maze of life?

Now that he's starting to understand (a bit) more, I'm realizing that I need to curb some of my less desirable behaviors. I am a modelizer after all. No more fucking cursing every third word. No more yelling in order to get my husband to give me what I want. No more feeding Tony from the table. Definitely no more going completely limp and then violently thrusting my pelvis when my mommy tries to put me in my carseat.

An old friend and her 3 year old son came over the other day. We were gabbing and gossiping like in our pre mom jeans days. I believe the subjects of divorce, sex, sleep, Thomas the Train and Ryan Gosling were covered in equal measure. The boys were playing nicely and rather quietly so as to let their mamas get their coffee talk on. All of the sudden I came to the creepy realization that toddlers shouldn't be quiet and what the hell were they up to? I ran through the house screaming and found both of them outside, halfway up the slate stairs, staring down a piece of dog poop. We were probably three seconds from a world of pain. Who's winning mom of the year? I let a 3 year old babysit my 1 year old. Awesome.

There is a boy in our playgroup who loves to give out hugs. Just doles 'em on out to babies and mamas alike. As the mother to a lovely little maniac who will only allow the briefest of snuggles, and these only when he's sick and/or scared, I'll take it. You'd think Mr. Monk would get jealous when he sees his mom getting some loving from another shortie dude, but he seems so relieved--finally, now she'll leave me to my climbing.

Frittatas for everyone!

So this weekend I hosted some friends over for brunch and decided about 15 minutes before they arrived to make a frittata. Every time I even attempt an omelet it devolves into a scramble, so I decided to be a little creative. Good thing it only took about 18 minutes to prep and execute (speaking of prepping and executing, Top Chef started again last week. Holla!). How have I never discovered the beauty, the joy, the sheer laziness of frittatas before? Say it again with me, frit-ta-ta. Doesn't it just sound fun?

I kid you not, these are all the steps I followed to make it:

• Preheat oven to 375 degrees

• Heat olive oil in cast iron pan

• Saute chopped clove of garlic in olive oiled pan for a minute or two

• Add spinach, halved cherry tomatoes (or whatever other vegetables you need to eat before they rot) to garlic and saute until tender

• Add in eggs (I used 6 for 3-4 people) whipped with a shot of milk, salt and pepper

• Spread a fairly sizable amount of crumbled feta cheese and chopped basil on top

• Cook for about 3-5 minutes until sides of frittata set

• Bake pan in oven for 10-14 minutes until it looks fluffy and pretty

• Let frittata set and cool

• *Do not touch pan handle as it will be exceptionally hot after baking in the oven, even though pan handles are normally not hot when used on the stove. This is a confusing point, I know. I learned the hard way.*

• Slide off onto a fancy platter for serving (the pan should be well coated from the olive oil)

• Smile graciously as all your guests swoon over the frittata

I was too busy caring for my seared flesh to get a picture of my final product, but here are a few from across the webs.

via The Stone Soup

via Simply Breakfast

via Gratinee

Damn you, Isaac Newton

I saw "Bridesmaids" this week. And I laughed hard. But, mostly, I couldn't wait to get out of the theater to look up Kristen Wiig's age because she was rocking some serious wrinkles and do I look that old?! Her character was definitely supposed to be a bit haggard and she was more than a tad on the skinny side, but I just kept thinking that I hope she's older than I am. She is. Phew. Skin aside, she was pretty damn awesome in the movie and more power to her for writing a funny movie for the femmes. But, ever since the matinee, I can't stop thinking about my face and how it's falling. Is it time to freeze time with Botox?

Some of my friends back in New York regularly indulge and have been for years. Out here, I imagine people would frown on Botox, unless it was organic. Most of the women I know in SF seem to embrace their wrinkles and hardly even wear makeup to cover them up. Today, however, I ventured into Neiman Marcus and saw a whole other world of ladies. On a Thursday afternoon at about 3 pm, the high society gals come out to play! I saw many a tightened neck, tucked eye and implanted cheek. I wandered over to the La Mer counter to check out the ridiculously priced creams. I pretended to be interested in spending $135 on 1 oz of cream and scored myself a sample. Based on my calculations, the .11 oz sample is worth about $15. Nice!

I am still at the stage where I think I just need to find that magic cream--the Today show was all about the Oil of Olay Regenerist Cream this morning. Botox, Restalyn or any other fillers kind of creep me out. Are they just gateway drugs and, once you go down that road, you're soon wanting a face/butt/breast lift? The idea of having my face cut off and lifted, even 30 years down the line, sounds rather extreme. Maybe I should just buy a bigger sun hat.

Oh, and the La Mer cream seems almost identical to that thick Nivea spackle that you can buy for $5 at any drugstore. Perhaps someone should tell the lunching ladies at Neiman.